#the pause where i seem to go over to the dialogue box

[warlordfelwinter]

being a monk is a really fun way to embarrass orin

[agendabymooner]

pag-ibig, traducido (love, translated) || cs55 fic

carlos sainz x ofc (filipino!content creator!ofc)

EXTENSION TO RIDE HOME

Summary: Magdalena ‘Magda’ and Carlos Sainz can bring the two worlds together through words and actions. OR, moments in which the Filipino woman and her Spanish husband learned to love each other while learning more about what they know about themselves. 

Content warning: Use of explicit language, shitty Tagalog/Filipino and Spanish translations, a lot of Spanish colonial and Filipino history jokes, parental abandonment, brief reference to religious and cultural practice (weddings), mentions elopement, secret marriage, briefly mentions PR relationships/girlfriends, time skipping, what is beta reading lol

Note: The last part of this story is loosely based on the idea given to me by @clairalle and the song 'Paninindigan Kita' by Ben&Ben so thank you so much! ❤️

Letting you all know that some Filipino dialogue here are translated based on how I know it in both English and Tagalog language??? And also, there are some words in here that are the same in context BUT written in two different spellings - some of the words are spelled based on phonics or how it sounds. Enjoy xx

masterlist

i. 2016 — shit, ayos ka lang?

Ramona Magdalena normally had the patience for Tesco. She wasn’t sure what it was, but everything had her seething with no apparent reason. She tried to figure out what went wrong. 

It was only 3 p.m., for goodness sake! 

Her third year at the university was supposed to make things easier, but the way she clenched at the handle of her shopping cart as she sped through the aisles of Tesco showed nothing of the sort. 

She was so tense, her jaw clenching as she asked herself repeatedly if there was an actual reason for her getting worked up over something. 

Her mother, Alma, was being herself; she was merely calling to see how the university was for Magda. Alma only told Magda about her cousins in the Philippines and how they were looking forward to getting the “balikbayan” box in August, only for the younger woman to respond grumpily. Alma was a dear— so clearly Magda’s grumpiness had nothing to do with her mother’s daily check-in. 

She appreciated her mother’s efforts to keep up with Magda’s well-being; after all, Alma did everything she could as a single parent who immigrated to the UK long before she took Magda. 

So no. She loved her mother so much that she wouldn’t get unreasonably cranky towards her. Not easily, at least. 

But her questions withered away when her speed walking was interrupted by her shopping cart crashing into a figure. Her eyes widened, and she shook herself out of her thoughts. 

“Mierda!” Shit! An accent escaped out of the man’s mouth. 

Now, Magda had been a citizen of the UK for a while now— she knew when to speak English and how to utilize her vocabulary in a reasonable manner. But everything seemed to be in panic mode as she exclaimed, “Shit! Ayos ka lang?” Are you okay?

The man was still groaning, bent over as he clutched to his stomach. He glared at her for a moment as he asked, “¿Por qué no observas a dónde vas?” Why can’t you watch where you are going?

“Hah?” She cocked her head slightly. She only picked up on the first two words. Por qué? Why? 

He’s Spanish, Magda deduced. She stepped away from the cart and walked towards him, “I’m so, so, so sorry! I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going—“

“Obviously—“ he muttered hastily, still touching his aching side. 

“I’m also in a rush, and I’m so frustrated and tired. Three years into adulthood and I can’t make shit right,” Magda hadn’t even realized that she was ranting to a stranger as she rambled, “GCSE clearly didn’t do shit to me because I’m still here bitching about what to cook— punyeta naman kasi, ‘di ba.” What the fuck, am I right?

He stared at her for a moment, not even interrupting her as she spoke. But the silence made Magda pause as her face flushed red, earning a soft smirk from the man. “Mama said I have a problem with speaking too much without thinking.” 

He chuckled at her rambling before sticking his hand out, “We can call it… truce— I think is the word?” 

“Yeah, okay, truce,” she reached out and introduced herself while shaking his hand, “I’m Magdalena.” 

“I’m Carlos.” 

“So, like… you’re Spanish, right? Or do you just speak Español? I’ve only picked up on some words because they’re quite similar— or I suppose I learned it through some song from years ago.” 

“I am actually Spanish; good guess. And you said puñeta— I can assume you also speak Español?” 

“Oh, hah, about that— no. That’s not spoken in Spanish. That’s— yeah, that’s something.” 

ii. 2017 — irog means love

“Ate Magda! Totoo ba?” Is it true?

“Jowa mo galing Spain?” Your boyfriend is from Spain? 

Magda almost died laughing as she FaceTimed her cousins, who were certainly supposed to be asleep at this time. The Philippines was seven hours ahead, and with her cousins being awake at two in the morning, she could assume that they had a holiday. Everybody always sleeps in if it’s a long weekend or a national holiday. 

But she hadn’t expected their night to be spent gossiping about Magdalena’s boyfriend, Carlos. 

“Niño, bakit ‘di mo gamitin yang utak mo sa school kaysa sa jowa ko?” Why don’t you use your brain for school instead of my boyfriend? Magda huffed out her laugh, making her other cousin Paloma laugh next to Niño. Paloma’s laughter caught Magda off guard as she called out, “Oi, Lomi, don’t be laughing— ikaw ang nagpasimuno nito. Akala mo ‘di ko alam?” You started this. You think I didn’t know?

“Papa brought it up,” Paloma defended herself with a cry, “he kept calling you a national hero, and I had to ask why.” 

“Ano ba naman ‘yan,” what the hell. Magdalena cried out as her head slumped against the couch, raising it to look at her cousins on the screen, “Tell your papa to keep his mouth shut. I love Tito Gerry— I do, but he needs to stop making jokes about that.” 

“—About what?” Magda seemed to be more drawn towards her uncle’s joke that she hadn’t heard her boyfriend enter her flat with a curious look. He had just arrived from Milton Keynes, and this was a surprise as he normally arrived later than this. 

Carlos had taken off his shoes and placed his bag down, walking around the couch to sit next to Magda as he pecked her lips. “Hello, cariño. How was your day?” 

“Hm, good! I’ve finished my paper,” Magda grinned. 

They were so caught up with each other that the only thing they heard was gagging from the phone that the Filipino woman held. Magda and Carlos peered down on the screen as they watched the two teens exaggerate at the sight of the couple being too sweet for each other. 

“Reparations,” Paloma gagged jokingly, “but at what cost?” 

“Matulog na nga kayo!” Go to sleep! Magda exclaimed.

“Okay po, master,” Niño rolled his eyes before waving at the camera, “nice meeting you, Carlitos!” 

"You're Niño, right?" Carlos grinned as he kept his face in front of the camera before waving, "Nice meeting you too!"

“Yeah! Buenas noches, Don Carlos!” Good night, sir Carlos! Paloma giggled, the other side of the call abruptly ending before Magda could berate the pair even further.

She sighed heavily and tossed her phone aside, giving her boyfriend a look of despair as he giggled at her. 

“What did they mean by reparations?” He asked her, genuinely curious at what they were joking about. 

How was she going to explain it to him? Did they even teach at Spanish schools about their country’s history of colonialism? Magda didn’t have an answer to that. 

“Oh, just you know…” She mumbled, “Filipinos were originally Spanish people living in the Philippines. Apparently, dating you made us a deadly combination. Enemies to lovers, or whatever trope that is.”

“Reparations? Oh… OH!” Carlos exclaimed in realization, earning a nod from his girlfriend as he murmured, “Okay.” 

“Okay?” 

“Yeah, I understand now, mi corazon.” 

“Irog,” Carlos said aloud, making Magda hum in a questioning tone. “Irog, bébé.”

“What’s that, bé?” Magda asked mindlessly as she stared at the screen of her computer. 

Carlos turned his head in her direction as he said, “I don’t know. You’re the one who speaks the language.” 

She paused from doing her work, looking up at him before she pondered the first word he brought up. Then she let out an ‘ah’ before nodding. 

“So…? What does that mean?” Carlos asked. One year of relationship and his thirst for knowledge was an obvious factor that came with it.

“It means mahal,” Magda answered, remembering the word. She continued to read Filipino literature as she grew, not wanting to stay away from it regardless of the fact that she spent her last school years in a British school. She asked her mother questions whenever she didn’t have a single clue what a word meant, so this was a helpful thing to do, especially now that Carlos continued to ask her to teach him how to speak her language. 

“Mahal, like expensive?” Carlos asked for clarification. 

Magda shook her head, “No, not that mahal. Like mahal— you, mahal.” 

“Oh,” Carlos let out before he reiterated what she said, “mahal, like love?” 

“Yes, mahal,” she snickered quietly, calling him by the term of endearment. “Like love.” 

“So irog means love?” 

“Yes, bébé. Irog means love.”

iii. 2018 — patata, patatas. what’s the difference? 

“Oh! Hey, Mr. Alonso, you’re here just in time,” Magdalena grinned. The older man, who just arrived, shot her a confused look as she stood there with her lips spread out to a grin.

“Magda, hija, call me Fernando. It’s also nine in the morning,” Fernando Alonso sighed quietly, his hand running through his face as he looked back at the girl in the white McLaren shirt. “I think it’s too early for your optimism.” 

“You’re right,” Magda’s shoulders slumped, and her smile fell, her face showing nothing but defeat as she walked towards the Spaniard, “but don’t let my sadness get in the way of your duties today. My supervisor said that you have to do your filming for the next two videos of the channel— and you cannot, I mean CANNOT, back out this time.” 

“I can’t,” Fernando smirked playfully, “or can I?” 

“Mr. Alonso, with all due respect,” Magda sighed heavily, “I started this year. And if you continue to ditch your duties because I cannot convince you enough then I’m going to have to leave not of my own will. I did not last four years at the university just so I can have a manchild act so sassily at the person who’s merely trying her best, so please—“

“Calmaté, Magdalena. Are you okay?” Calm down. Fernando asked, reiterating his question and emphasizing the word you. 

Magda had anything but an answer; her lips pursed as she shook her head. “Can I… shit. Sorry, can I be excused for a moment? It's been a morning for me.” 

“Take all the time you need, querida,” Fernando told her with a smile, patting her on the shoulder as she gave him a grateful look before she walked out of the McLaren garage with a heave of sigh. 

Fernando Alonso pursed his lips as he caught sight of the young British reserved driver, calling him with a whistle as Lando Norris looked in his direction with a questioning expression.

“Norris, you know Carlos Sainz, yes?” Fernando asked.

“Uh, yeah,” Lando replied with a nod. “He’s a friend of mine.”

“Do me a favour, if you don’t mind,” Fernando requested, “will you please tell him Magdalena’s on break?” 

“Yeah, of course,” Lando obliged before his curiosity got the best of him as he asked, “Is she alright?” 

“I think McLaren broke her.”

“Leche,” she swore quietly as she stood behind the McLaren motorhome. Thankfully, nobody else was there to witness her on the verge of breaking down. Otherwise, that would have been embarrassing. 

She had a bad habit of pleasing people. Living in the Philippines, with her mother working overseas and her biological father being a dickhead fuck knew where Magdalena grew up wanting to appease her friends and family. Her immediate family cared very little about the achievements she reached — they were proud, sure, but how she got there was beyond what they wanted for her.

Some kids who grew up in a Filipino household aimed to please, and Magda wasn’t an exception to that. She, however, did more than what she should have been doing. All thanks to the father she had never interacted with before or ever.

Much like now. She aimed to please. Maybe that was why she got to this predicament now; crouching with her head down as she tried to keep her composure. 

She knew that everyone would kill to be in her place— working for a racing team. But for some reason, her urge to please was replaced by her fear of discomfort and disappointment. Being in a relationship with a Formula One driver taught her a lot about the sport, and she landed herself a job in a team based in England.

Being able to travel with him was a plus, but she felt that she had disappointed him. She didn’t feel as good as he told her she would when she first announced McLaren’s offer to hire her for the season. 

Was this what most Formula One wives and partners felt? Or have they embraced that lifestyle long before the drivers became so popular? She wouldn’t make a good girlfriend for everyone should they find out that she had nothing but anxiety in her system as she graced the grid with her presence. 

She was a disappointment of a Carlos Sainz fan.

His cologne lingered in the air as she witnessed him crouch down in her level, his fingers pulling her hair tie off her head, letting her long dark brown hair fall as she smiled grimly. 

He was in his Renault fireproof, his race suit hanging off his waist. He made things more angelic than normal, and she loved him so much for it. His lips pursed as his fingers continued to massage her scalp. 

“Few more months, mi vida,” Carlos murmured, his soothing voice making her feel at home. “You’re doing so good for them. Don’t let them say otherwise.” 

Sure, she could be at the hotel with Ben&Ben blasting on her phone and her figure crying in the bathtub. She could be falling into the deepest depth of her sadness, but with Carlos ditching his team before the free practice — she would rather be here than be in their shared hotel room. 

“Now c’mon, mi corazon,” he pulled her up, “I’ve managed to get my manager to come drop off some pancit to the motorhome from the hospitality.”

“Pancit?” 

“Malabon,” Carlos beamed at her, pressing his lips to her forehead. “One of the caterers gladly took my request to have some pancit malabon at the menu. It took them a couple of weeks until they finally got tired of my constant asking.”

“Hm, you’re the best, my love,” Magda told him lovingly. “Though, I prefer palabok, remember?” 

“Eh,” Carlos paused, “patata, patatas. What’s the difference? Pancit is pancit, mi amor.”

iv. 2019 — magda, maldita 

“Carlos, bebe, mahal kita. Mahal kita sobra.” I love you. I love you so much. Magda sighed as she glanced over the notepad that her fiancé left on the end table of the side of her bed— their brainstorming notepad. “But do you really want to get married in a church? In the Philippines while you’re at it?” 

“It’s an idea, mi amor,” Carlos said while he continued to do whatever he was doing in the bathroom, making her listen from the bed as he spoke, “Just how bad is it?” 

“It’s nothing bad,” Magda said quietly, “it’s just something that I wouldn’t personally do. There is a lot of paperwork to do when getting married in a church. Did you know that? Not only that, but we’d have to attend seminars about family planning— which is not right up my alley, seeing as my mother is an unmarried single mother.” 

“Paperwork is what you are worried about?” 

“Why can’t we just elope instead? My Lola grandmother and Lolo grandfather did that, and look— they have my mom, my tito uncle and tita aunt,” she suggested out of the blue. 

“And risk getting killed by either of our mothers?” Carlos scoffed, “I think we should stick to the church idea, yes, mi amor?” 

“Did you not hear the story of my grandparents, love?” Magda asked him, thankful that he couldn’t see the baffled look on her face. 

“More than I can count, mi corazon,” Carlos answered, “they ran away from home, didn’t they? Got married and had your Tia Maria, then your Mama after? They eloped because they weren’t close with their families— but we’re both very close to ours. We can’t do what your grandparents did.” 

She sighed. He wasn’t even wrong. 

The Spaniard walked out of the bathroom, his face now clean-shaven as he sat next to his fiancée. “Look, we don’t have to do the church thing. It was just an idea, hm? I know you don’t want to get married in the Philippines either, so that’s alright. We’ll just send your cousins, your aunt and uncle to wherever we’re going, then we’ll get married. Don’t worry too much.” 

“‘M sorry,” Magda murmured, her fingers fidgeting with the gold engagement ring as she continued, “I’m a killjoy.” 

“No, you’re not,” Carlos huffed out and clasped his hand with her left hand, “you’re the bride. The bride is more than permitted to weigh out the options. If you don’t want the Philippines, that’s okay.

“Truthfully, I just want to marry you,” Carlos murmured as he pulled her closer, “if we didn’t have such scary mothers, I would’ve already married you. You and your YouTube channel.” 

Magda’s chuckle vibrated in his chest as she perched on his lap, “I don’t even know if that will even work out.” 

“I am sure the wedding plans will. If it doesn’t, our marriage certainly will work out for you and your channel.”

“You are a dickhead, mahal.” “I can’t speak the truth now?” 

“There was no need to bring up the channel, dumbass.”

“Mabuti nalang may passport yung mga pinsan mo,” It’s a good thing that your cousins have passports. Alma San Pedro, Magdalena’s mother, brought up as she sat across the aforementioned woman.

Magda skimmed through the spreadsheet laid out on her laptop’s screen, keeping her eyes on the things Carlos typed out on the guest list as he actively listed who’s responsible for the catering.

Alma continued to speak, “Why didn’t you want to get married in the Philippines? You’ve always wanted to get married in the Tayabas basilica— I could have had your Tita Marie look into it.”

“That was mainly because I thought you got married there,” Magda glanced at her mother before leaving a comment on the name that Carlos had just typed down on the guest list sheet.

“Lando Norris” — Magda San Pedro (monamagsp) commented: “He finally RSVP’d?”

Carlos Sainz (carlossz) replied: “Yes. He said he forgot to do it, but I managed to get him to fill it.”

He was still at Monaco for the race, but between the busy days of partying and racing he decided to abandon his friends and stayed at the hotel to plan his wedding with Magda instead. “Besides, Ma, the wedding’s in two months. Travelling is also time-consuming for most of us.”

“You’re so picky, anak,” child. Alma replied with a playful scoff.

“And you’re not married, Mama,” Magda shot back with the same amount of humour in her tone. “People complain about both, but we can’t find ourselves to care, hm?”

“Hay nako, Ramona Magdalena,” Alma rolled her eyes and sighed exasperatedly. A rhetorical question escaped her mouth, “Bakit ka kaya maldita?” Why are you so cheeky/sassy? 

Mona shrugged, “Tita Maria didn’t take any shit from my private school teachers, Ma. She’s the one who took care of me while you worked here, remember? Go figures.”

“I can’t believe you’ve invited me to the wedding,” Lando’s eyes glimmered under the warm light of the ballroom hall as he excitedly spoke to Magda. “I know we didn’t speak as much last year, but the fact that you allowed Carlos to invite me? I’m so grateful, mate.”

Magdalena San Pedro— or wait, Magdalena Sainz stood across from the British man with a grin as she tucked her hands into her pockets (she had pockets on her wedding dress that she began to think that God was treating her right today).

The San Pedro-Sainz wedding ceremony took place in the Westin Palace of Madrid. With the hopes of celebrating the love that they shared for years, Carlos and Magdalena managed to get through the hour-long ceremony without a fuss. The romantic venue created an environment full of celebration while keeping it as intimate and private as it could be for their guests and themselves.

Carlos had already made his name known to the Formula One world, his talent being recognized by every fan as the season went on. But nobody knew who Magdalena was to him, and he intended to keep it that way — thus prompting him to keep his marriage a piece of confidential information. Everyone behind the scenes knew he was in a relationship, and with the hopes that he’d get even more popular, PR relationships were introduced and tossed in his way. 

None of the women he was put in the spotlight with ever lasted, and he was slowly earning the title of a Casanova. He didn’t care; he was just doing his duty and driving his car around the tracks while he worried about his partner, who now worked for a designing company based in London— where they both lived. Nobody else in the grid nor anyone in the motorsport community knew who he was romantically involved with. 

Magdalena was another story. She only began to record some videos about her lifestyle as she continued to work for some local designing firm, telling whoever was watching her videos about what she knew about this field of work or what kind of food she’d eat on certain occasions.

She wasn’t as popular as him, but she continued to keep his identity a secret. She lived an average life and she was quite content with it. She’d rather post a video of herself fucking around, but they’ve made a choice to stay private for as long as they could. 

Now Lando Norris was known to be a blabbermouth, but Magdalena had grown quite fond of him when he was still a reserved driver for McLaren as she worked as a PR coordinator for the team. They rarely spoke, sure, but she was certain that she could trust him with anything and he wouldn’t blab about it. Carlos was also friends with Lando, and they continued to be close friends, so Magda never protested against Carlos’ idea of inviting the younger man to the wedding. 

Lando then said, “I find it quite enjoyable— your wedding, I mean. It’s clearly not as big as I would have expected because well… Carlos told me that Filipino weddings are often big, but I love it! I’ve learned more about your wedding traditions than I have in sixth form about geography.”

“Gah, don’t even say that,” Magda rolled her eyes, earning a giggle from Lando as the woman continued, “It’s barely there, I think. We tried not to pour our hearts out into what they would normally practice in the Philippines or here in Spain. Some Filipino things are here — the food, my dress and my family — but it’s just something superficial, you know?” 

“It’s not even just the wedding that taught me a lot!” Lando exclaimed as he laughed, “Your cousins, Lomi, Niño and Lucia? Yeah, I sat with them during the whole ceremony so they kept telling me about wedding traditions and some superstitions: like how you shouldn’t have any relative marry at the same time as you because it’s cursed.” 

“Really? I’m surprised they haven’t said anything mundane,” Magda saw Lando nod at her statement.

“They also started to say that you took one for the team—“ Lando’s forehead creased as he said, “I asked them what they meant by that, then they only said you’re heroic.” 

“Diyos ko.” My god. Magda scoffed. Her cousins spelled nothing but trouble and god did she despise them at times. 

“What? What did that mean, Mags?” Lando asked.

Magda sighed exasperatedly, and with a defeated tone, she answered, “Making up for the challenge we’ve lost, apparently.” 

“Huh?” 

“It’s— just ask Carlitos,” Magda waved off, “I’ve had to explain the concept of colonialism to too many people before. I think it’s time Carlos did it for me.”

v. 2024 — paninindigan kita (stand by you)

Mamahalin kita buong-buo. I will love you completely.

“So, tell us about yourself.”

“I’m Carlos Sainz— or wait, do you want me to speak Tagalog?” The Ferrari driver asked as he stood in front of the camera, his linen shirt in the view of the lens as he waited to be instructed.

“Directing this music video is the dumbest idea I could’ve ever made,” Magda deadpanned from behind the camera as the videography crew laughed alongside the band members, her voice being picked up by the microphone easily.

Their Philippines trip, which they should’ve made a while ago, was something of an experience for the couple.

It was the first time they’d been seen in public— with everyone finding out about their marriage after Carlos’ Instagram story slip-up when he accidentally posted a photo of Magdalena’s selfie that she sent when she travelled to the country long before this. 

It really was an accident if you were to ask him. But it was something inevitable, and all Magda could do was laugh and make her presence known not only to her fans but to those who were more than interested to know about her. His fans. 

Now, they were in an Airbnb somewhere in the Quezon Province as they filmed some form of documentary. It was meant to be a storytelling music video about their relationship and the romance that came with it, but after seeing Carlos’ script reading at the Shell commercial, Magda practically banned him from acting.

She was a popular content creator in the Philippines regardless of her living situation; she lived in Madrid with her husband for almost five years. And with her popularity in the Philippines came acquaintances who were more than willing to collaborate with her. The folk-pop band called Ben&Ben asked if she was more than willing to shoot a music video with them. Direct it, even. 

The song they released practically spoke about her life with Carlos. At first, she didn’t think too much of the lyrics and just enjoyed the rhythm of the song, then she realized how similar it was to their relationship, from the courtship (and her outward refusal to continue this romance with him at the very beginning) to their vows to love each other as they grow old, and decided that perhaps it was time to show to the world how they truly love each other. 

Carlos agreed, knowing that outside of his life as a Ferrari driver and a Formula One figure, he had nothing else in life but her and her alone. He knew that she was the one thing that he kept from everyone to provide security for his wife. He waited patiently for her — and it was now paying off. Now, he was standing in front of a camera, waiting to be filmed for his interview. 

It was better than the countless documentaries and the Netflix series that he had to do interviews and filming duties for. Because this time, he got to discuss his wife, Magdalena Sainz, instead of his car. 

“Can I speak Tagalog?” Carlos repeated, his typical confused expression being displayed before the others.

Magda shook her head, “You’ll butcher it, Carlitos.”

“Excuse me, Ramona,” Carlos gasped in mock offence. “I can speak it!” 

“Clearly not good enough,” Magda shot back, making the others laugh at the banter between the pair. 

“Your Español isn’t any better then, mi vida,” Carlos scoffed, placing his hand on his chest. 

Magda said, “There’s a reason why I only listen to you and your family when you speak, honey.” 

“This is what I have to deal with every day, by the way,” Carlos pointed out to their audience, making the others burst out laughing as he offered his wife a playful glare. 

One of the videographers spoke before Magda could make a comeback, “Wait, the camera’s still on.”

“Oh shit,” Carlos and Magda both swore before they both laughed. Their banter was caught on camera and they were laughing about it.

It took them good ten seconds to return to their composure as the camera stopped recording. 

Magda cleared her throat, clapping her hands as the camera began recording, and she instructed her husband, “Carlos, we can both speak English— it’s fine. Just speak in English, alright?” 

“Okay, fine,” Carlos rolled his eyes and muttered, “mi esposa. Muy quisquilloso.” My wife. So picky. The microphone attached to his shirt picked up on his comment.

“This is so going to the music video,” one of the band members giggled. 

Magda then continued with the recording segment as she spoke to her husband while she stood behind the camera, “Alright, please state your name and how long you have been with your partner?” 

Carlos nodded and beamed slightly as he stared back at Magda, who was smiling as she expected his answer. With a cheerful tone, he said, “My name is Carlos Sainz. I have been with my wife, Magdalena San Pedro Sainz, for seven years and three months and have been married to her for four years and six months.” 

“What prompted you to stand by her?” Magda asked as she continued to beam at him, not even noticing the heart eyes of the other people in the room. 

Eight years and still extremely in love. 

He answered, “Her determination, wits and her ability to stand by me no matter what kind of disaster came and went made me realize that falling in love with her was worth the effort to make.”

It was no wonder people thought their relationship had nothing to do with two worlds colliding.

Even with their constant light bickering, Magdalena and Carlos Sainz learned how to love each other through words — whether it was their native languages or their secondary ones. What mattered was that they understood the meaning of their love, regardless of what kind of language they had to translate it to.

fin.

[nerves-nebula]

Hey hi i have a question

How do you script a comic. Like deadass idk how. I have like 30 short comics i want to make but have no idea where to start. Is it like- blocking first? Dialogue?? How

Poorly.

But no the best advice I’ve seen for this is to write it however makes sense to you. I don’t know how you’d break it into blocking and dialog when those two things happen simultaneously tho. For me, I write the story and then go through braking it up into pages (usually it’s a few things need to happen per page) which you then thumbnail yadda yadda etc.

I write the loose stitches comic script as a weird amalgamation of sparse, functional prose and notes to myself.

