#but it’ll mean i gotta go up in front of All Staff some of whom have been practicing clinicians for 20+ years

[sepulchritude]

I was collaborating with one of the trans guys at work about him giving a cultural competency training about transness, like we had a whole 2 hour conversation hashing out exactly what he’d want to discuss, but then he had to quit bc of life troubles 😭

But the whole reason we started working on this was bc another trans staff member requested it due to hearing some not great stuff from other staff 😭

So we need to have this training, and also I need someone to give any training that month bc I’m partly in charge of scheduling this stuff, but we don’t have anybody to do it anymore

….Which means I have to do it myself 😔

[captainswaglord500]

Part 30: An Old Work Rival

Yitzhak arrives in his car. A frail, old man, he slowly hobbles up the steps of the building, making his way to the front desk, only to find that the staff are dead, lying in a pool of their own blood.

Yitzhak (panicked): “Hello? Anyone there? Someone killed a bunch of people!”

Spencer peeks around the corner before rushing to the old man.

Spencer (frantic): “You gotta get out of here. Tell anyone who will listen what’s happening in this building.”

Yitzhak: “Dr. Spencer? What’s going on here?”

Spencer (frantic): “Remember Slamet?”

Yitzhak: “Gunawan? Yeah, I remember him. A real arrogant bastard, I’ll give him that.”

Spencer (frantic): “Okay, so basically, your son? Yeah, his disappearance wasn’t a mistake. I dunno what kinda rivalry you two had, but he must’ve been paranoid about you stealing his work, because he intentionally designed it to overheat and explode after a few days of being turned on so that he could trap your son on the other end.”

Yitzhak (confused): “What the fuck kinda movie villain bullshit is that?”

Spencer (frantic): “Oh, it’s worse. It gets even worse: apparently, he had a functional one somewhere else that he used to throw some other poor schmucks through, and now, two of them are running through the building trying to chase him and the other’s calling the police. And get this: now he wants to take that flawed design and tweak it so that he can claim credit for designing the first functional time machine.”

Yitzhak lets out a long sigh.

Yitzhak (defeated): “I mean… I won’t lie, I did steal his work. But I gotta do something now to fix this mess because it’s clear my actions have hurt other people. Is my son still alive?”

Spencer: “Honestly, I wish I could tell you. I have no idea. He could be dead. He could be alive. I didn’t see him. Maybe he’s still alive somewhere on the other end.”

Yitzhak: “Let’s just hope he is. And let’s just hope I can save those whom my actions have hurt.”

Vincent (running around the corner): “Police should be arriving sometime in the next hour. They don’t know how long it’ll be, though, because apparently, they’re backed up with calls.”

Spencer (annoyed): “Jesus tap-dancing Christ, has the entire world gone to shit? This is an emergency!”

Vincent: “Look, don’t shoot the messenger. I’m just telling you what they told me.”

Spencer lets out a long sigh.

Spencer: “Fuck me…” (To Yitzhak): “I know you like to drink. You got any beers in your car?”

Yitzhak: “A bit early to drink your pain away, no, doctor?”

Spencer: “Nah, I just want to sit around and have a beer if this is my last hour on this planet.”

Yitzhak: “Give me a second.”

Yitzhak hobbles off towards the entrance to his car. A minute later, he returns with a 12-pack of beers.

Yitzhak: “Help yourselves, gentlemen.”

Spencer and Vincent (taking a can): “Don’t mind if I do.” The pair then open the cans before proceeding to chug the entire thing in one go. They look at one another as if to say, “Should we go for another?”. Silently, they agree and take another can. (Out-loud): “Join us.”

Yitzhak: “Ah, fuck it. Might as well.” Yitzhak takes a can for himself and downs the entire thing in one go. “Boys, in my heyday, I could outdrink both of you.”

The three of them chuckle. All the while, Nahuoi and Terrence’s chase continues.

[lets-get-kraken-boys]

FatGum (Taishiro Toyomitsu) X Chubby! Confectioner/Baker! Reader: Sweets and Treats~

(Description: Woo, I’m so excited for my first story on this account! This inspiration came to me after thinking about our one and only, favorite chubby pro hero and me wanting to see some puppy love for you two. Also, the title says Confectioner/Baker, I want to clarify that Reader isn’t truly a baker but I feel like “Confectioner” wouldn’t reach as large of a crowd as “Baker” would, not a big deal but just FYI. I hope my first fic is enjoyed by those who choose to read, thank you for the support.)

~

Fanfiction Lingo

(Y/N) - Your Name

(H/C) - Hair Color

(E/C) - Eye Color

(F/C) - Favorite Color

~

“Normal speech.”

‘Inner thoughts.’

~

Requester: No One!

Reader Gender: Female (She/Her)

Style of Story: Oneshot // Entirely fluff, a pinning love on both ends, and a happy end to boot! There is one little heartbreak moment, but it’s over in a second.

Word Count: 4.5K Words

WARNING(s): None, unless you see adorable, tooth-rotting fluff as a crime!

~

“Morning, Tammy! Lovely day, isn’t it?” you greeted your employee with a bright smile as she stumbled through the door into your bakery.

She huffed, still rubbing the sleep from her eyes, “Sure, but I’ve hardly been up long enough to notice it. How are you always so peppy this early?” She pointed to the mechanical clock ticking from the left wall that read ‘4:04 AM’. You glanced outside and saw hardly anyone walking through the streets, except the occasional drunkard or lonely soul.

You bashfully shrugged your shoulders, “Well, after years of suffering waking up at three in the morning, you kinda get used to the torment! But, hey, so happy we got the shop far away from the center of the city, you can actually see the sunrise from here!” you tried to help her look on the bright side as you handed her one a cup of one of your homemade coffee brews. She took a sip of the drink and let out a content sigh through her nose, a small, but thankful smile on her face.

“You know, for being a confectioner, you make some pretty solid coffee. What is that?” her eyebrows furrowed as she asked, taking another swig to figure out the secret intense flavor.

You giggled, “That’s probably the nutmeg I added. Is it good?”

“More like fantastic, (Y/N). Trying out new recipes again?” she asked over her shoulder, hanging up her light jacket that protected her from the early morning breeze while grabbing her apron. Though, it being July in Japan, she probably wouldn’t need it again for a while.

“Yeah, I think this one will really please the early risers. It gives a special sort of kick to the taste, don’t you think?” you asked while gently sliding open the glass case that held all of the beautifully decorated pastries, grabbing a pair of tongs and a small floral ceramic plate, carefully placing a fresh Apple Strudel onto the plate, and setting it down on the counter.

“Totally. Hey, can I have a--,” Tammy stopped mid-sentence as she turned around to see the delectable treat already waiting for her.

“Your breakfast awaits, m’lady~,” you slurred out in a fake British accent with a cheesy smirk and a dramatic bow.

She scoffed, “You dork. Am I really that predictable?” she asked, scarfing down the pastry in a matter of seconds as she leaned on the counter.

“Yeah, you kinda are,” you joked as she playfully shoved your plush side.

“You know,” she continued, looking down at the gooey food, “It’s a shame you aren’t more popular with the people. You have a great location, an amazing personality and work staff, if I do say so myself, and don’t even get me started on the incredible stuff you make,” she praised.

“Oh, stop it, Tammy. You’re gonna make me blush,” you flushed from her sincere words, “Besides, I’ve only been open for two weeks, it’s going to be slow for awhile. It’ll ramp up eventually.”

“Yeah, I guess, but you can’t deny that your baked goods are better than most of the others in the country! One day, when people get their heads out of their asses, these little gifts of magic are going to make you RICH!” she threw her lanky airs up into the air and around your shoulders. She spun your smaller frame in a circle while the two of you laughed.

“Ha! Yeah yeah, I know! Now, stop your messing around and come help me fill the rest of these Cream Horns.” you concluded while you pat her taller shoulder. She groaned at the request but gave you a tiny nod. Tammy turned around while tying her short, brown hair into a messy bun, readying herself for the busy day ahead. You smiled while she retreated to the kitchen but before you went to follow her you decided to look out the window again.

Shuffling your legs over to the windows, you got a clear view of the rising sun and all its glory, the hints of yellow, orange, pink, red, and even blue from the night's previous dark veil still clung onto the brightening sky. Somehow you had this weird feeling that today something life changing was going to happen. You didn’t know if you should be excited or worried, but you decided to push those thoughts aside and continue on to the back of the shop where you could already hear the clutter and clang of falling pans, no doubt Tammy’s handy work.

Oh, if you only knew how right your hunch was…

~

~ Timeskip to a little later in the day and a P.O.V change to FatGum ~

~

“How much longer do I have for patrol?” I asked myself, pulling out my phone to check the time. The time read ‘9:12 AM’ and I huffed, still a couple more hours to go. Putting the device back in my pocket with a grimace but quickly faked a smile as I continued down the bustling street. The active community, excited civilians, and eager children usually never fails to put a smile on my face, but today everything just felt like a drag. I was sluggish, unfocused, and I couldn’t understand why. I shook my head, get your head in the game, Taishiro. You don’t have time to let your mind wander on duty.

After what seemed like hours, but was more than likely only 15 minutes, I felt my stomach let out a rumbling growl which made me groan. I stopped walking on the sidewalk and took a second to consider the situation, wandering the city for a couple of hours with nothing too exciting to do really works up an appetite, and I do need to keep up my strength. I’m a hero after all, and denying myself is like ignoring my civic duty to protecting the people! At this point, I’ll take any excuse to get out of this pointless shambling. But the REAL question is, what to get? I glanced around the street and noticed a few shops further down the block that looked to be food related. I smirked, perfect.

