#mcu cast x reader

[neska223]

Wyatt Russell in ‘broke’ (2025) | True Brandywine

Him as a cowboy goes crazyyyyy

[captainwans]

── BUZZFEED THIRST TWEETS. ( featuring sebastian stan, anthony mackie. )

▹ pairing: sebastian stan, anthony mackie x husband!alex turner and fem!actress reader.

▹ summary: what could be a more unhinged and unserious thirst tweets episode with this trio?

▹ warning: vulgar language, mentions of profanities, swearing—but mostly harmless and a good laugh! just pure chaos!

marvel masterlist!

arabella series!

“I’M ACTUALLY SO SCARED TO READ THESE.” [Y/N] admitted to the crew members, eyes painted with slight worry as she was sandwiched between Sebastian Stan and Anthony Mackie. It was yet another movie promotion for the Avengers Infinity War and the actress was finally reunited with her two favorite co-stars, starring in a new episode of Buzzfeed Thirst Tweets.

Sebastian let out a nervous chuckle, agreeing with her. “Gosh, I already regret this.” he sighed, shaking his head as he crossed his arms. He glanced at Anthony, who was holding the blue bucket of thirst tweets from the fans.

Anthony wiggled his eyebrows at the camera, “This is gonna be good.” he said in a serious tone, making [Y/N] quietly giggle, giving the camera a look before watching Anthony reading the first tweet.

“So, this is what we love to do on a Saturday…reading thirst tweet,” Sebastian told the camera, turning his head to his co-stars as Anthony pulled out the first tweet.

Anthony smirked, “On [Y/N]’s comfortable couch!” Sebastian and [Y/N] shake their heads with another laugh. “Get on with it, Mackie!”

Anthony cleared his throat, reading the tweet, “[Y/N] could literally run me over with a tank and I’d say, thank you.” 

The actress burst out laughing, shoulders shaking while Sebastian nodded his head in agreement. “I mean, I’d apologize first, but, I-I appreciate the dedication,” she said to the camera, a small laugh escaping from her lips. 

Sebastian chuckled, “No, I think they would actually thank you,” he told her, grabbing his water bottle and taking a small sip. Anthony turned his head to the actress with a grin, “Right, they’d be like ‘Queen, do it again.’”

[Y/N]’s hands roamed around the bucket, hand clasping at another tweet, this time aimed at Sebastian. She smiled before reading, “Sebastian Stan could punch me in the face and I’d still ask him to marry me.” she read, giving the tweet to Sebastian. “Well, they’re not wrong.”

Anthony shakes his head, “This is why sea bass gets away with anything!” he whined, looking at the camera with a scowl, making Sebastian chuckle, “I mean…you don’t know what you like until you try it.” he cheekily said to the camera, making [Y/N] and Anthony squeal with laughter.

Sebastian muttered a small prayer, picking up another tweet. “Anthony Mackie could talk me into anything. Man could say “jump,” and I’d say–” Sebastian stops mid-sentence and bursts out laughing, making the pair prompt him to continue. “Finish the tweet, Seb.” [Y/N] whined, nudging his side with her elbow.

Anthony sighed impatiently, snatching the paper from Sebastian, who was dying of laughter, almost falling off the couch. “Man could say “jump” and I’d say ‘How high, daddy?’” [Y/N] almost spat out her drink, her throat emitting a small cough, making the crew laugh. “Oh my God!” 

Sebastian was still cackling and he had to lean on [Y/N] for support, who was also a mess. Anthony looked at the camera, a smirk forming his handsome features. “I accept this.”

“This is getting out of hand, guys.” [Y/N] scolded, her face morphing into a deep frown at the camera, referring to their fans with a disappointed look.

She handed the bucket to Anthony, who picked up a tweet. “[Y/N] could bench-press me I’d gladly be her gym equipment.” The crew behind the camera completely lost it, and Anthony got up and walked away, while Sebastian gave the camera a horrified look.

Heat flooded over her cheeks as she laughed, her flustered face looking at the camera while picking up the tweet from the floor. “W-What does that even mean?!” She stuttered, laughter bubbling in her throat.

Sebastian snatched the paper from her hands and showed it to the camera, “It means you need to start charging rent because you’re living in their head rent-free.” he bleated, giving the camera a disapproving look.

“Ok, guys, let’s finish these. We have a few left,” the cameraman said with a chuckle, watching the spectacle in front of him. Anthony came back and sat back down, taking a long sip from his bottle.

[Y/N] picked up a tweet, lips curving upwards. “Anthony Mackie could look at me and I’d get pregnant instantly.” she paused, looking at the camera, “The power,” she said, making Anthony shrug his shoulder with a cocky expression.

“I’ll take that responsibility.” He said, making Sebastian laugh as he picked up a tweet of himself, “Oh God….Bucky Barnes could choke me with his metal arm, and I’d say ‘Harder’” Sebastian read his tweet, immediately standing up and leaving the frame, his voice echoing around the room. “For the love of God!”

Anthony fell down the chair with a loud wheeze while [Y/N] looked concerned, looking around the room and giving the crew members an appalled look. She sighed. “I need therapy after this,” she admitted, putting the bucket on the table.

Sebastian scoffed from off-camera, “No, they need therapy!”

Anthony shook his head, wiping his eyes with his hands before picking up another tweet. “I love this. C’mon, there are still some left,” he said to his co-stars, who exchanged a glance before pulling themselves together.

Anthony gave the next tweet to [Y/N] with a funny look, who looked at the camera with a nervous look. “[Y/N] could step on me and I’d bark.” She read, her chest vibrating from laughter. “Why are you people like this?”

Anthony loudly cackled, his shoulders shaking. Sebastian’s expression turned serious as he looked at the actress, “Woof.” he said, making Anthony laugh harder while [Y/N] pushed him off the couch, screaming with laughter. 

Sebastian chuckled, getting up from the floor while grabbing the bucket. She slapped his hand, still laughing. “S-Stop! I don’t think I can handle this anymore.” she giggled, leaning into Anthony for support.

Sebastian grinned, “Oh, I love this tweet. Alex Turner is the luckiest man alive to get that every damn day. I’d give up my soul to be in his position. That body, that face... I’m sweating just thinking about it." [Y/N] hides her face with her hands, completely flustered while the whole room erupts in laughter and whistles.

Anthony whistled, looking at the person who came into the room. “Speaking of the sun.” he chimed, eyes painted with playfulness as he watched Alex standing at the doorway with a confused look. “What are you guys doing?” he asked the trio as he walked toward them, giving the camera a look.

“Suffering.” [Y/N] answered her husband while fanning herself. 

“Reading thirst tweets. You wanna join, Strumzilla?” Anthony asked him, wiggling his eyebrows at him, making Alex shake his head, deep chuckles emitting from his lips, “No, I–uh, I’m good. I’m just here to pick up my guitar.” he excused, turning to leave, but Sebastian grabbed him by the shirt. 

“Oh, no, Al. You’re in this now,” he told him with a wink, shifting in his seat to make room for Alex to sit. The musician cursed under his breath, reluctantly sitting down.

Anthony gave him a tweet with a funny look, “Read and see what the fans say about your wife,” he jested, making [Y/N] snort, small giggles coming out of her mouth. “Oh gosh, no! He’s not ready for that.”

Alex sighed, adjusting his sunglasses. He licked his lips before reading, “[Y/N] could spit in my coffee, and I’d drink it like it was holy water.” Alex froze, eyes looking at his wife with a disturbed look. 

Anthony and Sebastian shook with laughter, their cackles echoing across the room. “Oh my God!” [Y/N] screams with laughter, slapping her thighs as the whole room died, again. “First of all—” she tried to say, but ended up gasping between giggles, her words lost in a fit of uncontrollable laughter at her husband’s deadpan look.

“That is wild,” Alex exclaimed, gripping the paper and giving the camera crew a genuinely concerned look before giving his wife another look, which made her chuckle with a scowl.

“Why are you looking at me like I wrote it?” she chortled, giggling as she hit his shoulder, making his lips crack a smile. 

The married couple looked at Sebastian and Anthony, who were still howling with laughter. The camera panned to the duo and back to Alex and [Y/N], who looked at them with a chuckle. “Are you guys okay?” Alex asked, watching them regaining their composure. 

“Oh, man. This is the best day of my life.” Anthony chimed, clearing his throat. He gave the camera a look, “Did we finish all of the tweets?” he asked a crew member, who shrugged in response asking if there was any more left.

Sebastian’s hand roamed around the blue bucket, eyes sparking as he picked up the last tweet. He read the paper, a wide grin reaching his handsome features.

He gave it to Alex, who looked at him, dumbfounded. “What a better way to finish this episode,” Sebastian said to the camera, making [Y/N] inch closer to her husband, reading the tweet.

“I already know my tweets are a nightmare,” Alex mumbled, but enough for the whole room to hear as they laughed. He almost choked on air, eyebrows furrowed as he read the tweet loudly. “If I ever get reincarnated, I wanna come back as a chair so Alex Turner can sit on me.” 

[Y/N] laughed, hitting him in the chest. “Honestly, that’s something I would write,” she admitted, making Alex shake his head with a laugh.

Anthony laughed and looked at the camera, “Y’all are nasty!” he turned to Alex, grabbing his shoulder, “Your fans are just as bad as ours.” 💬 … Comments:

@/fanaticforfame: lmao alex looks so disgusted by the thirst tweets 

@/starryobsessed23: nobody mentions the fact that seb calls alex for al MY HEART

@/buckysoldiers: anthony calling alex strumzilla got to be the funniest thing ever

@/turnerflower: ok but alex interacting with the marvel cast was not something that i needed so badly

@/lovelyyn85: they're so unapologetically unhinged and unserious i love them so much

@/arctic-lovers: marvel and arctic monkeys fans unite!

@/scarletswidow: we need a part two with alex!!!!

[bluetimeombre]

'Bye Sebastian!'

You had stared in the most of the movies of all. The cast love you, maybe some men love you more than others (fem reader)...

[this is a complete self indulgence piece of writing for me. I have loved marvel for YEARS and I always watched interviews of them all and wanted to be apart of it, it's hilarious. So this is just some of the best parts that I love, for you. Would love to do a part two...]

YOU AND MARVEL... Marvel and you. It was like bread and butter. Like peas in a pod. You were the youngest of the original seven, you were in the most movies. You were the most loved, cast and crew and fans.

Perhaps some loved you more than others...

SEBASTIAN, MACKIE & YOU,

thirst tweets,.,

Quite possibly one of the most chaotic and best loved trio's of the Marvel cast. The three of you played friends of Captain America, in some cases, maybe some of you played something a little more. But behind the scenes, the three of you made the perfect trio.

Sebastian's quiet soul with your constantly gushing one. And Mackie was there... usually to bring out the worst in you.

Once, when the three of you were staring in a Marvel show and you were all forced to read thirst tweets to each other, it got too sweet.

"I've done this far too many times," you said as Sebastian held the bucket out to you.

He grinned. "And yet the people still find the filthiest things to say about you."

"Preach," added Anthony.

Sebastian dug in first. "I want someone to look at me the way Sebastian Stan and Y/N look at each other."

The both of you aww and pull little faces to each other. You'd started the Marvel journey together, so maybe you and Seb had soft spots for each other.

Mackie was off to the side. "That's great.... that's great."

"I look at Mackie with pure loathing, so," you shrug.

Mackie takes another piece of paper. Reading: "Anthony Mackie you cutie patootie, come sit on my face I will eat you ass like a fudge brownie."

"Oh my-" you can't hide your shock as you cup your hand over your mouth and hide your blushing face.

"First of all," said Mackie. "Send a ticket bitch, let's do this."

You shake your head, still getting rid of your blush.

Sebastian's turn is next. "I don't even know what this means- Sebastian Stan is one thicc B-I-H."

You and Anthony nod. "Bitch," you both inform him.

"Right," he nods. "That's-that's kind."

"So true," you add, going in for yours. "I just wanna be Y/N's stay at home husband. The dishes will be clean, the laundry will be done and her ass will be ate- what is with all this ass eating," you look around as Mackie laughs, clapping you on the shoulder. "But thank you, I guess."

"Dog, that's already me," said Mackie, stealing the paper from you and throwing it into the distance.

You look aghast. "Anthony Mackie is not allowed anywhere near my ass."

Sebastian took another paper and started to read, chuckling to himself. "Listen, when Y/N said 'those steal blue eyes let you know where home is, that's my safe place,' about Sebastian's eyes, bitch I felt that."

"Well done for reading Bitch this time," you nudged him, proud.

Sebastian playfully glared at you, flexing his jaw like he would bite. "They didn't spell it out like that last time!"

"How do you feel about that?" asked Anthony.

Seb only meant to glance at you to share a smile but it turned to a smirk.

Of course Mackie caught up on this. "Don't look at us like that, man, you gotta look in the distance when you talk to us."

Sebastian blushed. "No I feel good, It's a good feeling, it's good."

Mackie took another paper. "Thinking about Anthony Mackie taking a nap on Sebastian Stan's couch, don't bother me."

You start cackling immediately, looking to Seb who laughed as you immediately knew where it was going.

"You have a nice couch man," said Mackie, smirking and playing it on.

"You've put this on the internet-" said Seb. "You've never seen it!"

"You have a nice couch homie!"

"He's never been to my house!" Sebastian told the camera firmly.

"That's a lie-" said Mackie as you continue to laugh to yourself in between them, "alright fine, you scared of people breaking in because of your couch, alright fine it's an awful couch." Anthony gave the camera a stern look.

"The only person to have been on my couch is Y/N and that's how it stays!" said Seb.

It's your turn to look to the camera and win, throwing your thumbs up and mouthing 'I win.'

escape room,.,

There was another time when you proved how great of a trio you were, even in a group of other people. When you, Sebastian, Anthony, Letitia and Benedict all had to do an escape room.

"Oh it's for real, they're locking us in guys!" said Letitia as the door locked and red sign flared.

Dramatically, you pulled on the handle, leaving it with all your weight. Sebastian behind you laughed.

"Chances are they don't make it out in time," Joe Russo, the director of the film and also the one to suggest this, said through the walkie talkie, but didn't realise they were linked into the room.

"Hey!" you protest.

"Find the stones," he said.

You nod and head over to Benedict Cumberbatch, patting his shoulders. "This is all you Sherlock." You instead made it your mission to just be annoying with Mackie at your side, the camera's picking up on all of it.

Eventually, Sebastian joins you and the two of you spend a good time looking around the room, trying to figure it out together.

"You better check your draws, Y/N," said the voice of Joe Russo.

Mackie clicked at you. "Y/N, take your pants off, dude."

You act to oblige but Sebastian had already found the real clue to whish Mackie whines loudly at the fact you weren't taking your pants off.

You and the group get the cards of the stones, Sebastian adding more and more as he finds most of them. Benedict finds the last one in the clock.

"Ah, that's what I was gonna do!" said Mackie.

"This is too much fun," said Russo.

"We can hear you!" you call as everyone else tries to find out the code, Sebastian alone in a corner.

"What's the number of your apartment?" asked Letitia. "Strange?"

"How's he supposed to know, he shot that film five years ago," you joke.

As everyone still tired to find out the code, you headed over to the camera man, whispering in. "I'm being really helpful."

Seb joined your side, arm ghosting your back. He hardly minded the camera crew as he asked you. "Do you think lunch will be after this?"

In that time, the code had been found, a laser had been pointed and Mackie had thrust a card into your hand, which you waved around without knowing what it was for.

"Y/N, you're holding the de-coder," said Russo.

You look around helplessly and shrug, leaving Sebastian laughing at you. But then came Anthony's desperate call for you two.

"It's this way!" the two of you chase after him, laughing all the way.

red carpets,.,

You were in the middle of an interview during the Civil war press conference, where names were being screamed and stars were flooding the carpet.

It was all going well before Mackie caught wind of you being around, and he walked over with Sebastian to greet you.

"Woah," they said.

"Oh no," you shake your head.

"Y/N, man you're looking good," said Mackie, standing up on the platform with you. "Man, oh man, let me tell you something-"

"No!" you chuckle as he throws a friendly arm around your shoulder. You notice Sebastian watching and through a helpful look at him.

"You ever see someone this good looking walking down the street, they gonna get arrested, cause they're killing everybody," said Mackie, "Look at this, pow-pow, pow-pow, pow!"

"Why don't I just let you interview each other?" said the interviewer.

Mackie took it as invitation to steal the mic and to urge the lady on, pulling up Sebastian instead. "Go on then, go on, get outta here, get outta here!" He took to looking in the camera. "Hey how's it going, I'm here with Sebastian Stan interviewing Y/N at the Civil War premier, one of the stars of Civil war-"

"One of them?"