Its mostly dialog but I include relevant thoughts and descriptions and ideas i have for how the panels should look and what people should be doing, so I don’t forget important things like if someone needs to pick something up for a later part of the scene.

However I’ll also ignore those things later if they don’t serve me. If the notes say to pause for a panel bit I think that’s too much work and there’s no significant reason to pause then I don’t do it

I’m gonna show you parts of the loose stitches script now

In the first one I’ve written out the things reg should be feeling, even if that’s not 100% clear to the viewer, because it’s important for me to remember why I wrote him acting like that. In the second example you’ll notice a discrepancy between where the voice box is originally stated to be (off to the side) and where it ends up (in Atchkies pocket)

This is cuz I didn’t wanna draw a whole side table just for the voice box. You might also notice that it says dotty is being restrained, that’s another hold over from a previous version of the script that I am now ignoring. My point here is that it really doesn’t matter if you have vestigial writing in there as long as you can tell what’s supposed to be happening.

Anyway all of my comics start as bullet points/lists of things I want to happen, and how those things might lead into each other, which then get filled in with my dialog prose/notes writing. Sometimes I just write it inside the bullet points if I don’t think it’s going to be a long comic. That’s how I wrote all of the leo memory comic (see below)

(Also here’s some stuff in here about the memories Donnie saw that didnt make it into the final cuz they seemed too on the nose. Like I figured you guys got the point you didn’t need it spelled out. Also it didn’t work with the page design, but it’s there if you want it)

Tho for some reason I stopped at the very end? Idk. Like I said the script is for your eyes only babyyyy it works for youuu

If you were asking how to WRITE tho I don’t know how to help you with that. I just do it… and I’m only kind of ok at it :P

God this took forever to write on my phone and now my hands hurt :,)

[i-can-even-burn-salad]

OC in Fifteen Tag

I was tagged by @mysticstarlightduck a very long time ago, and I have 2 more of those, so I am just gonna leave this one an open tag 😅

Rules: Share 15 or fewer lines of dialogue from an OC, ideally lines that capture the character/personality/vibe of the OC. Bonus points for just using the dialogue without other details about the scene, but you're free to include those as well!

For this one, I am going with Laurent from Nuisance and Sweet Little Lies, and I am gonna put them under a cut, because well. They're from all over Lies, so obvious spoilers ahead.

“Erm. Hello! I’m looking for candy.”

“Uhm. It’s not for me, actually, it’s for”—shit—“my friend. He… His niece! It’s for his niece.”

“I fear I come with bad news,” he said, followed by a dramatic pause. Then, “She didn't like them.”

“I am aware you barely know me, but if there’s anything that weighs on your heart, you can tell me. If nothing else, I can promise you I’ll listen.”

“It’s me. Laurent. I need. Help.”

“Don’t be afraid to push. It feels different than fabric.” The effort it took him to keep his voice steady was obvious. “Do single stitches. Half a finger’s width apart. If you can. Cut off the thread after each one. If one fails. The rest will hold.”

“The sun’s rising. I think I should be going now. I put the boxes I pushed under the bed back next to the door. They’re probably in the wrong order, if that mattered? And I put the crystal back on your desk, on the right side next to that frame thing there. And I checked to make sure there’s no blood anywhere. Well, your bedsheet has blood on it. I’m sorry. I wasn’t sure where you wanted it, and where to find a new one, so…”

He raised his thickly bandaged hand. “I’m gonna need a healer or you’ll have to find someone else to forge your papers for you in the future.”

“Working on it.” Laurent said. “It’s looking good. It seems that in his attempt to obfuscate his affairs, he has involved a great number of relatives, using their names to dodge the thresholds for property and income taxes. I can’t prove it yet, but I think some of the paperwork was forged. Even if not, it means there’s either a dozen accomplices, or a dozen more aggrieved parties. Either way, he will pay. Big time.”

“A child got a bit too excited and ran straight into a shelf,” Laurent said. “Luckily, no one got hurt, but she’s upstairs now making a list of what she has to replace, and I offered to take over for the moment.”

“The jars aren’t labeled, but you told me there was a system to it. The shelf below has the same order four to the right, and the one below that four to the left.”

“First things first. You don’t have to face any of this alone. I’m here for you, okay?” He waited for her to nod before he added, “And the first thing I’ll be taking care of is Mathias Gabrel.”

“Hey. It was just an offer. I won’t lie and pretend I wouldn’t enjoy it a great deal, but I understand if it’s too much for you. Just. Think about it. Dress up like a princess. Listen to beautiful music. Eat incredibly lavish food in incredibly small portions from incredibly expensive plates.”

“I can take care of it.” He laughed softly. “I would ask of you to leave me the key for the till, though, so I don’t have to pick the lock again.”

“You know.” His forehead touched hers. “There’s one thing I still haven’t tasted.”

[blackjackkent]

Since Nocturne says she'll bail after one day, I guess we might as well exhaust all her dialogue now before moving on. Quick look around the room first - this seems to have been a dormitory for some of the adepts.

Nocturne's journal is next to one of the beds.

Aw. This is pretty upsetting to read about but does confirm a lot of what we'd already heard and/or suspected about Shadowheart's experiences here. The mission to get the prism was not the first time Shadowheart's memories had been erased; it happened repeatedly, and Nocturne was with her every time to help her recover. It's nice to hear that she had some sort of friend in this terrible place at least.

I also love the character detailing here, especially when combined with what I know from Delmak's playthrough. Over on that PT (where Delmak is romancing her), I had him pick up the noblestalk and give it to her, and she has a memory flashback from eating it - of having a friend named Rennald who was a young tiefling boy with purple hair and short horns, as Nocturne has. Nocturne is a trans woman, and it sounds like Shadowheart was a stalwart supporter of her, helping her shed her deadname and making sure no one bullied her. <3

Other things in the room include a log of interrogation/torture of a githyanki prisoner, which was how Viconia learned about the prism, and a bit of journaling from Viconia herself:

Again, this pretty much just echoes and deepens on what we already knew. One slightly interesting point, at least headcanonically - this mentions Suldanessalar, the ending location of Baldur's Gate 2, and implies that Viconia was there. In this particular worldstate, where Caden had nothing to do with her, this lends interesting implications about the possibility that she might have been there anyway for her own reasons.

It also implies from the way it's phrased that both the formation and self-destruction of her previous cloister at Waterdeep took place at the same general time as Baldur's Gate 2. This doesn't entirely make sense to me and I suspect isn't what the writers were actually intending to imply, but it could also be potentially interesting. XD

An unmarked bookshelf contains books about Shadowheart herself.

"These are all about *me*..." Shadowheart whispers, aghast. "Forty years of my life, documented like I was some sort of specimen..."

Even more interestingly, a key from Viconia's body opens a locked chest on a nearby table. In it are a few minor jewelry items and a key to a Counting House safety deposit box (which of course we'll go open later).

...Huh. I am not sure if there's a reference here that I'm missing, or if this is just continued reference to the possibility of Viconia having been at the battle of Suldanessalar, either with the BG2 Bhaalspawn or otherwise. Interesting.

Let's go have another chat with Nocturne. She'll only offer to trade with Hector, but if we talk to her as Shadowheart we get a controlled dialogue - one of the few times this has happened with the non-avatar character (the only other one I can recall is Wyll's argument with Mizora after the coronation).

"I can still scarcely believe it. You've returned, and the Mother Superior is gone... So much can change, so quickly..."

"There's much I still can't remember..." Shadowheart says. "Can you share anything with me? From when we were young?"

Nocturne smiles. "Well, you had a pet mouse for a while. It was against the rules, of course. You used to hide him under your robes and feed him from your rations."

Well, that's adorable af.

"Did he have a name?" Shadowheart asks.

"Nibbles," Nocturne says with a soft laugh. "I suggested Brie, but you were having none of it." A pause; the smile fades. "She caught you with him. Forced you to get rid of him... in front of everyone to make an example. You always loved animals, but you never let yourself get too close after that." Her gaze flicks away. "I'm sorry. Not the sort of thing you want to hear, I'm sure."

It isn't, really. Hector can see Shadowheart's head snap back a little as if she has taken a punch to the gut.

"I don't suppose there are any pleasant memories you could share?" she asks hollowly.

Nocturne considers. "Well... you know that little scar on your elbow?"

Shadowheart blinks, so startled that for a moment she forgets to be wary. "You know about that? It's barely the size of a pea."

Nocturne grins. "I was there when you picked that up. It was years ago, when we were initiates. Some of the others were intent on tormenting us... until you showed them the error of their ways. I think it was six against two, and most of them were bigger than us, to boot. But you saw them off, all of them. There were some bruised lips and black eyes in the mess hall that night. From then on, they left us alone. Or at least they bothered us less."

Behind Shadowheart, Jaheira makes a soft snorting noise; Hector glances sideways at her and sees that she's smiling. Karlach's grinning too; all of them are feeling a surge of pride at hearing this. Even in this dark, terrible place, that seed of good was in Shadowheart - the urge to defend a friend, to care for a helpless animal.

Selune's light was with you, always, Hector thinks. Even if you didn't know it. Even if you do not choose to follow her now. She is with you still...

"What about the scar?" Shadowheart asks curiously.

"A collision between your elbow and the teeth of a girl called Buddug," Nocturne says dryly. "She came away from it worse than you." She cocks her head. "She was on the same mission as you. I suppose she won't be coming back." A pause. "In any case, the Mother Superior soon broke up the fighting, though she didn't punish us. In fact, I saw her smiling. I think she was proud of you."

Hector's smile flickers. Not for the same reasons as we are, certainly, he thinks coolly. I suppose even a broken clock is right twice a day.

"Anything else?" Shadowheart asks.

Nocturne shrugs, rubs the back of her neck sheepishly. "Just small things, silly things. The sort you'd scarcely recall even if your memories were left intact. You had a little hiding place that you went to when you needed to get away. You brought me there sometimes. We'd talk, play, read, do each other's hair..."

It's a touching image, especially laid against the absolute misery that clearly seemed to imbue most of the days here. "A hiding place?" Shadowheart asks. "Where is it?"

"Hidden at the back of the storage area. Luckily enough, as quartermaster, I was able to keep it hidden back there," Nocturne answers. "It should be-- well, if not how you remember it, exactly as you left it."

Definitely something to check out... but there's another question lingering. Shadowheart's lips twitch in a flash of muted amusement. "From what you said before, you're the one responsible for my hair?"

"The plait and fringe?" The tiefling grins crookedly. "Yes. On your instructions, of course. You were very intent on a bold look, I think you said. My hands were cramped by the time I finished, but you were very pleased." She draws her head back to look Shadowheart up and down. "I like the new look as well, though. You always did like a dramatic touch."

Shadowheart hesitates. It's clear she wants to say more but isn't sure how it will be received - she once knew this woman so well and yet there is a blankness in the spaces where she should be. But the kindness shown even in this tiny scrap of conversation shows that Nocturne, like Shadowheart, belongs somewhere beyond these shadowy halls. [ENEMY OF SHAR] "Are you just going to remain here?" she finally asks quietly. "There's no need. Viconia is gone."

Nocturne hesitates, forty years of history with Shadowheart warring with an equal forty years of seclusion and fear. "Remains to be seen," she says carefully. "This place is all I've ever known. In time, perhaps I'll venture out there, see what I've been missing. But for now... old habits die hard."

[chibi-pix]

Chibi watches V3D 02

Heyo, my lovelies! Another night of watching Voltron: The Third Dimension! And unlike yesterday, where I watched the episode TWICE, I just watched this one once and kept pausing it to take my notes. Made it a little easier on me. So, without further ado, let's go!

Episode two, and I still don’t trust Zarkon. And that glorified calculator is annoying. His idea of maintaining peace sucks. Damn shame Keith wants to follow his orders despite KNOWING that calculator is wrong about how to handle things. Though it is amusing that Lance practically ghosted Keith and ignored his call.

Coran mentioning that Lance’s village was destroyed by Lotor and Zarkon threw me for a loop. Was that mentioned in DotU? I actually can’t recall. And Zarkon’s timing for dropping in. Somehow that’s expected? Yet amusing. I still don’t trust him, even if he amuses me.

“I know it’s still hard for you to think of me as one of the good guys.” Good news, Zarkon, I don’t think of you as a good guy. You know why? THE LACK OF TRUST! And I don’t think that lack of trust has anything to do with the potential of me seeing this as a kid. Because I don’t know how things go and if I did see it, I don’t remember. But that lack of trust? Guys, I’m almost thirty. I’ve spent most of my life watching cartoons. This ain’t my first rodeo.

Zarkon bringing out the CD with some sort of data on it, though, is amusing. I mean, I know CDs. I REMEMBER CDs. I actually still use CDs at times. But it definitely shows how dated this show is and I love it.

Keith finishing the list of components that Lotor needs, he just sounds so done with Zarkon’s shit.

“These kids are doing the best they can.” I mean. I probably would’ve said the same thing. But I’m amused at Zarkon practically calling the pilots as kids. Only Pidge is probably still a kid. Five years later? I think he’s seventeen. Last I checked, seventeen’s still a kid.

I’m with Hunk on not expecting Zarkon as a minister of peace.

I love Lance calling Red “Kitty Cat”. It’s adorable.

Why is watching Lance plug Red in to fuel up so hilarious?

Who the hell are these pirate dudes? “Gotta get out of here while there’s still a here to get out of.” Little dialogue moments like this are brilliant and fun. Seeing the pirates dance their little victory dance is amusingly adorable, though. Even if their victory was short lived.

Okay, so, another moment of Chibi feeling dated. Lance speaking and a box showing up with his face in it as the lion flew on the rest of the screen, I am once again reminded of my days of playing Star Fox on the Super Nintendo. And it amuses me. I’ll be honest, so far, this show isn’t perfect (I mean, no Voltron show is perfect, they all have their flaws), but it’s amusing, and I like some of how they do the images and showing stuff. It’s intriguing and kinda takes me back.

“It’s a lion! I mean, it’s a space ship! I mean… I don’t know! Just shoot it!” I mean, she’s not wrong on any of that. At least she got over the panic enough to get them to shoot at the lion. Though. I’m gonna cheer for Lance still. Even if he announces his attacks. Yup. Welcome to the 90s of cheesy dialogue and attack shouts. But it’s fun. And classic.

“You better quit biting us!” “Yeah, or we’ll tell Commander Doom!” Not very threatening.

“Wow! We scared him off!” “Yeah, must be your naturally repulsive personality.” Oof. Burn. Gotta admit, I’m loving the burns in this show.

Ooh, ancient archives seems interesting. And showing the yellow lion to be in a sort of Sphinx-like structure is an interesting touch. A bit on the nose and obvious to enemies flying over, but interesting nonetheless.

The glyphs down in the archives being connected to the lions is intriguing.

Watching Lance fight, I did not expect a cannon to pop out of Red’s back. Unexpected, but definitely nifty.

“But a system is only as good as the guy running it. Which in your case means it stinks.” I mean. Lance ain’t wrong. Hopefully.

“We’ll see about that, Lion Boy.” Lotor, creativity skipped a generation, didn’t it? Or a lot of them. Can’t even come up with a good insult?

Lotor laughing sounds even more like Tim Curry than just the voice. Seriously. I can’t unhear Tim Curry.

Also. Oof on Lance being captured.

Hah! Lotor giving no fucks and ready to get the lions out and help Lance. Good on you, Princess! Don’t disobey those hearts! Screw the calculator’s orders!

Also, seeing them go to their lions. I just noticed how small the cockpits are. Wowza. That is cramped. But, it is nice seeing all the lions launch.

“Who dares fire upon my command ship?” The lions of Voltron, bitch! That’s who! Get wrecked!

Ooooooh. Maximus or whatever that guard bot was called. Intriguing that it’s being turned into a robeast. But, at least they’re not wasting too much time to form Voltron. Though seeing them as Voltron. It’s like someone just took a Voltron toy and was working with it in stop motion almost. It’s amusing. But it was probably skilled stuff for CGI in that era. So, no judgment. Just amusement.

Did Lotor just say “dream dimension”? Huh. I'm a little interested in finding out what this is.

Well then. Here we go! I survived yet another episode of V3D!

Anyway, I hope y'all enjoyed this one. Until next time!

[barbiewritesstuff]

Ive been waiting for this one 😩

So i was thinking a hangman x reader which kind of mirrors the scene in 'Set It Up' (if you havent seen it i highly reccomend) where they take the pizza up the fire escape (it could be that hangman forgot his keys) and up to the point where they are staring at eachother in scilence and you can make it go as far as you want to babes 💅💅💅

Absolutely, desperately, madly in love with you

-- I watched this scene so many times to copy the dialogue that I'm pretty sure I know it by heart. I still took some liberties, though.

Anyway I love this, thank you so much for the request! --

You knew you had overdone it at the Hard Deck as soon as you walked out of the bar and going to get a pizza with Hangman seemed like the best idea ever. You also knew that if you had been sober, you would have been too much of a coward to accept. 

So, Jake had walked with you to his favourite pizza place in town and ordered "The usual please, Georgio" and took it to go in a big square box.

"We should go eat it at mine. There's tables and chairs and --" he frowned "We should go to mine, 's not far"

He'd told you it was a ten minute walk. It would have been if you hadn't drunk so much that walking had become a puzzle your brain needed to figure out and if Jake hadn't tried to jump, pizza in hand over every bike rack, bollard and traffic cone he saw on the San Diego sidewalk you shared. 

The pizza smelled heavenly. You didn't know what it was, but something almost made you lift the lid off of it

"You're going to let the smell out" he whined

"I wish that box was my bed," you replied. It was no lie, you were exhausted and hungry like one could only be after far too many tequila shots.

You almost didn't notice Jake had stopped walking. He opened the front door of an apartment building on your right and led you up the stairs.

"I know this is not going to sound how i mean this to sound" he paused, a serious expression on his face, almost deciding the most tactful way to phrase what he wanted to say "I wanna fuck this pizza"

"I get it" you paused. You wanted to fuck the pizza too " You should never say that to anyone else… but I get it"

Jake searched through his pockets to find his keys but they were empty.

"I forgot my keys" he stated, you looked at him with a sad expression

"What about my tables and chairs?"  You pouted. He stuck out his tongue.

"We can go another way…" 

Jake led you back down the stairs and outside next to the front door. 

"Do you know how athletic I was?" Jake had been telling you about his teenaged exploits. He handed you the pizza and climbed on top of a large concrete block. "Impressed yet?"

"I'm so hungry… Too hungry" You replied, lifting the lid and finally sneaking a look at your pizza. It was gorgeous. Simply the single most beautiful thing you had ever seen.

"Hmmm… oh god" Jake was pulling on the ladder but it wouldn't budge

"Do you need some help?" You asked

"Yeah" you helped Jake by pulling on the bottom steps, with your combined efforts, the ladder finally fell

"Gimme the pizza" Jake ordered, squatted down and with both of his hands outstretched.

"No no no no, I-- I'm gonna take it up to the top"

"Absolutely not, your hands are too small" he said, using your moment of confusion to his advantage and grabbing the box out of your hands.

"Jake!"

"I'm gonna hold it with one hand, I'm gonna move my way up this ladder, like a monkey" he said. You tried to reach for the pizza "Stop!" And then again "Stop!... I got this"

"Alright" he added, almost to reassure himself.

"Oh my god" you exclaimed

What?

"Stop! Keep the top up otherwise the cheese'll slide off" 

He laughed

"Please don't drop my pizza"

"What? Just stop making me laugh" he laughed

"I'm serious!"

"Stop it! Stop making me laugh"

"I'm not trying to, I'm --"

"Stop!"

"I mean it, okay"

"It is in my possession, I got it" Jake said, finally getting to the top of the ladder and climbing up to a small balcony. You grabbed the ladder and made your way up to find him waiting for you.

"Are you okay"

"I'm fine" he replied

"No I'm talking to my pizza"

Jake gave you the pizza before entering the room via the window, you followed after and found a corner of the bed to sit on. Hangman jumped over the bed and swung his legs back to the floor. 

"Parkour!" 

He turned on a lamp and slid onto his carpet. He held out his hand for the pizza.

"This is the dining room"

"Careful" you said as you handed him the box

"1,2,3" You counted down in a whisper, excitement seeping out into your voice. Jake opened the box on 3 and you both sighed at the sight of such carb filled perfection. It turned out that "The usual please, Georgio" was a cheeseburger pizza. The thin crust pizza was topped with a three cheese blend, minced beef and gherkins.

"Thank god" Jake said, relieved his meal had remained intact

"That looks so good" you wriggled your fingers over the pizza, trying to pick a good slice

"Just choose it" 

You both picked a slice and brought it to your mouths, taking a large bite. You chewed. It was the tastiest pizza you had eaten, maybe due to the alcohol or even the company.

"Wow" you said

You both took another bite.

"This is the best meal I've ever had" You said, pausing to choose your words "in my entire life"

Jake looked at you. What did Georgio put in the pizza? Because when he looked at you, it auddenly occurred to him that you were the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. He couldn't take his eyes off of you, every inch of you interesting to him. 

You felt his eyes trail down your body. You met his gaze, suddenly feeling very shy and self-conscious at the intensity in his eyes.

"I should probably go" you swallowed "home"

Jake suddenly snapped out of his reverie.

"Slice for the road?" 

"2 please but roll it crust side out" you paused "I'm a lady" was the only explaination you offered. Jake obeyed.

He watched you take the slices, stand up and exit via the open window. Jake suddenly felt empty and down. 

Is this what being in love felt like?

Always craving the other's presence, needing them close to you, even if it means sharing a pizza you refuse to share with anyone else? 

Did it feel like butterflies in his stomach when he saw you on base, getting giddy when he got to sit next to you in the rec room, or giggling (yes, Jake had caught himself giggling) at any and all stupid joke you made? 

If it did, then Jake had to admit to himself that he was absolutely, desperately and madly in love with you.

And so were you.

He just didn't know it yet.

[arkangelee]

helloo res congratulations on your 100 folls ! are the slots for the event still open ? if so i want to participate hehe can i get kaeya from genshin impact with friends to lovers tropes ? i'm skilled at art , especially in painting so maybe there will a scene where kaeya get immersed with the painting ? and oh oh maybe listening music with him jajdghej for the personality , i kinda chill and easy going with everyone i met and tend to unintentionally flirts ( i did this to my friend accidentally and she looks at me like i'm growing two heads ) , also i'm an enfp-t thank you res and have a good day / night !!

a/n — aaaa thank you!! this request was so cute i loved your dialogue—the blue period reference yes!! i was genuinely getting butterflies i love this man thank u for sending in this request dkfkdk i hope you enjoy!

i. kaeya alberich

you stared at the thermometer in disbelief, mumbling. “39 degrees?”

“ugh,” you grumbled, walking to your kitchen and taking out various ingredients from the cabinets. “soup it is.”

as the soup simmered in the pot, you hurried over to the door of your house and called out, “chris? would you mind taking this letter to the acting grandmaster?”

the young teenager called back out a yeah, taking your absence letter from the gap under your door. you could hear his gasp, probably looking at the few mora you’d slipped along with the letter. he thanked you and quickly went off to deliver your letter.

twenty minutes later, you heard a knock on your door. “who is it?” you rasped out.

a faint voice called out from behind the door. “it’s the cavalry captain, (y/n).”

you swung open the door, greeted by the towering figure of your friend, and cavalry captain of the knights of favonius.

“heard someone was sick?” he grinned, waving a bag of what seems to be warm food he’d just picked up from sara.

you chuckle, letting the man in. “thanks, kaeya.”

he looked around at the room, landing his gaze on the barely eaten bowl of soup. “you should’ve called me here, you can’t cook when you’re the one who’s sick.” he grimaced, emptying out the bowl and setting it down in the sink.

“in my defense, if i’d known you’d be coming i wouldn’t have. and i would’ve dressed up a tad bit more.” you smiled weakly, settling comfortably on your couch.

kaeya, who was in the middle of drinking a cup of coffee he had made himself, sputtered and coughed, staring at you in shock. he gained back his composure, chuckling. “you really have got to stop doing that.”

“don’t know what you mean, my dear captain.”

in short, he wasted the rest of the previously unspilled coffee.

“oh, kaeya.” you started, raising your head from your pillow to look at the man, seated on a loveseat.

“yes?”

you pointed at a cupboard in the corner, continuing. “could you get me a canvas and paint, please?”

he replied back skeptically. “are you sure you want to paint right now?”

at your eager nod, kaeya stood up and did as you said, settling the canvas down gently on your lap, along with a recently washed palette and a box of paint.

without further ado, you began waving your brush across your canvas smoothly, as if it were the waves rolling on liyue’s beaches, quick, and beautiful.

after a moment, the man sitting next to you, perched on his seat, asked.

“is it fun?”

“i’d like to think so, yes. art is quite fun. especially to those who are honest to themselves, it’s a language without words,” you paused, then winked cheekily at him. “like my love to you.”

kaeya, who was prior to that, deeply invested in your painting, seemed to shake out of his trance, burying his face in his hand. “….that’s not-“ he groaned. “you smooth bastard.”

“thank you for the compliment, pretty boy.”

“now you’re just practically begging for me to fall for you.”

‘deeper than i already have.’ he wants to say. but perhaps there would be a much more fitting moment for that.

[somewhatgreatexpectations]

They Can’t Take That Away From Me (Wanda Maximoff/ Reader)

Hello again! It is with great excitement that I present you all with the first part of the “Love Goes” sequel! I’m still trying to come up with a name (suggestions welcome lol). 

A good amount of dialogue from Wandavision is used here since it felt necessary to set the story up. Songs used are “They Can’t Take That Away From Me” by Frank Sinatra (1954) and “Lego House” by Ed Sheeran (2011). Let me know what you think!

Summary: What is life like for Y/n and Wanda in the 1950s? And what shenanigans will they be getting into? 

There was an odd sensation of confusion as Wanda looked around the home. Now that you had gone to work she wasn’t quite sure what to do with herself. Even though you had only been gone a moment, she couldn’t help the excitement that built within her at the thought of you walking through the door again. 

Much to Wanda’s relief, she wasn’t left alone with her thoughts long as an unexpected knock on the front door caught her attention. With furrowed brows she made her way over to the front door and opened it. A hesitant smile appeared on her face as a woman holding a plant smiled brightly back at her.