I wove through the few people occupying the area, past a few excited teenagers who asked for autographs, and eventually made it to the shops. Looking around I saw some insurance shops, an enticing Pad Thai sit down, and few others, but the one that caught my eye was a cutesy, (F/C)-painted bakery named, “Queen of Tarts”. Chuckling at the interesting name choice, I looked inside the establishment through the plexiglass windows.

The inside carried a light, fluffy atmosphere, pastel colored walls combining with the checkered tile floor caused a small smile out of me. A few small tables with delicate iron chairs here and there, but the real prize were the copious amounts of sweets that were displayed in the glass cases. Each were different colors, sizes, but they all looked delicious. Feeling my stomach grumble, I grabbed the door handle, flung it open, and walked into the scrumptious smelling shop. After walking in, the tiny jingle of bells alerting the workers of my presence, I finally saw the most stunning sweet of all.

“Hi, welcome to the Queen of Tarts, how may I help you today?” the gorgeous woman at the counter asked but it didn’t register in my brain because I was already lost in thought. Her adorable (H/C) hair framed her face to show her soft, chubby cheeks, her eyes glistened in the sunlight, and her smile, oh, it completely lit the room with its radiance. Curves in all the right places, I felt my cheeks heat up as I let out a nervous laugh, cursing my inner self for not holding it together. Seriously, I can face the nastiest of villains but throw one pretty lady in front of me and I fall apart? Fantastic. Realizing I wasn’t answering, I quickly stepped forward and cleared my throat.

“Uh, yeah. Hi,” ‘Wow, so smooth, Taishiro,’ I criticized in my head, “I...haven’t seen this store here before, you new?” I offered a smile, which she returned tenfold, making me even more flustered.

“Yes, actually! I set up shop here only a few weeks ago, finally settling in with the hustle and bustle of city life.” she finished, leaning in closer against the marble counter with her arms crossed.

“City life? You didn’t grow up here?” I asked.

“Yeah,” she shrugged, “Grew up on more of the countryside style of life. I love the city though, do you?”

“Yeah, you gotta get used to it when you spend all your time protecting it.” I let a hint of boasting attitude out, hoping she’d realize who I am.

“Ha, I hear ya! I do my own share of ‘protecting’ around here too. Well, if you count making goodies, that is.” she giggled, standing up and walking over to the glass containers. I deflated a little, guess that wasn’t going to work this time. I shuffled over to where she was standing and looked down at the treats they offered.

“So, kind stranger, what is it you’ll be having?” she asked after a minute of me inspecting the pastries. The problem with not being picky about what you eat, means there are tons of more options than that of others, and when all the items look equally as delectable, you get a little overwhelmed. Plus, the fact that a beautiful woman whom I would very much like to not embarrass myself in front of is waiting for my answer doesn’t help.

I gulped, “I don’t know, they all look amazing. What’s your favorite?” I asked, hoping to know a little more about her.

“Oh, gosh, let me think…” she pouted, resting her head on the palm of her hand while looking deep in thought at the treats. The adorable crease of her eyebrows scrunched together, the tip of her tongue poking out in concentration, her lovely, curvalicious body...that’s it, I’m so screwed.

“I think I’d go for the Chocolate Cream Puff,” her answer drawing both me and her out of our distracted states, “My dad taught me years ago this amazing chocolate ganache recipe and I drizzle that all over the tops of homemade pastry puffs and the whipped filling, ugh! It’s to die for, seriously!” she finished, a sparkle in her (E/C) eyes that fueled the fire in my gut. She spoke about food just as passionately as I did! She’s perfect.

Without thinking, I quickly said, “I’ll take ten.”

~

~ (Y/N) P.O.V ~

~

“Alright, there you go, 10 Chocolate Cream Puffs. Have a wonderful day, sir!” I said with a bright smile.

“Please, call me Taishiro. And you are..?” he asked.

I flushed, I’m such a klutz, “(Y/N), pleasure to meet you, Taishiro. I hope you enjoy them and come back to visit m...us! Come visit us again!” I hastily fixed my wording.

As he smiled and waved goodbye, I rolled the tension out of my shoulders and breathed a sigh of relief. It’s okay, he was nice...and cute...and...really handsome. Wow, I am I sweating?

“HOLY CRAP!” I jumped as I heard Tammy squeal out behind me, I spun around to look at her standing in the doorway to the back, watching the leaving guest with an awestruck face.

“What?! Where’s the fire?!” I shouted running up to her, grabbing the edge of my apron.

“(Y/N), look at me,” she grabbed my shoulders and forced me to stare into her hazel eyes, “Do you know who that was?”

I shrugged my shoulders as best as I could under her vice grip, “A customer, right?”

“A custom--ugh, curse you for not keeping up with the media,” she yelled while flinging her arms to the sky in exasperation before shoving them back on my shoulders, “(Y/N), that wasn’t just any old customer! That was the FatGum!”

I blinked, “Uh, who?”

“Aarrghh! The rank 58 Pro Hero in Japan! What did you say to him?!” I paled as her words sunk in. My legs felt like jelly and I wanted to lie on the floor and die of embarrassment as she raved on about my ignorance.

‘Oh, so I’ve fallen for a Pro Hero. Awesome.’

~

~ Timeskip to a few weeks later, same P.O.V ~

~

Who knew meeting a Pro Hero and potentially having a crush on him could be so amazing? After Taishiro, who is apparently a hero named FatGum, left the store, he personally posted on his main platform of media about the shop and how incredible the desserts were! Of course, to get a compliment from a hero who's Quirk is literally based around food, who’s eaten hundreds of thousands of different dishes, for him to specifically point out your’s brought the media swarming. Business went from nearly dead to tons of people coming in at all open hours! It was fantastic, and the handsome gentleman kept his promise of continually coming in and buying heaps of pastries.

You sighed, leaning against the marble counter after helping a few beautiful ladies buy some tarts, watching their desirable, attractive forms leave the shop and walk past the window. Looking around the busy lounge area, all of the customers were stunning, unique, and most of all thin. You glanced down at yourself, insecurities filling your mind about your appearance and unsurprisingly flickering back to the man plaguing your thoughts. You poked the chub, would he? No. He probably already has someone and even if he didn’t, why would he go for you? You’re a no one to him, someone who just sells him baked goods to fuel his Quirk, nothing more.

“Hey, boss man, what’s up?” Asher, a friend and employee of yours, asked while spinning you away from the counter to face him, drawing Tammy’s attention from her place on the stool behind the counter.

“Oh, it’s nothing, Asher. Just distracted is all, I’m fine!” you sighed and faked a smile.

Asher pulled a skeptical look and without looking at Tammy he said, “She’s thinking about him again, isn’t she?”

Tammy, like it was her sixth sense to pick up on gossip, flung herself to Asher’s side with the same skeptical look, “Yep, it’s so obvious.”

“I-It is?!” you yelped, pulling your hands up to your cheeks to hide your growing blush.

“What are we gonna do about them, Tam?” he asked, still not looking at her but instead grabbing your chin and tiling your head from side to side to inspect you.

 “I don’t know what else to do, Ash. He so likes her back but both are too scared to make the first move. Truly a dilemma.” she said, twirling a lock of your (H/C) hair.

“Wait, he does?! How do you know?” you pleaded but they weren’t paying any attention to you anymore, making you puff out your pudgy cheeks in frustration. Opting to ignore them, you listened to the aimless chatter of the seating area. The ambiance of the confectionery made you smile because it was exactly how you’d pictured it as a little girl, the sweet smells, the laughter, it finally felt like home after all these years in the making. All your hard work was paying off in the end. Suddenly, the ringing bells of the door opening drew your attention. Glancing back, you caught a glimpse of a familiar yellow and orange clad figure whose head almost touched the ceiling. You gasped and shoved your friends off of you and to the backroom, spun around, and greeted your favorite customer with a bashful smile.

“Taishiro! How lovely to see you again,” but you quickly noticed it wasn’t just him. Two teenage boys, one with striking red hair and a warm smile and the other trembling and hiding inside of his cloak’s hood, were by FatGum’s side, which made you ask, “And who is this with you?”

“(Y/N), this is Eijirou Kirishima and Tamaki Amajiki, they are training under me for hero internships. I wanted to bring them here so they could try your wicked sweets!” he finished, making you blush even harder.

“Aw, that’s so sweet of you, FatGum! It’s a pleasure to meet you, boys.” you finished, holding out your hand for them to shake.

The red-headed boy, Kirishima, shook your hand with a gentle, but strong grip, “Same here! I’ve heard all about this place because of the news, sorry I couldn’t come sooner!”

“Oh, that’s alright, and it’s wonderful to meet you, Tamaki.” you held out your hand, but all you got from him was a curt nod as he shrunk further into his suit.

“You’ll have to forgive, Amajiki, he’s sort of shy.” Taishiro chuckled, rubbing his hand behind his head.

You pulled your hand back with an understanding smile, “No problem, I totally get social anxiety. Happens to the best of us, I’m afraid.”

“No way,” you suddenly heard Tammy mumble behind you, no doubt to Asher, “He brought his kids to see her. Did not expect that. I respect the flex.”