"Tell me, Y/N, how's it going? How you feeling tonight?" asked Mackie while Sebastian couldn't do anything but stare and fix his blazer, trying to look his best.

"Next to you? Strong."

Mackie giggled.

"I'm breathing in your cologne right now, it's strong, it's good," you pat him on the shoulder.

"Hey, i'm not a player, I just shower a lot," he said to the camera.

You laugh and slowly pry the mic from his hands. "I wanna know about these two gentlemen over here, mainly Mr Sebastian Stan, tell me Sebastian, who are you wearing tonight?"

You lean across Mackie, acting as if he wasn't there to which he pretends to take offense for. It takes Seb a moment of two to stop his blushing and smiling to answer you.

"Prada, Y/N."

"Ohh, a lot of Prada," you and Mackie cheer together. "That's not me that's Jay-Z. Little black, on grey, on black, I like it," went on Mackie.

Sebastian looked to you. "Do you- do you like it?"

Mackie helped you aim the microphone to your lips.

"I love it. Love the pocket-square, really brings out your eyes."

"Someone said to me, you look like you just came out of a Chinese restaurants, I said- maybe I did!" he joked, causing you and Mackie to hold on and laugh.

"Ok so what about your workout routine?" you ask, as a way of really hitting the hard questions. You cross your arms over your chest and talk into the mic, practically blocking out Mackie, "I think the people want to know how you get all hot and sweaty. I mean- what's your chest at now, a forty-eight?"

Sebastian stops you, an accusing finger in your face getting closer. "Hang on, the last time I saw you you said I was getting smaller!"

"No, actually. I think the last time I saw you I promised I'd climb you like a tree, that-"

Mackie waved his arms around, stealing your microphone as you and Sebastian laugh, teasing each other away from the ears of the mic. "Woah, woah, woah... woah!"

And it happened again, a few years later at the premier of Endgame.

Sebastian and Anthony's character had dusted, yours hadn't so you didn't have much time to spend with them, but when you did, you all made sure to make the most chaos you could.

You creep up on an interview with Sebastian, slowly wrapping your arms around his waist and standing there, non-chalant.

It took Sebastian all of one second to know it was you.

"Oh my god, you!" he embraced you quickly, smoothing down any wrinkle he made in your outfit.

"How are you?" your voice is muffled from his side as he holds you.

"I was about to get my dance on, i'm so glad you're here!" he said, letting you go but keeping an arm around your waist.

"Your dance on?" you look between him and the interviewer, quickly saying hello.

"Yeah, she snapped, but it meant that I dusted, you know," he said.

You shrug. "Oh and you just wanted to show us your moves?"

"Yeah I was getting ready," he said. Then. Sebastian Stan took a step back, a hand on your shoulder and looked you over. "Wow, you look amazing!"

"So do you, you know your suit matches your eyes."

Suddenly, from behind the two of you, Anthony Mackie popped up and plucked the microphone from the lady and the two of you make room for him, chuckling.

"Let me tell you something- we're here-" said Mackie.

"Not again!"

"We're here with Sebastian and Y/N, here today. One the mark of greatness, another the measure of beauty. How does it feel- no, actually, Y/N, do you have any funny antidotes from what happened two years ago on set?"

You nod. "So many, you weren't in any of them," you said in the mic as Anthony pushed it closer and closer into your face.

"Was there anyone you hated on set?"

You pretend to think about it. "Um yes, Chris Hemsworth."

"Is there anyone who hates you?"

"Yes, Chris Hemsworth."

"No," Sebastian chuckled, "no one hates you."

"You're wrong, Chris Hemsworth."

"Where is he tonight?" asked Mackie, again shoving the foam of the microphone into your face.

"Far away from me," you say deep into it.

"Ok, cool, cool, i'm gonna make sure to interview Hemsworth tonight, how does that make you feel?"

"Please do."

Sebastian boasted about Mackie's suit, pointing out the pocket square tucked in his blazer pocket. "You got my Christmas gift to you?"

"I did," said Mackie, grinning, turning to explain to those listening. "He sent me a pocket square of Y/N's face."

You gasp. "I want one!"

Mackie laughed. "I put it in my pocket, hold it close to my heart."

The three of you continued to chat, bringing up the escape room you did earlier in the day.

"It was my first time doing an escape room, actually," Sebastian informed the two of you.

Mackie and you gasped, dramatically. "Mine too!" you both said.

"Oh my god I think they're in love," Said the interviewer.

"Woah, that's so crazy," Mackie said. "You know the three of us, we're just so- it's so- we just have so much in common!"

"It's a beginning every time!" Sebastian grinned.

"It's like every time we meet, we're meeting all over again!"

Sadly, the interview had to come to an end. As Sebastian was pulled away, he gave you one last hug and a kiss on your cheek, promising to find you later.

"Ay, you know this dude?" Said Mackie, watching Sebastian's assistant tug him away.

"Aw, see you soon, miss you- Bye Sebastian!" you call after him.

DID YOU SURVIVE THANOS'S SNAP?

Buzzfeed had the cast of Avengers Endgame sit and take one of their quizzes, whether or not you survived the snap of Thanos.

Finally, they paired you and Chris Evans together. Despite the two of you having been best friends and staring as them too since the first Avengers, it was rare they had you paired. And especially alone.

"Hi, I'm Y/N," Said Chris Evans.

"And i'm the better Chris, Chris Hemsworth," you said. "And we're here today with Buzzfeed to challenge whether we're pussies or not," you said, sure your little curse would be bleeped.

"Yeah, the thing-" said Chris, trying to snap his fingers, "the Thanos-"

"I'm so glad you know these movies well," you joke at the fact he couldn't even call it what it was.

Chris huffs a laugh before you start.

'Which infinity stone would you most like to get your hands on?'

"Good question," said Chris.

You raise your hands and pretend to sup his bicep. "These stones right here!"

He does his famous Chris laugh. "Ok, i'm going mind."

"Boring, i'm gonna go time."

"That's so-" said Chris, making an act of flipping the table. "That's such a you answer."

You frown, "thanks?"

'Which Disney character would you chose to join the Avengers?'

"Oh this is such a you question," you tell Chris, watching to see who he'd pick.

Chris leant back in his chair, resting his hand on the back of yours. He looked at you through his lashes. "Who do you think I'm gonna pick?"

You look back at the options, weighing them up. "You're so gonna go genie."

So he clicked the genie, because you'd said so. "What about you, huh?"

"I mean he's not gonna be helpful at all but I love stitch, I-I have a soft spot for stitch," you say, circiling the guy.

Chris again beamed. "I knew you were gonna say that!"

"You just know me so well."

'Which word would your closest friend describe you as?'

"Perfect!" said Chris for you.

"That's not an option," you tell him.

Chris pulls a face. "Well it should be for you. Actually, I don't think we're that close," he joked.

"No," you chuckle, playing along. "I only met you today."

You and Chris thought about it for a while.

"Why can't I just chose all the above?" you joked but Chris only seemed to agree with you.

"Yeah, can I just pick all of them?" Asked Chris. "Ok, no, how would you describe me?"

You look over at him, leaning on the table. "Dreamy. But that's not on there so... you're loyal, but you're funny, you're successful, i'd go loyal." you and Chris had first become friends when you were both on the Avengers set, terrified at the scale of the world you were joining. He'd joined you for lunch and ever since, whenever you did movies together, you had lunch dates together.

It still took Chris a long time to decide for you but you got there in the end.

'Which is your favourite MCU dynamic?'

There was a picture of Tony and Bruce, Steve and Bucky, Hope and Scott, Thor and Loki, your character and Bucky, your character and Natasha and then Gamora and Nebula.

"Why aren't we on here?" whined Chris as you chuckled.

"So now I just have to pick who I love more, Bucky or Natasha," you said.

"Or you could pick someone else," suggested Chris.

"No, I have to pick me."

"I'm boycotting cause you and I aren't on here."

In the end, you chose yourself and Bucky.

'And finally, what would you say is your personal character flaw?'

"Well, we don't have any so where's none?" said Chris, circling the choices.

"Yours is gonna be that you joke around too much, I can tell you that now," you told him.

Chris chucked. "Maybe I can be a bit too reckless," he said. "But you, you're- you have no faults, this is rigged!" he waves his arms out wide.

"No, maybe i'm... maybe I care too deeply?" you suggest.

Evans rolls his eyes. "That's not a fault, that's just sweet."

Finally you got to the end and your fates were decided.

"We didn't survive!" you yelled, looking at both yours and Chris's fate. "This is all because I chose stitch isn't it?"

AVENGERS ENDGAME

The Endgame press tour was wild and full. But the best part was spending it with the original guys, the one's you started it all with and would end it all with. Robert, Chris, Chris, Scarlett, Bruce and Jeremy were all your little crew.

And doing press with them was always exciting to say the least.

All of you were stood behind a podium, you were sandwiched between Chris Evans and Robert Downey as the Russo brothers determined the game.

"Most likely too," read the Russo brothers.

"Most likely to need to have a nap," you said and threw up your own face.

"Most likely to nap with you!" added Mark Ruffalo, adding his own face.

"Alright Avengers, we'll give you examples, you vote on a fellow avenger who fits each scenario- here we go!"

It almost seemed- to the camera's- that none of you were paying attention as Robert made smooch faces to the closest camera and you and Chris Evans used your cardboard cut out faces to make them kiss.

"Who is the most likely to make you laugh in the middle of a scene?"

A lot of them held up themselves, you held up Evans and Downey. Scarlet picked you and reached over to hit you over the head with the picture of your own face.

"Five hundred points to Renner for using all of them," said the Russo brothers.

Ruffalo had Renner. "I said Renner, he does an amazing squat thrust."

"Oh yes!" both you and Downey got excited at the prospect. "Give it to us Jeremy, give us your warm up, will ya."

And he obliged, dramatically lunging and squating and the such as you all cheered him on.

"Let's not over-do it, you're not thirty anymore," you told him.

"Who is the most likely to stop to read a lost dog poster?"

"Oh my god. Is that even a question?" you throw up Evan's cut out of his face, as does everyone else.

"What a weird question," said Scarlett.

"Chris Evans is a lost dog."

"He has a lost dog!" Ruffalo agreed with you. He reached over for the two of you to hold his hand and slowly, together, say your lines as if they were rehearsed and from the movie. "Someone, somewhere, lost their dog to Chris Evans."

"Yeah his whole facebook page is dogs," agreed Hemsworth.

You look down at the panel of them all. "What's facebook?"

Next was for you all to decorate your own cupcakes, the cupcake challenge.

"Using the ingredients in front of you, you each have three minutes to design a cupcake basked upon your own character!"

Everyone started piping immediately, or throwing decorations on. To your right, Downey went straight with yellow and blue, making a mountain of the icing on his cupcake while most others started moulding things.

You leant down when Robert told you to and opened your mouth and he piped in a long line of icing that had you gagging from the sugary taste.

"Y/N, what are you doing down there?" The Russo brothers asked you.

When you turned to face them, it was like glue in your mouth and blue icing was smeared on your lips.

"It's always messy to start but it comes out in the wash," said Downey.

Eventually you managed to do something with your cupcake.

"Hey, Chris you've got it on your shirt!" you told him, pointing to the area.

When Evans looked down to check the stain, you flicked his nose up, getting icing on him. It ended up with a red nose for him and he splatted his cupcake decoration on your cheek, causing you to gasp and stand, shocked.

"I feel sick, I ate too much fondant," Hemsworth complained.

"Are you just eating?" asked Scarlett.

Chris giggled. "Hmm, yea."

By the end of the three minutes, everyone but Evans and you had a cupcake to show.

"I see Evans went for the Captain America shield on Y/N's cheek, but Y/N where's yours?"

"Oh, I ate it."

MUSICAL BEERS,

an indiscreet make-out,,,

"We're about to play, musical beers, but for that we're gonna need a few more players, please welcome from the stars of Captain America, Civil war, Elizabeth Olsen, Paul Bettany, Sebastian Stan and Y/N!"

The four of you had been invited on to play musical beers with Jimmy Fallon. A game like musical chairs but when the music stops you have to reach for the closest beer cup and down it. You were joining your other Civil war star, Jeremy Renner.

As you all walked out, Sebastian dramatically un-did his blazer while the rest of you went to dirty- game talk.

"I want her out first!" Jeremy pointed at you as you copy his warm-up lunges, causing him to chuckle and push you over.

Eventually, Jimmy wrangles you into spaces. You find your spot and Sebastian slides in behind you, watching you closely.

As the music began, a rather creepy circus type music you all started prancing around the table, taking long strides and pausing too long at each cup.

Your hand kept ghosting the beer cup in case the music stopped.

"You can't do that!" yelled Sebastian and Jimmy.

You groaned loudly and rushed around to the next one. As soon as the music stopped, you grabbed and downed it along with the rest of them, all but Paul Bettany.

You look to Sebastian as you crush your cups and he takes yours, throwing it in the middle, the bin. "I hate beer."

While Paul leaves the game, complaining how this couldn't happen- he was English! You all take your spots, this time you keep a close eye on Elizabeth as she laughs at your determination.

The music starts again and quickly Jimmy falls out the game, practically lunging across the table to reach the beer. You make a dramatic move out of downing it in front of him.

Then there was you, Elizabeth, Sebastian and Jeremy left and only three beer cups.

As the music sped up, Elizabeth reached for the cup, spilling it.

You saw who do it, determined not to lose, you took a gulp of the beer. But the music was still playing!

You look around helplessly.

"Spit it back! Spit it back!" Jimmy calls.

You do so and move on, lucky enough to reach the next beer cup and for Jeremy to be out.

With no music, Sebastian stood in front of the cup you had spit back into. He looked down at it, chuckling to himself.

"I thought the music stopped!" you said, cringing.

"You can't," said Elizabeth, already having downed her beer.

You all stood, watching as Sebastian picked up the cup. He looked at you last time and took the drink. The crowd cheered, the cast laughed and you approached Sebastian as he tipped the cup upside down to show he'd drank it. "I'm sorry," you giggled.

Sebastian wrapped an arm around you. "Best beer of my life," he joked.

The game continued and the two beer cups were placed right next to each other.

"What?" you gasp.

Quickly the the game began again and Elizabeth rushed along side the empty space as you and Sebastian watched each other, checking each others move. He rushed around and then you quickly followed like you were chasing him down until you were at the beer cups.

The music stopped and Lizzie Olsen just grazed your hand by the time you and Seb had picked up the beer cups and downed them.

Lizzie went off laughing and you hugged her before taking your place for the final game.

"I'm slipping- i'm taking my shoes off for this one," you take them off and Lizzie takes them for you as you and Sebastian stand at opposite ends of the table.

"We've already made out!" he called over to you as the cup was placed in between you.

"Yeah, winning's pointless at this point," you said as the music began.

You moved easier, quicker, keeping your eyes on Sebastian although Lizzie and her laughing kept distracting you. You laughed, warning her and taking your eyes of the ball for a moment.

Sebastian was right behind you, hand on his hip and pushing back his blazer as he lingered before you both had to move with the music again.

The music went fast then slowed down, as you both kept reaching and letting go off the cup.

As Sebastian ran back around he reached for the cup as the music slowed and slowed and slowed, but never stopped.

He let it go, looking at you confused.

But as no more notes were played, you grabbed the cup and downed it.

Sebastian was already reaching for you and he barrelled into your body, holding onto you as you drank it and chucked the cup away. "No!" but in his 'dismay' he picked you up and jumped up and down celebrating your win.

"Sebastian made out with Y/N, I think he's the real winner!" said Lizzie.

YOU AND TOM HOLLAND BEING THE KIDS OF THE CAST

You and Tom Holland had hit it off instantly since meeting. Your minds were alike, your humour, everything. Honestly it was kind of frightening how quickly it went well for you guys.

fuck, marry, kill?,.,

On the infinity war press tour, everyone was given all three choices of Chris: Hemsworth, Evans and Pratt. The rest of the cast answered with such:

"Oh I don't like this game cause it has the F word in it," - Pratt.

"We-we we won't use that word, will we? We'll er make love? or just hang out with, cause they're all men and i'm married," - Hemsworth.

"This is a Disney movie," - Winston Duke.

But Tom Holland was ready.

"Fuck. Marry. Kill." Hemsworth, Pratt, Evans. And he didn't take a minute to think about it. "Sorry Evans."

"You had that answer pretty prepared."

"Yeah, a bit too prepared," he laughed.

But he wasn't the only one.

When it got to you, you only cleared your throat and answered.

"Kill. Fuck. Marry." Hemsworth. Pratt. Evans.

"You're marrying Evans?" asked the interviewer.