“Hello, dear. I’m Agnes. Your neighbor to the right. My right, not yours.” The woman informed her cheerfully as she made her way into the home before Wanda could even get a word out. “Forgive me for not stopping by sooner to welcome you. My mother-in-law was in town… So, I wasn’t.” 

The sound of laughter floated into Wanda’s ears as she smiled back at Agnes who offered her the plant which she graciously accepted. Agnes began speaking again before Wanda got the chance. “So, what’s your name? Where are you from? And most importantly, how’s your bridge game, hon?” 

The woman wandered further into the home as Wanda closed the door and rushed over to her, the smile of a perfect hostess never falling from her lips. “I’m Wanda.” She replied politely as she offered her a hand.

Agnes took her offered hand and shook it lightly. “Wanda. Charmed.” She looked around. “Golly! You settled in fast. Did you use a moving company?”

With wide eyes, Wanda turned and placed the plant on the table. “I sure did. Those boxes don’t move themselves.” She replied lightly, the polite smile returning to her face as laughter once again floated around her. 

“So, what’s a single gal like you doing rattling around this big house?”

Wanda waved her hand dismissively. That was something she certainly wasn’t. “Oh no, I’m not single.”

Agnes titled her head slightly in surprise. “Oh, I don’t see a ring.”

Glancing down at her finger for a moment, Wanda furrowed her brow before snapping her head back up to meet Agnes’ eyes. The smile never wavering. “I assure you. I’m married. To a woman. A wonderful woman. A writer at that!”

“A woman?” Agnes asked excitedly. “How nifty! Where exactly is your special lady?” She questioned as she took a seat on the couch. 

Wanda’s smile changed slightly and become something softer as she thought of you fondly. A change she didn’t even notice herself as she settled into the space next to Agnes. “She’s off at work. Meeting with her editor today.” She said, a proud tinge to her voice.

“Well, that’s exciting!” Agnes exclaimed, “It must be a dream to be married to a writer! Maybe she can teach my Ralph a thing or two on how to romance a woman.”

A bashful smile spread across Wanda’s lips. “I can’t speak for other writers, but mine certainly is a dream.” 

Agnes gestured to the round table in front of them. “So, what’s the occasion today?” 

For a moment Wanda merely stared at Agnes with confusion. Until her eyes fell to the calendar on the table which had a heart drawn in the box for the day’s date. The calendar which she oddly hadn’t noticed until that moment. “Well, it’s a special occasion, of course! Y/n must have left it there for me to find.”

Excitedly, Agnes leaned forward. “Is it someone’s birthday?”

“Not a birthday.” Wanda replied with a shake of her head, she knew that couldn’t be it.

In response, Agnes’ own eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Well, today isn’t a holiday, is it?”

“No, not a holiday…”

“An anniversary then?”

“Y-… Yes!” Wanda agreed quickly as she pointed at Agnes in recognition. “Yes, it’s our anniversary!”

Agnes reached out to take Wanda’s hands with an enthusiastic smile. “Oh, how marvelous! How many years?”

For a moment Wanda hesitated, something told her that answer wasn’t a simple one. “Well… it feels like we’ve always been together.” 

“How romantic! So… what do you have planned?” Agnes questioned.

“How do you mean?”

Agnes chuckled as if Wanda’s reply amused her. “For your special night! A young thing like you doesn’t have to do much, but it’s still fun to set the scene!”

A nervous look came across Wanda’s features as she considered Agnes’ words. Before she could reply, Agnes interrupted again. “Oh! I have the perfect article to help us plan!” She said eagerly as she rushed to the door. “This is gonna be a gas!”

Wanda turned away from the door with a dreamy smile as thoughts of spending a romantic evening with you filled her mind.                                           _______________________ “Y/ln!”

The shout startled you, and the clacking sounds that floated from your typewriter ground to a halt as you jumped up and turned towards the sound of the voice. “Yes, sir?”

“My office. Now.” The curly haired man huffed as he turned on his heel to go back in the direction that he came. 

Your desk mate, who’s name you couldn’t seem to remember, why couldn’t you remember, turned to you with a sympathetic smile as he pat your shoulder. “Tough luck, pal. Looks like boss man isn’t in good mood today.”

A tight, nervous smile was all you could muster as you quickly shuffled all your papers into your arms, grabbing your notebook as you left. With hesitant feet you stepped into the office. “You wanted to see me, sir?”

The curly haired man gestured to the empty seat in front of his desk as he lit a cigar. You sat with a nervous smile. “Just wanted to check in and make sure you’re ready for your dinner with Hart tonight. One of the biggest publishers in town. Sign with Hart, then you’re set for life, kid.”

“Of course, I am.” You replied quickly, even though you had no idea what meeting he was talking about. 

“You better be, kid, or else you’re done. I took a chance on you. Don’t make me regret it.” Through a puff of smoke, he gestured you out of his office which you didn’t hesitate to take.  

Hurriedly you ran over to the phone on your desk, dialing in the only number you knew. A sigh of relief escaped your lips when an answer floated through the receiver on the second ring. “Wanda, darling, I was just calling to see if you were prepared for tonight.”

“Why, of course, dear. I have everything under control.” Came her easy reply.

You breathed a sigh of relief as your shoulders dropped. “So, you know?”

The sound of her light laughter filled your ears, making you smile. “Well, when I saw the calendar I just figured.”

“That’s a relief… I must admit, I am rather nervous.”

After a brief pause, Wanda replied. “Nervous? Whatever for?”

With a quick glance back in the direction of the office, you answered. “Well you know situations like this always make me jittery, darling. It’s a tad nerve wracking.”

“Oh, Y/n. After all this time?”

Nervously you began playing with the cord of the phone, barely even processing her words. “I think there’s a lot depending on this, Wanda. If tonight doesn’t go well, I think this could be the end.” 

Another glance back at the office showed your boss yelling at your desk mate. “Well, it’s just one night. There’s no need to get dramatic.” 

Again, your nerves made it difficult for you to process her words. “With you at the helm, I know everything will go well. Until tonight, my darling. I love you.” 

The smile in her voice was obvious as she responded. “Until tonight. I love you.”

When you placed the phone back on the receiver, you couldn’t help but notice the song playing from the radio, something about a star-spangled man. A thought felt as though it was forming in your mind before the song was abruptly cut out, and a new song drifted out of the radio.

“We may never never meet again, on that bumpy road to love, still I'll always, always keep the memory of…”

                                                ___________________

When you entered your home, you couldn’t help the confusion that appeared at the sight of the clearly romantic atmosphere that was set up. The lights were dimmed, and candles were spread throughout the room.

“Wanda?” You called out hesitantly, placing your briefcase and the papers in your arms off to the side of the entryway. 

The woman in question sauntered in the room with a coy smile on her face. “Hello, darling.” She made her way over to you and draped her arms over your shoulders. “I missed you.” She whispered as she leaned closer.

Any thoughts that had previously occupied your mind vanished as every aspect of the woman before you invaded all your senses with ease. “Wow. Wanda… You look… breath taking.” You breathed out.

With loving arms, you pulled her closer as your fingertips skimmed over the soft and flimsy silk of the dress she had on. Like magnets your lips met in a tender embrace, a soft sigh escaping your lips at the sensation. Wanda pulled you closer fervently as her hands tangled into your hair.

A sharp knock at the front door startled you apart a moment later as your eyes widened with the realization of what you were supposed to be prepping for flooded back. “Hart!” You whisper yelled as you rushed to the mirror to fix your hair.

“Hart?” Wanda questioned in confusion.

“My publisher! I thought you knew?” You quickly turned to her, your confusion matching hers as another impatient knock appeared at the door. “I have to let them in!”

Wanda’s eyes widened. “Y/n, no! My dre-“ Her words were cut short as you had already opened the door, you own eyes widening when you realized what she was saying. 

Without thinking you moved behind the man and covered his eyes with your hands, Wanda following your lead as she covered the eyes of the woman standing next to him. “Y/ln, what’s the meaning of this?” The man exclaimed as you looked over to Wanda with wide eyes.

With a snap of her fingers, the beautiful dress she was wearing seconds before was replaced with a much more modest one. You both removed your hands from the guests and stepped in front of them with sheepish smiles. “Well, you see, sir…” you trailed off as you attempted to think of a reasonable response.

“It’s a tradition Sokovian greeting!” Wanda exclaimed, you nodded enthusiastically, thankful for her save.

You smiled nervously, “Yes! It is a traditional Sokovian greeting of hospitality, sir. My wife is from Sokovia.” Nerves began to bubble in your chest which Wanda noticed as she took your hand to steady you which immediately eliminated any feelings of discomfort. You loved her so much.

The woman chuckled lightly. “How exotic.”

“Mr. Hart, this is my wife, Wanda. Wanda, this is Mr. Hart.” You introduced quickly to steer the conversation back to where it should be. “And this must be Mrs. Hart.” you offered your free hand to the younger woman standing next to Mr. Hart as Wanda dropped the other.

The woman took your hand with an amused smirk as she eyed you. “Are you insane? This is my daughter.” Mr. Hart said gruffly, “My wife is out of town at the moment. My daughter has an eye for quality, so I brought her along.”

“Eleanor Hart. You can call me Ellie.” The woman offered, as you uncomfortably took your hand back from her. There was something familiar about her, but you couldn’t put your finger on it. 

Wanda walked off to pull a cloth off of one of the lampshades before taking your hand again. “Can I see you in the kitchen for a moment, sweetheart?”

“Excuse us.” You said quickly as Wanda was already dragging you out of the room. You blew out a candle along the way.

When you both reached the safety of the kitchen Wanda spun around to face you, “Who are those people?”

Instead of answering you asked your own question. “What was happening earlier?”

“Well, it’s our anniversary!” 

A look of confusion quickly overtook your features. “Our anniversary of what?”

Wanda threw down the cloth still in her hands and sulked away. “Well if you don’t know I’m not going to tell you!” 

“That man in there is Mr. Hart, my publisher! My editor set up this dinner for us, so we could discuss publishing my book.” You explained as you gestured vaguely to the window in the kitchen.

A look of realization crossed Wanda’s features as the disembodied laughter floated in the air again. “That must have been what the heart on the calendar meant.”

You took Wanda’s hand in your own, an apologetic look in your eyes. “Darling, this was so romantic to do. The candles, the music, that stunning dress…” You trailed off as your eyes glazed over at the thought. Wanda snapped her fingers in front of your face to get you to refocus. “Right. I don’t want to be unappreciative, but right now…”

“Your publisher and his touchy daughter are expecting a home-cooked meal?” She supplied helpfully.

You nodded sheepishly. “Exactly.”

Wanda glanced over at the table in the kitchen. “Any chance they’d settle for a chocolate covered strawberry split three ways?” Once again, the laughter floated through the air as you winced. “I might have a better idea.” Wanda announced as she ushered you out of the kitchen.

When the door to the kitchen swung shut behind you, Wanda rushed out the back door as you made your way over to Mr. Hart and Ellie so you could attempt to entertain them for the time being. It wasn’t long before commotion in the kitchen caught the guest’s attention which you were able to distract them from.

The second time the commotion began it seemed as though there would be no distracting Ellie. 

“Maybe I should see if Wanda needs help while you and my father discuss business. I sense trouble.” Ellie announced as she made her way over to the closed shutters that looked into the kitchen.

Nervously you stood up as the commotion in the kitchen continued. “Ellie, I insist you don’t-“ The woman kept moving forward though and eventually opened the shutters which you could see into as she was opening them. The sight wouldn’t be one that would be easy to explain as practically everything in the kitchen was floating around Wanda. 

Thinking quickly, you sang the first and only song that came to your mind to distract them. “I’m out of touch, I’m out of love, I’ll pick you up when you’re getting down. And-”

As soon as the song began falling from your lips both of the Harts began turning in your direction, only they seemed to be frozen mid turn. 

“-out of all these things I’ve done, I think I love you better now.” You murmured along to the lyrics that were drifting out of the speaker at your feet as you swayed lightly to the slow tempo of the song. Your eyes stayed locked on the woman in your arms.

The arms that were circled around your midsection tightened as Wanda lifted her head from your shoulder to meet your eyes. The look in her eyes was staggering. You had almost forgotten what oxygen was when Wanda was near. You didn’t care though, you’d happily stop breathing if it meant she was by your side. She was a different kind of air. 

Wanda grazed her palm along your cheekbone. You easily leaned into her touch. “You never gave me a choice, you know?” Wanda whispered even though she didn’t need to.

“A choice for what?”

“Loving you. It’s as easy as breathing. You are a part of me. I’ll never be able to love someone else.” The words fell from her lips so easily and you couldn’t help the way your heart beat heavily against your ribcage as though it were trying to get to her.

Closing the short distance, you connected your lips to hers. “Loving you was never a choice. It was a necessity.” You mumbled against her lips.

Wanda pulled back and just stared at you adoringly. “If I could go back, I would love you longer.” Your brows furrowed, you didn’t know why but you knew the response was out of place. “There’s never been anyone but you. Never. Not before, not now, and not in the future.” Wanda whispered fiercely as the compound around you began to fade and you both drifted away as pieces of the living room began to form again…

Suddenly the Harts completed their turn and stared at you in shock. You glanced up at Wanda in confusion, seeing the kitchen appliances still floating around her. You didn’t know what just happened and you hoped she’d be able to offer clarity.

When you met Wanda’s eyes though they were filled with an emotion you couldn’t quite register… except you could. It was pain. Before you could react, she waved a hand and the shutters closed once again. 

“Golly, what tune was that you were just singing there?” Ellie questioned excitedly, “It sure was nice.”

You smiled politely, unsure how to answer the question yourself. “Just something I heard a long time ago.” 

“A writer and a singer? Your wife sure is a lucky gal.” Ellie replied with a wink

The flirtatious comment made you shift uncomfortably where you stood. “The lucky one is definitely me. Wanda is heaven sent. Perfecti-”

“When is dinner going to be ready?” Ellie questioned abruptly, interrupting the day dreamy look in your eyes as you spoke of Wanda. “My head is spinning.” She added as she leaned on you for support.

Mr. Hart marched over to you as you nervously used your hand to fan his daughter. “Do you hear that? My daughters head is spinning. Generally speaking, I don’t like her head to do that.” You winced. Ellie leaned further into you, forcing you to use your arms to support her.

The lecture Mr. Hart was giving you continued. “You know, I’m beginning to think you aren’t worth publishing. I had high hopes for you after speaking to your editor. From what I’ve seen here tonight, you can barely keep it together. Look around there’s all this chaos in your househo-“

“Dinner is served.” Wanda interrupted as she stood by the table with an uneasy smile, her eyes expressing her discontent at Ellie’s position even if she didn’t say it. 

Mr. Hart turned to eye the table as you breathed a sigh of relief. “Breakfast for dinner, how very…”

“European?” Ellie finished with an entertained smile, still leaning on you. 

Thankful for the lighter shift in atmosphere, you quickly moved away from Ellie and rushed over to the table. “Let’s have a toast!”

Everyone gathered around the table. “To my lovely and talented wife.” You stared at Wanda adoringly as you raised your glass.

“To our esteemed guests.” Wanda countered with a smirk as everyone around the table clinked glasses. “Well, please, eat before it gets cold.”

Everyone took a seat around the table. “So, where did you two move from? What brought you here? How long have you been married?” Ellie rapidly spouted off. 

The polite smile on Wanda’s face faltered slightly as she seemed to ponder the questions. You chuckled nervously. “I think what my wife means to say is w-we moved from-” 

“Yes, we moved from…” Wanda interrupted only to pause in thought.

“And we were married…” You stopped as well to think of the answer, why couldn’t you think of the answer. You picked up a fork to keep your hands occupied.

“Yes, yes, we were married…” Wanda looked at you, confusion in her eyes.

 “Well, moved from where? Married when?” Mr. Hart asked impatiently.

Ellie pushed the food around her plate. She seemed amused at the situation. “Patience, Dad. They’re setting up their story. Let them tell it.”

“Our story…” Wanda began again, a nervous chuckle escaped her lips.

Mr. Hart looked between the two of you in annoyance. “Yes, what exactly is your story? I think it’s a perfectly simple question.”

Wanda stared blankly at the table as you felt a pressure begin to build in your temples. You held back a grimace. 

The walls in the room began to feel suffocating and the dress you had on felt constricting. Your breathing became heavier as your continued to desperately search your mind for something, anything. A memory that existed before this morning. The floor around the table began to splinter slightly as the fork in your hand folded in on itself. 

“Honestly, why did you come here? Why?” Mr. Hart slammed his hand on the table causing you both to jump. Your thoughts were racing as you wracked your brain for the answers to his questions but kept coming up blank.

A large crack in the floor appeared by Mr. Hart’s chair as he fell back, stuck on the edge, frozen in fear.

Ellie smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Dad, stop it.” The gap by the table widened as Mr. Hart teetered precariously on the edge, still frozen in shock. “Stop it.” She repeated. 

Wanda’s eyes widened in concern as you vaguely saw wisps float over to the gap but do nothing. The pressure in your head became even stronger as the world around you became more difficult to register.

“Stop it. Stop it.” Ellie kept repeating as she turned her attention to Wanda. Mr. Hart hanging over the gap by his fingers.

“Y/n. Help him.” Wanda said assertively as the racing in your mind came to a halt. You stared at the scene before you in horror. With subtle wave of your fingers, the gap closed as Mr. Hart was once again on flat ground. 

You rushed over to help him. “Let me help you up.”

When he was once again on his feet, Mr. Hart glanced at his watch. “Well, would you look at the time.”

“We better be going.” Ellie added as she stood up.

Wanda looked at them both cautiously, the polite smile making a reappearance, but much more tentative than before. “Are you both alright?”

“We had such a lovely time.” Ellie wandered over to you and shook your hand once again a moment too long, the flirtatious smile returning. 

With an uncomfortable smile, you pulled your hand back and made your way over to Mr. Hart. “You made me proud tonight. First thing Monday morning, I’ll make a call to your editor and let him know we have a deal.”

The final remnants of confusion faded away at his words as you eagerly shook his hand with a broad smile. “Yes, sir. Thank you.” Wanda let them both out as you each leaned against the closest object near you and breathed a sigh of relief. 

After taking a moment to collect, you both wandered over to the couch. You easily wrapped an arm around her. “You know, we are an unusual couple.” Wanda stated.

“Oh, I don’t think that was ever in question.” You replied as the disembodied laughter rang out again. 

Wanda leaned into you, “We don’t have an anniversary… or even wedding rings.”

You rubbed her arm soothingly. “Well, today could be our anniversary.” You offered.

“Of what? Surviving our first dinner party?” She questioned with an amused smile.

You chuckled. “Precisely.” 

“And the wedding rings?” She asked.

“Well, couldn’t you make some for us?” You questioned as you held out a hand, smiling when she mimicked your action. 

With a wave of her finger, beautiful rings appeared on both of your ring fingers. “I do.” You said softly before turning your head to look at her. “Do you?”

“Of course. I do.” Wanda replied tenderly as she intertwined your fingers. The disembodied voices cooed.

“And they lived happily ever after.” 

“And we have a happy ending.” Wanda whispered. A brief flash of something flickered in Wanda’s eyes, but before you could analyze she leaned in and lovingly connected her lips with yours in a sweet kiss. . . . . . . . . As the credits rolled there was a brief moment of silence as everyone stared at the screen. “I told you star-spangled man wouldn’t work. This is the 50s, not the 40s.” Darcy said pointedly.

The sound of a soft thud filled the room from Natasha hitting the back of Steve’s head. “I thought it would be close enough.” Steve grumbled as he rubbed the back of his head.

Fury stared at the screen intensely. “I know that woman, but how did she get there.” He mumbled more to himself than the people in the room. “I think I know someone who we can send in.” He eventually addressed the room.

They all turned to look at him. “Let’s do it. Rogers ideas obviously aren’t working.” Natasha answered as Steve crossed his arms in annoyance.

There it is! Part 1 of the “Love Goes” sequel. This one felt a little constricted by the episode because a lot of it still felt necessary as it introduced the newer characters which is why a lot of dialogue from the first episode was used here. The italicized portion was a memory in case that was a little confusing. Also “Star-Spangled Man” is from the first captain America movie lol. I’m actually kind of excited about this though! As always, let me know your thoughts, they’re always welcome!

P.s. I pictured Emma Watson as Ellie because Emma Watson. :)

[monodipita]

an icy stroll with the cavalry captain

words: 1,600

warning(s): general dark themes ahead, yandere themes

A/N: part 1/?? --do send in requests for content if you have any, my request box is open.

"Disobeying curfew, are we, [Y/N]? Naughty, naughty!"

His snooty, heartless tone produced shivers to roll down your spine. You swallowed thickly and turned your head to view none other than Kaeya, which caused you to freeze in place--to be expected of the cryo user. What a devilishly handsome man!

"How did you know?" You asked. And here you thought you disguised your tracks so well...

"Every night for the past twelve nights, you leave your home and stroll leisurely through this area before you take a right around the shrub and head in that direction. What's it mean to you?" He dodged your question with another one, making you bite the inside of your cheek nervously. "Is it that partner of yours?" He pressed, "not enough time to see them in the day? It must be nice to be with the one you love, it's not something I get to experience often." He chuckled, "lucky you."

"You can relax around me, you know. It's only my duty as a Knight to watch over the citizens of Mondstadt," He purred at you to possibly ease your mind, but you felt uncomfortable with the situation. Kaeya was a shady man, no questions asked. . .who knew what he was thinking at any given time? The only predictable thing about him was his drinking habits.

"I-I should go home." You spoke quietly, barely above the lull of an inside voice. How amusing, given the hurt in your heart. You wanted to see your partner so badly. Tonight was a special night for you both, and you didn't want to miss it for anything in Teyvat.

"Mm, now, where's the fun in that? I'm not opposed to the idea of you meeting up with your partner, if that's what you're thinking," Kaeya responded coolly, walking up to you and wrapping an arm around your shoulder. You immediately tensed, causing him to chuckle and lean in close to you. He smelled faintly of alcohol, a scent he could've worn naturally by this point. "If it's because you want to see your beloved, by all means, I wouldn't want to be a buzzkill. I'll keep you company while you walk, aye?"

...could you really say no?

"Sure, I guess," you flash a nervous smile at him. "Ah!" He exclaimed with a grin formed on his handsome lips, "then let's not waste time! I know you want to get to your partner's home."

And so, the two of you shared the cobblestone-paved road while he "escorted" you to your destination. The silence between you created a tension so thick that it could've been pierced with a weapon. In your mind, you were trying to make sense of things, but nothing seemed to come up. Just why would Kaeya be out so late at night? You just couldn't think of anything.

"You know, your partner has a pretty sharp eye in the Knights. How do you feel about them becoming an outrider?" Kaeya casually asked. Again, about your partner. You were beginning to notice a pattern, but to keep up appearances, you played along. "I had a feeling they were going to excel. I'm very proud of them, they're usually way too hard on themselves."

"It's because you were training them, weren't you?"

...

Again on the reminder that you could've gone into the knights yourself. He must've been scarred by that day. "Kaeya," you sighed exasperatedly and eyed him with a vexed expression, "please. I'm not, and won't be ready to enter into the knights. You know this, and yet you still find the heart to guilt trip me every time you bring it up?" You jabbed at him. "Have you any way of considering me at all?"

"I am considering you. By pressuring you, of course. Tough love never hurt anyone. Diluc and I practice that type of behavior all the time." If holding weapons at each other's throats was considered "tough love", then you didn't know what to think. "As long as I can pressure you enough to join the knights, then I know you'll thank me later."

"Why?!" You suddenly snapped, bringing your "leisurely" (if stepping so aggressively you could shake little baby teeny pebbles was leisurely, then sure) pace to a complete stop. You turned to face him and glared into his one, piercing azure eye. "I've told you time and time again that I don't want to be in the knights!"

"You don't mean that." Kaeya's eyes hooded, his tone eerily casual. "You wouldn't possibly spend out on spending time with some of the best-skilled people in Mondstadt, would you? I don't think you've even considered the opportunity that's been given to you. Constantly, mind you. I've practically gifted it to you on a silver platter. Are you proud that your...partner..." he seemed to hold back from saying anything rude, "has assumed your position?"

"..." you glared at him.

"Because I'm not," he purred. Even when things were so heated, he didn't even seem to break a sweat. He gently gripped your chin with minimal resistance on your end, and his chilled fingers braced your throat. Your body tensed, while your eyes narrowed. "What the hell are you doing?"

"It should've been you as my partner, not them. They're nowhere near you, who you are, and what you could be. In fact, your partner is holding you back. I don't think we have to see eye-to-eye to see such an obvious fact, yes?" Kaeya's voice dropped lower, to that of a mumble. "If only you accepted just how skilled you are, then we wouldn't be in this situation. I wouldn't have to see them every day, I could see you instead. I could be--" he stopped, while you remained silent. The duality of him saying 'partner' started to really fuck with your head. The air was so thin, coupled with no one being around to see or hear what was going on, that he was even able to get away with this.

"But alas, you want to continue wasting your breath on an unfortunate human being. I'm certainly not the one to meddle in other people's business, so I'll escort you to your partner's home, and I'll be well on my way..." He trailed off then, putting a pause in his unsettling dialogue. You furrowed your brows as he dropped his hold on your chin, releasing it from the icy grip he maintained on it. How utterly terrifying.

"...I don't want to walk with you anymore." It was all you could muster. Your lip trembled, possibly from a mix of the encroaching cold, Kaeya's words, and a blend of anger and fear. "I want you to get away from me."

"Let's relax," Kaeya hummed as he draped his hands over your shoulders. He turned you into the direction of your partner's home and gave you the gentle push to resume walking. "I'm harmless. Please? Just this one night. I can take you there, and we don't have to say a single word to anyone. We'll just keep my drunken ramblings between us, yes?" He drank so much that his breath permeated alcohol, no matter what time of the day. You must've gotten used to smelling it on him.

And foolishly, you believed his words. You took a deep breath and channeled your anger into a deep exhale, which expelled some of the negative feeling out of your body. He wanted to remain friendly, right? That was totally fine. Sure. Friendly.