“Isn’t that a little far for first base material?” Asher whispered back to her. You proceeded to shoot them a terrifying glare and subtly kick both of them in the shins, a symbol for them to scram. They gulped and hobbled off to the back to avoid your wrath while you huffed and whipped your hair out of your face with a smile.

“Anyways, since the three of you are here, what would you boys like? It’s on the house!” you confidently boasted.

Taishiro gasped, “(Y/N), no. I can’t do that to you, we’ll pay.”

“Ah, ah, ah, Taishiro. You are by far the most paying of customers and since you’re my favorite of all I want to give this to you. Call it, uh, thank you present for all the publicity you’ve given my store! I couldn’t have made it this far without you.” you grinned.

He sighed and, though it could have been your imagination, blushed a little, “At least let me pay for my portion. I get considerably more than them.”

“Nope, it’s already been decided! Kirishima, what would you like?” you changed the topic before Taishiro could argue with you again. He rolled his eyes, clear girl.

“Hmm,” Kirishima thought, “Do you have anything with strawberries?”

“I got just the thing for you. How about a Strawberry Turnover?” you directed him over to the case with the pastry. He took one glance and excitedly nodded his head and you smiled, grabbed the sweet with a clean pair of tongs, placed it on a napkin, and handed it over to the young man. He grinned and shoveled the pastry into his mouth without hesitation. 

“Thanks so much, Miss (Y/N)! It’s delicious!” he praised through a mouth full of food, making you giggle at his silliness. Walking back over to the registrar, you saw Tamaki looking at you. When he was caught, he gasped, quickly spun around, and hid himself away from you by pressing into FatGum’s body.

“What would you like, Tamaki?” you patiently asked. Taishiro looked at you with doubt and started saying something but you quickly shushed him and continued to wait for the teen’s answer.

Knowing that you weren’t going to give up, Tamaki quietly mumbled out, “D-D-Do you...have anything with...b-black raspberry? I-If you don’t that’s fine too, I-I didn’t mean to sound too rude or--”

“I believe I do,” you quickly interrupted so he didn’t go into a spiraling haze of self doubt, “Would a Black Raspberry Lychee Cake suffice, Tamaki?”

“Y-Yes, Miss (Y/N)...” he sighed in relief, glancing at you with tears in his eyes. You gave him a reassuring smile and grabbed the treat for him, handing it to FatGum so he could hold on to it for Tamaki.

“And now, what’ll you have, kind stranger?” you grinned as he chuckled.

“I’ll take my usual then, 10 Chocolate Cream Puffs, please.” he concluded while giving a sweet grin.

You snarked, “You always get the same thing every time, Taishiro. Don’t you wanna try anything else? I promise they’re poisoned.” you smirked.

He quirked an eyebrow at you, “Are you sure about that?” he joked.

“Taishiro! What kind of business would I be if I poisoned all my guests?” you laughed at him.

“Okay, okay, I’ll try something different, ma’am. Do you have anything with pineapple?” he asked with curiosity.

“You betcha. How does a Pineapple Poke Cake sound, sir?” you interrogated. You saw stars glisten in his eyes and you giggled at his excitement.

“How many?” you joked.

“I’ll take 12!” he concluded, blissfully staring off into space.

You packaged up his request in a cutesy (F/C) box with your confectionery’s logo and, biting your lip in apprehension, decided that if he wasn’t going to make his move then you would. You quickly wrote down your phone number on top of the box in Sharpie and signed off your name with a small black heart. As you finished the lettering you stared at the box and thought about your previous insecurities. There was still time, still time to take out the pastries, put them in a new box, and forget the whole number thing ever happened.

“Hey, don’t you dare take out those treats and put them in a new box, you hear me, girl?!” you heard a tiny male voice whisper above you. Startled, you looked up to see Tammy and Asher peeking through the window that let the customers see into the back of the bakery to watch the baking happen. You glared at the two, so they had been watching you try and confess your feelings to the fluffy hero in a discreet way.

“What am I supposed to do? What if he doesn’t like me and all the signs I’ve been getting from him are me making up a love story that is never going to happen between us?! What if by doing this I ruin our relationship and he makes sure the business tanks?! This is my life's work and I’m putting it on the line for a stupid chance at love!” you whisper yelled at them, the familiar feeling of fear and pain coursing through your system from previous failed love confessions.

“You really think a sweet man like that is going to make your life’s dream completely fall to pieces?” Tammy questioned and you exhaled, shaking your head ‘no’.

“Then go out there and get yo mans! You have to at least try and snatch that, I have to see my OTP become canon!” she sent a determined glare at you, grabbed the box, shoved it in your hands, spun you around, and pushed your forward. You stumbled and almost tripped onto the floor but caught yourself on the marble counter. Standing up tall, you took a deep breath in and urged your legs to move forward. Getting to the registrar, you smiled at Taishiro and the boys and handed over the box to FatGum after giving a subtle cough.

“Thank you for everything, Taishiro, you’ve helped me in ways you could never imagine. Now, I hope you boys come back sometime!” you spoke to the teens, Kirishima grinning at you with his shark-like teeth.

“Will do, Miss (Y/N)! I couldn’t stay away from this place even if I tried, your desserts are the BOMB!” he laughed, punching his fists together in excitement.

“...Thank you, Miss (Y/N).” Tamaki shyly whispered, giving you half a grin before cowering away once more.

“Don’t mention it, loves! Now, Taishiro, remember that I said this is on the--whoa! Are you okay?” you asked the man. His face was almost as red as his student’s hair, his eyes wide and unfocused as he stared at the top of the box, where your number neatly sat. You gulped, maybe it was the wrong decision after all.

Waving a nervous hand in front of Taishiro’s face, it seemed to break him from his spellbound state as he glanced at your eyes, “Are you...feeling okay, Taishiro?”

He looked at you with a shaken gaze as he laughed off his nerves while saying, “Y-Yeah! Just, um...yeah...you...let’s go, boys! Gotta get back to the patrol! Bye, (Y/N)!” he said while ushering the confused boys away from the counter and to the door. You felt your heart shatter into dozens of pieces as you turned your head down to conceal your sorrowed expression from the rest of the lounge area. You felt your eyes wet with tears but you used the sleeve of your white button down you dry them, you have to stay strong. At least you got it off your chest. Sniffling, you turned your head back up only to see FatGum’s face, only he was suddenly a lot more chiseled in the face and body and wow, did it just get hot in here?

“I forgot one thing.” he said with a flustered smile. You, less heartbroken then before just more confused, shrugged your shoulders in question. He then grasped your shoulders, tilted his head to the side, and planted a loving and firm kiss on your right cheek. You felt your face melt into a puddle of red as he held the kiss for a few seconds longer than anticipated but eventually released your cheek, staring back at you with the same expression as you.

“Did you really think I was going to leave without paying you back, cream puff?” he chuckled with a grin.

“I-I, um…” no longer sorrowed, your brain couldn’t catch up with the fact that he most definitely liked you back.

“Heh, you’re cute when you’re flustered for me. I’ll text you later, okay? Keep on the look out for me!” he said, backing up from the counter, only to grow immensely in size as he returned to the state you had met the hero in. He waved goodbye as he walked back to Kirishima who was practically bouncing off the walls in his excitement.

“Congratulations on the relationship, Miss (Y/N)!” the teen sang out as the three of them left the store to patrol the streets for their hero duties once again.

The entire restaurant was silent as they watched your chubby form turn into a puddle of emotions and ditzy giggles, the only thing that was heard was a loud, “YES! IT’S CANON, BABY!”

~

~

~ The End ~

[realityhelixcreates]

Beta, Theta, and Me

Chapters: 2/? Fandom: Thor (Movies), Avengers (Movies) Marvel Cinematic Universe Rating: PG Warnings: Swearing, Homelessness,  Relationships: Loki x Reader (But not right now) Characters: Tony Stark, Thor(Marvel), Loki(Marvel) Additional Tags:  A/B/O, Sorta, More Of An Exploration Of Life And Self Expression Within An A/B/O Framework, Loki Does What He Wants, But Loki Does Not Actually Do What He Wants, Antagonistic Bosses, Managerial Differences

Summary:  As it becomes clearer that your immediate superior hates you, and clearer that Tony needs to put someone somewhere else, you get caught up in things that are way above your paygrade.

“Mr. Stark!”

“And now I gotta deal with this.” He muttered, closing a holo-screen and whirling in his rolling stool to face her. “Florence! Surprised to see you. Isn't there somebody else to see to whatever problem you have?”

“It has to do with that new hire, Whom you forced on us. Since it has to do with her, I bring it to you.”

“Hey, do I pay you for sass?”

“No, you pay me because I am the best at what I do. I mean to continue doing it.” She slapped a paper down in front of him.

“I don't like being handed-”

“That's why I didn't.” She tapped the paper. It was an application. “She has falsified information. Look.”

He looked. He couldn't help it. Florence reminded him altogether too much of one of his old nannies. He could never disobey that woman either.

On the application, next to Secondary Gender, you had scrawled not the usual α, β, or Ω, but a θ instead.

“Maybe...it's a sloppy Beta? Like just a really sloppy B?”

“Except she writes a perfectly legible B later on. Also, this address is false. No one lives there, it's a storage center. I wouldn't put money on that phone number being legit either. On top of that-” She said, cutting Tony off. “I have caught her filching food from the employee cafeteria.”

“Oh yeah? What did she take?”