"If Evans asked me today, I would marry him."

korean food,.,

You and Tom, along with Pom, Benedict and Tom Hiddleston had gone to Korea for press but as far as you and Tom were concerned, it was for trying new food.

You all discussed what food you had and hadn't tried from Korea, Tom being quiet as he listened to them be listed.

"Korean BBQ," Pom added to her list.

Tom perked up from sitting next to you. "Oh yeah, that's good, that's good."

You laugh and mimic him. "Of course, you know Korean BBQ. I like the pancakes," you say when asked.

Tom gasped. "I've never had a Korean pancake."

You look shocked, as if you've never seen him before. "We have to go for pancakes before we leave."

He fist bumped the air.

That day you and the team were trying some of the most traditional Korean food. The first was a Kimbap which was the most classic thing kids would get in their lunch.

"You get to have Spider-man on that lunch box though," said Tom Hiddleston.

"Ah yeah, I did actually have a spiderman lunch box," said little Tom.

"I think I had a spiderman lunch box," added big Tom.

"I still have a spiderman lunch box," you say.

"I actually have a spiderman toothbrush, now," said Tom Holland, admitting it proudly.

"Did you have a spiderman duvet? A spiderman pillow?" asked Benedict.

"I did, I gave them to Y/N," said Tom.

You nod along, proudly. "I sleep like a baby every night."

As you dove into your first treats of the day you were also given several different drinks and the camera really loved to pick up on how Tom gently tapped the top of his can while you pierced a drink with a little straw and took a sip. You really did look like kids compared to the rest.

Tom Holland ranted about his love for Milkis while you rolled your eyes at your drink, Banana Wuyou. Upon trying each of each others drinks, you both preferred the other and continued to drink them throughout.

You all dug in. Everyone talking about how good it was while you and Tom just eat, sharing it together.

You all tried fruit, a Korean fruit from the south that you all enjoyed.

"It's a hybrid, right?" Asked Pom, stealing your attention. "Clementine, Mandarin and orange?"

"How does that happen?" Asked Tom to your side.

"Yeah, how does that happen with food?" you ask as well, the both of you waiting for answers. "How do you get a hybrid of- how does...."

You were met with blank stares.

"Life finds a way, Y/N," Hiddleston said. The host laughs as Benedict puts a hand on your shoulder.

"We'll tell you later."

"Tell us later, please," said Tom, going back to sipping his drink.

interviews,.,

Sometimes, on the rare occasion it was allowed, they put you and Tom Holland in interviews together- only to control the mess. If Tom spoiled something- either you would stop him or just get the interview derailed. If the two of you started joking around and wasted ten minutes of time, only one interview and apology had to be made.

It worked well.

For example, the time you were being asked how the two of you deal with scary moments and films.

"I do pretty well," said Tom, boasting.

"Yeah?" you ask.

"Yeah, I'm pretty thick-skinned when it comes to that sort of stuff," he said. You let him carry on talking a little more before yelling in his face and catching him off guard.

He cursed and had a fist ready at you as you just laugh.

"That Spidey sense," you teased.

Or in another when you let Tom talk and talk about the movie but he was about to say something... spoil something.

You throw your hands out and cover his mouth. "Spoiler!" you sigh, shaking your head as Tom sits, stunned for a moment.

All of a sudden you retract your hand as Tom licked it. He laughs as you hold out your hand, cringing.

"Someone- someone- get me something! Help me!" you joked.

Or another time when you and Tom sat with Benedict as a Watch Mojo interviwer readied to take her seat.

"We love Watch Mojo!" said Tom.

"No way?" she asked.

"Yeah, we're always watching it," he said.

You nod, and mimic the intro to the videos. " 'Welcome to Watch Mojo,' "

"That's me!" said the woman.

Benedict watched as you and Tom looked at each other with excited smiles, pumping your fists and getting giddy like kids.

You shift in your seat. "Can you do the intro for us?" you ask, adding a small, 'please.'

The woman almost rolled her eyes but cleared her throat and accommodated you. "Welcome to Watch Mojo!"

"Oh, no way!" Tom cheered as Benedict laughed confused at the two of you.

[lives-in-midgard]

Danny 🥰

[please-destroy]

She's a Rainbow

Florence Pugh x Reader

Word Count: 3.1K

.

“I’m getting married.” Florence rushed the words like a confession as you answered the FaceTime.

You took a moment to process, staring at the live feed of her chin as she walked somewhere.

‘Like, in a movie?’ You checked, ignoring the way your heart was plummeting inexplicably. 

‘No.’ Florence told you succinctly. You tried to read her expression. She’d called you in a rush, you knew it wasn’t just for congratulations. You ignored the icy waves of sadness flooding you. The sudden certainty that you were losing your best friend.

You tried to recollect yourself. She needed you right now, even if she couldn’t say it.

‘Where are you going?’ You asked neutrally, not knowing what else to say.

‘Whole Foods.’ Florence answered immediately, blonde ponytail bouncing with each hurried footstep on the sidewalk. You wondered if she drawled the words on purpose, or if lockdown had given her the chance to develop an American accent.

Florence glanced down at your face on her screen. She pouted slightly.

“I need chia seeds.’ She told you seriously and you nodded with equal soberness.

‘Who are you going to marry?’ You asked.

Florence rolled her eyes. 

‘Who do you think?’ She answered sarcastically. There was too much bite in her words and you realised then what was wrong. Stress emanated from her.

‘That’s big.’ You commented, trying to keep your tone casual. Something in Florence’s shoulder’s loosened immediately. 

“It is, right?’ She agreed, chewing on her bottom lip as she crossed the street. 

‘You love him?’ You checked, trying to keep the question as light as you could. You didn’t want it to sound accusing. You never knew for sure if Florence could see your crush on her. Sometimes, you’d see a flicker of recognition in her eyes. You prayed it was your own secret. It was painful enough just for you.

Florence nodded quickly, almost imperceptibly. You watched her hook a mask from ear to ear. 

‘Can I call you back?’ She asked. ‘I feel like an asshole if I’m on the phone at the checkout.’

‘Sure.’ You replied quietly as the call disconnected.

You let your phone fall onto the bedspread, as you covered your face with your hands. 

A dry sob heaved through you suddenly. A tiny piece of hope that you’d had no right holding onto, was finally being killed off.

You took a steadying breath. You stared at the far side of your room. There was a polaroid picture of yourself and Florence perched on the shelf. It was from several years ago. 

You remembered the nervousness in her voice. Resolve filled you. Florence had a lot of friends, but you knew already that you were the first one she’d called. She needed you. You weren’t going to let her down.

Her face popped up on your screen as the call reengaged. You answered it immediately.

Florence was almost impossible to see, the high sun now directly behind her. She held up the bag of chia seeds with a victorious smile. You grinned back automatically. She was perfect. 

‘So-’ She began, the same nervous energy humming through the phone. 

‘Do you want me to come visit?’ You offered suddenly, cutting her off.

Florence’s breath caught. 

‘Yes.’ She told you immediately, her eyes crinkling with an emotional kind of happiness. ‘Yes. I really want that.’

You shared a small smile. Florence’s mask was hanging goofily from one ear.

Her voice was hesitant when she next spoke.

‘It’s not that I’m not happy.’ She told you quietly. ‘It’s just a lot.’

You nodded like you understood.

‘I’ll be there.’ You promised. ‘We’ll figure it out together.’

Florence’s smile was your favourite one.

‘Missed you.’ She added.

‘Missed you too.’ You agreed easily.

After the call disconnected, you packed your bags. Your job had been furloughed and visiting Florence was something you’d been hoping to do for a while.

Ironically, you’d been trying to give her and her boyfriend some space.

After getting tested, you drove over the next day. You texted Florence when you set off.

You pulled into her driveway and found her sitting expectantly on her own doorstep. 

Before you were even fully out of the car, Florence had engulfed you in an excited hug.

‘I hope you don’t greet everyone like this.’ You murmured sarcastically. Florence hit your arm in faux rebuff as she stepped back.

When she looked at you, her eyes were shining with tears.

‘Oh, Flo.’ You murmured, realising that she was crying. Florence didn’t speak again, wrapping her arms firmly around you, her head burying against your shoulder.

‘Missed you.’ She mumbled again. You didn’t answer, only tightening your own hold of her. 

Florence led you into her house. You looked around curiously, this wasn’t somewhere you’d been to before.

There was something wild about the decorating style and it felt familiar to you. You smiled at some of the pictures that caught your eye. 

Florence saw where you were looking and grinned too. 

‘We look so little.’ She determined, hand moving familiarly around your waist. It stung to have her so intimate but you loved that she was comfortable around you.

‘That photo is from last year.’ You answered with a roll of your eyes. 

Florence raised her eyebrows dramatically as she moved past you, throwing herself happily onto the couch.

‘We were so young back then.’ She confirmed with a grin, looking back at you. You didn’t disagree, sitting down next to her.

‘Is it just us?’ You asked unsurely. You felt the impending conversation and knew it was better to be done privately. 

‘Yep.’ Florence popped the ‘p’ sound with false calm. ‘He’s at our other apartment. He thought we’d want some space.’

You nodded again, Florence had once told you he was a bit shy. Still, you realised that at this rate you might not actually meet him until the wedding.

‘How are you?’ You asked directly instead. The question had been burning since the moment you’d arrived.

Florence hesitated beside you. You let your hand rest on top of hers and she exhaled slowly.

‘I’m okay.’ She answered succinctly.

‘Surprised, shocked, scared?’ You offered carefully.

‘Shocked, maybe a bit scared.’ She admitted readily, seeming reassured that you were on the same wavelength. ‘I love him. But, I never thought I’d be married anytime soon.’

You threaded your fingers with hers and squeezed.

Florence’s head rested on your shoulder. 

‘Fuck.’ She murmured to herself.

‘Did you tell him that?’ You asked quietly. 

‘No.’ Florence answered barely above a whisper. ‘I know how much he wants this.’ 

You swallowed the lump in your throat. You loved her too much to speak and you hated the lingering fear in her voice

‘I want you to be happy.’ You told her. ‘Whatever that means, I’ll be by your side.’

You felt the warmth of her tears against your shoulder.

‘What if I don’t know what that means.’ She whispered, voice cracking. 

‘Well.’ You paused. ‘I’m still not going anywhere.’

.

There was something subdued about the rest of the weekend that you spent with Florence. In many ways, it felt like you were helping her through a break up. She seemed conflicted and strangely worried. 

She brightened when you asked for stories about their time together as a couple. She told you about trips they’d taken together and how much he made her laugh. You felt like your heart was cracking open, but you kept the same encouraging smile on your face.

It was on the Monday morning, as you sat together eating a cranberry-chia seed scone, that you asked your next big question.

‘Did you talk about dates?’ You asked.

Florence looked confused.

‘For the wedding.’ You clarified, smiling at her puzzled expression.

‘Oh, right.’ She nodded. ‘In two weeks.’ She answered casually, taking another bite of her scone.

You nearly fell out of your chair.

You swore loudly and Florence’s head bobbed as if she’d been expecting your reaction.

‘It’s going to be tiny.’ She informed you. ‘Just the officiant, us, his friend and you.’ 

She added your name with a playfully hopeful smile, telling you just how much she wanted you there.

‘Oh my god.’ You answered, trying to wrap your mind around how soon this would be happening.

‘Our friend’s house has a private beach.’ She continued casually, as if her friend wasn’t certainly a multi-millionaire. ‘We’re going to have the ceremony there.’

‘Outfits.’ You stumbled out stupidly. 

Florence shook her head. ‘I’m just wearing my favourite sundress.’ She informed you readily. ‘Dress casual.’

It occurred to you that Florence was a consistently decisive person, with everything except accepting his proposal.

‘You’re going to look stunning.’ You determined with a bright smile, trying to move past your own shock.

Florence glanced shyly down at the kitchen table. ‘I hope so.’ She mumbled.

‘No bachelorette party then.’ You predicted, pretending to look very sad.

Florence hesitated and you prepared yourself for another plan to be revealed.

“Well.’ She started. ‘I was kind of thinking maybe I could come and stay with you for a few days.’

Your head tilted in confusion.

‘Of course.’ You agreed. ‘But, I don’t think that’s much of a party.’

‘I know.’ Florence elongated the words. ‘But, I don’t want a party.’ She shrugged and you caught her gaze flitting over to the photo of you both smiling, that was stuck to her fridge.

She turned back to you and smiled.

‘I just want to spend some time with you.’ She continued with a sheepish shrug.

Your heart twisted and you weren’t even sure if it was pain or love. Being part of Florence’s life had always been enough. You didn’t want to acknowledge this feeling of impending loss.

‘Drinks, snacks and movies?’ You forced yourself to suggest casually. Florence’s face lit up with private delight.

‘It’s going to be the best.’ She decided, moving forward to kiss your cheek.

Driving home that afternoon, you felt like your chest was heavy and hollow at the same time.

Florence’s parting wave was stuck in your mind. 

You turned up the stereo in your car and tried not to let the reality sink in.

.

When Florence arrived, the morning before her wedding, she was bubbly in a way that you hadn’t expected.

She’d hardly texted for the last week and a half. You’d been cautious to push her, not sure if it was wedding or work pressures.

Florence entered your house with all the familiarity of someone who lived there. It wasn’t surprising, a few years ago she practically had.

She’d walked in with a surprisingly large bag. You realised immediately that it was almost entirely filled with an assortment of supplies. She lined up bottles of wine on the coffee table in front of her, before pulling out a stack of DVDs from her collection.

‘That bag is straight from Mary Poppins.’ You accused teasingly. Florence glanced up and grinned.

‘I’ve been so excited for this.’ She admitted easily, eyes sparkling slightly. ‘I kept repacking.’

You kept your smile steady as you processed your worry. Florence only over prepared when she was nervous. 

‘How’s your week been?’ You asked casually as you brought over two wine glasses. 

Florence groaned loudly and her feet kicked up on the edge of the coffee table. Her head rested back against the sofa dramatically.

You glanced at her unsure if you should be genuinely concerned. 

‘That bad?’ You asked, keeping your voice neutral as you poured the wine.

‘He keeps making plans.’ Florence admitted quietly. Her voice sank the atmosphere like a weighted balloon. She couldn’t hide the fear in it.

‘I’m barely ready for this.’ She continued, her eyes locking with yours. ‘And he’s talking about the future.’

‘Kids?’ You gambled and Florence nodded. 

‘And “planning our careers together”.’ She added with air quotations for his suggestion.

‘That’s a lot.’ You agreed, passing her the glass. Florence looked at her drink for a moment, you knew she was going to down it a half second before she did.

She handed you back the empty glass with an unashamed grin. 

‘Fine.’ You allowed, feeling nostalgic for the slightly wilder Florence of a few years ago. ‘But, you’re not going to your wedding still drunk for the night before.’

Florence rolled her eyes. Still, she sipped more slowly from the refilled glass. Raising her eyebrows in acknowledgement of your request. 

Without even needing to check, you took the Titanic DVD out of its case and set it up on your television.

When you sat back down, Florence snuggled immediately closer. Your hand stretched automatically across her shoulders and you gave her a reassuring squeeze. 

Florence offered you a malteser. When you went to take it, she popped it into her own mouth and grinned cheekily.

You rolled your eyes and grabbed another. You could feel her silent chuckle next to you.

‘You’re the worst.’ You complained huffily, meaning the opposite. Florence didn’t stop laughing.

By the time the movie had ended, Florence was sufficiently wine drunk.

As the movie played out, she’d slowly shifted from laughing to a much more somber kind of inebriated.

She lifted her head from your shoulder as she got up clumsily to switch the DVDs.

‘Jesus.’ You muttered as Marley and Me started to play. You glanced at Florence as she settled back beside you.

‘You okay?’ You worried gently. Florence didn’t answer, adjusting to lie down on your sofa, head in your lap.

You understood the silent request for comfort. You combed your fingers through her hair absentmindedly as she focused quietly on the movie.

You wondered if she’d been looking for an excuse to cry. You ached with the thought of Florence being in that kind of pain.

You realised how unsure the future seemed, you just couldn’t imagine her saying lifelong vows tomorrow. 

Florence began to snuffle as she started to cry at the movie.

As the saddest scenes played, her cries were uncontrolled and gasping. 

‘Flo.’ You murmured, trying to bring her back into the room.

She turned in your lap, looking up at you with reddened eyes.

‘Come on.’ You murmured, encouraging her to sit up so that you could wrap her in a comforting hug.

Florence didn’t stop crying for a long time. Eventually, as the tears turned to hiccups, you led her gently back to your bedroom.

There wasn’t a question about her sleeping in the spare room.