As the two of you continued on your venture, the setting of Mondstadt began to rapidly change. The two of you ventured away from the live atmosphere that carried on, even this late at night, despite the curfew arranged for this city of freedom. These homes and buildings that surrounded you weren't lit up at all, and to tell the truth, it didn't seem like anyone was in them. The post lamps served as the only light to guide your way through the wide streets. It was very creepy...

But as you realized that you'd been walking for far too long to have reached your partner's home, your footsteps came to a stop. This was their street, right? "Why... why did we walk all the way out here? Kaeya, where the hell did you take me?" You worriedly looked over at Kaeya, but noticed that he was missing.

"The only way I could make you mine was if I isolated you, of course. I was so moved by your performance that I felt the need to act. I feel bad for lying to you, but not enough to apologize." Kaeya hovered over your half-conscious body. "I've waited far too long for this opportunity. Days turned into weeks, and weeks turned into months. Someone in their right mind would've stopped... no, someone in their right mind wouldn't have even done what I've done in the first place, but I'm a patient man, and I'll do whatever it takes to get what I want done."

"What... what do... you..." You couldn't even speak, he must've hit you too hard. Oops.

"What do I want? I want you, silly. I wouldn't go through all this trouble if I didn't. You're so special to me that I'd resort to committing unspeakable acts,"

He lifted your half-conscious body up into his arms. "I'm so excited! I've been waiting for this opportunity ever since you got with your partner! And now I can have you to myself. Don't ever question my method of doing things; just know that I get them done." His voice carried into the air.

[shyficwriter]

Temporary Home: Chapter 17

Guardians of the Galaxy fanfic | Reader x Guardians (With Yondu and Kraglin!)

Summary: Peter, grasping for straws to remain 'The Prank Master,' thinks he's found a way to annoy you into conceding. Unfortunately, and unbeknownst to him, what he's found is something much worse.

Previous Chapter here | Next Chapter Here Or click here to: Start From Beginning

Author’s Note: Content Warning for descriptions/mentions of PTSD and flashbacks. Also, for my records this chapter ends on day 34 of the Guardians living with reader. Enjoy!

Word Count: 6,761

Red covered your mouth and nose, all over your hand, and a bit on your sheets. You blearily tried to gather your senses, tried to open your eyes against the unforgiving light that blinded you.

Peter stood over you, laughing. Telling you that you got what was coming to you as you groaned.

That fecker had put ketchup in your hand while you slept and then tickled your nose with one of the fuzzy-tipped novelty pens on your desk. The dickhead.

"Ugh! Gross! Dude!?" you complain, sitting up and reaching over to grab the tissues off your desk so you could clean yourself up.

"Serves you right for what you did to me!" Peter countered, gesturing to the blue staining his body. He began to walk out of your room, making sure to let you know that you shouldn't expect the two of you were even.

You roll your eyes and continue wiping the ketchup-y mess off of you. You glance down at your sheets and realized you'd need to wash them today too. Great. Guess this is what you got for sleeping-in.

Once you had finally cleaned yourself up you gathered your sheets to take them downstairs to wash them, but not before making a pit-stop to Peter's room. Wanting to make the trip quick you grabbed the first thing you could find- his comb- and pocketed it. It was about to have a date with some jelly.

As you turned to leave his room you saw Rocket standing in the hall just outside the door.

With a knowing grin he asked, "Whatcha doin' there?"

"Nothing," you answer flatly, gathering your sheets back up.

He let you pass but said, "So I guess I didn't just see you steal Quill's comb, then?" There was amusement in his voice.

"He'll get it back," you answer, not pausing in your walk towards the stairs.

"What do you plan on doing to it?" he asked, intrigued. He had no intents to squeal on you. This prank-y-ness was a side of you he had been pleasantly surprised to see. Much better the the stiff agent-type you usually liked to display. Had he maybe misjudged you?

"The less you know the better," you answered, continuing down the stairs.

No witnesses. Rocket liked your style. Maybe you didn't have such a stick up your butt after all.

***

You threw your sheets in the washer and put the kettle on. It was time to make some jelly.

While waiting for the kettle you grabbed the packet of jelly from the pantry and something quick for breakfast. Deciding on a granola bar, you go to pull one from the box when you also notice that all your spices had been flipped upside down. Obviously Peter's doing. That's also when you remember that you had hidden the rest of the food dye behind the spices, prompting you to give a quick peek to see that the box was still there.

It wasn't.

Peter must have found it while setting up his prank and took them, intent on making the two of you "even."

Crap.

The kettle began to whistle and you pulled yourself out of your thoughts of doom to start fixing the jelly. You could think about the dye later. Right now you had mischief to make.

You mix up the jelly in a glass bowl, adding in an extra packet of gelatin to make sure the shape would hold later. Then, looking around to make sure no one was around, you take Peter's comb out of your pocket and drop it in. The bowl was just big enough for the comb to catch on the sides roughly about halfway deep in the jelly water, so that when you turned it out it would be nicely suspended in the green jelly. You then quickly take the bowl to the fridge to set, burying it in the back on the bottom shelf so it hopefully wouldn't be seen.

Then you simply went about your day as normal.

***

Other than several bad puns, Peter surprisingly didn't attempt much to annoy you that day, and you had no doubts that it was because he was confident that he'd be able to return the favor in dyeing you an odd color when you showered tonight.

Not if you had anything to say about it.

Too bad for him he had no way to know that you knew, and you were confident that you could deal with it when that time came if you paid enough attention. For now you were just going to act none-the-wiser, and accept his invitation to watch a show with the others.

You settled in on the couch and the episode starts. It's a title you haven't heard of before.

Watching it you gathered it was a type of mystery/detective/thriller type that was somehow also a comedy. A detective was accused of killing this old lady, and he was on the run to try and prove his innocence. Lots of action, a bunch of red-herrings, overall not a bad show so far if you had to judge by this episode.

Then there was the end-scene.

The detective finally found the actual murderer, the mayor, and after tricking him into broadcasting his confession over the radio in this abandoned radio station- where he somehow had managed to make a broadcast work- the two fight. Only the mayor has a gun, and the detective's fell into a storm drain two scenes ago.

Through his cunning the detective manages to escape alive, but not unharmed. He's got a compound fracture to his leg. Cops are on the scene and arresting the mayor after surrounding him at gunpoint, and ambulances can be heard in the background.

You feel the hair on your arms stand up.

The sound of the sirens just keeps getting louder.

You swallow, your throat suddenly dry.

They get louder. You look away from the screen into your lap.

All you can hear now is sirens. You don't realize they've already stopped on the screen. There's now instead dialogue, a conversation between characters, but you are unaware of it.

Your hands clench into fists, nails digging into your palms. You fight the images in your head. You don't want to see them. You hear sounds of tearing metal. Sirens. Screaming. Beeping. Your breathing gets shallow and you work to keep it quiet. You had to fight it back. Sirens. Bright lights. Glass shattering. Screaming. Sirens. You keep saying to yourself inside your mind that it's ok. You're ok. But what about-

Kraglin makes a comment to Yondu about something said on screen. You don't hear him. You only hear the sirens. God, why won't they stop? Screeching. Sirens. Blinding lights. Sirens.

Yondu turns to reply to Kraglin, but sees you looking strange. He raises an eyebrow, which Kraglin notices. He follows Yondu's gaze and sees you staring into your lap, body rigid, hands balled tightly into fists. Your eyes are wide, but unseeing. Your jaw is set.

Before either of them can say a word the buzzer on the washer goes off and you seem to jolt out of it, quickly hopping up and making your way out of the room.

Yondu and Kraglin share a look. What was that about?

***

You didn't return for another episode. Instead, you decided it was a nice enough day to hang your washing on the line. It hardly took you any time at all to finish, but you decide to stay outside for a bit anyways. Fresh air and all that.

Everything was fine. You were ok.

When you finally come back in it's well after a suitable lunchtime, and realizing that the only thing you had today was a granola bar, you decide to cut up an apple and sit at the table, scrolling on your phone as you eat.

Yondu comes into the kitchen for a drink and joins you at the table. "Where'd you go runnin' off to?" he asks, "Decide you didn't like the show?" What he really wanted to ask was what had prompted that look in your eyes earlier, but he knew better than to just come out an ask. You'd just deny anything had happened.

"Had laundry to dry," you answer, not looking up from your phone.

"Ya were gone an awful long time for laundry." Yondu said, not missing that you completely ignored his question about the show. But the question still bugged him. He recognized the look in your eyes back then. He remembered sometimes catching it in the eyes of some of the older battle slaves in the barracks when he was younger. It was the look one had when they were flashing back to something horrific they had been through. He and the other younger battle slaves were always told by other elders to leave those be when they were "stuck in it", as they would say. Don't disturb them. They'll come out of it. Nothing for it but to let it pass.

That never did sit right with him.

"It's a nice day. Thought I'd enjoy it," you answered.

Yondu hummed shortly. You weren't giving him anything, and he knew you wouldn't.

He decided not to press it for now, but he could tell something had triggered that response from you, he just didn't know what. He suspected it had something to do with whatever it was that you kept locked away inside. He had clues and suspicions as to what, but of course he couldn't be sure, though he was more determined now than he had previously been to figure you out. Only one thing was certain. You had pain inside you. A lot of it. No one should have to go through that alone.

***

Kraglin, unlike Yondu, wasn't nearly as subtle when he saw you next. However, he wouldn't get any further.

"Mind if I help?" he asked, joining you in the garden where you were pulling a few weeds.

"Go for it," you reply, barely looking up. There weren't many to pull, as it was starting to get cooler lately. You mostly just came out for something to do. Soon it'd be time to harvest the whole garden.

The two of you work in silence for a bit. Then, Kraglin asks, "So, um, was you alright earlier? I mean, saw that ya looked mighty shaken when we was watching that show."

"Don't know what you're talking about," you answer, standing up and tossing the weeds you picked over to the compost bucket.

Kraglin looked up to meet your gaze, frowning. He was about to say something along the lines that you were full of shit, but he stopped himself when he saw your stern expression. You weren't just denying it. With just those few words, combined with the subtly hard look on your face, you were outright telling him that he didn't see whatever it was that he thought he saw.

He exhaled out his nose and just gave you a look that said that he didn't believe you, but he wouldn't push it. He could see that you would just shut him out, and he felt like it wasn't his place to press it.

Suddenly a gunshot rang out, breaking the awkward silence and causing you both to jump.

You sigh, not appreciating the jolt, and said, "Damn hunters."

Kraglin nodded and tried to take this distraction as an opportunity to change the subject. If you wouldn't open up, maybe he could try and make you smile instead. "So... nice job on dyeing Pete blue last night. Real funny."

"I certainly thought so," you said.

He almost thought he saw you crack a smile. Wanting to bring about a full grin he decided to tell a story. "Yeah, it was just like this time Pete rigged a dye pack up in one of Yondu's drawers, I think he mentioned it last night. Anyway, so somehow Pete rigs it up, I think he got mad at Cap'n for making him scrub the grease traps or somethin', but anyway then Yondu goes to open his drawer one mornin,' yeah? And he's blasted in the face with this red dye. Ohhh boy! He was madder than a muzzled Flerken!!"

The mental image was enough to make your lips curl up involuntarily.

Kraglin noted this and continued, "What's worse is he had to meet with some lady client the next day about a job, and he couldn't get it off. He was this funny shade of purple for over a week!"

A short laugh suddenly breaks through your throat and you look at him. "Really?" you ask, mirth in your eyes. The mental image of the blue man looking quite cross and splattered purple while trying to commit space pirate business dealings was a humorous one.

"Yeah. He grounded Pete for so long after that." Kraglin replied, chuckling.

"I'll bet," you say as you stand up and brush yourself off, now finished with weeding and prepared to go inside. "Thanks. For helping in the garden, I mean." you say.

Kraglin also stands. "Not a problem, ma'am."

You wince and shake you head as you turn back to the house. You thought of telling him to knock it off with the 'ma'am' stuff, but you were concerned with what might replace it. So you left it alone for now.

***

You were on alert when you got ready for your shower that evening. You knew Peter had plenty of opportunity to have tampered with your bath products, but you played it cool. Acted unaware.

The plan? Beat him at his own game.

First you turned on the shower and let it run. You cupped your hands beneath the stream to make sure the water wasn't an odd color.

All clear.

You get into the shower, deciding to inspect your shampoo and conditioner bottles first. You felt it was unlikely he'd put it in those, as it would be unlikely to have a decent enough payoff for him, but you still checked just in case. Your shampoo bottle was see-through and the liquid inside clear, so it was obvious it had gone untampered. You went ahead and used it.

Time for conditioner. Unscrewing the top you look inside the conditioner. Completely white. Untampered. Good.

Finally you checked your body wash. It was a rose scented type and was already colored pink. If he was was going to strike anywhere, it would likely be there with the red dye. You squirted a little into a rag to test it on your hip, an inconspicuous area. You didn't even need to use it before you realized you were right. The body wash came out much darker than usual. It was like he hadn't even mixed it. Actually, that's likely exactly what he did. He probably wanted to make sure as much dye got on you as possible and so just squirted it right on top. Just out of curiosity, however, you still tested it.

Yep. It left a red steak right on your hip. You catch a glance at Peter's bottle on the shower shelf, and grin.

Silly Peter. He shouldn't have forgotten his bottle in the shower. Again.

You reach out of the shower for a new washcloth, and use some of his body wash instead. Of course, not before testing it on the first rag to make sure it wasn't left behind on purpose as a trap. It wasn't. The test proved it free of dye and safe to use.

For now.

Once you finished washing you then unscrewed the top off of Peter's bottle and carefully poured in as much of the dye from the top of your tampered bottle as you could without getting it on your hands. You had to sacrifice a little of the soap down the drain just to make sure it would come out clean the next time you used it.

Was he sure to notice? Probably, but you didn't care. You'd be just as happy with the message it would deliver if nothing else.

He was going to see that you were the Prank Master here.

***

Once finished with your shower you retreated to your bedroom. On the way you could hear Peter in his room asking Gamora if she had seen his comb, and you grinned. You sure knew where his comb was.

Mantis is gathering her own stuff together to take a shower when you enter the room. You glance at what she's carrying to make sure she has enough soap. God forbid she might run out and then use Peter's instead of yours. You actually would feel bad if the prank accidentally hit her instead of Peter. Satisfied that she does you shut your door behind her and wait, unable to keep a grin from splitting your face.

Perhaps half an hour later, a good bit after Mantis had returned from her shower, you can hear Peter shouting.

"Are you KIDDING me!?"

Mantis looks towards the sound in shock before turning to see you covering your giggles with your hand.

Now you can hear Peter cursing your name.

"What did you do?" Mantis asks, both intrigued and alarmed.

"He tried to get me back for turning him blue by putting red dye in my soap. I found out and turned it back on him," you answered, nearly stuttering over your giggles.

"How?"

"I just poured the tainted soap into his bottle. Now he'll have been dyed twice." You grinned, but it fell shortly when you heard the bathroom door slam open and heard his footsteps coming in the direction of your room. You jumped up and quickly flicked the lock just before he reached the door.

The knob jiggled and then he started to pound on the door, cursing your name and demanding you come out.

Feeling cheeky, you answered, "Nobody's home!"

From the other side Peter said loudly, "Come out here, you coward!"

"Do you need something?" you ask, your grin wide.

"You. Out here. Now."

"Whatever for?" You're have a real hard time biting back your laughter. Mantis is sitting on her bed, hugging her bear and openly giggling.

"You know exactly what for!"

You look to Mantis. "Should I?" you chuckle.

"YES! You should!" answered Peter from the other side of the door.

"Didn't ask you!" you retort. You look back to Mantis and she nods excitedly. She wanted to see what had happened to Peter.

"Alright," you answer, loud enough for Peter to hear as well. You unlock the door and slowly open it.

You tried to hold it in. Honestly, you did. But the sight of Peter standing there in his pajama bottoms, and now purple where he had previously been blue, and a pinkish-red just about everywhere else you could see, you lost it.

Your laughter, combined with seeing that you didn't have a spec of dye on you, made Peter cry out in frustration. "HOW?!"

"It-It's your fault," you laughed. "You left a trail!"

Peter narrowed his eyes. "I did not leave a trail!"

"You did! I-I saw you had taken the rest of the dye and I knew what you'd do with it. Dude, you- you really should have left the box behind. I might not have noticed then." It was all you could do to say the sentence coherently as you tried to hold back your giggles. "How did you not notice I turned it around and poured it back in your bottle? Don't you look??"

As Peter sputtered indignantly for a reply you noticed that you again had an audience. Yondu and Kraglin stood at the bottom of the stairs, grinning up at the scene and shaking their heads. Rocket and Drax were standing by their room, Drax chuckling with a giggling Groot on his shoulder and Rocket almost looking impressed. Almost. Gamora was standing across the landing, shaking her head, though it appeared more out of second-hand embarrassment for Peter rather than disdain for you.

"Don't I- You- I'm- UGH!" Peter sputtered in frustration. He had half a mind to tickle you until you peed your pants for this- Well, not literally, though he wouldn't be above threatening it. He may be an asshole, but he wasn't 100% a dick. Regardless, the other half of his brain was too busy trying to think of any suitable comeback... and failing. He was The Prank Master! How were you beating him at his game? He glared at you. He wanted to wipe that smirk off your face. "You think you're so funny, don't you?! Just wait. You better watch your back. I'm gonna... I'm gonna..."

"You're not going to do anything, Peter." It was Gamora who spoke now, her tone teetering somewhere between warning and exhaustion, with a hint of amusement buried somewhere in there. "She beat you at your own game. Go to bed."

You couldn't stop the grin that split your face if your life depended on it. You took a calculated step back, hand resting on your door. You put on your most innocent voice. "So..." you started. "Does this mean I'm The Prank Master, now?"

The look in Peter's eyes could have vaporized you. "That's it!" he cried, stepping towards you. He wasn't sure what he'd do when he got hold of you. Hold you in a headlock until you apologized? Wet Willie? Both? Neither? Didn't matter. All he knew was you were going to pay for this.

However, he'd never get the chance. You were too fast, slamming the door in his face and flicking the lock just before he could get near.

You and Mantis doubled over laughing and Peter sputtered some more empty threats before Gamora could be heard scolding him and telling him to go to bed.

It was even better the second time.

***

The next morning you were, dare you say, cheerful.

Peter, less so. He was still a bit cranky that not only had he been the victim of the dye prank twice, just one night after the first, but that it had happened because he tried to get you back and you turned the tables on him. Sure, he had cooled down a bit from last night, but he was still an uneven purple/pinkish-red mess and the others kept snickering at him. Even Gamora had been caught hiding a grin behind her hand a couple of times.

It wasn't fair. He was determined to get you back, but how would-

He spotted something on the kitchen table, interrupting his thoughts. Something shiny, and green, and was that...?

Oh you were going to get it.

***

You were minding your own business, walking over to one of the bookcases in the sitting room, when suddenly you were accosted.

Peter had pulled you into a headlock from behind.

"Hey! What the hell! Let me go!" you demanded.

"Tell me you're sorry and I'll think about it!"

You had a feeling what this was about, but you played dumb. "I'm not going to apologize for turning the tables back around on you! It was your own fault for trying."

"That's not what I mean and you know it!"

You started softly laughing despite the moderate chokehold. You couldn't help it. "Did you- Did you ever find your comb?"

Suddenly you feel something wet in your ear. You knew there was only one thing it could be. "Ew! No! Peter!" you squeal, trying to squirm away. "That's disgusting! Stop it!"

Peter was chuckling now, still giving you a wet willie. "Say you're sorry!"

You jerk against him. "Never!" You were laughing despite really only having one hand to fight him with. The limited range on your brace made it so you couldn't bend your elbow enough to grab his arm with that hand, and you were standing too close to the bookcase to throw him over you and get out of the headlock. Well, too close to do it without hurting him, or your books, that is. You were stuck, but you still weren't going to give in.

Turns out you wouldn't need to.

"Alright. Break it up," came Yondu's voice from somewhere off to the side. "What's going on here?"

Peter released you and you rubbed your ear against your shoulder to get the wet feeling out of it. "She put my stuff in Jello!" he complained.

Yondu gave you a weird, albeit amused look. "Don't ya think ya did enough to him already, missy?" He wasn't scolding you, but he actually was surprised you were still on the attack after having seemingly won the war last night.

Fighting a grin you reply, "In my defense, I'd already done that before the dye thing. I only found out he was planning that afterwards," Technically not the full truth- you actually found out during the setup of the jelly prank, not after, but it was close enough, "and what was I supposed to do, not turn the tables back on him when I found out?"

Peter punches you in the shoulder, but there was no anger behind it, just cheekiness. You stick your tongue out at like a child in retaliation.

Yondu grinned and shook his head. It'd been awhile since he'd seen his boy carefree and goofing off like this, even if he was bickering with you like the two of you were kids. Still, he should maybe try to persuade a stop to the prank war again before things escalated any more and you two killed each other. It'd be a shame to save him from Ego just to let him die in a prank war of all things, and bad form to let him kill their host. "Boy, I think ya might need to accept that she won this round." he said, a hint of teasing in his voice.

"I will do no such thing! She just got lucky." Peter replied.

You smirked. "Yeah. Sure. 'Lucky'," you taunt. "Just say it and I'll call us even."

"EVEN?!" Peter exclaimed. He gestured to the stained purple and pinkish red of the areas of skin you could see. "Look at me!"

Trying not to smile you slowly look down to the brace on your arm. Head cocked to the side your eyes look back to Peter. "You were saying?"

Peter bit his lip and narrowed his eyes. You could tell he wanted to retort with something, but he knew he had no leg to stand on. Eventually he settled for, "I'm still not saying it."

Yondu snorted a laugh. "Whatever it is, just be a man and say it, boy. Quit while yer ahead."

Peter looked at him indignantly. "I am not going to declare her The Prank Master."

Unable to suppress your grin any longer you nudge him in the shoulder and say in your sweetest voice, "It's ok, you don't have to say it," taking a few steps away you add, "We already know." You then jogged out of the way when he made a grab for you.

You made your way out the front door, but he didn't follow, instead just stood there pouting.

"Ya finally gonna give it up, boy? Take yer loss like a man?" Yondu chuckled, teasingly.

"Never." Peter responded, too busy plotting revenge to fully catch the "take it like a man" part as he walked out of the room.

Yondu chuckled and rolled his eyes as he went to take a seat on the sofa. It was nice to see that you had a goofy side, though he wondered if it was Peter rubbing off on you, or if you had just had it buried under layers of stubbornness and sass.

Either way, it seemed certain that the boy was gonna have to relinquish his self-proclaimed title of "The Prank Master."

***

Over the next couple days the pranks between you and Peter had slowed down. This was likely in part because of how you made Peter realize that he couldn't complain too much about getting even for the dye prank if he considered that you were still in a brace as a result from one of his previous pranks gone wrong, but also in part because the two of you had pulled so many pranks so far you were seemingly running out of ideas.

Peter moved the furniture in your sitting room 3 inches to the left, likely to get your back for putting his comb in jelly.

You retaliated by setting up some cling film up at head height in the kitchen doorway for him to walk into and then calling him into the kitchen.

He got back at you by swapping your salt and sugar out, thereby ruining what would have been a perfectly good cup of tea.

For this high crime, you decided to get him back by scrapping out a couple Oreos and filling them with toothpaste. He was most definitely not fond of that one. Called it a crime against nature, and he may have been right, but so was what he had done to your tea.

Other than that, nothing really escalated, well apart from the oreos and tea, that is. The two of you kept making little jabs at each other and annoying one another. Really bad puns, petty insults, that sort of thing.

You did assume, however, that Peter was just biding his time, trying to think of something big that he could spring on you that might make you give up the game and declare him The Prank Master, because gods knew he wasn't going to concede.

And you'd be right.

Peter spent a decent amount of time brainstorming ideas for a really good prank, or even just a decent way to annoy you, in between all the smaller ones, but he was coming up with nothing he deemed quite good enough.

He was about to consider throwing in the towel when you inadvertently provided him with the fodder he needed.

***

It was the fourth day since the first dye prank and most of the dye on Peter had worn off by now.

You were reading on the couch, little Groot was playing with the TV and flipping through random videos on the YouTube app with Drax, and Peter and Kraglin were in the middle of a card game at the table on the other side of the room.

In what you would chalk up to a cruel twist of fate, Groot managed to find his way into a video of ambulance calls.

Rudely and immediately torn from your book by the sound, your hand shoots out for the TV remote and you mute the TV, much to the dismay of little Groot, who had found the noise fun and had been cheering the siren on. As calmly as you can despite your rapid heartbeat, you ask Drax, who was confused by your behavior, to please tell Groot to find something else to watch.

Drax looks at you strangely, but translates for Groot anyway, which again, only sounded to you like he was repeating your words verbatim due to his translator. You still didn't know that the translators didn't actually translate into Groot, but rather Groot had just picked up and could understand a bit of Galactic Standard, even if he couldn't speak it.

Groots looks slightly disappointed for a second but agrees and switches videos and you unmute the TV.

You didn't bother checking what new video he had chosen. That had been a mistake.

After the ad finished playing you were jerked back into reality from your book by the sounds of now multiple ambulance calls going at once. You mute the TV once again and say, "I'm sorry. I should have been more clear. Anything else. Anything else except for videos of that sound."

Drax, rightfully confused, asks, "Why?"

"I do not like it." is all you offer, and you don't elaborate when asked.

Peter, of course, overhears all this, and thinks he's found his new way to annoy you. He of course had no way of knowing the reason you couldn't bare the sound wasn't due to annoyance. He had no way of knowing its effect on you.

***

He tested the waters the next day after lunch.

You were washing up the dishes with Gamora when the sound of an ambulance siren makes you freeze in the middle of drying a bowl.

Gamora turns her head towards the noise and wonders aloud what it was.

Without answering you take towards the direction of the sitting room to, gently, scold Groot for playing those videos again.

Of course, when you get there, you only see Peter, who pretended to be surprised to see you.

"Turn that off," you say sharply.

"What?" Peter asked innocently.

You didn't ask him again. You just grabbed the control and exited the video before throwing the control back down into his lap. "Don't play that again," you warn.

"Why? Does it annoy you?" Peter asked with a smirk. He didn't notice your hands shaking.

Your eyes hardened. "Just don't," you say, returning to the kitchen.

Peter grinned. He was going to have fun with this.