“Creamers, jelly, crackers, and salad dressing packets.”

“So...all the stuff we offer for free?”

“With purchase of something else.” Florence sniffed. “Also, I caught these this morning.”

She held her phone out, showing slightly blurry pictures of a person who might be you climbing out of the dumpster behind the building.

“Okay, that doesn't necessarily prove anything.”

“And I've caught her sleeping around the building.”

“On the clock?”

“On breaks, and sometimes before her shift.”

“So, not on the clock.”

“Sir, she is breaking the law!”

“Well, so did you when you took that picture without her consent. I don't tolerate spying on my employees.”

“Sir!”

“What's the real problem here, Florence? That she's homeless? Don't we want them to go get jobs? Then suddenly she's got one, and you're like, no not like that?”

“I just don't understand why you are rewarding a stranger for breaking the rules. Indecent exposure in the bathroom, and you give her a job. Lying on her application, and you defend her. You don't even know this girl, you don't know why she was on the street, what warrants might be out for her, what problems she might have, what havoc she might cause. That nonsense symbol on her gender identification alone shows she's not taking this seriously!”

“Theta.” He murmured.

“Pardon?”

“It's not nonsense, it's a Theta. It's just another letter. We use it in mathematics all the time; it means there's an angle.”

“Is she trying to tell us she's crooked?” Florence demanded.

“She's probably just a Beta who thinks secondary gender inquiries are an invasion of privacy. It's all the rage among the young people these days. In any case, just keep her on for a week or two. If she's gonna wash out, you'll know by then. It'll give you the chance to do a few more interviews. You're still looking for extra help, right? You've got permission, go on ahead and do it. Two, three more people.”

“Well...Alright.” Florence said, mollified. “Thank you sir.”

“You know I got your back. But we gotta shake things up every now and then, keep things fresh. Get in people from all walks of life, keep in touch with the pulse of society, all that. Now run along, dear. You've got a ship to keep shape, don't you?”

“That I do, sir.” Florence left, forgetting the application behind her. Tony held the paper up, examining it. Fake address for sure, and likely the number was for a burner phone. Age, education, and work history looked legit. There was a year and a half gap between your last job and this one: it probably marked the amount of time you'd been on the streets.

A Theta symbol. Why that, specifically?

“You're not too fond of Florence, are you?” F.R.I.D.A.Y. asked.

Tony shrugged. “Not really, but she's damn good at her job. That's all I really need from her. Would you do me a favor and look up gender expressions pertaining to Theta? There's a lot of new terminology I need to get caught up with. This might be one of them.”

                                                                                  *****

You sneaked another sugar packet from the ground floor coffee shop, fully aware that the amused barista was watching, and didn't care in the slightest.

You sprinkled a tiny bit into a little container of coffee creamer, then knocked the whole thing back like some kind of shot.

Everybody knew now that you worked here, and if they speculated about your bizarre eating habits, none of them said anything to you about it.

As long as you didn't break any rules, nobody seemed to care.

Fine by you. Even though they were small, simple snacks; salad crackers with tiny packets of jelly, butter, and salad dressing, sugar, salt and pepper packs, creamers, ketchups, mustards, and mayonaise, these were quick and easy sources of calories that hadn't been readily available to you before.

Having a fresh uniform each day was kind of amazing. Florence insisted that all uniforms be cleaned and disinfected properly, which meant they all got left behind at the end of the day, and were clean by morning. It had the added bonus of no one seeing you wearing a Stark-affiliated uniform while you were sleeping on the fire escape, or hanging around near the dumpsters outside

You weren't exactly friends with the baristas here, you never even talked, but ever since you had run a creeper out of the shop by being generally stinky and unpleasant to be around, they had started disposing of their expired muffins and cookies by wrapping them in wax papers or bags. Their boss hadn't caught on yet, but you were deeply grateful to them for every bite you salvaged from the trash.

Soon you would get your first paycheck, and then you could buy a decent meal. You'd been planning and dreaming of what it would be. Steak and potatoes? An omelet? Maybe just a regular old hamburger and Coke?

It might be the only paycheck you saw from Stark Industries though. You'd overheard Florence and Khalil talking, and she was determined to be rid of you. Khalil didn't really seem to agree, but he had kids at home, and probably couldn't afford to argue.

It didn't matter. Even if it was less than a week, you could put Stark Industries on your resume forever now. That would get you in the door. Janitorial training was a pretty good skill too. Every business needed cleaning staff, no exceptions.

Things were really looking up for you.

No one had even called you on all the weird stuff you'd put on your application.

You hadn't lied, exactly. Not exactly. Sure, you didn't live permanently at the address you'd provided, but you did sleep there sometimes. And you had gone to the school you named...before your parents completely succumbed to their paranoia and pulled you for homeschooling. The hadn't wanted public educators to fill your head with 'propaganda'.

And that was your phone number, though you'd have to buy some minutes when you got paid.

It was all at least semi-true.

Even the Theta was a symbol you had picked up off the internet, when researching what was wrong with you.

You tossed back another sugared creamer.

Having a routine again felt good. It had been over a year, but you slipped back into civilization pretty easily. You were so lucky. You always told yourself that.

Yeah, even if Florence gave you the boot, you still had options. This chapter in your life might soon be coming to an end.

Soon. You just had to wait, and work.

                                                                                                                                                    *****

Tony looked over the long, primly written list with amused disbelief.

“Is this...Is he serious?” He asked Thor. “I literally cannot tell when he is being serious, and when he is trolling me.”

“Welcome to the last thousand years of my life.” Thor said dryly, taking the list from Tony, and skimming over it. He held his hand out for a pen, and when Tony handed him one, he began crossing things off of the list.

“No...No...Absolutely not...Oh, he just put that one in there to annoy me...” Thor handed the list back. “But for the most part, yes. He is serious. Whatever else he may be-” He paused at Tony's muttering of 'war criminal' then forged on. “He is still the Crown Prince of Asgard, and the true King of Jotunheim. He is entitled to certain amenities. And then there is his...condition to think about.”

“Crown Prince of-no offense-a set of postage stamp sized fishing villages in Nova Scotia, and true King of a planet so far away that they can't even reach us to take him back. What exactly does he think he's entitled to on an enemy planet? He's here for punishment, right?”

“He's here for rehabilitation. And so that we can try to winkle out the information that we need. The goal is that he comes back to one of Asgard's 'postage stamp' villages eventually. But that man is still out there, and it's altogether too likely that he will make his way here. We're going to have to indulge my brother a bit, if we are to get information about it. Besides, he has proven himself a hero already, and suffered for it. He has earned a bit of leniency.”

“So you say, your majesty, but...” Tony scanned the revised list. “...I think I can provide most of this. But...servants? We don't really do that around here.”

“He will need assistance. And Loki has never been unduly cruel to servants who had done nothing to trouble him.”

“Okay, but what do you mean by 'trouble'? I mean, I have a few people in mind, but they all live here, and might not be instantly comfortable around him. Is he gonna whip someone over dropping a plate, or folding a cape wrong?”

“He is in no position to do so. And he never went so far back home, so I honestly doubt he would do so here. He knows full well the effect he has on the people of this world.”

“Anger and terror?”

“Pretty much.”

“Look. I'm not going to send him a servant. He'll get a maid, and nothing more. If he drives them off, he won't get a replacement. One chance. I'm not putting people at risk for his whims.”

“I couldn't ask for better than that. But time is of the essence my friend.”

“I better get some royal kickbacks for this.” Tony grumbled.

“I'll send you some Asgardian postage stamps.” Thor joked, leaving the lab.

Tony turned back to his desk, pulling up his holographic display. A short list of Greek letters that he'd been learning about popped back up.

“Okay, Theta.” He said. “Time to show me what you're worth.”

                                                                                *****

The fight started out as an accusation of theft. Florence had caught you with an Iron Muffin-a specialty of the ground floor coffee shop-which you had filched from the dumpster that morning. You'd tried to claim that you'd bought it, but then she'd demanded to see your receipt, and it had just escalated from there.

You were two words away from just quitting then and there, mostly so that she couldn't fire you, when Tony Stark had reached out of the elevator behind you, yanked you into it, waved goodbye to Florence, and shut the doors. As the elevator began to rise, you wiped a few angry tears out of your eyes, embarrassed that he had seen that.

You seemed altogether too prone to show this man your worst sides.

“I'm sorry sir.” You said. “Florence and I don't really get along.”

“She needs to be challenged sometimes. However, I am perfectly able to sass her myself, and I can't have disruption in the janitorial team. Can you imagine the uproar if the floors didn't get waxed properly at night?

Anyway, I thought we might chat about some of the information on your application.”

You were screwed. Could you be arrested for lying on an application?

“Oh geez. I'm sorry about that, but-”

“Yeah, I know. You have to write down an address, but you don't really have one, do you? But you can't leave it blank, so you improvise. I looked you up though. Your family seems to have a history of...shall we call them 'rebellious acts'?”

You hung your head. Fuck. He knew about that too.

“I'm not like them.” You muttered. “I'm not that stupid.”

“Sure hope not. Anyway, wanna tell me what a Theta is? Like, in your words.”

“You won't believe me.”

“Why wouldn't I?”

“Nobody does.”

“I can fly. I've been finding things easier to believe since then.”

Well, that was fair. He was Iron Man. He'd been involved with aliens, and killer robots, and terrorists. Why would this be too weird?