She took off her pants and curled next to you in just her t-shirt and underwear. Her chest still moved rapidly with the after effects of her uncontrolled crying.

Her fingers curled tightly at the hem of your own t-shirt. You kissed her hair soothingly.

‘You’ll feel better tomorrow.’ You promised, not knowing if it would be true.

Florence’s breaths came more evenly and, sooner than you expected, you knew she’d fallen asleep. You stared up at the ceiling for a long while, trying to piece everything together.

.

The next morning went better than expected. Florence made it through several glasses of water and managed to reduce any hangover to just a headache. You were planning to leave at 2pm and had the address already plugged into your GPS.

You checked in with Florence regularly, gaining a thumbs up each time.

You felt an overwhelming rush of attraction when you saw her in the rainbow sundress that made her impossibly brighter.

Florence blushed at your reaction, and you saw her pleased smile.

‘Excited?’ You asked, regretting your question when a wave of tension immediately straightened her spine.

‘Nervous.’ She breathed, smoothing the dress unnecessarily. You both checked the time. 

You needed to leave now. Florence blinked away a brief look of panic before following you to the car.

Another benefit to such a low key wedding was the lack of press awareness. Your nondescript car would attract no attention today.

You let quiet music play on the stereo and Florence breathed steadily in the passenger’s seat, her eyes closed.

She exuded nerves and you glanced at her worriedly as you followed the directions to the house with the private beach.

When you pulled up in the driveway of a very expensive looking mansion. Florence’s eyes opened and her attention focused entirely on you. It was like your presence was the only thing keeping her breathing.

‘You ready?’ You asked quietly. You still had ten minutes until you were expected.

There was a half second, a hesitation where you knew that Florence was going to lie. 

She blinked slowly, her focus never leaving you.

‘What if the thing that makes me happy, doesn’t make you happy?’ She asked suddenly, voice abrupt.

You startled at the unexpected turn of the conversation.

‘You have to do it anyway.’ You answered with certainty. 

Florence took a deep breath.

‘I’m in love with you.’ She told you straightforwardly and your heart stuttered. ‘I know you might not feel the same. But I can’t go in there and not say this first.’

Your mouth dropped, time shuddered to a stand still.

Florence covered her face with her hands briefly, breaking her eye contact.

‘I’m sorry.’ She whispered, but there was a quiet resolve underlying her apology. ‘I had to tell you.’

Silence lingered between you as your brain tried to process the impossible.

‘Don’t apologise.’ You told her at last, voice hoarse. Florence was perfect. This had to be a dream. 

‘I’ve been in love with you for years.’ You admitted freely, tears beginning to run down your cheeks.

A bright smile cracked over Florence’s face like a sunrise in the morning.

‘Wow.’ She murmured. ‘We should have talked about this sooner.’ 

You laughed unexpectedly in agreement. 

Suddenly, Florence’s eyes widened.

‘I have to call off a wedding.’ She realised calmly, and you revelled in the easy determination that she approached even the most daunting task. 

She cracked the car door and you moved to do the same.

‘Wait here?’ She asked you, hand reaching out to stop you leaving the car too.

‘I need a getaway driver.’ She told you with a small smile.

You nodded, feeling high on relief and joy at the same time.

Florence walked into the mansion with her head held high.

Ten minutes later, she exited the same door. 

Her head was still high, but there were tears tracks on her cheeks.

She reentered the car just as you started the engine.

You backed out of the driveway, as Florence covered her face with her hands again.

You glanced over to her as soon as you were back on the road to your house.

Florence looked over at you and, despite the tear tracks, you saw your favourite smile of hers stretching across her face.

‘I can’t help feeling so happy.’ She told you, a little dazedly. 

You smiled so hard you thought your heart might burst.

[yasministration]

Valley-girl Charm - Bucky Barnes

Summary: In which reader from the 1940s knows just how to play the damsel in distress to get exactly what she wants in the modern age after coming out of the ice. Or should I say: 3 times Bucky did things for you, and the 1 time you did something for him. SMUT!!!

2.9k wc

Natasha knew body language better than anyone. Tony knew how to play the knight in shining armour better than any hero in the old tales they told.

So of course, they were the first ones to pick up on the little game you were playing. It had started the second you were back from under the ice, charming anyone you spoke to with your 1940's valley girl accent, using words you'd only hear in old television. Men fell at your feet the second words came out of your mouth, offering you anything you'd dream of, and it didn't have anything to do with the super-soldier serum in your system either. You politely declined every time, but eventually understood the kind of power you held.

The second charming method they noticed you had came from your gorgeous smile. The moment you looked up at someone through your long lashes and beamed widely, looking so innocent and kind, people were willing to give you the clothes off their back if you asked. Of course, you never accepted anything from complete strangers. The two Avengers had come to their conclusion that you were still accustoming yourself to the norms of the new world, unaware of your ability to bewitch people with your natural appeal, however it was not long before they were proven wrong.

They didn't know if it was the fact that you were so familiar to Bucky and Steve, a comfort amongst all things new that made them more vulnerable to do anything for you, or if it was just your flirt, but they were immediately intrigued after seeing your interactions with the soldiers. They'd seen the way you spoke to the two soldiers just after coming out of the ice and hadn't noticed anything unusual apart from the fact you'd essentially come out of a time machine. As the weeks, months passed, they knew your intentions.

It had started by witnessing a simple conversation between you and the two soldiers. "Well I'm all nerves about going to speak to Agent Fury about that last mission. He's going to get all bent and blow a fuse." The two soldiers stood either side of you turned to face you in such synchrony it had almost been comical. Bucky was the first to speak, "Don't worry doll, I can go speak to him if you'd like. You shouldn't be the one he chews out." "Anyway," Cuts in Steve "We were the ones who screwed up honey, not you." From across the kitchen, Natasha rolled her shoulders back, nudging Tony with her elbow lightly as she stirred sugar into her coffee. Their eyes widened slightly at the wide smile sprawling itself on your face, peeking back and forth between the two men.

"Really? You boys don't have to do that just for me." Steve straightened his posture impossibly at your comment, but it was Bucky who beat him to the comment. "Honey, I'd do anything for a broad like you." You cocked your head to the side, a hand coming up to rest on his muscled bicep. "Why, thank you Sergeant. You dreamboats are too kind". Natasha's eyes trailed over to Tony when the three of you finally left, the two boys accompanying you seemingly wherever you wanted to go. "See, I didn't understand half of that conversation, but they are wrapped around her finger." Tony hummed "She's smarter than we thought."

The second time they witnessed it, they were convinced that you did it on purpose, their image of you quickly turning from innocent and naive to a femme fatale, manipulating men into thinking they're doing things for you because they want to. You'd all been hitting the bars, only missing Thor from the team. You had been occupying a large round booth, wedged between Bucky and Natasha, giggling with her about the man she found attractive sat at the bar, whilst the four men at the table shared stories. Natasha's eyes were quickly drawn to your hand as you placed it on Bucky's thigh, the man putting his own hand over yours almost instantly as he glanced down at you. You returned his look, grinning widely before turning back to your conversation with the tall red-head.

Natasha carried on with the conversation, pretending not to notice the intimate moment you'd shared with the soldier, but her jaw went slack nonetheless when Bucky leaned closer to you not two minutes later, whispering "You're drinking a margarita, right?" And rising from his seat when you nodded at him, humming in agreement. Bucky joined the group once more with two drinks in hand: one for him and one for you, smiling proudly when you cocked your head to the side, insisting he didn't have to. He only wrapped one muscled arm around your shoulders as a response, pulling you closer to him despite the humidity of the bar.

When you leant your head on Bucky's shoulder, stealing a glimpse up at him though, Natasha was no longer assured that those tricks up your sleeve were to get what you wanted. Perhaps you used them to get who you wanted. She sipped her drink instead of making a comment, afraid to scare you away with any questions when you'd only just begun getting close to her. Maybe in a couple of weeks during a girls' trip to the bathroom she'd bring up your relationship with him.

That girls' trip didn't end up being in a bathroom, but in a changing room, because next time something so significant had happened, the entire team was training together for the first time in a while, and Steve had declared that you were all doing a round robin. If you were still in the military, sure - you'd have moaned about it, throwing your head back in disappointment and hoping your supervisor hadn't seen you complain. But now, with the super-serum in your bloodstream? Well, you supposed you could be in a worst position, like Tony's, who didn't have any super-powers or spy training. With so many of you on the team, it'd take numerous matches for everyone to have their turn against each of their teammates, so after a quick warm-up, everyone had settled down on the mats of the martial arts training area to watch.

Soon later, everyone who was sat on the mats was trying to catch their breath as two team-mates sparred on the mats. Tony stood after Thor and Steve's match, adding another tally next to Thor's name on the big planning whiteboard before turning around with a wide smirk on his face. "Last match of the day." Bucky hopped up from next to you, sticking a hand out for you to take. Hesitantly, you took it, only for him to pull you up to your feet. "Us?" You asked, only for him to nod. "Well, I'm gonna let you have it, Barnes." You teased, tightening your ponytail. "Oh come on, might as well reach for the sky now, y/n."

"Steve, what the hell are they saying?" Called out Clint, leaning over to see the blonde man from across Natasha. "She's gonna hit him hard, and he says she should just give up now." Replied the man, taking another sip from his water. Tony picked up the whistle next to him, blowing into it, before scrambling back to watch with the others. The second the time started, Bucky faltered - how the hell was he supposed to hit you? But there was already a fist flying to his face which he barely dodged, instead swatting your wrist away from him.

You stared at him intensely from behind your fists, shielding your face, your eyebrows furrowing in confusion. "Come on Barnes!" Steve yelled from the sidelines. Bucky's face mirrored yours, his eyes laced with confusion, but he threw a fist anyhow, going for a body shot instead of your face. Nevertheless, you moved to the right, dodging his fist, and grabbing his arm as leverage to help you jump up. You threw your right leg over his shoulder, and behind his neck, swinging your other leg over his second shoulder, and crossing it over your right leg to trap his arm between your legs and over your torso. You tensed your quads as much as you could, hoping the triangle choke would work on him, but instead he used his metal arm to push your thigh over his head as much as he could. It was working, slowly but surely.

"Fuck" you muttered when he slipped his head in the gap between his shoulder and your thigh. You were now essentially hanging onto his arm, both legs over one shoulder. Before he could react, you flexed your core muscles, and sat up onto his shoulder. You released his arm, jumping off his shoulder so you landed behind him, and softly push-kicked him the back so he stumbled forward. As he did though, one hand reached behind him and grabbed your ankle, so you were dragged along with him. You slipped onto your back as he fell forward but Bucky was quicker, getting up instantly to straddle your hips. He leaned forward, above you, trying to get his arms around your neck to get you in a chokehold, but the second you giggled, he shot back up again.

"Sorry, that tickled." You insisted, hand coming to your neck to play the part better, a broad smile gracing your lips. Just as Bucky opened his mouth to say something, you reached out to grab both his hands, bucking your hips up and turning to the side to flip him over. You were on top of him in the blink of an eye, mimicking his movements as your arms snaked around his neck. You successfully put him in the same chokehold he had tried to put you in, but when you twisted your wrists, the blood supply to his face immediately cut off and you felt his hand tapping you twice on the shoulder. "You cheat." Was the first thing he said after his gasp for air, but you only shrugged, rolling off his chest. "I was only using sources available to me."

You giggled as you ran off to catch up to Natasha, already waiting for you by the doors to the changing room. "So..." She started, quite obviously. "So... What?" You echoed, looking up at her curiously, shimmying out of your shorts. You turn around so your back faces her as you struggle out of your sports bra, wrapping your towel around your sweaty body before spinning back around. "You and Bucky. This flirting has been going on for weeks. Do you like him, are you dating?" You laughed, cocking your head to the side. "You don't know?" She shook her head quickly, sitting down on a bench. On the other hand, you just opened one of the doors to the clean showers, calling out to her.

"Well, before the ice, me and Buck knew each other from the military, we got along well. The only problem was, he was my superior. I couldn't possibly make a pass at him and be known as the soldier who had the nerve to try and lay paws on her superior. But there was always something there..." At the lack of response, you stuck your head back out of the shower, to make sure Natasha was still there. "Natasha?" The spy looked at you with her mouth wide open in shock. "What!? And you never told me?" You shrugged, turning the water on. "Well I thought y'all knew."

Her silence told you enough about how much she really knew. As she muttered to herself on the other side of the door, you submerged yourself in the water, massaging shampoo into your hair, hearing flashes of "before the ice" and "he was your superior?" so you assumed she was still talking to you, even though you ignored most of what she said. You barely heard her goodbye and the sound of the changing room door opening and closing one more time, before the sound of water running was all you could hear.

"Y/n? Natasha let me in, she said you were done." You perked up at the sound of Bucky's voice, exclaiming "Here!" He approached the sound of your voice, stopping when he realised Natasha had deceived him. He stood in front of the dark wooden door, watching the steam dance in the space above your door. "Is it anything urgent?" The towel hanging from the door disappeared into the other side, and Bucky realised shaking his head wasn't enough of an answer because the door swung open to reveal you, soaking wet and completely naked with the exception of the small towel that barely covered your private parts. "Oh! Hey you!" You exclaimed, taken aback at his proximity, yet smiling all the while.

Bucky stood frozen in place, mouth ajar as he search for his words. "I'm sorry, I- I, you look beautiful." You giggled at his words, approaching his shirtless, freshly showered figure. His long hair was wet and skin was glistening, and he only wore a pair of jogger shorts to conceal himself. You have to admit, they weren't doing a great job and covering the growing tent in them. Your eyes trailed back up his body to meet his, smiling at him again. "Anything I can help you with, Sergeant?" Bucky's hands hesitantly rose to meet your hips. "I-No it's fine." Your hand met his and you dragged him with you three steps backwards, back into the shower you had just exited. You reached your arm behind him, locking the door once more.

"You're sure?" Bucky shook his head, pulling your hips flush against his as he slammed his lips against yours in a needy kiss. You gasped as your towel started to unravel, but you didn't try to stop it, wrapping your arms around Bucky's shoulders instead. When he separated from you, opening his eyes, they immediately widened, and his bit his lip, poorly trying to suppress a moan. You pushed Bucky back gently, urging him to sit on the small wooden bench. He sat down, legs spreading to make space for you between them, but when you started lowering yourself onto your knees, he shook his head frantically, begging "No, no, none of that, doll. I just want you sweetheart."

The cold metal of his arm flush against your skin chilled you as he wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you up to sit on his laps. He grunted, frantically pulling down his cotton shorts. You aided him at doing so, gasping when his cock sprung out, the absence of any underwear surprising you. You immediately took his dick in your hands, watching as Bucky's face scrunched up in pleasure. You guided him inside you, sitting down flat on his dick, but you couldn't help the loud moan that escaped you as you did. You whined, beginning to drag yourself up and down his dick, gradually speeding up your movements. Bucky's hips met your frantically, until his pace was so quick you couldn't keep up. "Buck!" At your plead, he wrapped an arm around you, using his metal one to support both your weights on the wall, and he stood up, walking forward until your back was pressed against the cold shower wall.

You gasped at its feeling against your skin, jerking forward once more when Bucky's metal hand came up to play with your nipples as his speed increased once more. Bucky leaned his forehead against yours, cussing loudly before biting his bottom lip in fear of being heard. His hand left your breasts, instead blinding searching for the shower handle. When he found it, he immediately pushed it upwards, the instant noise of water shooting out moderately covering the sounds of pleasure you made. Your wrapped your arms around his tighter, grinding your pussy onto his pelvis as he thrusted into you, your clit rubbing on the short hairs near the base of his dick.

You busied yourself pressing kisses on Bucky's neck, the water squelching between your bodies as you passionately moved against each other. "Fuck y/n" Bucky moaned, chasing your lips, panting against them once he met them in a deep kiss. Your hands cupped his face as you kissed, deepening it impossibly, and his metal hand went straight to your clit, rubbing circles on it as fast as he could. Your leg twitched and you didn't have time to warn him before you were cumming all over him. "Shit!" Bucky grunted, pulling out of you as he balanced you on the wall, his hand coming to jerk himself off quicker. You put your hand over his, legs still wrapped around his torso, teasing his sensitive tip as you stroked him up and down. With a deep shudder, white stripes of cum shot out of him, painting your belly white, only to be washed away with the shower's stream.

Bucky put you down gently, making sure you wouldn't slip before cupping your face with his large hands and bringing you in for a much slower, more passionate kiss. You pulled away from him, keeping him close as you peppered kisses all over his face. He laughed, trying to pull away from you and saying,

"We should have done this about 80 years ago doll, don't you think?