***

Peter would play that sound three more times that afternoon, each time eliciting a more irritated response from you until you finally ripped the plug to the TV out of the wall and turn to him to angrily yell, "Stop it!"

"What?" Peter asked, chuckling in surprise at your latest response. You must really hate that noise.

"You know exactly what. I'm seriously, genuinely asking you to knock it off," you reply.

Gamora, who could tell Peter was working your last nerve and who was also becoming irritated by the repeated playing of the sirens, nudged Peter and told him he had his fun.

Peter half smirked and seemed to relent, saying simply, "Okay."

You sigh. "Thank yo-"

"After you declare me The Prank Master."

Gamora rolled her eyes and propped her head up on the hand resting on the arm of the couch, not wanting to get involved, but inches from yelling at her boyfriend that she was ending the prank war herself.

You were seething. "You're a goddamn child!" you scold, leaving the sitting room and considering getting out some of the vodka you had in the freezer just to calm your nerves.

You had only just made it into the kitchen when the sound started up again.

You back against the wall and cover your face, inches from tears. Your breaths came in shallow gasps as flashes of bright lights and the sounds of tearing metal and screaming fill your senses. You tangle your hands in your hair.

"FUCKING STOP IT!" you scream.

Peter and the others in the sitting room, as well as those upstairs, all paused in shock at the sheer volume behind your scream.

They then heard the sound of the back door slamming forcefully.

Yondu, who had been at the table playing cards with Kraglin, had only been present for the second and last incidence of Peter annoying you with the sound, and it wasn't until now that he put the pieces together. That day when you acted strange and walked out on the show- this siren sound had been playing then too.

Shit.

He got up and scolded Peter, who in his shock still hadn't turned the video back off. "Turn that shit off now, boy! If I hear it again I'm gonna shove my arrow up your ass! You hear me?"

Peter, recognizing the tone in Yondu's voice as one that he had encountered many times as a child when he was in trouble, immediately switched the video off. He had to concede that perhaps he went a little too far this time, but of course he didn't actually understand just how true that sentiment was.

Yondu went to go see where you went, and he didn't need to look very far, which surprised him. He was for sure you would have taken off for the forest again, since it was kinda your thing.

Instead, you were sat with your back pressed against the stone of the house about a couple meters from the door, hand clamped over your mouth and eyes in that terrible 'wide yet unseeing' way. In the dim light provided by what shone out the kitchen windows from inside he thought he could almost see the remnants of fallen tears.

He tried to approach you slowly, but you caught him out the corner of your eye and jerked to a standing position.

"Hey, hey-" Yondu said, holding his hands up. "It's alright-" he started, but then found he didn't know what else to say. After a moment he settled on, "Ya wanna talk about what that was about?"

You don't meet his gaze. "Nothing. He just pisses me off. He's a damn child."

"While that may be true, yer still full of shit."

You glare at him.

He continues. "If this was just about Quill gettin' under yer skin ya wouldn't be shakin' like that, and I doubt you'd be crying neither."

"Am not," you mutter. You turn away, wipe your eyes, cross your arms self-consciously, and start walking away. "It's cold."

Yondu rolled his eyes. It was cool out, yes, but it wasn't that cold. "Ya wanna talk about why ya dislike the particular noise so much?" Yondu called after you. "Ya ain't got to, but I can tell somethin's eating ya. I might help to get it off your chest."

"It's nothing." you reply. "Just an annoying sound."

Yondu frowned. "Now listen here. I ain't gonna force ya to tell me, but I'll be damned if I'm gonna let anyone just flat out lie to my face, missy."

You turn to him, indignant. "I'm not-"

"Hell if ya ain't. I've seen that look before, I know what it is. Ya can lie to yerself, but ya can't lie to me!"

You glare at him. "Who the hell do you think you are? Coming in here acting like you know anything about me!"

"I'm the person telling ya that it ain't healthy to keep that shit bottled up inside ya. It'll eat ya alive."

You don't respond. Just roll your eyes and start walking away again.

Yondu threw up his hands. "To hell with you then!" He starts to walk back inside but stops at the door to speak again, this time his tone a little softer, "I have a feelin' no one's ever told ya, girl, but ya don't have to 'be strong' all the time. Sometimes it's ok to let people in. It don't make ya weak." With that he headed back in the house.

You lean your back against the cool stone and sigh in frustration. What did he know.

***

You head back inside a bit later, not feeling much better.

Peter catches you as you're about to head up the stairs. "Hey, I just wanted to say sorry for-"

"Don't." You cut him off, not stoping in your path. "I don't care. I'm going to bed."

Peter frowns, but lets you go. Maybe he could try again in the morning. He truly was sorry. It was just supposed to be a bit of fun.

***

You stared up at the ceiling from your bed for what felt like hours. You couldn't sleep, couldn't stop thinking about it. You knew Peter had no way of knowing why you couldn't stand that sound, but you still couldn't help but be unhappy with him. He just wouldn't stop.

You can feel your jaw clenching with each flash of horrific memory.

You were annoyed at Yondu too. Acting like he knew anything about you or some shit. What did he know? Not you, that's what. You didn't need someone acting like they cared. You didn't need anyone, really. People come, people go. No one stays forever.

You feel your chest clench. Your throat tightens and you sit up. You didn't want to cry.

A walk. That's what you needed. A walk in the forest would surely help wash the memories away. You could walk until you were too tired to think about it, then sleep it off. It would be better in the morning. You'd be ok.

You quietly slip on some jeans and make your way downstairs to put on your boots and grab a jacket. Choosing your thin leather one because it had been chilly when you were out earlier, you open the back door and head out into the cool night air.

You'd find out soon enough that you should have stayed in bed.

[burberryharold]

hey, lovies! i’ve been so excited to post this fic because i am in love with Harry and Jules and i hope you will be too (and excuse the lousy banner i just wanted to have something lol)! this is a part of @1dffchallenges’s valentine’s day challenge, so i hope you enjoy reading it and happy valentine’s day, it’s all about spreading love around so here is some love from me to all of you ❤️

a special thank you to @fireproofrry @bodejacketharry @strawberryystyles​ for beta reading and giving feedback, you are absolute angels <3

word count: 7.7k

warnings: none!

challenge prompt and dialogue: strangers alone on valentine’s day + “I’m allergic to chocolate. And roses.”

It’s official, valentine’s day is the worst.

At least that’s what Jules thought as she adjusted herself on the bar stool, trying to get into a comfortable position while she waited for her drink to be served.

It wasn’t in Jules’ agenda to spend what was supposed to be the most romantic day of the year alone at a bar ten minutes away from her apartment. If she was still with Leon, they would have been having a nice dinner somewhere, laughing over whatever funny story one of them had to share about their day at the company.

But alas, Leon was someone else’s now and Jules was only left with her own company.

Truth be told, though, Jules never minded being alone, in fact, she enjoyed being by herself because people were simply exhausting.

But being alone and being lonely were too completely different things, and Jules hated feeling lonely.

And valentine’s day only made that worse. Seeing loved up couples around her, flashes of red and pink everywhere she glanced, hearing cheesy love songs blasting through the speakers of the shops she passed by. Everything about valentine’s day just seemed to remind her of her lonely status.

Instead of staying at her apartment all night long doing nothing but watching rom coms and feeling sorry for herself, Jules thought of a better alternative, which was to get pissed drunk. So when she got up in the morning to go to work (because even on valentine’s day duty calls), she put on her favourite black dress, one that was sleeveless and had a deep v-neckline, and put on enough makeup to feel confident in the way she looked before pulling on her coat and venturing into the cold streets of London.

If she was going to get pathetically drunk by herself at a bar after work whilst everyone else was being all lovey dovey, then she would look hot doing it.

The sound of a glass coming in contact with the wooden surface broke her out of her reverie and she glanced up, finding that the bartender had placed her drink in front of her and he was beaming at her. “There you go, love, happy valentine’s day.”

After squinting at the name tag (she’s never seen him here before, he must be new), Jules forced herself to return his smile and lifted her glass. “Cheers, Jonah.”

Poor guy must have thought she was waiting for a date or something. Too bad, no one was going to be joining Jules on this fine evening. Just me, myself, and I.

Setting her glass back on the counter after taking a big gulp, Jules scowled as she was reminded of the items she had received earlier in the day. For some reason, Leon thought it was a good idea to give her a box of chocolates and a rose, even though they were no longer together and he had another woman by his side.

She appreciated the thought behind it, he probably just wanted to be nice or maybe he felt guilty, but his gift was staring at her, almost laughing at her misery and she wasn’t having it.

That is why she instantly asked Jonah for a fork, which caused him to send her a confused look but he complied nonetheless, and she proceeded to stab the pieces of chocolate placed perfectly in the box, taking out her frustration on the sweets.

Once satisfied, she dropped the fork with a clunk and heaved out a sigh, lazily resting her chin in her right hand before looking back at Jonah. He was staring at her with wide eyes as he dried off some shot glasses, surely thinking that she was a lunatic, but Jules just flashed him a sweet smile and shifted her eyes back to the chocolates she had just assaulted.

Poor chocolate, but oh well.

“Are you alright there?”

“What the fuc-“ The sudden voice caused her to jump in her seat and she almost fell off the bar stool if it weren’t for the hand that magically materialised behind her, holding her steady.

Before she had a chance to slap the hand off her back, the stranger retracted it and returned to his seat and she had the chance to take a proper look at him.

The man stared back at her with concerned eyes, a stool separating the two of them, but he was still not that far away from her. Jules wondered when he had gotten there because she certainly didn’t feel him arrive. Perhaps it was during her chocolate rampage.

What really surprised her though, more than his sudden appearance, was the fact that she knew who he was. In fact, she believed everyone knew the man sitting beside her because it was none other than Harry Styles.

Many questions ran through Jules’ head, the most important being what on earth was a guy like him doing at this bar on valentine’s day? Jules never believed in the image the media painted of him, but surely he has something better to do than be here, all by himself it seems?

As big of a fan as she was, the fact that he was right before her didn’t faze Jules all that much, her mind was more preoccupied by other matters. So, she ended up doing what she would’ve done if it was any other person: she glared at him and wordlessly turned back in her seat, pretending as if he wasn’t there.

He didn’t seem to take the hint.

“You were quite aggressive with the chocolate there.” His deep voice floated in the empty bar as he pointed at the box in front of her.

Jules inhaled deeply before responding in a flat tone. “I’m allergic to chocolate.” Glaring at the single rose lying beside the box, she grabbed it and tossed it on the floor beneath her, silently cursing Leon once more. “And roses.”

She felt guilty for littering, but she’d pick it up when she leaves. Eventually.

“Are you really?” The man beside her questioned, leaning forward in his seat, his body completely turned towards her at this point. She could tell from her tone that he was skeptical of her supposed allergies and she honestly couldn’t blame him.

“No,” she found herself shaking her head, signalling for Jonah to get her another drink, still keeping her body facing forward and only glancing at him from her peripheral vision, “I’m just fucking with you.”

To her surprise, he let out a small laugh, not seeming to be upset. Jules couldn’t help but turn her head a bit to look at him, finding a dimpled smile on his and she wondered what was wrong with this guy.

“May I ask why you were stabbing the poor sweets then?”

Figuring she should just put him out of his misery and answer his question, Jules huffed and crossed her legs, not missing the way his gaze flickered down for a split second before returning to her face. She ignored it and sighed, “Well if you must know, my ex gave them to me this morning.”

“Trying to get you to take him back?”

“Oh god no,” Jules laughed at the notion, her hand waving off his wrong assumption, “he’s as happy as can be with his new girlfriend.”

The blatant confusion on his face prompted her to provide more explanation.

“We broke up a couple of months ago, he left me for someone else. So he probably just felt guilty.”

“He left you for someone else? And before the holidays?” When she nodded in confirmation, he shook his head with a frown. “Bastard.”

“Tell me about it.”

“Valentine’s day just sucks, it’s just a reminder of how lonely you are,” she muttered with bitterness, “Of how lonely I am.”

“Well if it’s any consolation,” Harry said, pausing to ask the bartender for another drink, “I’m lonely tonight too.”

“Well, obviously, otherwise you wouldn’t be here getting drunk on your own.” With a few drinks already in her system, Jules practically had no filter whatsoever (not that she really had one in the first place).

“Touché,” he clicked his tongue, then leaned back to chug down the rest of his glass. Jules was almost concerned by how quickly he downed his drink, but she’s not in a position to talk, after all, she’d been doing the same. “But I’m not getting drunk on my own now, am I? You’re right here.”

She scoffed, eyebrows raising at his words. “Who said I’m keeping you company? Or that I’m not leaving any second now?”

“I don’t think you are.” He responded with much conviction that it almost threw Jules off.

“You think too confidently about a stranger you just met.”

“Let’s fix the strangers part then, shall we? I’m Harry.” He extended his ring-clad hand and Jules noticed a coat of red nail polish on his fingers. How ironic.

She sighed before deciding to entertain him, grabbing a firm hold of his surprisingly warm hand. Maybe she’ll allow him to keep her company tonight. It doesn’t seem like he’s going to leave her alone anyway.

“Jules.” She simply responded before turning back to her drink, swirling the pink straw around. She made a mental note to thank Jonah later for the cute straw.

“Jules” Harry repeated, as if testing the name on his lips and Jules would be lying if she said that she didn’t like the way it rolled off his tongue. “Is that a nickname for Julie? Julia? Short for Juliann-“

“Juliet. It’s Juliet.” She interrupted his ridiculous ramble. He surely was inquisitive. And did she really look like a Julianne?

“Huh,” he hummed, gliding a finger over the rim of his glass, staying silent for a few seconds and Jules thought he was maybe done for the night.

She thought wrong, it seems.

“Oh, Juliet, oh, Juliet, where art thou, Juliet?” He dramatically recited, voice going deeper as he stared upwards at a spot over the bar. Simply put, Jules thought he looked ridiculous.

She could hear Jonah snickering in the background.

“It’s where art thou, Romeo, but nice try.” She rolled her eyes in response to his theatrics. Almost everyone she’s ever encountered has commented on her name and made a reference to the infamous Shakespearean tragedy that she’s never been too fond of. It’s why she mostly went by Jules.

No one’s ever recited that line though, however wrong it was. That was a first.

“I knew that,” the curly-haired man mumbled beside her, swirling his glass and watching the ice cubes swim around, “was just joking, geez, tough crowd.”

Jules couldn’t help but roll her eyes again in response. That joke got old a long time ago.

She’s beginning to regret coming to this bar tonight. Maybe she should’ve just headed straight home and cuddled into her blankets.

“It’s pretty, though,” he added a few moments later, “beautiful name for a beautiful woman”

No way. She huffed, spinning in her seat to face him once again. “That’s your line? Tell me, Mr. Rockstar, has that really worked on anyone before?”

She could tell he was a bit surprised but tried to hide it; unluckily for him, Jules was a very observant person, hardly anything passed her.

“I-I didn’t mean it like that-“

She interrupted him again and leaned in closer, resting her elbow on the countertop and raised an eyebrow. His eyes flickered for a fleeting second to the charm bracelet adorning her wrist. “So you don’t think my name’s beautiful? Or that I’m beautiful? Sheesh, Harry, you’re not looking good here.”

Harry spluttered, staring at her with eyes blown wide in panic and Jules almost felt bad for messing with him; it was just hard not to, she was lonely and he was right there annoying her with his lousy jokes, so he has the unfortunate fate of being her victim tonight (and truthfully, he brought it on himself). And if she was being honest, messing with Harry Styles was just too entertaining of an opportunity for her to pass on.

To be fair, she was a little annoyed by his presence in the beginning, having originally planned to wallow in her misery all by herself, but now she’s having fun. She might just enjoy her time with him.

“No- no of course I think you’re beautiful, y-your name too,” he responded in clear panic, seemingly trying to figure out how he can redeem himself. Jules’ attention was momentarily caught by the way his rings glimmered under the light as he flexed his fingers, still fumbling for a response. “I was just-“

“Styles,” she interrupted him, yet again, with a light-hearted laugh and shook her head, hair falling forward on her shoulders, “Relax, was just messing with you.”

His shoulders visibly relaxed and he heaved out a sigh of relief; his eyes then narrowed and he lifted his hand, pointer finger wagging in her direction. “You really like messing with people, huh? Not very nice of you.”

“Made you sweat, no? Was just having fun. I can now say that I’ve made the infamous Harry Styles stumble over his words. How much do you think they’ll pay me for that hot gossip? Reckon it would be a lot.” She said as she turned back in her seat, now facing the bar once again, but she knew he caught the smirk on her face and the teasing lilt in her tone.

Coming to the bar was definitely a good decision.

Harry felt like a proper idiot.

Here he was, sitting at a pub with a lovely woman that clearly didn’t want to be bothered, yet he had to fuck things up and be a git.

And the Juliet bit? Harry had never been more embarrassed, he didn’t know what he was thinking, or if he was thinking at all. He made sure to remind himself that he wasn’t that funny and should just stop trying to be. You’re making a fucking fool of yourself.

In spite of his rather embarrassing advances, Harry found himself enjoying Jules’ company immensely, even if she had barely looked his way when he had arrived at his spot.

She might’ve looked irritated by his insistent attempts to start a conversation with her in the beginning, but from the way her body has been facing him for the past half an hour and the smile or two she’d thrown his way, Harry had a feeling she was warming up to him.

He discovered that she was an accountant, which thoroughly surprised him because she didn’t seem like one. Harry doesn’t like to judge a book by its cover, but Jules definitely didn’t scream accountant, more like a Greek goddess or something. Her black dress hugged her body in a way that almost made Harry dizzy; he had noticed her the second he walked into the nearly empty pub – and before he could even think about it, he found his legs carrying him in her direction (he was already headed to the bar anyway, or so he told himself).

Admittedly, the way she was stabbing the chocolates had him fearing for his life for a split second, but Harry brushed it off and figured she just wasn’t a fan of valentine’s day, if her apparent disdain for the sweets and the rose before her was any indication.

He was also surprised to learn that she’d moved here from America about five years ago and this pub was one she often frequented, yet Harry had never run into her somehow despite coming here a lot and living not too far himself.

He’s glad their paths have finally crossed tonight, though.

That being said, Jules was definitely keeping him on his toes. He never knew what she was going to say next, and she certainly did not hold back from saying exactly what was on her mind.

Harry found himself liking that about her, even if her forwardness came at his expense sometimes (he couldn’t say he didn’t deserve it). Oftentimes, people acted cautious around him and treated him differently just because of his status. Not Jules, though.

But now he could tell that she had something on her mind, from the way she looked at him then shifted her eyes elsewhere a second later.

“What is it?” He questioned, deciding to put her out of her fidgety state. He wasn’t sure what was holding her back, she certainly had no problem handing his ass to him earlier.

“It’s just,” she started, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth, the movement catching Harry attention for a second before he reminded himself to be respectful, “what are you doing here by yourself tonight? I find it hard to believe that someone like you doesn’t have anyone to hang around on a day like this.”

Someone like him? Harry furrowed his eyebrows, not sure what she was implying with her words but he didn’t believe she meant it in a negative manner necessarily.

“That came out wrong, I didn’t mean anything like that,” she quickly defended, face becoming redder by the second and Harry was a little endeared by the sight. The woman before him was confident all throughout their conversation, having no fear in expressing her thoughts, yet now she was the flustered one. And Harry couldn’t help but enjoy it.

Time to give her a taste of her own medicine.

“What, thought someone like me had a flock of women at their beck and call and that I’d be off with one or some of them tonight?”

He gave her a blank look afterwards, pretending that he found offence in her words and he almost blew his cover at the way her face visibly fell.

“N-no!” she exclaimed, voice rising a few octaves and Harry could see the bartender, Jonah, suddenly flinch behind her from the sound. He pressed his lips together to silence the chuckle that threatened to escape and continued to stare Jules down.

“Of course I didn’t mean it like that,” she added in a much calmer tone, though Harry could detect that panic lacing her voice and he was starting to feel guilty. “I never believed that you were like that, I just,” she paused, averting her gaze away and staring at the lights above them instead, “never mind, just ignore me.”

Harry figured that she already knew of who he was and his status, and despite having just met her, the fact that she just said she doesn’t believe the rumours about him filled him with inexplicable warmth and he had to remind himself again that he’d only just met this woman. He shouldn’t feel anything of the sort towards her.

He could tell by the way her eyebrows were furrowed that she felt bad about what she’d said, so Harry called out her name and waited for her to look at him again.

When she did, her face holding an apprehensive look, he smiled at her and leaned a bit closer, which made little difference because there was still some space separating them.

“I was just messing with you, Jules,” he reached forward and flicked her nose, causing her to instinctively scrunch her face in a cute manner that had Harry’s stomach fluttering. “Doesn’t feel that nice now, does it?”

Jules chuckled in disbelief, wide eyes staring back at him and a smile was slowly stretching on her lips. “Touché. I see how it is then.”

Harry just shrugged, his own lips twitching as another smile threatened to appear. “Just having some fun, eh?”

Jules was now beaming at him and if Harry was standing, he was certain that his knees would’ve buckled at the sight. He already knew that Jules was gorgeous, and he was sure anyone would agree with him, but when as she smiled at him like that, eyes shining bright under the warm orange lights, brown hair cascading loosely yet somehow perfectly on her shoulders, there was no doubt in Harry’s mind that there was an angel sitting before him.

“Truce then?”

Her voice brought him back to earth and Harry chuckled before he shook her outstretched hand, marvelling for a moment at the way it felt enveloped in his. “Truce.”

“But to answer your question,” Harry said after a few beats of silence, glancing at her to find her eyes already set on him. “I didn’t have anything planned, haven’t been on many dates recently to be honest, so I just figured I’d come here and spend time with my good friend,” he lifted his drink with a wide grin on his face, “alcohol, the one thing that never let me down.”

Jules threw her head back in a laugh, the sound being music to Harry’s ears and he wished he could record it just to hear it again and again. “Amen to that.”

The two clinked their glasses together, laughing stupidly for no reason, before they threw their heads back to drink.

“Another round, then?”

Jonah suddenly appeared in front of them, startling Harry a bit. Sometimes he forgot that the man was lingering around behind the bar.

Jules took the liberty to respond for the both of them, exclaiming a “hell yeah, buddy!” that had the two men laughing, and soon enough their glasses were refilled.

After taking a sip, Harry leaned his head on the palm of his hand and set his eyes on Jules again, “So, are you a fan? Of me or of the band?”

He had to ask, he couldn’t help but wonder. If she was indeed a fan, she certainly didn’t show it.

Jules shrugged, playing nonchalant it seemed, but it didn’t escape him the way her cheeks seemed to redden. “Eh, I dabble. You’re alright.”

Her response made him chuckle. “Good to know.” Call him a narcissist, but he really wanted to know whether or not she liked his music. Perhaps he’ll inquire further later.

Because Harry knows that there’s no way he’s letting Jules go anytime soon.

Getting to know Harry was fun.

Sometime during the night, Harry had migrated from his seat onto the bar stool beside her, their thighs brushing against each other every now and then.

Tapping his fingers around his glass, Harry’s rings clinked against it and Jules couldn’t help but be slightly captivated by the action. She wasn’t one to stare at anyone’s hands, but she had to admit that Harry’s were fascinating to look at; his long and slender fingers, adorned by a number of his infamous rings, were truly a sight to see.

She took the chance to also admire his outfit, something she was too busy to do earlier on. His coat was long discarded on the stool beside him, which allowed her eyes to run over his figure. His upper body was covered by a plain white t-shirt with the word “Sex” displayed on his chest, a pair of pair of wide-legged black pants covering his long limbs; it was a simple fit yet it made it difficult for Jules to take her eyes off him. And his hair just looked so soft that her fingers were begging her to touch the fallen strands on his forehead.

Hearing Harry clear his throat broke her out of her trance and Jules realised from the smirk that stretched on his lips that she’d been caught in the act.

She tried playing it off, as if she hadn’t been shamelessly checking him out for the last couple of minutes and smoothed her hands down her dress, adjusting in her seat because honestly, her butt was starting to ache.

But she didn’t want to leave just yet.

Seeming to notice her discomfort, however, Harry downed the last bit of his drink before setting his glass down with a smack, causing Jonah, who was still lingering around them, to shoot Harry a warning glance and a low “careful!”, to which Harry smiled sheepishly before turning to face her again.

“Want to get out of here?”

Jules’ eyebrows shot upwards in surprise, having not expected him to want to continue spending the night with her.

“Sure there’s nothing else you’d rather be doing?” She couldn’t help but question, still struggling to grasp the fact that he still wanted to be around her. Her hands were fidgeting with the hem of her dress, eyes staring into his emerald ones as she waited to hear his response.

Truth be told, she was enjoying his company far much more than she had anticipated and she didn’t want to part from him just yet.

To her relief, a dimpled smile adorned Harry’s face as he took in her words before he shook his head, “Trust me, Jules, there’s no one else I’d rather be with tonight.”

She’d be lying if she said her heart didn’t skip a beat at that.

The two got up from their seats after thanking Jonah and fighting over who’s paying because Harry insisted on paying for her drinks. As she was gathering her things, she felt Harry’s presence behind her and she realised, after looking at him over her shoulders, that he was holding her coat up for her.

Heat rushed into her cheeks at the gesture, finding it sweet that he was helping her when he didn’t really have to. “Thank you,” she whispered, turning to him with a smile after feeling him adjust her hair.

His only response was a faint “No need” and he quickly turned to shrug on his own coat, the bashful smile on his lips not going unnoticed by her.

Flashing Jonah another smile, Harry extended his arm towards her and nodded his head towards the exit. “Shall we?”

“We shall.”

The two stepped into the night, the biting London air hitting Jules’ cheeks immediately and she was positive her nose was already red from the cold.

Jules reached into her pocket to grab her phone, realising that she hasn’t checked the device since she walked into the bar. There weren’t any notifications that she missed, which wasn’t surprising since her friends (all four of them) were out on dates or staying at home with their partners, so she was sure no one was thinking of her at the moment.

Noticing that it was already 8 in the evening and they were aimlessly walking down the street, Jules turned to Harry with a questioning gaze. “Where are we going?”

Leaning his head down to look at her (or perhaps to be closer, Jules wasn’t sure), he paused, seeming to think, before shrugging his shoulders. “Dunno if I’m quite honest.”

Jules found herself chuckling at him. How did her day end with her walking around with no purpose with a man she’d just met?