“It's kinda like a Beta, but I have an Omega's sense of smell.”

“And Alpha's pheremones don't effect you. Right?”

“R-right...” How did he-?

“You presented me with a conundrum, and I couldn't leave it alone. I needed to find out what you meant, but it wasn't exactly easy. I had to get on tumblr to figure this out. I had to learn what a demi-omega was, to figure this out. I never thought I was out of touch, but damn if you young-uns haven't come up with some creative new lingo.”

“It's just that the world is more complex than a mark on a paper.” You said.

“Don't I know it!” He laughed. “But that's not too bad, is it? Not being overpowered by Alphas? Sounds nice.”

“It's not so bad, but most people think there's something wrong with me. It's not just the Alpha pheremones, I just don't feel-wait a minute, where are we going?”

The elevator had passed the labs, far above the highest floor you were supposed to be allowed to access.

“We're headed to the residential area. Me and Pep aren't the only ones who live up on the top floors. Top dozen or so are basically penthouses, though they aren't all consistently occupied these days.”

You remembered watching footage on the news of a fight at an airport. Avenger versus Avenger. It was terrible; both you and your old roommate had cried a little. It was an awful thing, watching your heroes come apart.

You were kind of glad you didn't have any superpowers or anything like that. You wouldn't want to be at the beck and call of any government, much less more than one. It was something you had actually agreed with your parents on.

“Why are we going up there? I'm not supposed to be here.”

“You're with me kid; you can be anywhere. And anyway, the best way to keep cats from fighting is to separate them. So, from now on, you are a maid.”

“A maid? I don't know how to be a maid, I just started being a janitor!” You protested, then told yourself to shut your trap and not argue with the boss for not firing you.

Tony shrugged. “What's different about being a maid? You still clean stuff, only it's a home instead of a museum. You might need to cook something every now and then. Can you cook?”

“A little bit, yeah.”

“Not gonna lie; it's not a walk in the park. But it comes with a pay upgrade, and an apartment off the penthouse, so that's two of your problems solved.”

Suspicion began creeping in. This was all way to good to be true.

“Why me? You have to know that I'm not as qualified as the other janitors. What's the catch?”

“Well, the catch-” The elevator dinged. “Oh, look! We're here!”

The elevator doors opened. Standing right in front of them, in horned helmet and armor, stood Loki, the destroyer of New York.

[artificialqueens]

Undone, Chapter 23 (Bitney) - Stephanie/Veronica

Summary: Bianca goes to NOLA for Latrice’s wedding, and returns home to a big surprise.

Thank you to our awesome beta readers: @missdandee and @kitschypixel

***

“Okay so, be honest...do I look fat?”

Courtney bursts out laughing, then stops abruptly when she sees Bianca’s hands on her hips, a deep scowl on her face.

“Sorry--I didn’t think you were serious,” she giggles. “Of course not.” Courtney leans back on the sofa cushions, cuddling the dogs to her chest.

“For the record, that is not the correct response to that question,” Bianca informs her, adjusting the straps on her Maid of Honor gown. “You’re a woman, how do you not know that?”

“Sorry,” Courtney shrugs, then offers aa conciliatory smile and adds, “You look beautiful.”

“But...I mean, can you tell I’ve gained weight? Are my sisters gonna be suspicious?”

“I honestly don’t think so.”

“Okay. Good,” Bianca sighs. “Thank god for empire waists.”

“Are you gonna be okay? I know it’s a big deal, and he’s not gonna be with you, so...” Courtney bites her lip. “Will it be weird?”

“Maybe a little, but...I mean, the people I care about already know. And everyone else...will probably just think he’s working, or something. I don’t really care, honestly.” It’s mostly true. Of course, she knows that she might get some awkward questions, questions that she really won’t want to answer. But she tries not to think about that, and more importantly, she doesn’t want Courtney to worry. So she goes on to assure her, “I’ll be fine.”

“Good.” Courtney nods, stroking the top of Dede’s head and gazing up at her.

“I kinda wish you were coming,” Bianca adds softly. It’s almost an afterthought, slipping out before Bianca can stop herself. Her cheeks flush with embarrassment, realizing how needy she must have sounded.

Courtney takes ahold of her hand and squeezes it.

“That might be a little hard to explain,” she says, trying to deflect from the intensity of her feelings. How much she’s dreading the separation, which she knows full well is ridiculous. It’s going to be a few days. When the fuck did she turn into such a co-dependent mess?

“Yeah,” Bianca agrees, although inside, she’s thinking that it wouldn’t, at all. In fact, it would be the easiest thing in the world to explain. This is Courtney. I accidentally fell in love with her. Oops. She gulps. “Plus it’s probably not gonna be a very vegan-friendly affair.”

“Besides, I need to watch the dogs, right?”

“Right,” Bianca chuckles.

“...but maybe next time,” Courtney says, and deep dimples appear in Bianca’s cheeks.

“Really?”

“I mean, they sound great. I’d love to meet them.” Her voice is light, but the offer seems genuine.

“Yeah that would be…” Bianca’s heart is pounding. She clears her throat. “I’m sure they’d love you.”

“It’ll be really nice, once you’re there. To be home,” Courtney says. Instead of what she wants to say. Fuck propriety, just take me with you.

“Yeah. I hope so.”

***

It is nice, being back, especially since it’s the first time in several years she’s around her old friends and family without Jared. She feels lighter - in spite of the weight gain that will definitely make her sisters suspicious. But even that doesn’t worry her, as she revels in the familiarity of it all. The warmth of these people with whom she grew up.

The hug from her mother, that first day, makes everything worth it. And when she lies down at the end of the night, body sore and aching but absolutely stuffed with all her favorite foods, she realizes that she’s got a valid excuse for looking a little plumper than usual.

Her nagging worries about the Jared Questions that she assumes are coming turn out to be overblown. At the rehearsal dinner, all anyone cares about is her job - does she really get to meet celebrities? Who’s the most difficult on set? Who seems nice but is actually a secret bitch? Can she get a discount on tickets to Universal Studios? She happily answers them all, even the dumb ones.

The ceremony is beautiful, charming, funny - perfectly suited to Latrice and Chris. At the reception, Bianca gets to sit at a table with Vanessa, her favorite (only) younger sister, the two of them cackling up a storm in no time.

Vanessa has no questions about Jared, but she does have a ton about “that sexy blonde you’re shackin’ up with.”

“That’s not exactly the situation,” Bianca tries to explain, but Vanessa isn’t buying it.

“Come on, throw me a bone! She’s the one you wouldn’t shut up about over Thanksgiving, right? Did you meet on set? Did you have some kind of steamy, torrid affair?” she tongues her straw, eyes sparkling.

“No...sorry to burst your bubble,” Bianca tells her.

“Aww, man!” Vanessa slouches, crossing her arms, disappointed. “What a bummer.”

“Sorry, but...the idea of an affair makes you happy?” Vanessa’s husband asks, furrowing his brow.

Vanessa huffs out a huge, put-up sigh, explaining, “No, Brock, the idea of B cheating on that fuckin’ douchebag makes me happy!”

“Wait...I thought you guys loved Jared,” Bianca says.

Vanessa exchanges a Look with DJ, across the table. If anyone knows Jared, it’s him - one of Bianca’s oldest friends, he also happened to live in New York while Bianca was in school there, and used to hang out with her and Jared all the time.

“Well…” DJ begins, clearing his throat, speaking as diplomatically as possible. “I mean, we did our best to accept him, since you loved him, and-”

“We hated that guy,” Vanessa cuts in.

“I didn’t hate him,” Brock offers.

“Shut up, you have no taste. Hated him. Good riddance.” Vanessa tosses back some wine.

“And...we’re real sorry about your impending divorce…?” DJ gives a smile that’s half grimace.

Bianca laughs a little, rising from the table. She would love to bask in the relief that everyone will unquestionably be on her side, but the wedding coordinator is gesturing for her frantically.

“Well...thanks for your support, guys. But I gotta go give a speech.”

“Don’t fuck it up!” Vanessa calls after her, and Bianca turns and gives her the finger before continuing to the front of the room.

She stands at the mic, looking out amongst the crowd of mostly familiar faces, gaze finally landing on Latrice, who beams up at her from her seat at the bridal table.

“Hi, I’m Bianca...but you guys probably know that.” Bianca clears her throat, reminding herself that this is friendly crowd, and to just relax and give the toast for her best friend. “Okay, so. I actually met Latrice in second grade. More specifically, I met her laugh. It was the best sound I’d ever heard, one morning in front of school as we were getting off the bus.”

“I was laughing because you told someone that they looked like a garbage can,” Latrice cuts in, grinning at the memory.  

“That was me, bitch!” Vanessa pipes up from the crowd.

“Well, you deserved it!” Bianca shoots back. “You never brushed your hair and you always had that awful Hello Kitty sweatshirt on. Inside out.”

“I was in kindergarten, you asshole!”

The crowd, most of whom know them all, are laughing now, and Bianca makes a face at her sister to shut her up before getting back to the speech she’d prepared.

“Anyway, I heard this laugh. This amazing, gorgeous laugh, and I turned around and saw Latrice, and introduced myself, and it turned out that she was going to be in my class. And so I informed her that we were now best friends.”

“So bossy,” Latrice comments, giggling affectionately.