[marvelsgirl616]

only whore-ish thoughts in my mind atm 🧎‍♀️

[pankowcrumbs]

You never called me back X Sebastian stan

MasterList

Marvel MasterList

Words: 9.3K

Plot: You and Seb have a fight and break things off but you find out you're pregnant but Sebastian already blocked you… years later it all comes to light and he wants to be involved.

I don’t remember what the fight was about. Not really.

Funny, isn’t it? How something that ripped through me like a bomb tore everything down, burned every bridge could blur so quickly into fragments. I remember shouting. His face flushed with frustration. My voice breaking. The way we kept cutting each other off, like listening had suddenly become a luxury we couldn’t afford.

But I don’t remember what started it. Not the words. Just the hurt.

It had been two years since that night, and still, sometimes I’d wake up gasping for air, my chest tight with the weight of words I never got to say properly. Maybe that’s why I kept that last voicemail. Or maybe because it was the only proof I had that I’d tried.

That he chose not to.

We were never supposed to get close.

That’s what we told each other from the beginning laid out all the ground rules, like that would somehow protect us. No sleepovers. No public outings. No feelings. It was a laugh, really. As if two people could keep sharing their bodies without ever sharing anything else.

But he was Sebastian. And I was me. And things never really stayed simple for long.

We met through mutual friends in London, during one of his longer stays. He was working on a film, I was freelancing photography mostly, though I dipped in and out of projects like a magpie. One night turned into two. Then three. Then a casual kind of routine: his place, mine, wherever. It wasn’t romantic, we insisted. Just easy. Convenient. Fun.

Until it wasn’t.

Until he started cooking me breakfast.

Until I started waiting for his texts like a schoolgirl.

Until he looked at me, once, with something in his eyes that felt like everything and nothing all at once.

And then, just like that, it all collapsed.

The fight was brutal. Raw. We’d been skirting the edge of something heavier for weeks, pretending we weren’t. He slept with someone else casually, as we were allowed but then lied about it. Said he hadn’t seen anyone in ages. I only found out because someone else let it slip, and when I asked him about it, he brushed it off like I was being dramatic.

“I didn’t think it mattered,” he said.

And that, I think, was the final crack.

Because it did matter. To me.

I remember standing in his hotel room, half-dressed, mascara smudged from crying and wiping too hard, while he stood there with that maddening calm of his, arms crossed like I was the problem.

“You said no strings,” he reminded me. “You can’t flip the rules just because you changed your mind.”

“I didn’t flip anything,” I snapped. “I just expected you not to lie. There’s a difference.”

He scoffed. “We’re not dating, Y/N.”

“Yeah, no kidding. Thank God, right? Because if this is how you treat someone you don’t care about, I’d hate to see how you screw up with someone you do.”

He flinched barely but it was enough.

“Maybe we shouldn’t do this anymore,” he said coldly.

I nodded, trying not to let the tremble in my chin show. “Maybe we shouldn’t.”

I left. Slammed the door behind me. Walked home barefoot because I couldn’t be arsed to put my heels back on. And when I got home, I cried until my pillow was soaked.

The nausea started two weeks later.

I brushed it off at first. Blamed it on stress, or a dodgy meal, or maybe the hangover from the wine I drank alone three nights in a row while watching terrible romcoms and pretending I was fine.

But when I missed my period, everything came into sharp, unbearable focus.

I bought the test in a daze didn’t even make eye contact with the woman at the till. Took it home. Stared at the little plastic stick on the bathroom sink like it might morph into something else if I just blinked hard enough.

But no. Two lines. Bold. Unmistakable.

I sank to the floor.

Pregnant.

Pregnant with Sebastian Stan’s child.

I don’t know how long I stayed there, curled against the cold tile, hands shaking. The fear wasn’t loud it was quiet. Hollow. Like standing in a tunnel after a bomb’s gone off and waiting for the dust to settle.

After a while, I called him.

Straight to voicemail.

I tried again.

Same thing.

I texted first a simple “Hey, can we talk?” Then, “It’s important.” Then, “Please, Seb.”

Nothing. Just greyed-out ticks and silence.

I told myself he was busy. Maybe out of the country. Maybe his phone was off.

But I knew. Deep down, I knew.

Still, I tried every day for a week. Then two. Then three. I even emailed. No reply. No bounce back. Just a void.

I spiralled. Anger and fear twisted together into something sharp and unrelenting. And eventually, I caved. Left the voicemail. The one that still haunts me.

I remember sitting on the edge of my bed, heart in my throat, voice shaking so badly I had to stop halfway through.

“Seb… I know you’re ignoring me. I don’t know why, I don’t know what I did that was so unforgivable, but”

I swallowed hard. Took a breath.

“ I don’t want anything from you. I just am just begging you to call me back it's really important ”

A pause.

Another breath. Shaky. Shattered.

“Please. Just call me back.”

I hung up.

He never did.

Time passed like a slow drip. Each day a little heavier than the last. At some point, I stopped hoping for a reply. Stopped checking my phone every five minutes. Stopped replaying the voicemail to hear how desperate I’d sounded.

I changed my number. Moved flats. Started seeing a midwife. Told my parents in a tearful phone call. It wasn’t easy God, it wasn’t even close but eventually, I stopped waking up with that ache in my chest. The one shaped like him.

I focused on the baby. On the little life growing inside me. And slowly, I let go of the version of the future that had him in it.

I never told anyone his name. Never gave details. Just said he wasn’t around. People filled in the blanks themselves. Assumed it was a one-night stand or a fling. No one ever imagined it was Sebastian Stan. Not the movie star. Not the charming, funny man I’d once shared takeaways and late-night confessions with. Not the man who once kissed my forehead and whispered he liked the way I laughed when I was half-asleep.

No. That version of him existed only in memories now.

Or dreams.

And even those, I tried not to indulge in.

Now, two years later, my daughter is asleep upstairs.

She has his eyes.

That’s the part that guts me most. Every time she looks at me with that stormy blue gaze, every time she frowns in concentration or bursts into unexpected laughter, it’s like he’s right there etched into her face in ways I could never erase.

I love her more than I ever thought possible. Fiercely. Protectively. She’s my whole world. And she’ll never know she was unwanted.

Not by me.

I tuck her in every night. I hold her when she cries. I make her pancakes in the shape of animals and let her draw all over the walls of the spare room because she says it makes her brain happy. I show up, even when I’m tired, even when I’m scared.

I’m the one who stayed.

And if he ever comes back if he ever dares to walk through the door and ask for a second chance he’ll have to answer for the silence first.

Because I begged.

And he never called.

It was meant to be a quiet lunch. Just a few old friends, a couple of glasses of wine, and hopefully some adult conversation that didn’t involve Bluey or Paw Patrol.

I hadn’t expected to bring Isla with me, but my babysitter rang last minute, her voice hoarse and apologetic. Flu. Couldn’t be helped. And I didn’t want to cancel not again. So I packed a little bag with crayons, her favourite snacks, and the sticker book she was currently obsessed with, and brought her along.

She was happy enough in her little booster seat, colouring away and chatting softly to her unicorn plush while I slipped back into conversations I used to be part of more often. It felt… nice. Like brushing off a coat I hadn’t worn in ages and realising it still fit.

Until he walked in.

Sebastian.

I spotted him the moment he stepped into the restaurant tall, broad-shouldered, that same damn leather jacket he always used to wear like it was armour. My breath caught in my throat before I could even process it. For a moment, everything around me went still. Like the clink of cutlery and low murmur of conversation had faded into the background, and all I could hear was the rush of blood in my ears.

I didn’t know whether to run or throw up.

He saw me almost instantly. His eyes flicked across the table, scanning faces and then landed on mine. A beat passed. Then another. And I swear something flickered behind his expression. Recognition? Surprise? Confusion?

Then his eyes shifted to Isla.

And he stared.

She was chewing on a grape and humming under her breath, completely unaware of the earthquake that had just walked through the door. Her curls were pulled into two puffy bunches, a tiny daisy clip stuck haphazardly in one side. And those eyes his eyes turned briefly towards him, wide and unbothered.

He blinked. Said nothing.

I cleared my throat and stood up halfway, pasting on a polite smile. “Hi.”

His gaze snapped back to mine. “Hi,” he said softly.

I didn’t hug him. Didn’t offer a seat. I was too stunned, too careful. My friends were already shifting to make room for him at the end of the table, greeting him with easy smiles and enthusiastic hellos. No one noticed how my hands trembled slightly as I reached for Isla’s juice box.

“Didn’t know you were back in London,” said Alice, scooting over. “How long are you here?”

“Just a couple of weeks,” he said, sliding into the chair. “Got in this morning.”

“Ah,” Liam grinned. “Makes sense. You texted me, what, two hours ago? Said it might be nice to catch up. Figured I’d surprise everyone.”

Everyone. Everyone.

My stomach dropped. So he hadn’t come for this lunch. Not deliberately. Not to see me.

He didn’t know.

Not really.

And from the way he kept glancing at Isla subtly, but not subtly enough it was clear something was churning behind those eyes of his. He hadn’t asked anything yet, but I could feel the question dancing on the tip of his tongue.

“This is Isla,” I said quietly, almost before I realised I was speaking. My voice sounded thinner than usual stretched. “My daughter.”

His head turned slowly, fully facing her for the first time. He looked at her like someone trying to solve a riddle they already knew the answer to.

“She’s beautiful,” he said eventually.

I nodded. “Thanks.”

Isla, oblivious, offered him a sticker a shiny butterfly. He smiled and took it without hesitation, sticking it to the back of his hand. “Thanks, sweetheart.”

And my heart twisted.

He used to say that to me.

The rest of the lunch was a blur. I tried to focus on the conversation on the stories, the jokes, the shared laughter that should’ve anchored me but my mind kept floating. Kept returning to the fact that Sebastian was sitting just two seats down, watching Isla with that cautious intensity like he was reading a page from a book he thought he’d already finished.

He barely touched his food. I barely touched mine.

Every now and then, I caught him looking not at Isla, but at me. Like he was trying to piece something together. Like the cogs in his head were turning, slow and deliberate, trying to unearth something he wasn’t ready for.

He still hadn’t said a word about it.

And no one else knew. Not a soul at that table knew that Sebastian Stan was Isla’s father. Not even Alice, who I used to tell everything. I’d never wanted to risk it. Too many questions, too much mess.

But now, sitting across from him, I felt like I was holding a grenade in my lap, just waiting for the pin to fall out.

At one point, Liam leaned towards me with a grin. “Did you know Seb was in town?”

I shook my head. “Not a clue.”

“Yeah,” he said, chewing thoughtfully on a chip. “Texted me this morning out of nowhere. Said he missed us. Thought it’d be nice to invite him. Hope that’s alright.”

“Of course,” I said quickly. “Just… a surprise, that’s all.”

“A good one though?” he asked, eyes twinkling.

I forced a smile. “Yeah. Sure.”

Across the table, Sebastian’s gaze caught mine again. Held. My breath hitched just slightly before I looked away and wiped Isla’s mouth with a napkin.

My hands wouldn’t stop shaking.

When we all finally rose from the table and paid, the spring air outside felt too cold too sharp for the sun that was supposed to be shining.

The others began saying their goodbyes with hugs and promises to do it again soon. One by one, they peeled off down the high street until only Sebastian and I were left standing awkwardly in the dappled sunlight.

Isla was crouched by the wall, examining a trail of ants with the kind of intensity only a toddler could manage.

I could feel Sebastian beside me, tense and restless. Then...

“I’m going to ask a stupid question,” he said, voice low.

I turned to look at him.

He wasn’t meeting my eyes. His jaw was tight, the muscle ticking.

A beat passed.

Then he looked up.

“Is she mine?”

I didn’t speak right away. Just nodded, slowly.

He blinked like the world had just shifted sideways.

A crack formed in his expression something raw and almost unbearable flickered through his eyes. His mouth parted slightly, like he wanted to speak but didn’t know where to start.

Then came the quiet, controlled anger. Not loud enough to draw Isla’s attention, but sharp enough to sting.

“You didn’t tell me.”

I stared at him.

“I tried,” I said.

He frowned. “No. I never... You never”

“I called you,” I cut in, my voice firmer now. “I texted. I left voicemails. Long ones. I told you I needed to talk to you. I begged you to call me back.”

He was shaking his head, almost in disbelief.

“I didn’t get any of that”

“Because you blocked me.”

His breath caught. A flash of guilt washed over his face.

“I left you one last message,” I went on, quietly now. “I told you it was important. I didn’t say the words, but I hoped you’d hear it in my voice. And then… I promised myself that if you didn’t have the decency to call me back to even ask what was so urgent then you didn’t deserve to know about our child.”

Sebastian looked like I’d slapped him.

He turned slightly, raking a hand through his hair, pacing one small, frustrated step.

“I didn’t know,” he said. “I didn’t know.”

“Well, now you do.”

He looked over at Isla again still crouched, still happy, still blissfully unaware.

“She looks like me,” he said under his breath. “I noticed it straight away.”

I didn’t answer.

“Jesus, Y/N,” he exhaled, barely holding his voice steady. “I’ve missed everything. Her first steps. Her first words. The first time she got sick. I’ve missed all of it.”

“You weren’t there,” I said, more softly this time. “That wasn't my fault”

His eyes snapped back to mine, something close to panic surfacing.

“Can I…” He paused, swallowing hard. “Can I see her again? Another time? Properly?”

I hesitated. The wind caught Isla’s curls just then, and she looked up at us, smiling, waving one sticky hand in the air.

I waved back before answering.

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “I need to think.”

“I understand.”

“I just… I can’t let you dip in and out,” I added quickly, voice trembling now. “She’s not a surprise cameo. She’s a person. A whole person.”

“I’m not going to disappear again.”

“You did once.”

He flinched. Said nothing.

I took Isla’s hand gently, feeling the tiny warmth of her fingers against mine.

“We should go.”

He nodded, slowly. “Yeah. Okay.”

As I turned, I heard him whisper so quiet it was almost carried away by the breeze:

“I’m sorry.”

I didn’t look back.

I didn’t sleep much the night after that lunch.

Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Sebastian’s face. The flicker of disbelief. The pain behind his eyes. The way his voice broke when he said he’d missed everything.

And he had.

Isla’s first laugh. Her first wobbly steps across our tiny flat. The first time she said “mummy,” and the second time when she tried to say “banana” but called it “ba-an-ah.”

He wasn’t there for any of it.

And yet, something inside me some maddening, gentle part couldn’t stop replaying the way he’d looked at her. Not with pity or fear. But awe. Like she was the most precious thing he’d ever laid eyes on.

The very next day, he messaged.

Hi. I don’t expect a reply straight away. But I just wanted to say thank you for introducing me to Isla. I would like to see her again, if and when you’re ready. I want to do right by her. And by you. –Seb.

It took me hours to reply. Not because I didn’t know what to say, but because I had to force myself to believe he meant it.

I finally wrote back:

If you want to be in her life, it has to be consistent. No dipping in and out. No disappearing. If you say you’re coming, you come. Also, I’m there. Always. You don’t get to take her anywhere yet. We meet in a public place. Sunday. 11am. The park by my flat Hampstead Heath. Bring snacks. She likes grapes and cheesy crackers.

He replied almost instantly.

I’ll be there. Thank you.

Sunday came faster than I expected.

I dressed Isla in her little denim dungarees and tied her curls into two tiny buns on top of her head. She giggled as I wiped toast crumbs from her cheeks.

“Mummy, Sparkle?” she asked, holding up her unicorn plush with one floppy, sparkly leg.

“Of course, baby.”

I didn’t tell her who we were meeting. I couldn’t. I didn’t want to confuse her until I was sure.

When we arrived, he was already there sitting on a bench near the swings, clutching a bag and looking like he’d been waiting for years, not minutes.

He stood as soon as he saw us.

“Hi,” he said, awkward and gentle all at once.

“Hi,” I replied, tightening my grip on Isla’s hand.

She looked up at him curiously. “You’re tall,” she declared.

Sebastian let out a breath of laughter. “I am, yeah. I should warn you, I might bump my head on tree branches sometimes.”

She giggled, and I watched him melt a little right there.

“I brought snacks,” he said, holding up the bag like it was a peace offering. “Grapes and those little bear-shaped biscuits?”

“Approved,” I said.

We settled on a picnic blanket under the shade of a tree. Isla flopped onto her stomach, unpacking her unicorn and immediately appointing Sebastian as a guest in her imaginary tea party.

He played along like a pro.

“Would Sparkle like one lump of sugar or two?” he asked with great seriousness.

“Three,” Isla whispered conspiratorially. “She’s sweet.”

He nodded solemnly. “I should’ve known.”

I couldn’t help it I smiled. And for a moment, the tension between us eased, just a little.