She looked at the sign closest to them before she turned to him and did something she rarely ever did. She found herself inviting him to her apartment because they were quite close.

A smirk found its way onto Harry’s lips and she started to regret her decision. “Already trying to get me into your bed, Juliet?”

She mentally cursed at the way her heart leaped upon hearing her name roll off his tongue. Almost no one called her Juliet anymore, except for her parents when they were being serious, but she found herself wanting to hear him say her name over and over again.  

Shaking her head at the thought, Jules reached her arm out and lightly slapped his shoulder. “Oh come off it, you idiot. You can just go ahead and cry alone in your mansion if you want.”

Harry raised his hands in surrender and muttered an apology, although the smile lingered on his lips and Jules tried to ignore the fluttering feeling in her chest.

“Lead the way, then.”

“Make yourself at home, I’ll get us something to drink.”

The walk to her apartment was full of smiles and laughter. She’s come to the conclusion that Harry loves making people laugh, even if his jokes were actually awful, but she found it endearing; he was like a ray of sunshine bringing joy to those around him.

She was glad that she had cleaned up the place a couple of days ago, it would’ve been embarrassing to have someone over to see pyjamas and junk strewn over her furniture. Suffice to say, Jules was a bit of a mess around the house.

After hanging up her coat and Harry’s, she made her way into her kitchen and looked for the good wine she reserved for special occasions. She easily grabbed it, along with two glasses, but then Jules found herself lingering by the kitchen island.

It dawned on her that there was a man in her living room, and he wasn’t just anyone. This was Harry Styles, someone she’d long admired and holy shit was this really happening?

And as sad as it may sound, she’s never felt this connection with anyone before, never felt like the person before her got her and could keep up with her. Yet with Harry, it felt different, and that scared her because she’d only just met him a couple of hours ago.

And he was bound to forget all about her after tonight. He’s just looking for some company, and Jules didn’t think she was that special. Eventually, he’s going to leave. Just like everyone else.

Feeling like the black marble of the island was starting to swirl in her vision, Jules snapped out of her thoughts and sucked in a deep breath before moving back towards the living room.

Harry had his hands interlocked behind his back, perusing through her record collection and it made her inadvertently smile. She was proud of her vast collection of vinyl records, a good portion of them handed down to her by her father; they both had a deep appreciation for records that her mum often made fun of them for.

“Found anything you like?” He jolted at her voice, not having noticed her presence behind him, but then his shoulders immediately relaxed.

Turning towards her with a wide grin, Harry gestured to the shelf behind him. Jules liked the way he seemed to glow underneath the dim lights and she wished she could take a picture of this moment as a keepsake. “This is amazing, there are records here that I couldn’t even find.”

“You can thank my dad for that,” she told him, making herself comfortable on the couch but not breaking eye contact once, “he’s been collecting them for decades and I’m so glad he let me have some, like you should see his collection back home, it’s even more impressive.”

“Hope I’ll get to someday.”

His response caught her off-guard. Before Jules could react, Harry’s teasing voice carried through the room.

“You dabble, you said?” He smirked, turning the Fine Line record in hand to show her and also nodding to the space that held One Direction records. Jules groaned out loud and flopped against the back of the couch.

“A little yeah. Sue me.”

She blushed under his amused gaze, a little embarrassed that he’d found her collection of the band’s records and his own solo music.

“It’s okay,” he assured her, dimples adorning his cheeks, “think it’s cute that you’re a big fan.”

“Don’t know why that makes me cute but okay if you say so.” She mumbled under her breath, realising that he heard her when he chuckled.

“Mind if I put on something then?”

Jules shook her head, signalling for him to go ahead while she poured their drinks. Soon afterwards Stevie Nicks’ voice filled the silence and her lips tugged up at the choice.

The couch dipped beside her when Harry sat down, the scent of his cologne invading her senses. Jules doesn’t think anyone has ever smelled as good as him, but she chose to keep that thought to herself and instead handed him his drink.

A few moments of silence passed after he quietly thanked her, Stevie’s voice the only thing that can be heard.

“So,” he started, throwing an arm on the back of the couch, a shit-eating grin on his handsome face, “would I find any 1D posters if I went into your room?”

“Oh fuck you.” She threw one of the cushions at him, smiling at the way he threw his head back in laughter.

Jules did not mind his company at all.

“Hold on a minute,” Harry straightened up from his previously relaxed position on the couch, “you all work together and you see him and his new girlfriend every day?”

“Yup, you can imagine how fun that is.” She loved her job as an accountant, having always been fascinated with numbers, but she hated having to see him every day in the office across from hers.

It’s not like she hated him, they actually ended on good terms, all things considered. Leon wasn’t bad, he never cheated on her, but the feelings between them just died out, a flicker of something that dwindled into nothing. So, they were friendly with each other and that’s probably the reason why he brought her a box of chocolate and a rose.

But Juliet just didn’t like the daily reminder that she was in fact much lonelier than he was; it’s like rubbing salt in the wound.

“Shit, Jules, that must be hard,” he frowns, leaning forward to pat her hand, “I’m sorry you have to go through that.”

“It’s not that serious,” she mumbles, feeling heat rushing to her cheeks at the simple touch and she mentally cursed herself. She had sworn off men for the unforeseeable future. “I’m over him. You know, I actually think I was never really in love with him to begin with.”

“Why’d you think that?” He questions, his thumb still softly caressing her hand; Jules wasn’t sure if he was aware of that or was absentmindedly doing it. Either way, the touch warmed her.

“I think,” she started, setting her glass of wine on the coffee table so she could sink in further into the couch, the move unintentionally bringing her body closer to Harry’s. “I think I was just happy to have someone around, someone to spend time with. I’ve spent a lot of my life alone and I think I just clung onto him because he kept me company.”

A few beats of silence passed before she continued. “That makes me sound horrible, no, it’s not like I used him, I did enjoy his company and we had a lot of fun together, but I think I was just in love with the idea of him, not him.”

Harry nodded his head, leaning back and mirroring her position, “I understand. That’s how I felt in most of my relationships actually. I longed to have someone around so I wouldn’t be lonely, but I’ve learned over the years that having company doesn’t mean that you won’t feel lonely.”

“You sounded pretty heartbroken on your last record though.” If she wasn’t as inebriated as she was, Jules would have probably had some filter and wouldn’t have said that.

Luckily, Harry chuckled in response and relaxed further into the couch, retracting his hand from hers (she instantly missed the warmth), but he didn’t seem upset. “I was. I would say that I was actually falling in love with her, so I was a bit of a mess when she left me.”

His words made her frown. “I’m sorry about that.”

“Don’t know how anyone could leave you.” She muttered under her breath, forgetting that she was usually louder than normal after she’s had a few drinks.

“Could say the same thing about you.”

With her cheeks flushed, Jules forced herself to look him in the eye again. “You don’t even know me.”

“But I’d like to get to know you.” He almost instantly shot back, resting his chin on his hand and his dimples made an appearance, “I think you’re very interesting.”

“Pfft, me? Interesting?” She laughed, waving him off with her hand. “I am anything but.”

“That’s not true!” Harry vehemently denied, sounding almost offended at the thought, which admittedly made Jules’ heart skip a beat. Just a little.

“I’ve spent a few hours with you now and I can already confidently say that you’re one of the most interesting people I’ve ever met,” his eyes shone bright as she stared into them and she could somehow tell he was being sincere, “and trust me, I’ve met a lot of people.”

Dramatically placing a hand over her heart, Jules flashed him her biggest smile. “Oh how special that makes me feel, I can just die happily now.”

Even though she was being melodramatic, his words did cause Jules’ heart to flutter. In the past, some people told her she was annoying, or brash, and some others would make her feel invisible and undeserving of attention.

Harry, though, was unlike anyone she had ever known. From the moment they met, Harry made her feel like the centre of his attention, never once ignored her or brushed her off, even when she was taking the piss; his emerald eyes were always set on her, giving her his undivided attention as he listened to every word that came out of her mouth.

Jules was definitely not used to that.

Harry threw his head back in laughter, a sound that Jules found to be a beautiful melody, and gazed at her with those bright eyes. “Oh you’re insufferable, I take it back.”

She gasped in feigned shock, crossing her arms with force. “No backsies.”

Another melodic laugh left Harry’s mouth and she couldn’t stop the smile forming on her lips; right then and there, Jules decided that his laugh was one of her favourite sounds.

“Backsies?” He echoed, his tone still laced with laughter, “what are you, five?”

“Shut your pretty mouth.”

“Oh so you think I have a pretty mouth?” His smirk caused his skin to flush and she cursed herself for saying those words. She really needed to think before she spoke, something her parents always reminded her of.

She recovered quickly, bringing her glass closer to her mouth. “I mean, it’s fine, your lips are a little on the thin side but-“

“Heyyy now,” he protested, pink lips forming a pout and Jules definitely thought about kissing them at that moment. “That’s not nice.”

“Never claimed I was nice now, did I?” Jules smirked, feeling a sudden surge of confidence as she took another sip from her drink.

Jules did not miss the way Harry’s eyes seemed to darken just a little, his jaw tensing as she continued to stare him down. Harry leaned forward, mouth opening to respond when suddenly a shrill tone burst their bubble.

Patting the couch cushions, Jules was trying her hardest to forget the look on Harry’s face as she searched for her phone. Stop it, Jules, he’s an international rockstar and he won’t even remember you after tonight.

She sighed in relief when her hand made contact with the device, but that quickly turned into a groan upon seeing who the caller was. Looking back at Harry, who was leaning against the armrest simply staring at her, she shot him an apologetic look before she answered the call.

“Hey, mama” she closed her eyes, fingers pinching the bridge of her nose. Not that she was expecting anything to happen between her and Harry, but the mood was definitely ruined now.

“Hello, honey, how are you? Are you home yet?” Her mother’s calming voice sounded from the other side of the line, making her smile a bit despite the interruption. Ever since the breakup, her mom made sure to call her frequently to check up on her, even though Jules insisted that she didn’t have to.

“I am home, mom, yes,” she responded, shifting her gaze back to Harry who was now leaning his head against the back of the sofa with his eyes closed.

“Good, good. Just checking on you, cariña, how was your night then?”

“It was fine,” she paused for a second, not sure if she should mention meeting Harry now, but she decided it was best not to, “had a few drinks then went straight home. Think I’m gonna go to bed in a few actually.”

She could tell by the way Harry’s lips twitched that he was awake and listening.

“I won’t keep you up then,” some noise was in the background and she heard her mother whisper to someone, “okay, honey, good night! And your dad says good night too.”

“Good night, mama,” Jules smiled, finding herself suddenly missing her family that she hasn’t seen since the holiday season. “Tell dad I said good night too, and that he better spoil you today.”

Her mother’s laugh ringed loud on the other side, “We’re going to dinner tonight, cariña, and he even got me a large bouquet of my favourite roses! Joseph shh- Alright then, bye bye, sweets, love you!”

“Bye, mama, love you too.”

A few seconds passed after she ended the call before Harry spoke up, head tilted to the side. “That sounded sweet. Does she check up on you often?”

Jules hummed in response, resting her head sideways on the sofa so was mirroring his position. “Especially after the breakup. She just worries too much about me.”

“I don’t think she needs to,” he shot her a gentle smile, one that made her want to wrap her arms around him and bask in his warmth, “her daughter’s a very strong woman.”

Not finding any words to say in response, Jules continued tracing Harry’s features, lazily admiring the slope of his nose, the curve of his brows, the sharpness of his jawline; everything about the man before her was mesmerising.

Turning her gaze back to his eyes, Harry flashed her another smile before sitting up straight, the smile slowly dropping. “I should probably go now, it’s getting late.”

Jules immediately wanted to shout “no!” and ask him to stay, but the rational part of her mind told her that she shouldn’t, that she would only set herself up for heartbreak when he finally leaves her.

So the only thing she could say was a faint “Okay.”

As they stood up, it seemed like Harry was holding back from saying something, but she didn’t know if she was just reading too much into things. It was probably just her hazy mind (though she’d argue her head has never been clearer)

They silently made their way to her door, Jules feeling deflated at the prospect of his departure. Would they keep in touch? Would she just become a distant memory, a miserable woman he spent a lonely valentine’s day with?

“Can I-“ Harry abruptly stopped in his tracks, causing Jules to almost run into his back because she was trailing behind him. His demeanour was suddenly all shy when he turned to face her, cheeks flushed crimson.

Jules waited with bated breath and wide eyes for him to continue, heart beating loudly in her chest.

“Can I have your number?”

Relief washed over Jules and Harry visibly relaxed at the bashful smile on her lips. Jules didn’t know why he was so nervous, but the sight was so endearing to her.

She added her number after he handed her the device, secretly smiling at her contact name Juliet x. She already earned herself an x after her name after a few hours? Jules’ heart was beating so loudly she feared Harry would hear its calls for him.

Jules watched him put his shoes on, wishing the night wouldn’t end so soon and wondering if it would be too forward to ask him to stay longer.

Deep in her thoughts, Jules didn’t register that Harry was standing in front of her, bodies close enough that the scent of his cologne engulfed her senses once more.

“I should go now.” Harry whispered, leaning down and wrapping his arms around her and Jules had never felt so whole. She’s heard about Harry’s incredible hugs and now that she’s experiencing it, she never wanted to let go of his warmth.

Harry broke their embrace much too soon for her liking, but not before peppering a gentle kiss on the side of her head. “Good night, Juliet.”

Say something. Don’t let him leave. “Good night, H.”

And then he was gone and Jules was left on her own once more.

After staring longingly at the closed door, as if he would suddenly appear behind it, Jules sighed and made her way back to the living room, slumping against the couch cushions and wishing Harry’s arms were around her again.

Her phone dinged on the coffee table, signalling the arrival of a text. A simple “Hey. I really enjoyed tonight. H” was staring back at her.

Jules contemplated for a few seconds, heartbeats picking up their speed again, before she whispered “fuck it” and clicked on his number.

“Juliet?”

Deciding to go after what her heart wants for once, Jules didn’t hesitate to respond, “Do you want to-“

But an insistent knock interrupted her and Jules wanted to scream at the intrusion. Who on earth would be knocking at her door at this hour?

“Harry, hold on just-“

She takes frustrated strides to the door, ready to yell, but the sight behind it made her anger immediately evaporate.

“H-Harry? What are you doin-“

“What were you going to ask me?” He interrupted, sounding a little out of breath and she wondered if he ran all the way back to her apartment.

Feeling emboldened by his return, Jules took a few steps towards him and wrapped her arms around his neck, his hands immediately grabbing her face and pulling her closer, their lips joining together in a gentle yet eager kiss. 

Jules felt her body melt in his hold. Their kiss only lasted for a few seconds before they pulled apart, still lingering so close that she could taste his wine-stained lips. 

“Stay?” Jules asked, rubbing her nose against his, her heart thudding in her chest as she waited for his answer. Her words carried more weight than she had intended them to and she hoped they wouldn’t scare him off. But her worries vanished when she felt him smile widely against her lips. 

“For as long as you’ll have me.”

Maybe valentine’s day isn’t so bad after all.

thank you for reading! i hope you enjoyed it and please come talk to me about Harry and Jules and tell me your thoughts!

[ladyeliot]

It will always be you

Prequel: Stay with me

Pairing: Tony Stark x Avenger Female Reader

Summary: The snap has happened, the return of Wakanda has not been as you all expected, but now you have to face reality, and you just can't stop thinking about him, about Tony.

Warnings: Angst, Fluff.

Word count: 4101

A/N: Post Infinity War. Some of the dialogue is taken from the film. Sorry for my spelling and grammatical mistakes, English is not my native language, I am learning.

Reader Powers: Psionic. You use psionic force to track any sentient being. You also create psychic shields to protect yourself. You can project psychic force bolts which have no physical effects but which can affect a victim's mind, causing them pain.

Life is a continuous struggle of choices that you have to make without stopping to think for a second. It is said that hope is the last thing to be lost, probably because the choice you made almost left you without it. You must also learn that happiness is the last thing to be found, probably because the choice you have made has made you unhappier than you will ever be. Your life has been full of choices, you might have regretted many of them, but you decided at the time to make them, so you never allowed yourself to regret your actions, until that day.

Three weeks after Thanos snapped, hope was completely lost. The new facility has been uncharacteristically silent, no one has been able to say more than two words in a row, and you had barely managed to say one since your return from Wakanda. Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanoff, James Rhodes, Bruce Banner and you, those were the surviving Avengers, the ones that life had given you a second chance, but it didn't really feel like one.

You were in your old room, old because two years ago one of your decisions had taken you away from that place, yes, you were against the Sokovia Accords, that had led you to take the side of the Captain and to fight against the side of Iron Man, who had been the person who had saved you from the madness that your powers had generated in your mind. But even if you had turned against him, you knew you owed him everything. Evidently this was something he didn't understand, which led to a wide rift that had never been bridged on either side, and which led to a breakdown in your relationship of closeness.

Every corner of that room had been kept exactly as you had left it that night when you fled with Wanda. Your drawings together with the charcoals scattered on the desk, the book 'In Search of Lost Time' by Marcel Proust on the bedside table and that bracelet that Tony had given you for your 26th birthday that you had left next to the open jewellery box on the bed. It was really painful to see all of this, knowing that those facilities would probably never be what they once were, that Wanda would not suddenly appear at your door, that you would never sit around the dinner table and that Tony would not occupy the armchair next to your bed to try to cheer you up after a mission that hadn't gone so well. You didn't know whether frustration was taking over the fear and sadness or whether you just didn't know how to control your feelings on that occasion.

The days were long, each of you working in silence trying to make sense of what had happened, looking for a solution that would never come to the problem. You shared the hours, but the solitude that enveloped you was too austere to realise that there was a person by your side. You didn't know Thanos' location, however, even if you did, especially if you did, it had become clear that you could not stand alone against his entire army.

"Would you like some?" asked Natasha offering you a plate with a veggie sandwich on it, which you took with an almost soundless 'thank you'.

Yes, actually that had been your first word in five days, since you said goodnight to Bruce last Sunday, food and sleep were not high on your priorities, especially when you spent the night using your telepathic detection trying to find some sign of life that would make you believe Tony was alive, but it was useless. Your psionic senses allowed you to track any sentient being, you were able to scan large areas, but your ability did not address the entire universe.

That night your spirits seemed to be running low to the ground, three weeks without having achieved anything that would allow you to have any lucidity in your plans was too long as the situation stood. You could hear in the background a soft murmur coming from a conversation between Natasha and Steve, but you weren't really paying attention to it, it was all in your thoughts. But at that instant, an inner burst made them evaporate. A signal came into your brain, a psionic emanation that alerted you to the presence of a spaceship entering the stratosphere, with a fixed direction, yours. You rose from your chair, standing upright, capturing the attention of the people around you. You closed your eyes, heightening all your senses, taking in all the information that was coming to you, at that moment you felt it. You opened your eyes and looked at them.

"He's here," were the only words you could utter before you rushed outside. Your companions soon followed your path, asking questions to explain what was happening, but your inner euphoria prevented you from saying a single word.

That ship appeared above you as you raced across the garden, night was falling relentlessly and you could only glimpse a halo of light that seemed to direct the ship as it landed delicately on the wide grassy esplanade. The five of you paused, taking in the scene, discovering how a side door opened to project a flight of stairs. When you saw his face for the first time your lungs deflated, letting out all the air they had accumulated over a long period of time. Your body went rigid and you didn't react until Steve ran past you and approached the ship to help him down.

He looked terrible, it was evident in every facial feature and in his body movements, you knew what you had been through, but you had no idea what Tony had been through since his disappearance in New York, although you could get a pretty good idea. Before your eyes were Steve and Tony in custody, reunited again, after all that had happened, none of it mattered, at least not to you, and perhaps you had a vain hope that it didn't matter to anyone else either. Even so you didn't know how to act when your eyes connected with his, for a slight moment you wanted to approach him, offer him a hug and tell him that you were relieved to discover that he was there, with you, after all, but you chose to stay where you were, next to Natasha.

It wasn't until you headed inside that the stiffness disappeared from your body. A whispered 'are you okay' from Steve made you react again and pay attention to Natasha's words that were projecting all the information gathered during those days.

"The governments are destroyed," she reported as she projected images showing the missing, like Wilson, Maximoff and Parker, among others, "the working parts are trying to do a census, and it looks like he did it. He did what he said he would do. Thanos wiped out 50% of all living things."

Silence echoed around you, you were sitting in an armchair, somewhat away from the other members, playing with your fingers, trying not to look up, until he spoke.

"Where is he now?" asked Tony. "Where?"

"We don't know," Steve informed him from beside you, sitting at a table. "He opened a portal and went through it. We looked for Thanos for three weeks, with deep space scanners," Steve looked at you, "and satellites, and we found nothing." He looked at Tony. "Tony, you fought him."

"What are you talking about?" asked Tony from his wheelchair. "I didn't fight him. No, he wiped my face with a planet while the wizard gave away the store. That's what happened, there's no fight..."

You took a breath and sighed, because you could contemplate what was about to happen right now, the nerves were there along with the negativity and failure of some of the superheroes on that planet and others, and you knew it could explode at any moment.

"Tony, I'm going to need you to focus..." Steve repeated again hoping that Tony would offer him some clue as to the whereabouts of Thanos.

"I needed you," interrupted Tony in a raised tone. "as in past tense.  That trumps what you need. It's too late, buddy. Sorry." He used a second of his silence to look at Steve and another second to look at you, who stood beside him. You took in most of the feelings hidden in his gaze, and none of them were positive or forgiving. "You know what I need? I need a shave," he tried to get out of the wheelchair, taking everything on the table in his stride. "I don't believe I ever remember telling you this..." he ripped out the IV that connected the drip to his left arm. "To the living and the dead, What we needed was a suit of armor around the world! Remember that? Whether it impacted our precious freedoms or not," he looked back at you and Steve repeatedly. "That's what we needed!”

The discussion continued, avoiding an upset Tony explaining everything he thought about the current and past situation, ignoring the suggestions Rhodes was giving him to calm down and take his seat again.

"[...] Bunch of tired old wheels!" he pointed at Steve. "I got nothin' for you, Cap! I've got no coordinates, no clues, no strategies, no options! Zero, zip, nada. No trust - liar."

Almost ipso facto he turned to you ripped off the reactor prostrate on his chest and handed it to Steve in his hand, leaving those present virtually speechless, if you still had any left.

"Here, take this. You'll find him, if you put that on. You hide-"

After those words you gazed again into his eyes full of resentment at the past, before his body could take it no more and he collapsed in the middle of the room.

In the hours that followed, you were the shadow of a ghost gazing at him from a distance from the door frame of one of the recovery rooms in the new complex. On the one hand fearing his reaction against you when he woke up, while on the other hand wanting to hear it because you knew that sooner or later it would come but you wanted it to come as soon as possible so that you could face it. Those words she had said to Steve were harsh, but they were really nothing to what you expected might happen. It seemed absurd at the time to have entertained the idea that it might have been forgotten.

"Bruce gave him a sedative," Rhodes said, looking up at you, who were leaning against the doorframe. "He'll be unconscious for the rest of the day. Do you want to sit down?"

"No...I'd better..." but Rhodes didn't allow you to finish your words, as he had risen from the armchair next to Tony and offered it to you. "Thank you."

The door to the room ajar to offer you some more privacy. As you turned your gaze towards him you realised the fragility his body conveyed in those moments, he had spent weeks wandering through space not knowing if he was going to get the chance to return home again and yet he had been able to stay alive and find himself there. You closed your eyes and settled back on the couch, you remembered the first time you did that with Tony, he had spent too much time without sleep after the events after the Chitauri invasion, he could barely sleep because of the nightmares and he begged you to stop them every night, so with your eyes closed you concentrated and invaded his mind with caution releasing the tension you found in it and giving him the peace he needed. When you opened your eyes again, her expression seemed to have changed, she seemed to have found some relief inside her, that fact made you smile. But a knock on the door woke you up.

"We need to talk," Steve's words sounded serious.

A new piece of information about Thanos' whereabouts came as a surprise, but for you the surprise came right after.

"Wait, is this some kind of punishment or something?" you said completely dumbfounded, just outside the room where Tony was, with what Steve was proposing. "Why me?"

"Because we need someone to stay with Tony," he said calmly crossing his arms.

"Is it because I'm the smallest of the whole team? Because I could really knock you all out right now with the blink of an eye," you said crossing your arms too.

"It's because Tony needs you," Steve lowered his tone, "and you need him."

There was nothing but truth in those words. You didn't know if Tony really needed you, but what you had assumed was that you'd needed him for a long time, and you'd put a lot of things before that need, creating your close relationship to go to shit, basically.

"I wouldn't forgive myself if something happened to you on this mission," Steve said frankly. "And he wouldn't forgive me either if I said that happened."

You lowered your face as you nodded, accepting his words and the job you had been given.

"Be very careful," you said before Steve disappeared from in front of you to take a path that you had no idea what could be in store for them.

From that moment on, the hours went by really slowly, you took your position in that armchair again, you needed to have a clear mind, you couldn't continue martyring yourself with all the events that had happened, so you started reading 'In Search of Lost Time', that book that had been forgotten on the bedside table since you left that place. News was nil, you barely got a sign of what might be happening and you knew it would probably be days before you got it. 

Night was falling on the compound again, Tony was barely making any sign of waking up, which also gave you time to consider how the situation would play out, and various possibilities for coping with it. Some of his belongings had been salvaged from the ship, and his helmet, or rather what was left of it, stared at you from the dresser in the room. Without having a reason in mind you approached him, causing a blue light to suddenly flash across his eyes, showing you his figure in the middle of the room.