“And I soon found out that she was the greatest best friend anyone could ever ask for. Kind, funny, generous, smart...and of course, that laugh. I made it my life goal to make her laugh as loud and often as possible. Bonus points for extra inappropriate situations like assemblies and math tests and church. And for many years, I was really proud of myself for being the person who made her laugh the most. Until of course, Chris came around.” Bianca pulls a face.

A few good-natured murmurs of “oooh” and “uh oh…”

“I was a little pissed at this at first. I’m not gonna lie,” Bianca continued. “But soon I got to know Chris too, and unfortunately, he’s so damn likeable, that I had to admit, she’s got amazing taste, in addition to all her other talents. So Chris, thank you for giving my best friend the love and respect and joy that she deserves, more than anyone else I know. Thank you for making her laugh.”

Bianca turns to Latrice, who now has tears streaming down her face.

“I love you so much.” She raises her glass. “Here’s to a beautiful marriage, and lots of laughter.”

As the guests applaud, Latrice jumps up, running towards her friend. Bianca puts down the mic just in time for a huge, tackle-hug, Latrice squeezing her so tight that she feels she might break.

The DJ cranks up the music and soon Bianca finds herself pulled onto the dance floor by both Latrice and Chris. She makes a halfhearted, laughing protest.

“Guys, aren’t they about to serve dinner-”

“Who cares, bitch, I’m the bride!” Latrice spins Bianca, encouraging more guests to join them on the dance floor, an unplanned interruption while the catering staff scurries to get dinner on the tables.

Bianca dances with her a bit before she’s swept away by various other friends and family members, when she takes the opportunity to get another drink and make her way back to their nearly empty table.

“Nice toast.”

Bianca looks up and smiles at Vanessa.

“No thanks to you.”

“So...uh, when were you gonna tell me about the baby?”

Bianca blinks, and Vanessa rolls her eyes, sitting down beside her, voice uncharacteristically low.

“Your tits are out of control. And, that’s your third cranberry juice...”

“How do you know there’s no vodka in here?”

“Is there?”

“...I’m doing a cleanse. You know...detoxing.”

“Ahh...a dairy and butter cleanse?” Vanessa raises her eyebrows. “Don’t play me, I saw you inhale 40 pounds of cheese during the cocktail hour. Good luck tryin’ to shit later, by the way.”

“Vanessa…” Bianca glances around, praying that no one she cares about is in hearing distance.

“Is Jared the father?”

“Yes! What kind of question is-”

“Hey, I’m not judgin’. It just seems like the timing is a little…”

“Fucked?”

“Yeah. You alright?”

Bianca sighs. In an ideal world, she would be basking in the idea of sharing this news. She’d have already told her mother and everyone in her family. They’d be celebrating, thinking about names. Thank god that she has Courtney, or she’d be going crazy.

“He doesn’t know yet. And...it’s still really early, so I don’t want to-”

“Don’t worry, I won’t say nothin’.”

“Anything.”

“Eat me, bitch.”

Bianca laughs softly, and Vanessa grins, plunking herself down into her lap.

“And I’m real happy about your future spawn.”

Bianca wraps her up into a big hug.

“I love you...little asshole.”

She’s a bit relieved, if she’s honest. That Vanessa knows. That someone knows. It allows her to breathe. To enjoy herself and let loose and have fun the way she used to, and the rest of the weekend zooms by in a happy blur. When she finally boards the plane on Monday, exhausted and full of love, she truly believes that everything will be okay.  

***

“Court?” Bianca calls, pulling her suitcase behind her.

There’s no answer, but the dogs come skittering across the wood floor, barking and wagging their tails excitedly.

“Hey babies,” she coos, scooping them up, wondering what Courtney’s up to. Her car’s home, but maybe she’s out on a run? Bianca continues down the hall to the bedrooms. “Whoa…”

Courtney sits in the guest room, hair piled atop her head in a messy bun, surrounded by flat pack furniture, every inch of the floor and bed covered in pieces, head in her hands.

“What’s, uh...goin’ on here?” Bianca asks.

Courtney looks up, eyes teary.

“I was trying to build the crib,” she says. “I wanted to surprise you.”

“That’s so sweet.” Bianca chuckles slightly. “And I mean...I am surprised, so-”

“I’m sorry, I know it’s a fucking disaster, I just can’t figure out these instructions and I already had to take it apart three times and I-” Courtney’s breath hitches as she tries to hold back her tears.

“Hey, it’s okay. Although we may have to revoke your lesbian card if you can’t even handle IKEA,” Bianca teases, then stops.

Courtney isn’t laughing along; she isn’t seeing any humor in the situation. She actually looks distraught. Bianca kneels down beside her.

“Court...hey...” A pang of guilt washes over her as she realizes that this is all her fault. Courtney is 27, and it’s the last day of a holiday weekend. She should be day drinking on a boat, or dancing in front of a barbecue full of veggie burgers - something fun, with music and friends and laughter. Not stressed out over building a crib for a baby that she never asked for.

“I’m so sorry, B.” The look on her face breaks Bianca’s heart. Just exhausted, miserable defeat.

“No, I’m sorry, I never meant to bring all this stress into your life-”

“You didn’t! I just wanted to do something nice for you, I-”

“You do nice things for me every day,” Bianca tells her, shaking her head. She reaches out to touch her hand softly. “You know what I was thinking when I was in the uber from the airport?”

“What?”

“I can’t wait to be home.”

Courtney looks at her for a few moments, not quite believing it.

“Really?”

“Really,” Bianca promises. “You know what else I was thinking?”

Courtney shakes her head.

“I’m really fucking hungry.”

“Oh god, shit, of course you are.” Courtney scrambles up, springing to action. “Um, we still have a bunch of that vegetable soup, and I think there’s some brown rice in the-”

“Courtney, I can fix dinner.”

“But you just took a long flight, and-”

“Yeah, but I wasn’t flying the plane. I was just sitting there, popping those herbal xanax you gave me. And by the way, those things are shit.”

“Sorry,” Courtney says, still a bit teary.

“I’m kidding. I mean, they are shit but...” Bianca trails off. Courtney is still looking a bit frayed and delicate, and maybe making fun of her isn’t what she needs at the moment. She takes a deep breath. “…Look, I know I’ve been a mess...”

When Courtney begins to protest, she holds up her hand.

“No, it’s true. I’ve been a mess. It’s okay to say it. But...I won’t always be a mess. And you’re allowed to have bad days, too. I need to be the one to take care of you sometimes. Okay?”

Courtney finally smiles, taking a deep breath and nodding.

“Okay.”

“There’s just one little...problem.”

“What? Are you okay? What-”

“I need help getting up.”

Courtney starts to laugh, pulling Bianca to her feet. Once they are face to face, Courtney looks at her for a long moment, eyes soft.

“I love you, B.”

For a brief moment, Bianca agonizes about what she means, exactly. What kind of love? Is she still talking about friendship? Is this a confession? What now? But then, she swallows back her swirling insecurities and simply goes with it. She wraps her arms around Courtney’s waist, buries her face in her neck. Breathes.

“I love you too, Court,” she murmurs softly against her skin.

***

Bianca stands at the stove, finishing up a quick stir fry, when Courtney enters the kitchen. Her hair is damp, face scrubbed clean, a look of mild embarrassment playing on her face.

“Hey...feeling any better?”

Courtney nods, fingering a lock of her hair.

“I’m sorry about all that, I was just-” She pauses, biting her lips, then changes course. “That smells good.”

“Come taste…”

She steps up to the stove, allowing Bianca to cup her chin, feeding her a piece of bell pepper off the wooden spoon.

“Seasoning okay? I think it needs more salt.”

“Maybe a tiny bit…” Courtney shifts, still looking uncomfortable.

Bianca focuses back on the stove, humming softly under her breath. When she lifts up her head to speak, it’s at the same time as Courtney.

“You know-”

“I just want-” Courtney stops, laughing a little. “Sorry, you go.”

“You’re allowed to have a bad day.”

“I know, but-”

“You think I don’t know, how stressful all of this has been for you? Just because you don’t complain, doesn’t mean I don’t understand.”

“It’s not like that, honestly.”

Bianca decides to leave it. Beckons her over to taste the food again.

“Better?”

“Perfect.”

Bianca wipes a tiny bit of sauce from Courtney’s lip with her thumb, sucks it into her own mouth without thinking. Her cheeks immediately begin to heat up, and she clears her throat.

“Um, can you grab plates? This is almost-”

“Sure, of course.” Courtney quickly busies herself with setting the table. “Want some coconut water?”

“Alright…” Bianca chuckles. “You know, I actually missed that damn coconut water this weekend.”

Courtney giggles.

“I’m glad you finally understand how good it is.”

“Only that brand though, and only when it’s diluted,” Bianca says, shaking the wooden spoon at her.

“Right, of course.” Courtney flashes her a smile.

When they sit down to eat, Bianca can’t shake the feeling that something has changed. Something unspoken and important. She catches Courtney’s eye and they exchange a long, heated look. Bianca feels her pulse quicken, knows that her cheeks must be at flushed as Courtney’s.

She squirms in her seat, trying unsuccessfully to shove aside her anxieties like she’d done earlier. Finally, she can’t take it anymore.

“What are we doing right now?”

Courtney shakes her head slowly.

“I don’t know.”

“I mean, you wanted to wait. Do you still-”

“I don’t know. It’s hard to know what’s right,” Courtney admits. “I’m just trying to...I’m a bit...conflicted.”