The visit only lasted an hour. I kept my boundaries clear when Isla grew tired, I stood and said it was time to go. He didn’t argue.

“Can I see her again next weekend?” he asked as I packed up our things.

I hesitated. Then nodded. “Same place. Same time.”

He exhaled, like he’d been holding his breath since I first messaged him.

“Thanks, Y/N.”

I didn’t say anything. I just picked Isla up and walked away.

But I let her wave.

He waved back.

It became a pattern.

Every Sunday, 11am.

He showed up every time. On time. With snacks. With stories. With toys. With questions about her favourite songs or how she liked her sandwiches cut.

He never overstepped. Never pressured me. Never tried to rush anything.

He just showed up.

One Sunday, Isla crawled into his lap without asking, holding a book she wanted him to read. He blinked hard, caught off guard, then wrapped an arm around her and read every page with the same dramatic flair she’d come to expect from me.

I didn’t realise I was crying until I felt the tears hit my lips.

one month in, we started having coffees after the park. Just the two of us. Isla would nap in her buggy and we’d sit at the little café on the corner, sipping flat whites and talking really talking for the first time in years.

“I blocked you,” he admitted one afternoon, his voice heavy with shame. “After that fight… I couldn’t handle seeing your name. It made me feel sick.”

I nodded slowly. “I figured.”

“I didn’t expect to feel so much,” he said. “Back then. When you told me it was over. That you didn’t want whatever we were doing anymore.”

“We were toxic,” I said. “It wasn’t healthy. For either of us.”

“But it wasn’t nothing.”

“No,” I agreed. “It wasn’t nothing.”

He looked at me then. Really looked. And I saw it the weight of everything we could’ve been if we’d only known how to love each other properly.

“We can’t rewrite it,” I said, softer now. “But we can give her something steady. Something whole.”

He nodded. “I want that. More than anything.”

The first time he came to my flat, Isla squealed like it was Christmas.

“You can sit here!” she said, dragging him to the couch like a prize. “Mummy makes hot chocolate with tiny marshmallows if you ask really nicely.”

“I shall beg,” he said seriously, making her cackle with delight.

I brought them mugs and stood in the kitchen for a moment, watching them.

He was holding her plush unicorn on his shoulder like a baby. She was giggling so hard she snorted.

My heart hurt.

In a good way.

In a terrifying way.

Later that night, after Isla had fallen asleep and the flat had gone quiet, he lingered in the doorway.

“Thanks for letting me come today,” he said. “For trusting me.”

I nodded. “She loves you, you know.”

His eyes widened slightly.

“She doesn’t even know what that means yet,” I added. “But it’s in her bones already.”

He swallowed hard. “I love her, too.”

And then he looked at me. Really looked.

“I love you,” he said quietly.

My breath caught.

“We can’t” I began.

“I know,” he interrupted. “I’m not asking for anything. I just… I needed you to hear it. I should’ve said it years ago.”

I didn’t say it back.

But I didn’t close the door, either.

I could hear them from the kitchen.

Isla’s delighted giggle. The thump of toy blocks tumbling. Sebastian’s overly dramatic “oh noooo!” as he pretended to be defeated by her tiny rubber dinosaur.

I stirred the pasta absentmindedly, letting the warm sound of their play fill the flat like music. It had only been a few weeks since I’d started letting him come by more regularly, and already, it was becoming second nature the coat dropped on the hook by the door, his trainers neatly beside mine, the sound of his laugh joining ours.

I peeked into the living room. Isla was balanced on his knee, proudly showing him a sticker book while he listened like she was reading him Shakespeare. Her curls bounced as she babbled on, and he nodded along as though every word made perfect sense.

“Seb?” I called gently.

He looked up.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Course.”

He followed me back into the kitchen, grabbing two glasses from the cupboard like it was his place. Like he’d always known where things were.

I hesitated, wiping my hands on a tea towel. “What… what are you going to do? I mean about living in New York. Projects. Work. Everything.”

He exhaled slowly, leaning back against the counter.

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that,” he said. “I’m not expecting things to be easy or perfect. I’d never ask you to uproot your whole life, or hers, just to make things easier for me.”

He looked out toward the living room, where Isla was now humming to herself.

“I know you’ve built a life here. You’ve got your work, your friends. Her routines. I’d never take that away from her.”

I softened, listening closely.

“I’ll work around you,” he said firmly. “Around her. I’ve already told my agent I only want to take jobs that keep me free to fly back and forth. If I’m not on set, I’m here. Every chance I get. Whatever your schedule is, I’ll match it. I just… I want to be in her life, and yours, in whatever way you’ll let me.”

I swallowed the lump rising in my throat.

“That sounds… fair,” I said after a beat. “I think we can figure it out, as it happens.”

He smiled, relieved. “Yeah?”

I nodded. “Yeah.”

We stood in silence for a moment, the quiet filled with the distant sound of Isla talking to herself about grapes and teddy bears.

“There’s one more thing,” I said, glancing at him.

He straightened.

“I was wondering… if you’d want to tell her.”

“Tell her?” he asked, confused.

“That you’re her dad.”

His face changed slowly the emotion building behind his eyes, guarded but rising. He glanced again toward Isla, who was now crawling under the coffee table, murmuring nonsense to her unicorn.

“She’s only one and a half,” I added gently. “She doesn’t fully understand anything yet. Not really. But she knows who’s kind. Who loves her. Who shows up.”

He looked back at me, eyes glossy.

“I think… I think if you wanted to tell her, you could.”

He nodded, lips pressed tight. “I do want to. God, yeah, I want to.”

“Okay,” I said softly. “Then let’s tell her together.”

After dinner, we all sat in the living room. Isla nestled in my lap, still holding her unicorn, while Sebastian knelt beside us on the rug, nervously fiddling with the zip on her little cardigan.

She looked between us, cheeks rosy, babbling in toddler-speak about some imaginary friend who lived in the kitchen cupboard.

“Hey, sweetheart,” I said gently, brushing a curl from her face. “Can Mummy and Sebby tell you something?”

She blinked up at us, mouth sticky with leftover banana.

Sebastian smiled nervously. “Hi, Isla.”

She pointed at his nose. “Boop.”

He chuckled softly. “Boop,” he repeated.

I bit my lip to keep from laughing, then composed myself.

“You know how you love Sebby?” I asked.

She nodded. “Sebby fun.”

“Well,” I said slowly, “Sebby’s a very special person. He’s not just Mummy’s friend. He’s something even more special to you.”

Her little brows furrowed in confusion.

Sebastian swallowed thickly and moved in a little closer. “I’m your daddy, Isla.”

She blinked.

I watched her tiny mouth work around the word. “Da…dee?”

He smiled, eyes watering. “Yeah, sweetheart. I’m your daddy.”

She looked at me for confirmation. “Mummy?”

“Yes, my love,” I whispered, pressing a kiss to her temple. “He’s your daddy.”

There was a long beat.

Then Isla broke into the sunniest grin and launched forward into his arms.

“Daddy!” she squealed, wrapping her arms around his neck in a way only toddlers could all elbows and love.

Sebastian held her like she was spun glass, one hand cradling her head, the other wrapped protectively around her back. His shoulders shook slightly, and I realised he was crying.

“Isla,” he whispered, voice hoarse, “You have no idea how happy that makes me.”

She patted his cheek like she was comforting him now. “Daddy sad?”

He laughed wetly. “No, baby. Daddy’s happy.”

She pulled back slightly and, in her most serious tone, said, “No cry. I gots blankie.”

And then she stood, waddled off, and returned moments later with her favourite duck-print blanket, throwing it over his lap like a royal gift.

He laughed again, wiping his cheeks.

“Thank you, my love.”

He looked up at me, and I saw it all in his eyes the joy, the pain, the love, the regret.

I nodded, smiling through my own tears.

“She’s got your eyes,” I said softly.

He took a deep breath, clutching the blanket to his chest.

“And your fire,” he added, gazing back at her. “I don’t deserve either of you.”

“No,” I said honestly. “But you’re here. And that’s a start.”

That night, after he’d gone and Isla was tucked into bed, I sat alone on the sofa, sipping tea and staring at the quiet living room.

The sticker book still sat open. The little pink socks she’d kicked off were on the rug. Her unicorn was slumped over like it, too, had had a long day.

And something about it all made my chest ache with happiness, with hope, with the tiniest flicker of fear.

The first time Sebastian took Isla out on his own, I nearly called him three times in the span of twenty minutes.

I didn’t, of course. But I hovered near my phone like it might cry out for help on its own. I’d kissed Isla’s curls, watched her waddle off toward him with her tiny backpack on, and smiled as she shouted “Bye Mummy!” from the doorway.

And now the flat was still. Too still.

I tried to focus washed the dishes, made the bed, even started replying to some work emails but everything reminded me she wasn’t here. Her sippy cup left near the telly. A sticker of a giraffe stuck to my laptop screen. The scent of her baby shampoo lingering faintly in the hallway.

They were only gone for a few hours.

I still jumped when I heard the key in the lock.

“Mummy!” Isla’s voice rang out like a song.

I met them at the door. Her cheeks were flushed with excitement, her curls a little frizzier than they’d been when she left. She looked delighted.

“We saw ducks!” she said, waving a half-eaten rice cake. “And Daddy buy juice. He say don’t tell Mummy it has sugar.”

I raised an eyebrow at Sebastian, who held his hands up in mock surrender.

“It was organic. Ish.”

I smirked despite myself. “And how did it go?”

“She’s… perfect,” he said, lowering himself to unbuckle her shoes. “I mean, she’s got energy like a caffeine-fuelled squirrel, but she’s amazing. She made a friend at the café. Shared a biscuit. Talked to a pigeon for ten minutes.”

I laughed.

“She’s got your charm,” he added, glancing up at me. “Everyone in that park was wrapped around her little finger. Including me.”

I softened, brushing Isla’s hair back from her forehead. “She had a good time?”

“I think so,” he said.

“Best day!” Isla chirped, confirming it.

My heart melted.

And just like that we had our first solo day out under our belts.

It became routine, slowly. Some weekends, Sebastian would come by with plans: the zoo, a soft play centre, a toddler art class that ended in a very colourful disaster. Other times, we’d spend time together the three of us curled on the floor with picture books, Sebastian dutifully voicing animals while Isla cackled and corrected him.

I’d never imagined this kind of dynamic with him. A year ago, I couldn’t even look at photos of him without feeling that old, deep hurt.

Now, he was in our lives. Tangibly. Steadily. Bit by bit.

And not just when it was convenient.

One afternoon, a month later, we were sat in the garden while Isla napped the baby monitor beside us, my tea half-drunk on the table.

Sebastian was scrolling through his phone with a pinched look on his face.

“What’s up?” I asked, wiping suncream from my wrist.

He hesitated.

“I got papped yesterday,” he said. “Coming out of your building.”

My stomach tightened. “What?”

He turned the phone to show me. A grainy photo clearly taken from across the street. Him holding Isla in one arm, pushing the door open with the other. Her face was angled slightly away, but not enough to be hidden.

“Oh god,” I whispered. “Her face is in it.”

“I know,” he said, jaw tight.

“Was it posted?”

“Not officially. Not by a real outlet. Yet. A few fan accounts have it already though. I’ve already messaged my team. Asked them to make sure no one runs it. But I wanted to be honest. I didn’t see the camera.”

I sat back, heart hammering.

“She’s just a baby,” I muttered.

“I know,” he repeated, more softly this time. “I’m sorry.”

I swallowed hard. “This was always going to be the hardest part.”

He nodded. “I don’t want her dragged into anything. Not without your say. And hers, when she’s old enough to make that decision.”

I looked at him, properly.

“I never wanted to keep her from you,” I said. “But I did want to keep her safe. From this.”

“You’re right to,” he said. “I get it now. More than ever.”

We sat in silence a beat.

“I’ll be more careful,” he said. “Always. I’ll wear the stupid hat. I’ll do what it takes.”

I smiled faintly. “You in a stupid hat is its own public risk.”

He chuckled, the tension breaking slightly.

“She’s priority,” he said. “Always.”

I nodded, finally allowing myself to believe it.

A few days later, I found a locked folder in my inbox.

Private photos for Y/N and Isla only.

Inside: professional-grade images of Sebastian with Isla. Ones I hadn’t taken.

One of them sitting on a park bench, her tiny fingers tangled in his hair. Another of him kneeling beside her in front of a fountain, both their faces lit up in pure laughter. They weren’t for press. Just for us.

He’d hired someone discreet. Kind. Someone who wouldn’t sell them.

I opened the last one a quiet shot of the two of them under a tree, her asleep on his chest, his head resting lightly against hers.

Tears welled in my eyes before I could stop them.

Not because it hurt.

But because it was healing.

“Can I keep one in my wallet?” he asked the next day. “Or is that… too much?”

“Of course you can,” I said, handing him a small print.

He held it like it was made of gold.

That weekend, he took Isla for an overnight. My first night without her since she’d been born.

I won’t lie I paced the house like a restless cat. But Sebastian texted updates without me having to ask.

-She made me sing ‘Twinkle Twinkle’ six times before bed. Slightly off-key. She was not impressed.

-Porridge everywhere. Literally. Everywhere. Might burn this hoodie.

-She named a duck “Simon Sebastian Stan” today. Not sure whether to be honoured or worried.

I laughed through my tears.

The next morning, they returned both wearing matching duck-print pyjamas from the gift shop.

“She insisted,” he said, half apologising.

“I love it,” I said truthfully.

She flung herself into my arms like she’d been gone a year. “Mummy I miss you!”

I held her tightly. “I missed you too, sweetheart.”

Sebastian watched us, his eyes warm.

“I can’t believe how much she changes week to week,” he said. “Every new word. Every new thing she does. I don’t want to miss any of it.”

“You won’t,” I said softly. “Not anymore.”

We weren’t perfect. There were disagreements. Moments where we both got defensive, or overwhelmed. But every time, we circled back to what mattered. To her.

We never called ourselves anything. Not co-parents. Not friends. Not… more. We were still figuring that out.

But we were present. We were kind. And Isla, clever little sponge that she was, knew she was safe. She was loved.

One night, as I tucked her into bed, she pulled me close and whispered, “I love Mummy. I love Daddy. We all together.”

I kissed her forehead, my throat tight.

“Yes, baby. We’re all together.”

The morning Sebastian left for New York, Isla was still asleep.

He stood in the doorway to her room, his hand resting lightly on the frame, watching her chest rise and fall in steady rhythm. A stuffed dinosaur was tucked beneath her chin. Her curls were everywhere, as usual.

“Want to wake her?” I whispered.

He shook his head slowly. “She looks too peaceful. I’ll FaceTime her when I land.”

I nodded, swallowing the lump forming in my throat.

It wasn’t like this was permanent. He was only going for two weeks. Filming some last-minute reshoots, meetings, events. All the usual chaos that had once seemed so far removed from my quiet life.

But now it was tangled up in ours.

“You packed her drawings?” I asked, handing him the rolled-up bundle Isla had insisted he take.

He smiled, tucking them carefully into the front of his carry-on. “Front and centre.”

Then he looked at me that soft look he wore lately when he wasn’t quite sure what to say.

“Thanks,” he said. “For trusting me with all of this. For letting me be in it. Even when I didn’t make it easy.”

I didn’t say anything. Just hugged him tightly and let go a second later than I meant to.

That evening, the FaceTime came right on time.

“ISLA!” he shouted playfully from his hotel room, his face filling the screen. “Hi, monkey!”

“Daddy!” she shrieked, practically launching herself at the phone in my hand. I steadied it with both hands as she clambered into my lap, eyes wide.

“You there?” he asked, tilting the phone to show her a small plushie she’d given him. “Look who came with me.”

“That’s Duck!” she giggled. “Duck go New York!”

“He says he misses you.”

“Where’s New York?” she asked, frowning.

Sebastian chuckled. “Very, very far away.”

“Far like Nanny’s house?”

“Even farther than Nanny’s.”

She blinked. “But why you go?”

My heart squeezed.

He smiled gently. “I had to do some work, baby. But just for a little while.”

She studied his face seriously, then looked at me. “He come back?”

I nodded. “He always comes back, love.”

Sebastian leaned in closer to the screen. “I’ll be back before you know it. And I’ll bring you something special.”

She gasped. “A horse?”

“Maybe not a real horse.”

“A big horse?”

“A… toy horse,” he offered.

She considered that. “Okay. But pink.”

He laughed. “You drive a hard bargain.”

Each night after that, the calls became routine. She'd hold up her latest drawing, or babble about what she ate for lunch. He’d ask questions. Listen. Pull faces to make her laugh.

On the fourth night, she was quieter. Sleepier.