"Is it on?" a figure of a seated, completely haggard Tony appeared before your eyes. "Hey, Ms. Y/L/N, Y/N," your brow furrowed, but you approached his reflection. "If you find this footage don't put it on social media, it'll be really tearful," his words brought a sad smile to your face. "I don't know if you'll watch these videos. I don't even know if you're still... Oh god, I hope so..." there was a silence from his words, but you could see him bring his hands to his face, something inside you cracked. "I guess it's easier to do this if you know the chances of seeing you again are practically nil," something inside you made your heart shrink. "I probably should have realised this a lot sooner," he fell silent, "yeah, but I was busy trying not to hate you too much, you know, when you decided to abandon me and choose the other side," exhaustion almost prevented him from keeping his eyes open. "Anyway, anyway that made me realise how important you had been to me," he let his gaze wander, "I tried to be there for you ever since I met you and... god, this is getting too depressing," he ran his hand over his face. "I just want you to know that I wish you were here, because you're the only person I'd like to share my last hours with," he nodded slightly, you knew what he was trying to say with those words, which made your eyes water. "Don't feel bad about this, I mean, if you stay prostrate for a couple of weeks... and then move on with immense guilt..." he hid his face in the palm of his hand and closed his eyes, you wiped away a tear that ran down your cheek keeping the bitter smile you had been wearing all along. "I want you to know... when I've fallen asleep, it will be like the nights we spent together. I'm fine. All right," he gestured towards you. "I'll dream of you. Because it will always be you."

Suddenly, as if nothing had happened, his image disappeared in front of your eyes, leaving you with hundreds of feelings invading your body and mind. You looked up and there he was, still there, sleeping pleasantly, barely knowing what had just happened. You hurriedly wiped away the last tear running down your cheek and sat back down, putting your feet up on the couch, unable to take your eyes off him. Perhaps those thoughts were drawn from his most desperate moments, believing that his life was about to come to an end, perhaps he was unwilling to show them to you now that he had resumed the course of his life, so even though it was not possible you tried to send them to a hidden place in your mind.

You had hardly slept in those three weeks, your mind hadn't rested for days and you didn't know why, but finding yourself curled up in that armchair next to Tony was giving you back the tranquillity your body hadn't known for too long. It was impossible to stop your eyelids from closing, on the contrary you were willing them to do so and for sleep to warmly invade your body, no matter how long you could stay asleep. That's how it happened, making the hours pass without you even noticing. 

Like a little gust of wind, something in your body made the light enter through your eyelashes. Slowly you opened your eyes, feeling in various parts of your body a tightness due to the position in which you had fallen asleep in that armchair. You discovered that a woollen blanket covered your limbs, but what kept you alert was the bed next to you was completely empty. Tony wasn't there. You jumped up, looking around, the bedroom door was ajar and Iron Man's helmet was missing.

"Tony?" you asked, raising your voice, stepping out into the hallway. "Tony! Where are you?"

You barely heard an answer, so you were thankful those powers were within you, you stopped in the middle of the corridor and closed your eyes, your receptors picked up a signal coming from downstairs, it was him. You found him leaning on the kitchen counter, his eyes closed as he tried to stand. You ran to him, grabbing his arm to hold him up.

"What do you think you're doing?" you said, leading him to the nearest armchair in the living room.

You discovered that he had shaved, taken a shower and was wearing one of his Tom Ford suits that were so recognisable to you. That meant he had been wandering around the house unsupervised for over an hour without waking you up. You knelt down next to him.

"Why didn't you wake me up?" you asked with a worried look on your face as you contemplated that he was extremely tired. "Bruce gave a set of instructions for you to follow, you can't just walk around..."

"It was your turn?" he cut you off with an angry tone. "Be my babysitter? How did you do it? Did you draw lots?" his countenance was serious, you could still see the puffiness in his eyes and his face fully dehydrated. "Whoever draws the shortest stick gets to look after poor Stark, all right, listen..."

"No! You listen to me," you cut him off, raising your tone above his, standing up and resting your hands on each armrest "Tony, we all lost. We all fought and lost, none of us made it," your face was three feet above his. "So now all we can do is try, in some completely illogical way, to move the situation forward. And if we can't, at least look to the future by doing our best to honour those we have lost."

Silence flooded over you.

"So please don't make the situation more complicated," you continued, lowering your tone, almost begging him. "If I've stayed with you it's because Steve has made me understand some things, because yes, it wasn't really my intention to stay with you from the start, but then I realised that if anyone had to stay with you it was me. I realised that if I had to risk my life again I didn't want to go on the mission, because that would mean never seeing you again.And I've also realised that I've needed you for a long time, that I'm finally by your side and I have no intention of separating from you. Whether you like it or not." Tony cut his gaze with yours by ducking it, but brought his right hand over yours.

That gesture provoked you to bring your other hand to his face, placing a gentle caress on his cheek.

"I know there are a lot of things we need to talk about, but one thing we do have is time," you explained as Tony intertwined his fingers with yours. "So please, don't do anything more stupid and don't disappear," maybe it was the atmosphere generated by the situation, but you risked saying the next words. "Because it will always be you."

Tony closed his eyes a little regretfully, a little embarrassedly, and brought his free hand to his face.

"I knew you saw that," he added calmly removing his hand from his face. "Well, at least I've saved myself from having to repeat it in person."

"I'm not sure I got it right," you said falsely. "You know, there was a lot of interference, and besides, I couldn't really understand what you were saying, so..."

"Sorry, there was only one pass for the film," he said wryly which caused you to smile widely as you rediscovered that the old Tony was still hidden in it. "We won't know when there will be a revival."

"Too bad, I really liked that movie," you sat down on the armrest without letting go of his hand and looking up at him.

"Really?" he asked for the first time modestly, and putting aside all the irony that surrounded the situation.

"Totally," you nodded, trying to express all the many feelings through your eyes.

Silence again kept you company, until Tony somewhat uncomfortably broke it.

"I suppose you know that by now I would have kissed you and created a fully effective plan to make love to you for hours until you begged me to stop in pleasure," he stated lamely, "although I think if you give me a couple of hours..."

"All right, Don Juan," you cut him off with a chuckle, "we'd better leave all that for later, and I'll take you back to bed now."

"I think it's a good start if you take me to bed," he continued with his insinuations.

You got up from the armrest and helped him put his arm around your shoulders, even though he repeatedly told you he could walk unaided. 

"Have we heard from the team?" he asked, slowly climbing the steps of the ladder.

"Soon," you said with a halo of hope. 

You definitely made it back to the room, having made it successfully through the journey. You helped him get rid of the shoes and shirt that his pride had forced him to wear, but which now made no sense when he was going back to bed.

"See, you're finally going to get what you wanted, I'm undressing you," you said jokingly causing a smile to appear on Tony's face as he lay back down. "You rest, I'll be here. I'll always be here."

Taglist Open (DM)

MAIN MASTERLIST

[mx-misty-eyed]

A bunch of SAI livestream observations

I literally just copied and pasted the notes I took so I'm sorry if they make no sense.

Chronological notes:

-livestream starts by showing a birds-eye view of Dema and playing Good Day

-Tyler looks really depressed

-bishops (Sally/Sacarver and Dan/Lisden) introduce TOP as “the popular band, Twenty One Pilots” - trying to portray them as popular and likable to get more people to listen

-Sacarver says the dragon (Trash) is “kinda dark” - implies that Trash is good

-Tyler’s hair is “number 16 cotton candy” - further shows how Dema controls/catalogs everything

-“there’s not twenty one pilots, there’s only two guys!” - maybe it doesn’t mean anything but that phrase is *the* phrase that will piss off almost any clikkie

-bishops ask where Josh is and if he’s hiding, Sacarver says “come here, you little moron” - Josh isn’t with Dema because they don’t know where he is, plus they wouldn’t call him a moron if he was on their side

-Sacarver wants Tyler to play Stressed Out because she’s always stressed (due to working with Lisden) and because “it’s my favorite” - Stressed Out is the song that made TOP popular, she may be stressed due to working with Lisden because she’s the one that seems to want to escape Dema more, while he seems to buy into the message/concept of Dema more

-Tyler tunes out bishops and then starts singing Choker

-Bishops grab Tyler after Choker and force him onto another set, where Stressed Out plays.  Bishops stay onstage during Stressed Out - again, Stressed Out made TOP popular, which is what the bishops want

(okay i know the bishops are bad but that last image would make a badass computer wallpaper)

-Stressed Out fades into Migraine

-“thank God it’s Friday/because Fridays will always be better than Sundays” - probably doesn’t mean anything, but the livestream was on a Friday

-Josh counted for Tyler on “depressssssing”, but not verbally like in the studio version

-Migraine background has the psi symbol

-Migraine transitions into Morph, with a video of a crowd from the Trench era (Tyler interacts with the ‘crowd’ with a call and answer)

-Tyler doesn’t say “Josh Dun” in Morph

-Morph turns into Holding on to You (“entertain my faith” part) with a rain/lightning effect

-right before “lean with it rock with it”, there’s static and it cuts to the bishops who advertise SAI on the second set (blue/pink/yellow rainbow)

-“they just don’t play hits like this on the radio these days” - “this song will never be played on the radio” from Fairly Local

-after, a ‘commercial’ plays

-the first commercial has the black slipcase on the right and the blue slipcase on the left.  In the back, from left to right: cassette, three cd’s stacked on top of each other (white on top, pink in the middle, blue on the bottom), blue box (limited edition box set sold on their website), lyric booklet

-“Dema is bringing you this music collection that is vibrant with saturation” - the Twitter banner was slowly desaturated while in the process of announcing the album, ads for SAI said “feel the saturation!”

-Shy Away, Choker, and Mulberry Street are mentioned during the first ad - two out of three singles released before the album dropped and the most propaganda-like song

-After commercial, Tyler plays Mulberry Street - Lisden said it was his favorite (likely b/c it’s propaganda)

-Mulberry Street starts inside but Tyler goes outside to a street (Mulberry St.) with extras that are ‘frozen’ in place

-Mulberry Street was the whole song (or almost the whole song), while most songs played were only a small segment - again, it’s Dema’s propaganda, so they want it to go on longer than older songs

-after Mulberry Street, the intro to Lane Boy plays (“why do I kneel to these concepts?  Tempted by control, controlled by temptation.  Stay low, they say, stay low”)

-Lane Boy has people with gas masks in the background

-“Don’t trust a perfect person and don’t trust a song that’s flawless” is repeated several times - later, Sacarver calls the album “perfect”

-Lane Boy transitions into Redecorate

-Chlorine plays next, background has barrels like in music video

-“Running for my…” (Tyler himself doesn’t say the word “life”)

-After Chlorine, Shy Away plays with obviously fake snow/mountainous background.  Chandeliers are hanging and a fancy dining table is set

-Bishop commercial after Shy Away (“break the cycle in half”) plays, bishops have nosebleeds

-Sacarver says “nothing is missing from this collection”, yet SAI has 11 tracks while past albums have 14

-cd’s in front are swapped (black on left and blue on right), and the three cd’s are in a different order (pink on top, blue in the middle, white on the bottom)

-“But remember, you should-” *static* - bishops are likely being controlled by someone else, as it’s unlikely that the Banditos would have the power to cut them off

-Cuts to Mulberry St. set but darker (dusk/nighttime)

-The Outside plays next with Josh wearing skeleton hoodie - The Outside was mentioned in the commercial

-when water is poured on the street after The Outside, it forms a footprint

-Tyler sits in a boat named “Oh” with a lamp and an artificial night sky

-Plays Heathens with a ukulele (no frog croaks)

-transitions into Trees, which is normally the last song

-during Trees, the stars start to blur together (it looks like a timelapse of the North Star)

-Josh in Bandito clothing with a torch is shown (torch looks slightly different than in music vids), then it cuts to Jumpsuit

-Jumpsuit background is a valley like in the music video but it looks greener and more manufactured

-After, Heavydirtysoul plays with a flaming car on set (kinda like in the mv)

-Tyler looks upwards during “can you save my heavydirtysoul?”, looks like he’s pleading (sorry the last pic is so blurry(face))

-background is a road similar to the one in the music video

-Josh keeps crossing his drumsticks during HDS

-Commercial break with hosts (bloody and Sacarver has overexaggerated makeup, plus they have yellow eyes)

-“Now that you’ve heard some of this collection, you must be just like us”

-”Sometimes I close my eyes to try to escape, I just can’t believe how unbelievably perfect this collection is!”  “You know you can’t escape, Sally.”  “Yes, I know.”

-”We’ve come for you”, “We got people on the way, no chances” - “We come for you, no chances”, “We got people on the way” (lyrics from No Chances (which they didn’t play))

-Commercial zooms out to show that it’s on a TV with Tyler, Josh, and others watching - we don’t believe what’s on TV

-Saturday plays, during Jenna dialogue, Jenna has a pink streak in her hair and her top is half-blue, half-white

-Jenna has a yellow phone (Trench) while Tyler has a red one (Dema)

-stutter/pause between “might get” and “loud” happened twice, not just once

-after, they dance onto another set and play Level of Concern

-LOC background looked kind of like Josh’s in the music video (glow in the dark stars against a dark background)

-“In a world where this is as good as it gets, and we miss you, we really do”

-Fades into Ride, background is pink scales and what looks like sideways palm trees?

-Car Radio plays, Josh and Tyler are wearing black masks instead of white ones

-pause after “I liked it better when my car had sound”

-right after Car Radio, an alarm sounds and red lights flash, people run around in the background as Tyler walks onto Mulberry St. set

-Never Take It plays, Tyler comes up close to the camera (almost like in LOC music vid)

-Heavydirtysoul car is on fire to the right of the set

-Trash figurine is on the ground, it looks larger than usual

-Tyler walks back to first set and sits between bishops, who are frozen, and sings “I know it’s over/I was born a choker/nobody’s coming for me” from Choker

-fades out and cuts to bird’s-eye view of the set with crew members clapping and cheering, although even that feels subdued and fake

-shows Josh and Tyler with bishops in background, then credits roll

Various observations:

-Josh’s drumsticks are yellow - furthers concept that he’s against Dema

-SAI songs were generally played longer than older songs

-Bishops call it a “collection”, not an “album”

-Guitarists/trumpet player have one of Tyler’s tattoos on shirt

-Tyler has a pink ring and a blue ring on his left ring and index fingers, respectively (Shy Away music vid)

-various easter eggs on Mulberry St. set (sorry for the quality/size of the pictures)

(says “Rosie’s lounge)

-The door numbers on the Mulberry St. set coincide with the dmaorg.info error message numbers (at the bottom of the message)

-Josh’s bandito mask looks different (has a design on it that looks like a lion?) (unless I’m dumb and it was always like that)

-FPE: the Few the Proud the Emotional (Blurryface), Failed Perimeter Escape (Trench), now Food Petrol Etc (SAI)

-Tyler looks less energetic when singing SAI songs (because it’s Dema propaganda)

-after the show, instrumental versions of The Hype, We Don’t Believe What’s on TV, and Doubt were played.  WDBWOTV is obvious, The Hype has the lyric “just don’t believe the hype”, and Doubt has the lyric “gnawing on the bishops”

-in the Q&A, they said Josh would backflip off the piano, but he didn’t.  They also didn’t do the deathdrop (thing where Tyler just kinda falls backwards)

-Stream was exactly one hour long (started at 8 PM EST, ended at 9 PM EST)

-The livestream ad doesn’t have a crossed O in the only of “one night only”

Josh’s drum set designs:

Trash:

Alien:

Psi symbol 1:

Psi symbol 2:

FULL SONG LIST:

[song number]. [song title] - [album] ([design on Josh’s drum]): [additional notes]

Asterisks indicate songs that transition into each other smoothly

Good Day - SAI (Josh not present): not sang by Tyler (live, that is)

*Choker - SAI (Trash)

Stressed Out - Blurryface (alien)

Migraine - Vessel (alien)

Morph - Trench (alien)

Holding on to You - RATB/Vessel (alien)*

[Dema commercial 1]

Mulberry Street - SAI (Trash)

*Lane Boy - Blurryface (alien)

Redecorate - SAI (alien)

Chlorine - Trench (alien)*

Shy Away - SAI (Psi Symbol 1)

[Dema commercial 2]

The Outside - SAI (Trash)

*Heathens - Suicide Squad soundtrack (Josh not present)

Trees - RATB/Vessel (Josh not present): usually played at end of concert)

[Josh as a Bandito]

*Jumpsuit - Trench (alien)

Heavydirtysoul - Blurryface (alien)*

[Dema commercial 3]

Saturday - SAI (Psi Symbol 2)

*Level of Concern - single (alien)

Ride - Blurryface (alien)

Car Radio - RATB/Vessel (alien)*

[alarm sounds]

Never Take It - SAI (Trash)

Anyways, thats all I have for now but if I missed anything, let me know and I’ll add it!  (I’ll be sure to credit you ofc)

-Admin Crow

[thekisforkeats]

The Way You Say My Name

Info: The Magnus Archives, JonMartin, rated T for swears. Canon-Compliant. Set immediately post-MAG 22. Martin is trans and Jon is amab non-binary.

CWs: Guilt, self-recrimination, worms (mentioned), arguments, shouting, crying, lying (Martin lying about his CV still), transphobia (mentioned), misgendering (mentioned), child abuse (mention of Martin Blackwood's mother) 

Summary: Just after MAG 22, Jon apologizes for his treatment of Martin over the past few months. Or tries to, anyway. It's hard to apologize to someone when you don't understand exactly what it is you've done to upset them.

(Of course, once Jon's apologized and Martin's relaxing, well... that's when Jon will finally notice he actually likes Martin, isn't it? Not that he's going to admit to that, even to himself.)

Shoutout to the Martin Blackwood Lovers Discord Server, without whom I would not have written this up and posted it. ;) Jon’s dialogue was (mostly) written by @marianfuckinghawke.

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

“Recording ends.”

Jon reached out and pressed the stop button on the tape recorder. He sighed and looked at his phone. The message from Jane Prentiss was still glowing on the screen. He ran a hand through his short hair, aware he was mussing the grey-streaked black and deciding he didn’t care.

He had listened to Martin’s account of the encounter with Jane Prentiss with trepidation and worry. Now he could feel his face settling into something more drawn with concern. First, concern for his two assistants who were out of the Archive at the moment. Second, concern for Martin. The man had gotten himself into this mess because of Jon’s words. Due diligence. Was he really such a hardass that he had put one of his subordinates in harm’s way? How had he not realized that it might come to this?

Martin sat fidgeting, shifting in his seat, and Jon could feel the other man’s soft brown eyes on him. He had the look of a frightened, cornered animal and it cut Jon to the quick. He had done this. Jon was responsible for the man’s state, and he had to figure out how to make it better.

There was silence for a solid three minutes. Then Martin opened his mouth to say, “So if I’m going to be--”

Jon started speaking at exactly the same time. “So obviously you’re--” He blinked and said, “I’m sorry--”

“No, no, you go,” Martin said, raising his hands and waving them rapidly.

“No. It’s alright… go ahead,” Jon replied at the exact same time, then frowned.

Martin cleared his throat, then seemed to gather his courage. “Well. I was going to say. If I’m going to be staying here, I’ll need… things. Like, uhh, there’s a cot, but I’ll need, like… a toothbrush? I mean, you don’t have a stash of those sitting around, do you?” He chuckled in a self-deprecating manner.

“No, I do not,” Jon replied. “Nor do you have a proper change of clothing… you can hardly wear the same outfit for however long this will take, and you won’t want to sleep in what you’re wearing.” He had a sudden mental image of Martin sleeping naked, and cleared his throat while he shoved it away. Hardly an appropriate thought about a co-worker, even if it wasn’t remotely sexual. “We will have to go out and get such things for you… perhaps after I brief Tim and Sasha on the situation.”

Martin nodded. “There’s a room that might be, umm… did you know one of the rooms that’s filled with boxes is supposed to be the break room?” He gave that self-deprecating laugh again. “‘Course you know that, stupid, what am I saying…” He glanced aside, cheeks flushing. “Umm. Anyway. Umm. It’s bigger than the room you’ve got the cot in? If… if… I’m going to be staying here… I could clean it out… make it livable, maybe, umm, get some snacks and tea and things in, and there’d be more room for extra cots… in case you need somewhere to stay late or… something…” A pause. “Or not! Or just. You know. I’ll just. Have lots of time, so. I can. Clean. The break room.”

Jon did not, in fact, know that they’d had a break room at all. It had been frustrating to have everyone going up to the Admin break room on the ground floor, and he’d said so more than once. No, wait… had someone told him, and had he just told them off about clearing the room out?

He was suddenly horribly aware of how many times he’d griped at Martin for going up there to make tea that he had then gone ahead and drunk. How had he been such a prick to this man?

When Jon had started as Head Archivist, he’d had all sorts of plans for team morale, bonding exercises, and the like. He’d always hated them personally but they were the sort of thing bosses were supposed to do. The trouble was that all of his “how best to run the Archives as a team” ideas had flown right out of his head once he’d gotten down there and found himself at a desk where a woman had maybe died, struggling to record statements, dealing with doggy messes, and that damned persistent feeling of being watched.

Well, now was as good a time as any to start acting the way he should have all along.

“Martin… we will clean the break room. Together. As a group.” He ran his hand through his hair again. He really was going to look a mess. “It is a communal space, it will be a communal job.” He added quickly, “Yes, I know you’ll be here more than the rest of us, but I want us all involved. We need…” He sighed. Time to apologize. “I have been… less supportive of you than I should. And…” He swallowed, aware of the flush rising on his cheeks. “I feel I must apologize. So… I am sorry. But we should do more together, especially given that circumstances have escalated.”

Martin blinked at him for a moment. “You’re… sorry. For… being less… supportive than you should have been.” There was a hard-to-read undercurrent in his tone.

“For being… rude to you… and for punishing you…” Jon replied. “Unjustly.” He gestured to the recorder. “All of this… happened because of your adherence to my instructions…” He frowned. “So. I’m sorry.”

“Well,” Martin snapped, “at least you’re finally realizing that it was… unjust.” He glared at Jon, who suddenly felt pinned to the spot by eyes that were no longer soft but had gone hard as agates.

Jon blinked at Martin. “Are… are you alright?” He was apologizing! He couldn’t be messing that up this badly, could he?

Martin drew a long breath in through his nose. “Yeah,” he said, in a high-pitched, clipped tone. “Yeah, I’m fine.” He went to stand abruptly, pushing away from the desk, and in that same tone, “Well, you’d better get to… briefing people, then. I’ll just… go see how far my paycheck can stretch in Chelsea.” His tone was dripping with bitterness by the end.

Jon stood up. “Martin!” He was vaguely aware of saying it in the same irritated tone he always used for the man’s name, aware that Martin visibly flinched at the word, and tried to moderate his tone. “What is going on? I am apologizing! Is… am I missing something?” He moved around the desk to try to be sure Martin didn’t just leave without finishing the conversation.

“No,” Martin said, stopping while facing the door, tone still a good two octaves above normal. “No, it’s fine. You’re apologizing, and that’s good.” His whole frame was stiff, though, and his tone practically screamed “lying.”

Jon couldn’t read people all that well, but even he could read the signs Martin was giving off. “While your words are clear, your body language says quite otherwise.” He tried to moderate his tone again, but he couldn’t help sounding mildly irritated. He didn’t like being lied to, especially concerning his own actions, and he wasn’t sure what he had done incorrectly in this situation. “Now will you stop and talk to me?”

Martin turned away from the door, faced Jon, jaw set firmly. “What do you want me to say, Jon? Do you want me to… to forgive you? To say ‘oh, sure, you’re sorry, so that makes up for the last six months where you’ve made me want to quit my job every day?’ Am I supposed to… to… just… oh, well, there’s danger, so now you’ve realized I’m an actual person, now you’re going to stop kicking me around, now you’re going to pitch in to help around here as I’m not already the one spending all his time trying to clean up the mess while Tim and Sasha run out to research things so you don’t have to send anyone to double-check my work? Never mind that I’ve been trapped for two weeks, I could’ve been dead and none of you bothered to check on me!”

Martin was all but shouting by the end of the diatribe, every line of him stiff and furious, and Jon was suddenly very aware of the fact that Martin was taller and bigger than he was. He cringed away from Martin, took a step back. “I… I…” He turned away to his desk, grabbed his phone. “Here…” he said, handing it to Martin. “Look!” The phone would solve the problem, if Martin could just see… “There… I… just… please…”

The moment Jon had cringed away Martin had hunched his shoulders, deliberately making himself smaller. Now he was taking long, deep breaths, his expression ashamed. He reached out to take the phone from Jon.

The display was still on the screen of Jon’s message history with Martin. Before the last message from Jane Prentiss was a long list of messages from Jon--numerous messages inquiring about Martin’s health, worried and concerned. He had linked articles about foods to eat when feeling ill, then when he’d realized some of those might be hard for Martin to make alone, found new links that had easier recipes.

There were also, Jon knew, greyed-out deleted messages.

Martin, know that your presence is missed here at the Archives. I am wishing you a quick recovery.

I know it’s sudden, but I find myself missing you. Just thought you should know.

And others, so many others, as Jon had tried to figure out how to pierce the wall built by the texts he’d been getting back from what he now knew was Jane Prentiss, asking to be left alone.

As Jon watched Martin reading the messages he nervously bounced in place, one arm folded over his chest to hold the other. He could feel his skin glowing from embarrassment and he wasn’t even sure why. The blush faded, however, as he watched Martin. Watched the anger fade, and realized what lay underneath. The pain that had been underlying that anger, the way it lifted as Martin read through the message history--it was like a revelation. Martin must have walked in here convinced nobody at his place of employment really cared about him, and Jon realized that that was, indeed, what he must usually think, if something as simple as text messages was making something like hope bloom on his face.

It occurred to Jon, suddenly, that nobody had checked on Martin. For two weeks. No friends, no family. Nobody had even noticed the man was gone.

Jon had to fix this. Somehow. And not by wrapping Martin up in a fierce hug like he very much wanted to; that would not be appreciated from the man’s asshole boss. Even if Martin looked like he really, really needed a hug.

By the time Martin handed the phone back to Jon, his breathing was shaky and unsteady. He dropped back into the chair, like his legs suddenly weren’t working. “S-sorry,” he managed in the barest of whispers. “Sorry.”

“That’s… my line,” Jon said. “I am sorry. I should have said more to make it clear… you are a valued member of this team.” He shook his head, wincing at how… canned that line sounded, but pushed on. “I should have said it at least once. And… I never did. I held you at arm’s length and ostracized you. And… I understand how you felt all that time now…” He sighed. “And… yes, it may have taken this incident to make me realize how terrible a person I’ve been to you since… since you started working here.”

Martin stared down at his hands; Jon could see he was crying, but silently, without sniffling or sobbing. “Why?” he finally managed. He looked up at Jon. “Why? What did I… do? I mean… there was the whole ‘dog’ business at the beginning… what, do you hate dogs that much?” There was a kind of desperation in his tone.”