“That’s fair,” Bianca says, but can’t ignore the pang of disappointment in her chest. She really thought that something would be different tonight. She’s afraid to let herself hope that it still might be.

They eat the rest of the meal in relative silence, minds spinning. There’s so much they want to say - need to say - to each other, but neither of them knows where to begin.

Later, when Bianca stands at the sink and begins to scrub the pans, Courtney reaches into the hot, soapy water and pries the sponge out of her hand.

“You cooked,” she reasons.

“Okay, but, if you’d cooked, would you let me do the dishes?” Bianca asks.

“That’s not a fair comparison,” Courtney tells her, a smile pulling at her mouth.

“Why not?” Bianca releases the sponge.

“I’m not pregnant.”

“Yeah, thank god for that,” she mutters automatically, cringing a little when she sees Courtney’s eyes widen. “I mean, uh...I think I’m enough of a hormonal basket case for both of us.”

Courtney doesn’t respond to that, merely begins scrubbing the small saucepan vigorously.

Bianca sighs, drying her hands.

“Look, I know that you’re...that you have reservations, and I don’t blame you. And I’m not trying to pressure you, or...but my feelings haven’t changed. So, whenever you decide that you want to…” Bianca swallows down the lump rising in her throat. “I’ll be here.”

Courtney continues to scrub, slower now, appears to be mulling over what Bianca’s saying with grave consideration.

“I just want you to be sure,” she finally says.

“I’m sure.”

Courtney turns around and looks her in the eyes.

“And, I’ve never been sure about anything like this. But...yeah, I’m sure about you.”

Her eyes are so soft, so warm, and when Courtney looks at her, all the feelings she’s been pushing away for almost a year come flooding in. She drops the sponge and dries her hands, chest rising and falling rapidly with shallow little breaths.

Bianca waits.

Time seems to slow down as Courtney walks forward, eyes locked with Bianca’s. She stops, both hands reaching up to cup her face, gaze falling to her full lips, then back up to her eyes.

In spite of the heat in the kitchen, the hair prickles on the back of Bianca’s neck, nearly causing her to shiver in anticipation. Courtney’s so close now that she can feel her heartbeat, pounding as rapidly as her own. Her eyes flick down to Bianca’s softly parted lips again, and Bianca can’t help the breathy sigh that escapes her, feeling Courtney’s thumbs gently stroking her cheekbones.

Bianca licks her lips, still waiting, practically trembling now.

As Courtney closes the last bit of distance between them, Bianca’s eyes fall closed, entirely focused on the feel of soft lips pressing against hers, hands still holding her cheeks, grounding her.

It’s nothing like their first kiss, the breathless, intoxicated excitement of finally giving in to their innermost desires, the dangerous thrill of eyes on them. Or even later that night, alone, the desperation of knowing it could be the last time.

This kiss is soft, tentative at first--then slow, leisurely, utterly indulgent. Both of them well aware that they have all the time in the world, allowing themselves to breathe into it, feel every sensation down to their toes. This kiss is every unspoken glance, every disregarded feeling, every secret desire whispered in the dark.

Bianca can’t tell, once they separate, if it’s been seconds, minutes, or hours. All she knows, as Courtney presses a forehead against hers, is how right it feels, how safe and warm and perfect. She wraps her arms tightly around Courtney’s waist, entirely unmotivated to move from this spot, to let go of this moment. Her head drops, nose tucked into Courtney’s neck, inhaling her scent.

Almost unconsciously, her lips begin to trace Courtney’s collarbone, hungry for the taste of her skin. A stifled, high pitched whimper spurs her on, makes her grip Courtney’s waist tighter, kisses turning feverish, their embrace growing heated and sweaty. She backs Courtney up into the table, using the hard wooden surface to keep them both grounded.

Courtney’s fingers tangle deeper into her hair, body arching forward as Bianca’s hands slide up under her shirt. Her skin is still buttery soft from her shower, and Bianca rakes blunt nails up her back, tongue chasing the biting kisses along her neck.

The intensity builds in Bianca’s body, heart pounding so loudly that she almost doesn’t hear the sudden CRASH as a plate shatters to the floor.

“Shit!” Courtney reels back, gasping for air, cheeks a dark red.

Bianca gulps. Regret fills her chest - not at the (now former, RIP) plate, but at the fact that Courtney is no longer in her arms, that she’s tugging her shirt down and sliding off the table.

“Careful, you’ve got bare feet!”

“I’m okay,” Courtney says. “Don’t move; I’ll get a broom.”

“I-”

Bianca’s heart slowly stops pounding, and when Courtney reappears in the doorway, wearing tennis shoes and armed with a broom, she smiles sheepishly at her.

“I’m sorry about your dish.”

“It’s fine.” Courtney glances down, frowning. “You have bare feet, too.”

“Yeah, I know, hand me the-What are you doing?!” she shrieks, as Courtney begins to scoop her up. “You’re not gonna be able to lift me, stop-”

“Shhh…” Courtney carries her out of the kitchen and continues to the living room. Bianca stops squirming, quickly realizing that she isn’t going to drop her.

“This is a little excessive,” Bianca says, feet dangling, now secure in Courtney’s arms. She tilts her head girlishly. “I guess I should stop talking shit about CrossFit, huh?”

“Guess so,” Courtney deposits her onto the sofa and places a kiss lovingly on her forehead. “You can wait here; I’ll finish cleaning up.”

“But-”

Courtney tosses her a wink and scampers back to the kitchen. Bianca’s head drops to the cushions, a smile playing on her face.

***

“...B?”

Bianca’s eyes open slowly, registering that it’s now dark. Courtney kneels down in front of her, a hand on her waist.

“What time is it?” Bianca croaks, rubbing her eyes.

“Almost ten. I thought you’d probably want to move to an actual bed.”

Bianca yawns, nodding, and lets Courtney help her up from the sofa.

After Bianca quickly gets ready for bed, she pads down the hall to the bedroom, noticing a sliver of light coming from Courtney’s room. She knocks on the door, and it swings open a second later.

“Everything okay?”

“Sleep with me,” Bianca requests, following up a split second later with, “Please.”

As an answer, Courtney steps forward, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

Once they’re in bed, limbs tangled together, lips seeking each other out in the dark, Bianca feels so warm and content that her body immediately relaxes, eyes falling shut against her will. She struggles to keep them open, protesting weakly when Courtney stops kissing her and suggests that they should just sleep.

“I don’t wanna sleep,” she whines, fingers gripping Courtney’s t-shirt.

“You have a 6 am call tomorrow,” Courtney murmurs into her hair. “And you need to rest.”

Bianca lets out a small whimper, fighting the exhaustion weighing down on her, as Courtney wraps tighter around her.

“It’s okay. We’ve got plenty of time…”

“Mmmhmm…” Bianca finally relents, burying her face in Courtney’s hair as sleep envelopes her.

[hellomissmabel]

For Infinity (II)

MASTERLIST

Pairings: Tony x Muse!reader

Warnings: None.

Word count: 3k

Summary: When Hades kidnapped Persephone and took her with him to the Underworld, the Goddess Demeter cursed the muses because they were unable to stop Hades. She casted them out to Earth where they would die slowly, as muses can’t live on Earth for longer than a few days at a time. But Zeus showed his daughters mercy and granted them a powerful amulet. It allows them to remain on Earth, unharmed, as a human, for one whole year. But if they wish to continue their life on Earth, they will have to find their soulmate within the next year. If they don’t, they’ll die.

A/N: My prompt was “Life taken, life given”. Someone also requested a shy reader, so here ya go :) Written for @shurios aka @shamptain-shmerica

Series masterlist can be found here

Gamora found her soulmate.

When your eldest sister Peggy called you up in the middle of lunch with your sister Sif, you had a very hard time faking happiness, Hermes’ warning haunting you still. Apparently his name is Peter Quill and he also works at the faculty of Astronomy where Gamora is a teaching assistant. He just got hired and on his first day of work, they asked Gamora to show him around. It didn’t take long for Gamora’s amulet to light up in a vivid blue and when she touched it, the colour spread through her veins.

That was about two weeks ago and everything has been very uneventful ever since. No end of times, no big volcanic eruption of some sorts, no alien invasion in New York. It makes you wonder if Hermes truly is delirious after all. You never know with those Gods, always drunk on elixir. Nevertheless, you keep an eye out on Gamora just in case. Even though she’s found her soulmate, nothing bad happened – yet.

“So how’s work?,” you ask your sister Sif, who is the muse of History, currently working at the New York Public Library.

Sif brushes away a curly strand of dark hair, chuckling happily. “Really good, actually. There are two guys that come in regularly, one a blond and the other has long, black hair. I’ve already established eye contact with him. As for the blond, we’ve had a short discussion about Greek Mythology. Of course I won. My amulet even lit up afterwards!”

She winks cheekily and you laugh with her. “Of course you did.” Taking a huge bite of your bagel, you remember you still have to ask her for her car keys. “I wanna drive to Stark Tower. Can I borrow your car?” You try to act as innocently as possible, giving her your sweetest smile, but Sif isn’t oblivious.

“Stark Tower?,” she hums impressed, pointing her knife at you before taking another forkful of her tuna salad. “What are you up to?”

Considering keeping it a secret for a little while longer, you eventually tell her anyway. “I’ve got a job interview!”

Sif’s face breaks into a sincere smile. “Look at you!” And then she gives you a matter-of-factly look. “Finally, though. You’re the last one to get a job.”