She leaned against me, cheek resting on my shoulder while the phone sat propped in front of us.

“Long day?” Sebastian asked.

“She ran the entire length of the park three times,” I said, adjusting the camera so he could see her properly.

“She’s training for a toddler marathon,” he joked. “I respect the hustle.”

“Mmm,” she murmured.

“Hi baby,” he said gently. “You tired?”

She nodded without lifting her head. “You come back soon?”

“Very soon.”

“Okay,” she whispered, already half-gone.

And then slowly, right there in my lap, she drifted off.

One chubby hand curled around my sleeve. The other still loosely clutching a toy she hadn't let go of all day.

I didn’t move. Didn’t dare.

Sebastian watched her from the screen, his face soft, quiet.

“She’s perfect,” he whispered.

“I know,” I murmured, brushing a curl from her eyes.

We sat like that the three of us in our own little stillness for a long moment.

“I hate being away,” he said eventually. His voice cracked just slightly. “Even when I’m doing something I love. It feels like I’m missing real life.”

“She misses you,” I said. “She asks where you are every time she sees your shoes in the hall.”

His expression faltered, and for a second, he didn’t say anything.

“I miss her too. And you.”

I glanced at the screen.

He looked tired. Jet-lagged, sure, but also… something more. That specific ache of absence you only feel for the people who’ve rooted themselves in you.

“She’ll be here when you get back,” I said softly. “So will I.”

He swallowed. “Can I call tomorrow morning too? I want to say good morning before I go to set.”

“Of course.”

We both lingered, neither of us ready to hang up just yet.

Isla snored gently against my shoulder.

“Sleep well, monkey,” he whispered.

I smiled. “Night, Seb.”

“Night,” he said. “Give her an extra cuddle from me.”

“I will.”

The screen went dark.

But the space he’d made for himself in our routines, in Isla’s heart, and maybe in mine too was still very much there.

The flight tracker said he landed at 8:06 a.m.

By 9:00, Isla was in her favourite dress the one with tiny strawberries all over it pacing the hallway with Duck the plushie gripped tight in her arms.

“When Daddy home?” she asked for the fifth time.

“Soon, baby. He’s in a car on the way.”

She looked at the door with suspicion, like she didn’t quite believe me.

Then the knock.

She shrieked. “DADDY!”

I barely managed to unlock the door before she was pulling it open herself.

And there he was. Jet-lagged. Bag slung over his shoulder. A plastic bag in his hand that I could already tell contained something pink and equestrian-themed.

“Horse!” Isla gasped.

“I told you I’d bring one,” he grinned.

She leapt into his arms, and he caught her effortlessly, burying his face in her hair.

I stepped back, letting them have that moment the kind that made my chest ache and swell at the same time.

It wasn’t until later, after breakfast and playgrounds and a nap that ended with Isla drooling on his chest on the couch, that I noticed the quiet between us.

The kind that wasn’t strained. Just... full.

Full of everything we hadn’t said yet.

That night, the flat was calm.

Isla had gone down easier than usual, her little body worn out by the day’s excitement. Duck was tucked under her chin, and Sebastian had read her two bedtime stories in a voice softened by exhaustion and something deeper.

Now we sat in the lounge, two mugs of tea cooling on the coffee table, a film playing quietly in the background that neither of us was really watching.

I was curled into the corner of the sofa. Sebastian sat on the floor, his back against the opposite end, head tilted back, eyes half-closed.

“You alright?” I asked gently.

He nodded slowly. “Yeah. Just coming back to earth a bit.”

“Busy trip?”

“Busy brain.”

I hummed. “Understandable.”

He looked over at me then. Really looked.

“You’re good with her,” he said softly. “She’s lucky to have you.”

“She’s easy to love,” I replied.

A pause. Then...

“I think about it a lot,” he said.

“What?”

“What it would’ve been like if I’d called you back.”

I swallowed, heat creeping up the back of my neck. “Sebastian”

“No, I know. I’m not asking you to make it easier. I was a coward. I shut everything out. I can’t explain it without sounding pathetic.”

He looked down at his hands. “But every time I see her every time she says my name or shows me something she’s proud of I wonder what I missed. I wonder how I could’ve been so stupid.”

“You’re here now,” I said. “That’s what matters.”

“Is it?”

I looked at him. His expression was open, raw. Like he wasn’t asking for forgiveness, just understanding.

“She doesn’t know any different,” I said. “And she loves you. She’s never once questioned whether you belong. Kids are funny that way.”

He nodded, quiet again.

The film ended. The flat fell into silence but for the occasional creak of the floorboards and the distant hum of traffic outside.

I stretched, pulling the blanket tighter around me.

“You don’t have to stay on the floor, you know,” I said, tilting my head toward the space beside me.

He hesitated, then climbed up beside me, cautious, like he wasn’t sure of the rules.

We sat close not touching, but near enough that the air felt different.

“I missed this,” he said. “Not just Isla. You.”

I looked at him carefully. “Seb...”

“I know. I’m not asking for anything,” he said quickly. “I just needed you to know.”

I nodded, heart thudding, unsure what to say.

He shifted, lying back across the sofa, head resting lightly on my thigh.

I froze.

“Okay?” he asked.

I didn’t trust my voice, so I just nodded.

His breathing evened out slowly, the weight of him warm and real.

I ran my fingers gently through his hair a motion so instinctive it scared me a little.

“Sebastian?”

He hummed sleepily.

“You’re not the only one who thinks about it,” I said quietly.

He didn’t reply. Maybe he was already asleep.

But his hand found mine and held it just tightly enough to answer me.

I woke up to the sound of Isla’s giggles bright, squeaky ones that tumbled through the hallway like a soundtrack to joy itself.

I rubbed my eyes, the warmth of the morning sun pouring across the duvet. My legs were tangled in the sheets, hair sticking up in every direction. But none of that mattered because her laugh that laugh was the kind that made everything feel okay.

Then I heard his voice.

Low. Sleep-rough. Warm in a way that made my chest ache.

“Easy now, chef. We don’t want eggshells in the batter.”

“Eggie shell funny!” Isla squealed.

I sat up and blinked blearily toward the door. My flat felt different with him in it. Lighter somehow. Full.

I padded into the kitchen quietly, leaning against the doorframe.

Sebastian was standing at the counter his hair still messy from sleep. Isla sat on the counter in her little lemon pyjamas, gripping a whisk with both hands, entirely focused on the bowl in front of her.

“Morning,” I said softly.

Two heads turned.

“Mummy!” Isla chirped, bouncing slightly on the counter.

“Morning,” Sebastian echoed, smile crooking as he held up a wooden spoon. “We’re making pancakes. Or attempting to.”

“Only a few casualties so far,” I said, nodding at the flour all over the counter.

“And her,” he grinned, nodding at Isla’s cheeks, which were dusted white.

“I a pancake,” she giggled, beaming.

“You’re a beautiful pancake,” I murmured, crossing the kitchen and brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.

Sebastian handed me a mug of tea black and strong, just how I liked it without needing to ask.

“Thank you,” I said, surprised by the small detail.

“Always.”

Our eyes met for a beat too long.

Then Isla sneezed flour all over his shirt, and we both burst into laughter.

Breakfast was messy and chaotic.

Pancakes were too brown on one side, syrup was everywhere, and Isla somehow got butter in her hair.

But I couldn’t stop smiling.

Once Isla was down for her midday nap, the flat fell quiet again.

I was rinsing dishes at the sink when Sebastian came up beside me, towel in hand.

“Let me help,” he said, nudging my shoulder gently.

We worked in silence for a moment not heavy silence, but thoughtful.

Then he said, “Last night… was nice.”

I glanced at him. “Yeah. It was.”

“And this morning?”

I smiled. “Even nicer.”

He looked down at the dish in his hands. “You know, when I’m with her and you it feels easy. Like I can breathe.”

I dried my hands on the towel slowly. “It is easy,” I said. “When we’re not overthinking everything.”

“I’m trying not to,” he admitted. “But I keep wondering… is there a version of this where we figure it out? Not just co-parenting. I mean us.”

The air felt still for a moment, like the flat was listening too.

I met his eyes, steady and honest. “Seb, I don’t have the answers yet. We’re still healing. Still learning how to be… this.”

“I know. I’m not rushing it,” he said quickly. “I just want you to know I’m here. For both of you. For real.”

I nodded, heart beating in my throat.

“Thank you,” I whispered.

He reached out, his pinkie brushing mine lightly. Not a grab. Just a touch.

It was enough.

Later, while Isla napped curled up like a tiny comma in her cot, I found Sebastian in the lounge, flipping through one of her picture books, eyes distant.

I sat down beside him, close but not touching.

“You okay?” I asked.

He smiled faintly. “Yeah. Just thinking about how much time I missed.”

“You’re making up for it now.”

He looked at me then really looked. “I don’t want to miss anything else.”

“You won’t,” I said. “As long as you keep showing up.”

“I will,” he said.

When Sebastian first mentioned going out for the day properly out, not just the local park or walking Isla in the pram before sunrise I didn’t say no.

But I didn’t say yes either.

It was a quiet evening, the three of us curled on the sofa, Isla half-asleep on my lap with her bunny clutched tightly to her chest, her curls stuck to her forehead. I watched him watching her eyes soft, protective, still amazed by her.

That look always got to me.

He reached over, gently adjusted her sock so it wouldn’t slip off, then glanced up at me.

“I was thinking,” he said, cautious. “It might be nice to take her out somewhere. Maybe Covent Garden. The street performers, bubble guys she’d love it.”

I felt my stomach twist. “You mean, in public? Like… properly public?”

He nodded slowly. “Yeah. I know it’s a risk, but I’ve spoken to my publicist.”

Of course he had.

“She’s already drafted a statement,” he continued, voice low. “Said we can pre-empt the press interest. Make it clear we’re not hiding anything but also set a hard line.”

“And that line is?” I asked, not unkindly.

“No publishing Isla’s face. Full stop. Anyone who does gets hit with legal.”

I swallowed. “Will that actually work?”

“It’s been done before. She said if we post something ourselves a photo that shows we’re a family, without exposing too much most of the reputable outlets will follow suit. Anyone who doesn’t… well, that’s where the lawyers step in.”

I didn’t answer right away. I looked down at Isla. At her tiny hand curled around my hoodie string. She looked so peaceful, so safe.

“We can keep it lowkey,” he said gently. “We’ll take the buggy. Stay in busy areas. No big gestures, no hand-holding if that makes you uncomfortable.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about,” I said quietly. “I just… I never wanted her in this world.”

“I know,” he said. “But she’s my world. And I don’t want to hide that.”

I looked up at him, and for once, I didn’t see the actor. I didn’t see the tabloid fixture, the Marvel star. I saw him the man who read bedtime stories in funny voices and cried when Isla called him Daddy for the first time.

“Okay,” I said. “But we do it our way. On our terms.”

He nodded, eyes filled with something heavy and grateful. “Always.”

The next morning, the post went up.

A candid black-and-white photo of Sebastian’s hand in mine, and Isla’s tiny hand in both of ours just our fingers, nothing more. His caption read:

Family means everything to me. Please respect the privacy of our daughter. She’s not part of this industry, and she deserves to grow up without flashbulbs in her face. Thank you for your kindness and understanding.

It was short. It was heartfelt. And it worked mostly.

His publicist followed up with media contacts, reinforcing the boundaries. Within hours, our names were trending. The comments were a chaotic mix of shock, support, and inevitable speculation. But no one knew her name. No one had a clear image of her face.

And for now, that was enough.

We stepped out just before noon.

Isla was bouncing in her buggy, chattering to her toy bunny as I clipped her hat beneath her chin. Sebastian wore a hoodie pulled low and sunglasses, and I had a cap on, hair tucked behind my ears.

It wasn’t exactly a disguise. But it helped.

As soon as we reached the heart of Covent Garden, the world buzzed around us music, smells from food stalls, children laughing, buskers drawing crowds.

Sebastian wheeled the buggy while I held Isla’s snack pouch, and for a brief stretch of time, it felt normal. Ordinary.

Until I heard it the faint click of a shutter.

Then another.

He caught my eye.

“You okay?” he asked.

I nodded. “Yeah. Just… don’t leave my side.”

“Never,” he said without hesitation.

We sat at a little outdoor café, tucked behind a flower stall. Sebastian ordered coffee, I got tea and a fruit salad to share. Isla sat on his lap, pointing at pigeons and mimicking their noises, which made us both laugh more than we should’ve.

I saw a phone aimed at us from across the square. Not a pap, just someone who recognised him.

“Here it starts,” I murmured.

Sebastian didn’t flinch. He just leaned in, kissed Isla’s forehead, and whispered something to make her giggle.

“I can’t pretend this won’t happen,” he said quietly. “But I promise you I’ll handle it. You and Isla, you come first.”

I looked at him, at the little crinkle by his eyes, the way he held her like it was instinct.

“You already are,” I said, barely louder than the wind.

Later that afternoon, we wandered through the quieter side streets, stopping by a toy shop where Isla picked out a fabric book with animals and squeaky buttons. The clerk gave us a knowing smile but said nothing.

Just as we were heading home, I felt Isla tug on my wrist.

“More Daddy time?” she asked sleepily, blinking up at him from the buggy.

His expression melted.

“I’ll be around a lot more, sweet pea,” he promised. “As much as I can.”

She reached for him, and he scooped her up without hesitation.

I watched them, hand over my heart, unsure when this became our life.

By the time we got back home, Isla was already nodding off in her car seat, her little bunny clutched tight to her chest like it had been through battle with her.

Sebastian carried her up the stairs without a word, holding her with a gentleness that never failed to gut me a little. I trailed behind, carrying her bag and the folded buggy, trying to breathe out the tension I hadn’t realised I’d been holding all day.

The moment the front door shut behind us, the outside world slipped away like fog clearing from glass.

Seb gently laid Isla down in her cot, brushing her curls back with the edge of his finger. She stirred, mumbled something about “bubble man”, and rolled over, thumb making its way to her mouth.

I watched from the doorway, my arms crossed, still trying to settle the thrum beneath my ribs.

He looked up at me. “She’s okay.”

“Yeah,” I said, softer than I meant to. “She’s more than okay.”

He followed me back into the living room, collapsing onto the sofa with a sigh and scrubbing a hand over his face.

“Well,” he muttered, “we survived.”

I chuckled despite myself. “Barely.”

There was a moment of quiet. Not awkward just… full. Charged.

I sat next to him, close enough to share a cushion but not quite touching. He leaned his head back and looked at the ceiling.

“How are you doing?” he asked, voice gentle.

I hesitated. “I think I expected it to be worse. More invasive. But it wasn’t.”

“That’s the bar now?” he asked with a wry smile. “Not completely soul-crushing?”

I gave him a look. “It’s better than her face on a tabloid tomorrow morning.”

He nodded. “Yeah. It is.”

A beat.

“I meant what I said,” he added, quieter now. “About putting you two first. This wasn’t just a PR decision. I want her to grow up feeling normal, even if nothing about this setup is.”

I bit my bottom lip, chewing on it a little. “You’re doing a good job so far. She adores you.”

His eyes warmed at that, softened in a way that made my chest ache.

“She’s… she’s everything,” he murmured.

And then he turned to me.

“And so are you, you know. I know we’ve not really talked about… whatever this is. But I notice the way you look out for her. The way you still look out for me. Even after everything.”

I swallowed, feeling the tension rise again not the anxious kind, but something else. A quiet, invisible tether tightening.

“It’s not easy,” I admitted. “Letting you back in.”

“I know.”

“I’m scared,” I said, almost in a whisper. “Not just of the press. Of us. Of opening the door again when I spent so long forcing myself to close it.”

His face fell a little, but he nodded slowly. “I get that.”

“I’m not saying never,” I added, hurriedly. “Just… not yet.”

He turned fully to face me, elbows resting on his knees, his fingers laced together.

“Then I’ll wait,” he said simply. “Whatever pace you need. I’m not going anywhere.”

The sincerity in his voice made my eyes sting.

I blinked, then cleared my throat. “Come on. Let’s have something to eat. We didn’t finish lunch, thanks to the pigeon incident.”

He laughed, that real laugh, low and breathy. “She tried to share her breadstick with it. That was pretty generous.”

I stood, walking to the kitchen, and called over my shoulder, “She gets that from me.”

Dinner was leftovers reheated pasta, garlic bread, and some roasted veg that had seen better days. But we ate at the kitchen island, still in our coats, talking about nothing and everything.

He told me about a script he was reading. I told him about Isla’s obsession with the alphabet song. We laughed when he tried to mimic her little voice and failed miserably.

And after we put the dishes in the sink and dimmed the lights, we just sat there, side by side, listening to the rain tap against the windows.