“No… I mean, sure I’m more of a cat person, but… no… I don’t hate dogs.” Jon frowned. “I… I’ve given that a lot of thought these past two weeks and I think I figured it out.” He sighed. “It wasn’t you I was angry with.” He took a breath. “I was angry at Elias. I like to have a sense of who I work with, to get to know them before I get into anything serious.” Oh, no, wait, that sounded… he hadn’t meant it like… work. He’d meant work! No, he was overthinking that; Martin knew he meant work. He stammered for a moment, though. “It’s… part of who I am… as a person.

Jon took a breath, to steady himself. Focus on the apology. “When Elias… placed you here without telling or consulting me about the selection process, it… felt like a betrayal. I felt that agency over my department had been taken out of my hands. And yes… I know he runs the Institute, but he should have at least consulted me about who is in my department.”

He dropped his head and reached to take a box of tissues from the side of the desk, to slide them towards Martin. An olive branch. “I took out that anger and frustration on you. And that was wrong, I know that now.”

“Not like I wanted to be here either,” Martin mumbled, reaching out for a tissue and wiping at his eyes. It didn’t do much to stop the tears. ��I mean, I didn’t even want the damn library job, I j-just…” He stumbled, stammering, “It’s… it’s harder to get a position with a degree in parapsychology than you might think.” He sniffled. “B-but… even on top of that… you and Tim and Sasha, you’re all friends already, you requested them. Even if Tim and Sasha and I get along they don’t really know me, and you… well…” He sighed. “When Elias said I was going to work for Jonathan Sims I just about freaked out. You’ve got a… reputation, you know? I just… I knew it’d be… lonely down here, and it really has been.” There was a furrow between his brows now as he looked at Jon.

Jon frowned. He’d known he had a reputation around the Institute, but he hadn’t thought it was that bad. He took a deep breath; this wasn’t about him right now. “Then let us work on fixing that. Starting now. Like I said, we need to be working together more, improve the… office atmosphere. I… have come to admire your dedication to your work. ‘Due diligence,’ as you put it.”

Martin regarded him quietly for a moment. Then he said, “The thing that really bothers me… I don’t… I don’t think you’d understand.”

Jon frowned. Then, finally, softly, “Try me. You might be surprised.”

Martin swallowed. “I… I’m trans,” he blurted. “Like, I was… I had a girl’s name, when I was younger. Figured out I was a guy when I was a teenager, started hormones, and… well…” He took a deep breath. “My mum’s never approved, you know? She’s always been… difficult, she’s… sometimes she’ll… well, I mean, you know how parents will… say your name, right? Like, when you’ve… disappointed them.”

Jon’s frown deepened. He did not, in fact, know how parents said one’s name, but he could remember his grandmother saying Jonathan in tones of deepest disapproval when he’d come back from wandering off. So he nodded; he understood the feeling, at least.

Martin wiped at his eyes again. “The way she said my name… it made me hate my name. My deadname, I mean. But it… helped me realize I was trans, because when I thought about something else I’d want to be called, I came up with ‘Martin.’ And… and I’m kind of glad sometimes, that she… misgenders me, and refuses to call me Martin, because it means she’ll never, ever say it in that… disappointed tone. I have never regretted that choice, not once, until…”

Martin took in a long, shuddering breath, then straightened himself, looking Jon right in the eye. Like he knew what he was going to say wouldn’t go over well, but he had to say it. “The way you say my name, when you snap at me? It’s exactly like my mother says my deadname. And nobody has ever made me regret that choice. Not… ever.” He swallowed. “Until I met you.”

Jon stared at Martin for a long moment, horrified. He was non-binary himself, and yet he’d never changed his name, never even asked people to call him by different pronouns although he might have preferred it; he’d never had the courage to do so. He’d always been terrified of what people might think of him. Yet here was Martin, strong enough to change himself outwardly despite his mother’s disapproval, strong enough to keep coming in every day to deal with a boss who made him regret the name he’d chosen for himself.

In that moment, Jon felt very much like he did not deserve Martin Blackwood. That the Institute did not deserve Martin Blackwood. They would have to do better, somehow.

Finally he managed, “I’m… I didn’t know. I--” He curled his mouth in disgust. How did one respond to that? Do better? That was only a marginally acceptable platitude. “I will endeavor to change my tone.” He didn’t like that any better, but it was the best he could do.

Jon really, really wanted to offer Martin a hug. The man looked like he needed one. Tim would have offered a hug, workplace hugs could be acceptable… but, no, Jon was Martin’s boss, and Martin had just said how much he hated Jon--because if Jon reminded Martin of the mother who deliberately misgendered him, then he had to hate Jon--and who would want a hug from someone they hated?

There was something he could do to help, though. To pay Martin back, as it were. So he, too, straightened, and said, “Well. You were talking about how far your paycheck will stretch in Chelsea, but I think that will be quite unnecessary. Given that you encountered Jane Prentiss while in the line of duty, as it were, I think we can expense your essentials to the Institute without too much trouble.”

Martin’s eyes widened. “W-wait… won’t that… I mean… won’t Mr. Bouchard be… upset about that?”

Jon actually smirked. “Don’t you worry about Elias; I fully intend to take out my irritation about his habits as a supervisor on him instead of you from here on out.” Not directly, of course, but Elias would be irritated by the entire setup, and some petty part of Jon enjoyed that thought.

Martin was staring at Jon now. “I… I wouldn’t want you to… get in trouble…”

Jon waved a hand. “It’s the least I can do.” He stood. “Let’s get to the shops for toiletries before they close and then we can see about getting some clothing delivered. And, ahh, do you have any… prescriptions you’ll need…?” He was thinking about hormones. “I suppose I could send Tim ‘round to your flat, but I wouldn’t want to put him in danger either…”

Martin stood, hesitating. “I’ll… figure all that out. It’s alright. Really.”

Jon came around the desk to grasp Martin by the arms and look up at him, intently. It was the closest thing to a hug he’d let himself get to. “Martin,” he said, as gently as he could manage, with as much respect as he could manage, “you put yourself in danger because of the way your superiors at this Institute have treated you. Let me at least begin to partly repay that debt. Please.”

Martin was blinking down at him. “Uh… umm… aren’t we having… Mr. Bouchard repay the debt…?”

Jon smiled up at Martin as he dropped his arms. "Ahh, but we’re not going to ask Elias to come help clear out the breakroom. Can you imagine him moving boxes?” He could feel the smile edging into a grin. “His arms would break just from trying to pick one up.”

Martin had started to smile, hesitantly. That was what Jon had been going for; he hadn’t realized how much he actually liked Martin’s smile until he hadn’t been around for two weeks. “I-I mean… you’re not the biggest guy yourself… you might have the same problem.”

“Mmm, fair,” Jon replied, “but I am willing to scrub a floor if I must.”

Martin’s smile widened. “Y-yeah, I can’t imagine… Elias… scrubbing a floor.” He giggled, suddenly. “He probably pays people to do that stuff. He… he’d probably have been hopeless stuck in his flat for two weeks.”

Jon laughed at the mental image of Elias Bouchard stuck in a flat, living off canned meals, a laugh so full he actually threw his head back a bit. “Good lord, Elias, having to live off tinned peaches? Can... you... imagine?”

“H-he’d… probably… start shouting for Rosie.” Martin was giggling so hard he could barely get the words out. He put on a bad posh accent and said, “‘Rosie, why do we have all these tinned peaches? I did not approve this budget!’”

They both dissolved into helpless laughter, both reaching out to the other to hold themselves up. There was a moment, as the laughter waned, that their eyes met, and Jon felt something swoop and flutter in his gut. Martin had such a nice smile, and such a pleasant laugh, and it would be wonderful to have both around more often, and it was making him a little dizzy if he was being honest. When was the last time he’d felt that swoop and flutter? Georgie? Briefly, with Tim?

No, no, that was the laughter and the proximity. That was all. They were bonding over dislike of Elias. That was all.

At least he’d managed to clear the air.

Jon straightened, and kept smiling as he turned toward the door. “Come along, then, Martin,” he said, and again deliberately infused the word with as much respect as he could muster. “Let’s get to the shops.”

Martin nodded. “Thanks for this, Jon,” he said, and oh dear there was another swoop at the way Martin said his name. Had he always said it like that? Had Jon just not noticed? “Really. Thank you.”

Jon turned away to school his expression. This would not do. He was not going to let himself feel any more… swoops for a subordinate. It just wouldn’t do. No matter how nice of a smile he had. He did not have a crush on Martin, because he could not have a crush on Martin, and that was that.

Feeling a little better--it was always a relief, sorting out his emotions--Jon headed out to help Martin get settled into the Archives.

[avengersassemble-fics]

Stark’s Girl

part 014/015 “one more time, captain”

previous part // next part

masterlist

word count 3.9k

an: this part does include dialogue from avengers endgame, which is not my work nor do i claim it to be!

It’s been five years since the Blip. You had been back by Natasha’s side for almost six months now, and she was grateful for every moment. There were days where she would break down (which until recently was unheard of) and you would be there by her side. And she had done what she could to help you out with your trauma. Before you accepted her offer of coming back, she had put two and two together when she recognized the faces on the news to the faces that had adorned a spare room in that house of yours in Ransdorp. Natasha had a past of her own, no doubt about that, so she could relate to how you had felt when you admitted on your own time what you had been up to those few years after Siberia. 

It wasn’t an easy conversation, at one point you had broken down into sobs and reminded her a lot of herself when she had taken some time after a mission gone wrong years back. She mostly understood the shame that coursed through you, but one thing she made you understand was what HYDRA had done, the things you did because of them, wasn’t your fault. Natasha also made sure to tell you the blackouts weren’t your fault either, and she understood why you did what you had done. Although it was trauma you would have to live with, she knew the feeling better than most of losing your years to programs like that.

All of this was to say that both women had a newfound respect and understanding of one another. It became easier to work alongside one another, being able to almost anticipate one’s actions and decisions as they occurred. No one had seemed to really get Nat like that since Barton.. Which was why she was so hell bent on tracking him down.

Natasha had come to the realization about a year ago that Barton had gone off the radar because his family was among those they lost. When bodies started piling up (not due to your hands) and some of the known details were faint signatures of Barton’s handiwork.. Nat made it her mission to find him. Because this was not him. And although he was taking down some questionable people, they weren’t responsible for Thanos.

“Listen fur-face,” Carol Danvers threw out that regained Nat’s attention. “I’m covering a lot of territory. The things that are happening on Earth are happening everywhere, on thousands of planets.”

“All right all right, that’s a good point,” Rocket remarked. Nat stole a glance your way to which you only offered a shrug as Carol continued.

“So.. You might not see me for a long time,” she redirected towards Nat. Natasha nodded her head and leaned forward on the desk she sat behind. 

“Alright.. Well this channel is always active. If anything goes sideways, anyone’s making trouble where they shouldn’t, it comes through me.”

Everyone agreed and one by one the holograms disappeared. You took a seat in front of the desk, and Nat redirected her attention to Rhodes. “Where are you?

“Mexico,” Rhodes answered. “The Federales found a room full of bodies, looks like a bunch of cartel guys. They never even had a chance to get their guns off.”

Nat shrugged her shoulders and sat back in her seat. “Probably a rival gang.”

“Except it isn’t,” Rhodes countered. Natasha’s eyes shift, and your gaze shoots up at her. “It’s definitely Barton.. What he’s done here, what he’s been doing the last few years.. Nat, the scene he left?.. I gotta tell you, a part of me doesn’t want to find him.”

Natasha grabbed the sand which she had prepared just earlier and bit a piece off. She just needed to focus on something other than what Rhodes was telling her, she didn’t need anyone to see her cry right now. “Will you find out where he’s going next?”

“Nat,” Rhodes tried to warn.

“Please,” Natasha pleaded. You glanced Rhodey’s way and he met your eyes. You offered a grim look, and he sighed.

“Okay.”

And with that Rhodey’s comm broke off too. You watched as Nat placed the sandwich back down and sighed deeply, all before her face began to scrunch up into a sob. You were quick out of your seat and moved around the desk and kneeled by her side. “Nat.. Nat we’re gonna find him.”

“I just don’t know why he couldn’t come to me,” she sniffled and rubbed at her eyes. “I know this must be hard for him, losing Laura and the kids, but he could’ve come to me.”

You reached your hand out to rub her shoulder and let out a small sigh. “Sometimes it’s hard to let those you care about see in you in those dark places.”

Nat finished rubbing under her eyes and grabbed the sandwich off her plate again with her other hand. “Is that why you’ve been avoiding the talk with Steve?”

You bit back the smile and stood. She had done what she did best, diverted the conversation from herself to something else. “You’re still on about that?”

“Oh come on, I’ve seen the way you look at one another,” Natasha prodded as you went to gather your things. “How much longer are you going to wait to be happy?”

The question made you pause, and before you could respond Nat perked up at something behind you. You glanced over your shoulder and was met with none other than Steve Rogers, hands in his pockets, and with a small smile on his face. 

“Speak of the devil,” Natasha joked. Your gaze immediately went back to her and you gave her your best glare, while Steve raised his brow at her. They were so easy to mess with, she thought. “Here to do your laundry?”

“And to see some friends,” Steve replied. You held your things closer to your chest as Steve came further into the room.

“I’m actually getting ready to leave for Tony’s,” you threw out there. “I promised to go see my favorite niece.”

“Are you going to be okay making the drive this late at night?” Steve asked. Natasha rolled her eyes to herself and took a hefty bite of her sandwich. If she had to watch another pining episode she was going to make sure you two never heard the end of it. You, on the other hand, smiled at his sentiment.

“Oh I think I can manage,” you told him. You offered your farewells, and started back to your room to grab your bag and head out. Steve watched you leave before looking back at Nat who was waving him off.

“Meet me in the kitchen, I need a drink,” she told him, and took her sandwich with her towards the kitchen area. Steve chuckled lightly, and followed in your steps to the residence area. He was just catching you outside your room, and he took a deep breath and pulled something out of his pocket, clutching it in his fist. You heard him approach and looked his way, shutting your door and offering a smile.

“Hey,” you managed before Steve got up to you, and his serious expression made your smile fall. “Are you okay..?”

“Seven years ago I asked you if one day you’d want to get away from all of this,” Steve started. You remembered the conversation far too well, and immediately shut your mouth in a tight expression. A heaviness filled your chest, but you tried your best to ignore it. “From this life where we were needing to be more than just us… Do you remember?”

“Yes-”

“I told you that I would wait for you, no matter how long it took, no matter what happened, because.. Because you have been the best thing to happen to me since I came out of the ice. You taught me how to live again,” Steve continued.

“Steve,” you whispered, but he kept going.

“I love you,” he admitted, finally looking into your eyes. They were darker than usual, and you could see he meant it. “I couldn’t go another day without telling you. Because.. You feel like home.”

Steve grabbed a hold of your hands, and you watched as he placed something into your palms. He retracted his hold on you and your fingers curled over the soft velvety box in your hand. You looked up at him with curious eyes, and slowly used your thumb to open the box and let out a small gasp.

“Steve,” you whispered, staring down at the contents.

“It was my moms.. SHIELD saved it when I went into the ice,” Steve explained. You carefully ran your finger over the gold banded ring that practically shined up at you. You hadn’t seen a more beautiful piece of jewelry, and did your best to fight back the tears. “I’m not expecting an answer.. But I just wanted you to see that I meant it. It was always meant for you anyway.. Maybe we still have a shot at that normal life.”

Your gaze went back up to his, and he smiled softly at you. You were speechless as one of his hands grabbed onto your arm and he leaned down to press a chaste kiss to your forehead. And then you watched him take a couple steps back, before he turned around and went back the direction you both had just come. 

You were shocked, which even then felt like an understatement. Steve just.. Proposed. Inadvertently? Well it was purposeful, and if Natasha knew about it you were going to kill her for not saying anything. It took you a while to reclose the box and carefully place it into a pocket in your bag, it was delicate and you wanted to take care of it.

And well.. It certainly kept your mind occupied on your drive to Tony’s cabin.

Tony had left your room untouched for the most part, which was a welcomed thing to come into. You weren’t up for too long, forcing Tony to go to bed, but you did spend some time scrolling through your phone. Steve was right when he had said he wasn’t expecting an answer right away, you half expected a message of some sort but things seemed relatively quiet from his end. It was harder to fall asleep that night, you found yourself drifting off to what would happen if you said yes.

You’d want to move somewhere quiet, like what Tony did. That would give you a chance to refocus yourself.. Would that even be something Steve would be open to doing?.. Could he get you the same help he had gotten Barnes (Natasha said he felt at peace for once)? Hell, if they could just wipe out any lingering thoughts of Hydra you’d never have another problem in your life.

What’s more.. If you said no would this be what you life is like? Alone, and longing for the maybe’s that could have been? Which was better? Risk getting involved again, or risk never having that connection to someone again? It wasn’t the ideal question to fall asleep to.

When morning broke and sunlight peeked through the blinds, you woke up and found yourself sitting among the sheets and staring at the open box in your hands. The diamond that sat in the middle and gleamed in the sunlight made you sigh, it felt as if it was screaming at you that you knew what you wanted to tell him.

Did you?

You snapped the box closed and hid it in a drawer beside the bed and decided to change into something other than sweatpants for the day. After finishing and bounding down the stairs you ended up behind your favorite little niece, and scooped her up into a bear hug from behind. “There’s my little sleeping beauty!”

“She couldn’t wait to see her favorite aunt today,” Pepper remarked from the kitchen amongst the giggles that erupted from her daughter. You peppered kisses on Morgan’s head, and Pepper turned around as she was drying what you assumed was breakfast dishes. “Tony barely had to tuck her in before she was out.”

You set Morgan back down on the ground and she went back to messing with a toy on the breakfast table. You ruffled her hair and went to grab a cup of coffee before resting your hip against the counter besides Pepper. “How has he been?”

“A little stir crazy,” Pepper admitted to which you nodded lightly and sipped at your warm mug. “He put up this picture of the kid and I catch him getting lost looking at it.”

“And how have you been?” You asked. Pepper glanced your way and smiled.

“Hoping one day he’ll finally rest his mind.”

Eventually, you brought Morgan outside who immediately ran towards her tent and disappeared inside. You went towards the shed with an open door, and leaned against the frame, taking in the sight of Tony wielding what you could make out was a helmet. “Work never stops for you, does it?”

Tony glanced over his shoulder and waved you in, which you accepted. You came up behind him and gripped his shoulders and gave him a squeeze. “You’re supposed to be retired, old man.”

“It’s just a little project,” Tony tried to assure you. You couldn’t help but scoff, and pointed your thumb to a corner of the room.

“Says the one who built me a new suit last year,” you teased. Tony used one hand to back hand your side playfully and you laughed. You stood beside him now, and grabbed a picture frame sitting on the shelf over where he worked. It was a picture of the two of you when you were younger, barely big enough to fit the frame, and slightly discolored. You ran your hand over the front before putting the frame back and rubbing your hands together. “Can I talk to you about something..?”

“Anything, kid,” Tony said, overly engrossed in the task in front of him. You took a deep breath and shrugged your shoulders, not that he could even see you.

“When did you know that.. Well that you didn’t want to wait anymore? To start a family?” 

Tony immediately stopped what he was working on, taking off a pair of clear protective glasses and setting his tool down. When he turned to face you and rest his elbow on the table, he tilted his head and scrunched his brows. “Excuse me?”

“Come on Tony, I’m being serious,” you told him.

“Yeah well so am I!” Tony exclaimed and stood. You watched as he stood from his stool and started to pace back and forth. You crossed your arms and huffed. He was acting like such a child! As if he could read your thoughts he stopped and pointed a finger at you. “It’s Steve isn’t it? Is he pressuring you or something?”

“What? No! Why would you even think that-”

“Because he’s hard headed and doesn’t know when to stop,” Tony said, cutting you off. You shook your head and scoffed.

“Tony please, this isn’t about you two-”

“I told him if he messes with your feelings again.. I swear when I get a hold of him,” Tony started pacing again and you rolled your eyes and started towards him. “He has some nerve-”

“Tony,” you stopped him dead in his tracks and made him face you, finally getting a hold of his gaze. “He didn’t do anything to me, okay? If anything.. He’s been trying to make up to me what happened.”

Tony sighed and his expression softened, but you shrugged. “I know he lied to us about knowing what happened to mom and dad… But you always told me that I wasn’t what Hydra made me, that what I did wasn’t me but them… Tony, why is Barnes so different?”

“Steve lied to us,” Tony said in a low tone. “He lied to protect his friend but what about us, huh? We weren’t his friends? We didn’t deserve to know the truth?”

“He handled it wrong Tony, I know. I’m just saying does that outweigh all the good he did for us,” you offered. Tony sighed and looked away for a moment as if annoyed. You grabbed a hold of his hand and it forced him to look back at you. “He’s trying.. And you told me that sometimes just trying was a good start.”

Tony sighed and raised a brow at you. “I hate it when you throw things back in my face like that.”

You chuckled and Tony  used his free hand to cover the hand holding his. “Look I’m still iffy on the idea but.. If Rogers is who you want to be with then who am I to stop it? I’m a family man now anyway, I have bigger fish to fry.”

And with that his phone buzzed in his pocket, and while he fished it out you laughed little. “She’s turning out too much like you.”

“Scares me to death everyday,” Tony replied while checking the message from Pepper. “Time to feed the munchkin anyway, we can continue this talk later when I’ve had a couple drinks.”

Tony and you walked side by side to Morgan’s play tent, and after finally getting her out. Tony whisked her up when you felt your phone buzz, and you pulled it out to see a notification from Natasha. It was weird, she normally didn’t bother you when you were with Tony, she always said to focus on family time. You fell back a few steps and read her message.

Nat: Heads up, you got incoming.

“Incoming?” You muttered to yourself as you came up the steps behind Tony. You nearly knocked into him. You followed his gaze to the car coming to a stop in front of his cabin, and watched Steve, Natasha, and someone else get out. Steve’s expression was serious, hell all of theirs were and Tony didn’t look amused. Natasha offered a nod to Tony and he turned to you, and you took Morgan from him with a smile. “Let’s go see mom, hm?”

You quietly walked inside and set Morgan at the table and met Pepper’s look before she returned to watching out the window. You ruffled Morgan’s hair and returned back outside, the screen door thumping closed behind you. The three visitors started up the stairs as you rejoined Tony’s side.

“Sorry for dropping in unannounced,” Steve offered. Tony glanced your way with a look. You could only shrug. What? You didn’t know they were coming. But if they did then.. Something was up.

“We have something though that we think might work.. To get everyone back,” Natasha said. Your breath hitched, and when you looked over at Tony there was a hint of something in his eyes. The third person stepped forward and nodded at the both of you.

“Have you two heard of the Quantum Realm?”

It was.. A long explanation. Everyone was gathered in a circle at this point, and in all honesty you had a hard time following along. There were stolen glances between you and Steve, and each time a feeling grew in the pit of your stomach. But you forced yourself to pay attention because this was big.. Could it work though?

“Now, we know what this sounds like,” Scott had finished up before Steve cut in.

“Tony, after everything you’ve seen, is anything really impossible?” He asked. Tony was looking out to the lake near his home but when addressed he looked back at the group and gripped onto the railing.

“Quantum fluctuation messes with the Planck Scale, which then triggers the Deutsch Proposition. Can we agree on that?” Tony asked. You glanced at everyone else and cleared your throat.

“Maybe for those of us not fluent in quantum mechanics, Tony?” You asked. Tony sighed and tapped his fingers on the wood.

“In layman’s terms, it means you’re not coming home,” was all he offered.

“But I did,” Scott offered. Tony shook his head at that.

“No, you accidentally survived,” Tony corrected. “It's a billion to one cosmic fluke. And now you wanna pull off a... What do you call it?”

Scott cleared his throat. “A time heist..?”

Tony scoffed in a joking manner and rubbed his forehead. “Yeah, a time heist. Of course, why didn't we think of this before?”

“The Stones are in the past. We can go back and get them,” Scott tried to reason.

“We can snap our own fingers. We can bring everyone back,” Natasha chimed in.

“Or screw it up worse than he already has, right?” Tony asked. Steve shrugged his shoulders.

“I don’t believe we would,” Steve said.

“Gotta say, sometimes I miss that giddy optimism,” Tony said in a sarcastic tone. Everyone went back and forth for a while. Tony shot down every claim, and the rest tried to tell him there’s always a chance. The back and forth didn’t stop until the screen door was pushed open and Morgan came up to Tony’s side.

“Mommy told me to come and save you,” she said. You couldn’t help but smile and cross your arms. Tony picked her up and pat her back.

“Good job, I’m saved,” he reassured her. He refocused on the group and offered a shrug. “I wish you'd come here to ask me something else. Anything else. Honestly, I... I missed you guys, it was... Oh, and table's set for seven.”

.”Tony, I get it. And I'm happy for you, I really am. But this is a second chance,” Steve tried again, but Tony shook his head.

“I got my second chance right here,” Tony told him. You could see Steve accept his denial and then met Tony’s gaze. “I can’t roll the dice again.”

Tony excused himself and the porch fell silent. You watched him disappear into the house and looked back at the group in front of you. No one knew what to say, but Natasha was the first to speak. “Sorry for interrupting your weekend.”

“Well when you have a hell of a plan like that I don’t expect you to wait normal business hours,” you replied. Natasha sadly smiled and you sighed. “Tony has everything he’s ever wanted.. I don’t know if I can sweet talk him into helping.”

“We know,” Steve offered and gave a sad smile. “We just wanna do it right.”

“Tony may not be on board but.. If there’s a chance? I’m in,” you offered. Nat reached out and pat your shoulder and as if knowingly, she turned around and pulled Scott with her. You took a couple steps towards Steve and he straightened up a bit. “Nice to see you back, Cap.”

“One last mission,” Steve whispered. You smiled and looked behind him at the car he had come in and Natasha smirked at you. You met Steve’s gaze again and slowly lifted her young to rest on his cheek. On your tiptoes and with the sun basking in the sky, you leaned up and placed a gentle kiss on his lips. Steve had leaned into your touch, his lips pressing against yours as if it would be the last. After a couple seconds you pulled away and you both lingered close.

“Go save the world one more time, Captain.”

- - - - - - - - - -

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