“I don’t have it yet,” you defend yourself, a little hurt by what your sister thinks of you. “But it’s a step in the right direction. Last week I was complaining to Wanda about that audition that didn’t go well. And then the day after I get an e-mail from my agency that someone’s looking for a personal assistant and that they expect me for a job interview at Stark Tower today at four.”

“Don’t you think it’s a little odd?,” Sif comments on your story,” Stark Tower? Tony Stark? The guy you told me about you met at Starbucks, when your stone was glowing so much?”

Your eyebrows crunch up in confusion as you don’t really see the connection. “What’s that gotta do with anything? I only talked to him for like, five seconds?”

Rolling her eyes, she puts down her cutlery and leans her chin on her hands, studying your reaction. “I’m not saying this man, Tony Stark, is your soulmate, but that you’re invited to a job interview at his tower… isn’t that at least a little bit suspicious?”

As it starts to dawn on you, you forget about your bagel and screw the cap back up on your water bottle, throwing it in your backpack. “Yeah, it is.” Getting up, Sif stands up from her seat as well, unable to get a read on you. “I’m going over there now.”

“Don’t do anything stupid,” your sister advices you but from that sparkle in her eyes you can tell she’s all up for the idea. “Take my car. But bring it back to me at five, that’s when I get off work.”

“Deal,” you smirk while pecking her skin and giving her a quick hug. “Wish me good luck.”

When Sif got her job at the library, they gave her a small budget to get a car. Of course she managed to track down a second-hand vintage car and with a little magic, she restored the vehicle to its former glory and now her car is your favourite car, too.

On the drive from Brooklyn to Manhattan, you keep your mind busy with questions about Tony Stark. Is Sif on the right track? When you stop in front of  a red light, you look down at the amulet. It’s a dull red now, but it has stayed red every since that meeting. It shifted to blue when you were with your sisters at the apartment, when you read the e-mail and burst into a fit of giggles.

It’s not easy to find a parking space, but as soon as you do, you rush into the building and tell the lady your name. She looks at her computer and nods. “Ninth floor, ma’am. You can just join the other candidates and wait until they call for you.”

So there are other candidates. Perhaps Sif is wrong after all. The elevator opens on the fourth flour first and then on the fifth, sixth, seventh and you’re starting to really lose your patience. So when the elevator opens on the eight floor, you pinch your nose and sigh loudly.

“Someone’s in a bad mood.”

You know that voice. You recognise that voice. That voice gives you chills. And turns you into a fucking tomato as well. What is it with this guy that he can make you feel all warm and fuzzy and at the same time anxious and on edge?

“Fuck,” you mumble under your breath, your hands shaking a little when you lock eyes. “Hi, Tony.”

He grins at your weak voice, finding it adorable. “Hi, Y/N. Fancy seeing you here.”

“I – I was invited for a job interview,” you tell him with a tight-lipped smile, trying not to show him you’re nervous. “Got an e-mail saying I should be here by four but I’m – euhm, a little early.”

“For the assistant position?” You nod and the corners of his lips tug downwards, his eyes losing their shine and shifting int a dull brown. “We already got someone for that position, love. They hired her just now.”

Stuttering in surprise, you see the elevator opens on the ninth floor. But you don’t get off, you’re glued to the spot, your eyes searching Tony’s for an explanation. “I told the girl behind the desk to send everyone home like, maybe a minute ago?”

“Oh,” is your only response. Seems like you just missed your shot. “Yeah, I think she already sent me on my way before she got the call.”

Tony feels incredibly sorry for you, especially since it’s the third time you’re running into each other and he does think you’re quite cute, even more so when you blush. Clearing his throat, he tells you that if he had known you were invited as well, he would’ve been there for the interview.

“My staff informed me that her name is Pepper and that I’ll be meeting with her for dinner this evening to get to know each other a bit better,” Tony says and now you truly feel as if the ground is crumbling under your feet.

“She must’ve been very convincing, or my staff wouldn’t have hired her straightaway…,” he mumbles in an attempt to keep the conversation going, getting jumpy himself as he’s never acted this awkwardly around any woman ever before.

The door to the elevator closes again, but you don’t notice. The only thing you do notice is your amulet, pulsating through your clothes and leaving a small burn mark on your skin. “Auch!,” you exclaim, your fingertips quickly unclasping the necklace and stuffing it in your pocket.

“You okay?” Tony’s brows furrow in concern, but you moved too swiftly for him to catch any more than a glimpse of your ruby.

“Yeah,” you release a shuddering exhale, the stone now burning a hole in your pocket and eventually falling through the seams. It clatters loudly on the elevator floor, drawing Tony’s attention instantly.

Obviously you can’t pick up the stone as it’ll leave a nasty wound on the palm of your hands. Thinking it’ll burn Tony as well, you yell out a high-pitched “no!” as he leans down to pick it up – effortlessly. The stone doesn’t hurt him, it doesn’t burn his hands and neither does Tony understand why you just screamed “no!” on the top of your lungs.

Bouncing the stone from one hand to the other, he studies you curiously. “It’s a lovely necklace. Shame it’s broken, but I can fix that for you? The stone’s quite a stunner, too.”

How is it possible the stone’s too hot for you but not for Tony? And you seem to remember that Pepper, your sister whom he just hired as his assistant, thought the stone was too hot either? What’s the deal with these stones? You’re getting increasingly confused by them.

“No, you don’t have to fix it.” But Tony sees this as the perfect excuse to take you down to the lab and has already pressed the right button before you can refuse.

Tony takes you down to his shop where he is constantly working on new Iron Man armour. You are practically gawking at all the suits on display as he walks you through his desk, his hand splayed on your back and a cocky smile on his lips. Tony pulls out a chair for you and sits you down while he looks around his tools for the right ones to fix your necklace with.

“So, Y/N,” he says softly as he throws a look at you over his shoulder, “What kind of job are you looking for? And I mean, really looking for, because I know being a secretary isn’t exactly anyone’s dream job, right?”

He is back to his confident ways, inspecting the delicate golden necklace and deciding the best approach to fix it. He doesn’t want to touch the stone in fear of damaging it, but he’s very skilled and can be very precise, so he starts working on it anyway. Pocking his tongue out in concentration, Tony keeps his ears attentive as you speak.

“Well,” you clear your throat and put a little more volume behind your voice, afraid it’ll be overpowered by Tony’s tinkering. “I love music and poetry. I’ve been to a fair share of auditions but nobody wanted me, not even as an extra. I’ve been doing some odd jobs here and there to help pay for rent, food and clothes too if necessary, as I live with two of my sisters and don’t wanna take advantage of them for much longer.”

“How many sisters do you have?,” Tony asks you curiously, admiring his work, his back still turned to you while finishing up on your amulet.

“Eight sisters.”

Tony’s head snaps in your direction, his voice sounding a little scandalous. “Eight???”

“My father… he… He has mastered the art of cheating.” Your reply prompts a chuckle from Tony’s lips, who hands you back the necklace. Smiling gratefully, you accept the stone but have to clench your teeth at the warmth still radiating from it.

Tony doesn’t seem to notice as he offers to help you put it on. “No, it’s okay. I’m afraid I’m going to lose it anyway, so I’m just gonna put it in my backpack for now.”

Nodding with a sly smile, Tony leans against his desk and plays with a screwdriver. “So, eight sisters. How does that work? You all live in New York.”

“We split up in groups of three. I live in Brooklyn with my sisters Gamora and Wanda. My youngest sister Shuri lives in Queen with Peggy and Sharon. Sif, Maria and…” Biting your lower lip, you’re unsure if you should tell him Pepper really is your sister, but there is no way back now. “And Pepper live in Manhattan.”

You cross your fingers in the hope that he doesn’t make the connection, but Tony is a genius and as he does a facepalm, you gaze down at your hands in your lap. “Pepper is your sister…,” he mumbles under his breath. “Why didn’t you say so right away?”

You chew on your lip a little longer, until he puts away the screwdriver and crouches down in front of you, lifting your chin with his finger. “Because she deserves this job more than me…,” you eventually whisper quietly.

His smile is warm and understanding, his fingers squeezing yours tenderly. “Musical is more your thing, am I right? So how about I ask around for ya?”

Though you intend to turn him down gently, a small smile breaks through your shy expression. “No, I can’t ask you to do that.”

Smitten by your bashful smile, Tony gives you a wink and pretends to agree even though he will most definitely make a few calls once you’ve left. He holds your gaze just a little longer until he senses you’re getting uncomfortable and then he gets back on his feet again, speaking into the void to a voice you have no clue where it originated from.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y. would you please reschedule my meeting with Pepper?”

“No problem, sir. How about Thursday evening instead?,” the gentle female voice replies.

“Perfect.” Tony clasps his hands together and gives you a gleeful look. “I wanna spend some more time with another sister first.”

“Tony – what are you doing? That’s not fair!”

Extending his hand, Tony swings you off your seat and you softly collide into his chest. “I rescheduled, darling, I didn’t cancel.” Releasing you again but still holding your hand, he grabs one of the many keys hanging from the wall.

Tony guides you through his car collection and towards his Audi R8. “Now, you strike me as a shy girl but I bet…” He stops in front of the driver’s seat and turns to you. “I bet you like fast cars just as much as I do.”

He tells you to hold out your hands and as you do so, he drops the car keys in them, much to your surprise. “So let’s take this baby for a spin!”

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