“Do you think she’ll remember today?” he asked after a while.

“Maybe not the details,” I said, resting my chin in my hand. “But she’ll remember the feeling. Of being loved. Of being safe.”

He nodded, eyes distant but full.

“I’m glad it was with you,” he murmured.

I didn’t respond not with words. But I reached out, resting my hand gently on top of his.

He looked down at the touch, then up at me, and smiled. Not the movie star smile. The real one. Quiet, a little sad, a little hopeful.

[juiles]

Horror Movie Queen

Requested: yes

Summary: a teen reader whos done a bunch of horror movies is filming a scene where she has to scream, freaks everyone out in the cast. Italics is the filmed scene.

Tags: really just fluff except one mention of torture and hitting

Masterlist here.

Request form here.

Taglist here:

A/N: Its short but its something new. i think im getting back to writing again so thats exciting!!

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Y/n sat staring at the star studded cast in front of her at the reading table. Scarlett Johansson, Robert Downey Jr., Tom Holland, Elizabeth Olsen. It was wild all the people she had spent her whole life looking up to, and here she was, about to film a whole Marvel movie with them.

This was new territory for her too. A whole new genre of movie, different from the horror movies she was known for. The rest of the cast didn’t watch her movies so they didn’t know how she worked.

“Y/n? You okay?” Chris Evans asked waving his hand around in front of her face. “You zoned out there.” He added softly to the teen who flushed slightly and nodded looking down at her hands. “Have you done enough reading now? Are you ready to get into costume and makeup?”

Y/n paused for a moment picking at her fingers before she looked up and nodded. “Yeah. Ill go get ready. I’ll see you guys tomorrow?” She took a quick glance around at everyone who shot her small nods before she disappeared. When she finally came to set, fully ready for her scene, her manager waved her over.

“Okay… lets get this over with guys.” She said, her manager chuckling at the bored look on the teenagers face that was currently covered in bruises and blood, her clothes hanging off of the girls frail body, a gash across her face where a scar usually sat on her characters face.

She was filming her background scene, how her character, Maddison, got where she was, fighting with the Avengers. The torture and pain the character had gone through obvious with the way she was dressed. “Alright you, are you ready to scream?” Thomas asked the girl with a grimace, knowing what he had to pretend to do to the girl. She nodded and stepped on to the set, a cold damp cell that had red splatter all over one wall, showing what she was supposed to have gone through. Thomas stepped forward, the director getting ready for filming, unknown to the teen, the rest of her cast mates stepped in to the studio, hiding in the shadows.

Scarlett elbowed a nervous looking Lizzie who motioned to the makeup on the girls face, the blonde shook her head slightly motioning to be quiet with a finger to her lips. Evans eyes widened as he studied the gash on the girls face. They all knew it was makeup, but as they had grown protective of the young girl, it scared them all. The all focused in on the girl when the director called action.

--Filming scene--

Maddison, a 13 year old girl who had been kidnapped by Baron Strucker at the age of 5, sat huddled against the bloody wall, her whole body shaking as she slowly lifted her head, a giant gash across her face, towards the man standing in front of her. The man merely raised his hand that held a ragged, rusty dagger and slashed down at the girl, her face getting slashed.

The girl let out a blood curdling scream, a scream so loud it even made Strucker take a step back out of shock. The man then turned on his heel and slammed the cell door closed whispering to the girl. “No one will ever want someone as disgusting as you.”

--Scene over--

The director called cut and y/n stood up and with a lack of emotion on her face and grabbed her water bottle. She had barely gotten a sip of it when she was collided with, a pair of arms wrapping around her, gripping her tightly. The teen squeaked as she tried to move the blonde hair to see the horrified look of all her adult castmates standing around her. She patted the back of what she assumed to be Scarlett with a look of confusion running across her face.

“What was that?” Mark asked as he nervously twisted his hands. “How did you bring that up? That was so real…”

“What do you mean?” Y/n asked as Scarlett finally pulled back. “I’m confused?”

“It was very convincing sounding darling.” The actress said, one hand not leaving the teens arm. “Are you okay?”

“Oh. I’m fine?” She responded. “I did- have you guys never seen any of my movies?”

RDJ looked at the girl sheepishly. “Your movies are intense kid… theyre a little scary for most of us.” The teen barked out a laugh shaking her head.

“My whole career I’ve only done horror movies, that scream just is what it is at this point. Nothing behind it, just 5 years of perfecting it.” She said with a small shrug and a small smirk on her face.

“Jesus kid, you gave us a heart attack as a whole.” Hemsworth chuckled as he ruffled the girls hair making the teen roll her eyes with a small smile as she was called back to the set.

Taglist: @mythixmagic @boredandneedfanfics @natashamaximoff-69 @asiangmrchk13

[makeitmakesomesense]

The Next Copernicus

Scarlett Johansson x Reader

Word Count: 1.9k

A/N: This is a lovely prompt from a lovely anon. It also uses a prompt from @taylorswiftmicrofic for the 16th of January, which is 'golden'.

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Sometimes Scarlett gave you a look. 

It was a careful kind of look. A cautious smile and a long stare. 

It was gratitude. 

Usually, you’d reach for her hand. You’d give it a small squeeze and let her smile widen with the easy pleasure of being together. 

You didn’t say anything because she didn’t need to be grateful. You had no right to expect a beautiful life to be simple. For one thing, it wouldn’t be half as interesting.

.

The introduction to Scarlett’s daughter was always going to be a slow one. You supported it readily. It was easy to tell that they were each other’s world.

When Scarlett talked about her daughter, you could tell you were listening to her biggest fan. It was the kind of endless love that can’t hide itself. A dry comment about her never-ending princess phase, sounded too tender to be sarcasm.

Scarlett asked you about the future after only a few dates. You could tell she was nervous about bringing it up. She told you that she knew it was stupid to be asking. She told you she didn’t really expect any answers. 

You’d been expecting the conversation. With her career, an international co-parenting arrangement and a young daughter. Scarlett was like the sun in a complicated solar system. There was no question of expecting all the sunlight for yourself.

You told her that. In a stumbling explanation that sounded silly to your own ears.

Scarlett’s smile softened. She gave you a careful kind of look.

‘I’m not really the sun.’ She said after a moment. ‘Sometimes none of it is easy. I’m not easy. Sometimes I’m horrible. I’m mean and tired and stressed because everything is going wrong and it feels like my fault.’ 

You remembered the last date you’d had with her. It had been the evening after Scarlett’s daughter had left to stay with her father. Scarlett had barely mentioned that fact in passing when she’d invited you to her house.

Something had felt off from the start. A quiet exhaustion from her that you couldn’t place. Scarlett kept closer to you than usual but you could tell her mind was farther away. She started telling you she was worried about a new project she’d signed up for, and then she trailed off halfway forgetting her train of thought.  

She’d offered to cook on the phone, but when it got late she just shrugged and suggested take out instead. She drank more wine than usual, in that melancholy way that means it’s not about the wine. You could tell she didn’t like her home so empty. When you suggested staying over, she’d looked relieved. 

Scarlett’s life was complicated in ways that you knew you didn’t understand.

.

‘I’m not the sun.’ Scarlett repeated carefully, her tired stare willing you to heed the warning.

‘Okay.’ You’d shrugged, with a smile full of playful disagreement. You reached out casually until your hand brushed her arm.

You pretended to hiss out as you yanked your hand back. You pretended to cradle it to your chest.

‘Wow you’re like a million degrees.’ You muttered. You glanced back up to Scarlett and her smile full of exasperated fondness. 

You pretended to squint, shading your eyes. ‘Sorry, you’re just so blindingly bright.’

Scarlett smacked your arm playfully and then she kissed you with an urgency that told you everything she didn’t say.

.

You first met Scarlett’s daughter through a series of carefully constructed casual meetings. You came to hang out with her and Scarlett for a few hours one Saturday. You’d arrived more prepared than you’d ever been for a job interview.

Your Disney Princess knowledge was immediately to the test and you rattled off information confidently about Elsa and Anna and the overall state of Arendelle. 

After you made a comment about something being ‘so Olaf’, Scarlett turned to you with an exaggerated look of surprise.

‘I studied.’ You whispered with a wink as you grabbed her empty coffee mug and left to go refill it. Scarlett’s lips pressed together as she tried not to give you her widest smile. 

You smirked knowingly as you left.

.

It took six months to get to an easy rhythm. 

The first time it happened, Scarlett called you with barely hidden delight in her voice. She told you that her daughter had asked if you were free that Saturday. And if you’d ever been to see the ducks at the local park.

The stamp of approval from Scarlett’s daughter was slow to achieve and then unwaveringly absolute. She held your hand for an hour, pointing out the best parts of a park that was very ordinary. She explained which ducks were nicer than the others.

That night, after her daughter had gone to bed, Scarlett stood with you in the kitchen. You were going to leave any minute but the triumph of the day had kept you a little longer. A glass of white wine in one hand. Scarlett undid her hairstyle, letting the loose hair frame her face. Her eyes glittered when she looked at you. Unthinkingly perfect. 

Scarlett moved closer to you, she let her head rest on your shoulder. You swayed together to imaginary music. You kissed her hair and let the golden waves fill your mind. She was daylight in the morning, even at night. 

.

Going public was a phrase that you started to hear more and more. You must have missed the first time Scarlett had tentatively dropped it into a conversation. You’d clearly missed a few more cues. 

That’s what you learned when Scarlett returned to the bedroom to wake you up, still in her gym clothes from an early morning workout.

There was something confrontational about her stance at the end of the bed. The sharpness in the way she busied herself, changing into her clothes for the rest of the day.

‘You practically live here already.’ She told you in a slightly tense tone. 

‘I do.’ You agreed unsurely, trying not to look as sleepy as you felt. 

‘I know it’s horrible when a relationship goes public.’ Scarlett continued with a brittle kind of force. ‘No-one knows that better than me. It’s always horrible. It’s never easy. Last time -.’ She hesitated as she caught herself falling into a story about her ex. 

‘He hated it.’ You surmised carefully, offering her a cautious smile. 

‘Yes.’ Scarlett’s gaze turned worried now. She threw her t-shirt into the laundry basket. She paused for a moment, pretending to look out at the view of the backyard. After a moment, she asked quietly.

‘So, what about you? Would you hate it too?’

‘Being with you?’ You teased, leaning forward to touch her bare back reassuringly. You felt her relax at your touch. ‘Being with you anywhere, any time, any place. That’s the dream.’ 

Scarlett pressed her back against you and you heard her sigh. She reached for your hand and gave it a wordless squeeze. 

You yawned suddenly, your body reluctantly accepting that you were definitely awake. 

‘I don’t know how you can sleep so long.’ Scarlett teased suddenly as she turned and reached around your body for a fresh t-shirt. 

You rolled your eyes and pretended to look outraged. ‘Hey! Do you know how hard it is to try and fall asleep next to the sun?’

You felt the playful whip of the t-shirt against your shoulder and the stupid smile spreading across your face. 

.

Nothing was going to plan. 

The live Frozen show was everything Scarlett’s daughter had dreamed about. 

The traffic meant you were probably going to miss the first ten minutes. 

You were all officially blaming the traffic and not Scarlett’s urgent work call that had delayed leaving in the first place.

You sat in the back of the taxi, talking to her daughter and pretending Scarlett didn’t look stressed out of her mind. You watched her in the corner of your eye, refreshing her email impatiently for whatever they’d promised to send on the call. 

You were engaged in a lengthy discussion of ranking all the best Disney princesses. You were asking every follow up question you could think of, just to make the conversation stretch out. 

Scarlett shot you a look of quiet stress and you tried to give her a small smile. Her expression shifted into one of disappointment. At herself, at her unrelenting work life. The complicated balance you would never understand. 

‘Which princess is your Mom?’ You asked loudly, giving Scarlett a pointed grin as you sat back and let her daughter present one of her favourite discussion topics. 

When the taxi finally pulled up outside the theatre, there was a brief moment when everything felt lighter than air. Your arm was around Scarlett’s waist, her hand was on her daughter’s shoulder.

As you left the taxi, you realised you were just down the street, as close as the taxi could get to the front of the theater. 

You heard the first click and felt Scarlett tense instantly beside you.

It was something like facing a swarm of animals. 

You met an onslaught of paparazzi like you had never experienced before. You moved forward instinctively, leaving Scarlett’s daughter sandwiched safely in the space between yourself and her mother. You pushed forward, trying to clear a path through the sea of shouting people. 

Despite the bedlam, you heard one of the worst noises you’d ever heard. 

Scarlett’s daughter let out a quiet, worried cry. You felt yourself react before your mind had engaged. 

You spun around, lifting her up easily. You didn’t have time to understand what had scared her.

‘Hey. Watch it.’ You snapped at the crowd. ‘You could hurt my kid.’

You felt the burrowing of a small face against your neck and knew your only option was to get to the theater as fast as possible. 

You didn’t pause until you were inside the silent theater lobby. A member of staff gave you a wide eyed look. 

Scarlett came in behind you a moment later. 

‘Sorry.’ You murmured, as you walked over to give her a careful hug. ‘I thought hurrying was our best option.’ You gave a meaningful glance at her daughter. 

Scarlett wrapped her arms around the pair of you. She kissed her daughter’s head. She gave you a look full of warmth. It told you everything you needed to know. You smiled back and reached down to let her daughter stand back on the ground. 

You took one of her daughter’s hands and Scarlett took the other.

‘Please can we hurry up.’ You pretended to whine suddenly. ‘I really don’t want to miss my favourite songs.’

Scarlett gave you your favourite fond smile as you all walked together to join the audience. 

.

In the brief respite between two songs enthusiastically chanted by the very loud audience, you leaned over to Scarlett.

‘Two suns.’ You told her with a smile. Scarlett’s head tilted in confusion as she leaned closer. 

‘I’m the next Copernicus.’ You told her stupidly. ‘I’m the first person to realise.’ 

Scarlett looked at her daughter, standing out of her seat and ready to sing loudly again. 

‘Two suns.’ She murmured. 

You nodded with fake solemnity. 

‘No wonder we always need the air conditioning on.’

Scarlett gave you a look. It was a careful kind of look. A cautious smile and a long stare. 

You reached for her hand and gave it a small squeeze. You let her smile widen with the easy pleasure of being together. 

You couldn’t ask for anything else.

.

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Requests are still very welcome for future January fics. More info in the pinned post if you're interested in requesting. <3

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[sharkwidow]

Would you be down for writing some Scarlett x teen daughter comfort?

Without a Place | Scarlett Johansson x teenage daughter reader!

୨ৎSummary: You always knew you were just the echo of a love gone. Not quite yours, not quite yours; just caught in the middle.

୨ৎContent warning: depression, self-harm, emotional neglect, maternal comfort.

୨ৎWord count: 1299 words

୨ৎNote:Thanks for the idea, and sorry for the delay in writing. I hope you like how it turned out. ♡︎

You had almost completely stopped talking. Words got stuck between your thoughts, as if they were afraid to come out. You thought too much. You thought about what you were. About what you no longer were. About how everything seemed to move forward without you.

Scarlett had noticed it months ago. Small signs at first, almost invisible to others: the full plate you left untouched, the days you didn’t want to come down for breakfast, entire afternoons locked in your room with the door closed. You no longer laughed. You didn’t complain when Rose, your little sister, took the remote control to watch her favorite cartoons. You just curled up on the couch, into yourself, as if you were falling apart inside.

Scarlett, your mother, felt it with every fiber of her being. Even if you said nothing, even if you whispered in the softest voice, “I’m fine, Mom,” she knew you weren’t. She knew the day she had to cancel a whole scene because she couldn’t concentrate on set. She sat in front of the dressing room mirror for over an hour, thinking about you. Thinking about how you felt displaced. About how it hurt you not to be Colin Jost’s daughter—the man she now shared her life with and Rose’s father. Even though she always made it clear that nothing changed for her, you couldn’t help feeling like you were on the sidelines, out of the picture.

You were Ryan Reynolds’ daughter, from a love that was no longer there, and sometimes it felt like an invisible mark that separated you. Scarlett saw it in your eyes when you watched Rose play with Colin, in how you quietly withdrew. She knew you felt excluded, even if you never said it.

When she took you to therapy for the first time, it was like opening a door you had locked for years. You didn’t want to go, you cried, you said it was useless, that you didn’t want to talk to a stranger about how you felt. But Scarlett didn’t let you fall. She took your hand with a gentle strength, a strength that said, “I’m here for you.” And she kept her promise.

She went with you to every appointment. She would go in with you or wait outside, always present, always attentive. She canceled interviews, rescheduled scenes, even missed lunches with Colin just to be there, to support you. You knew you made her life harder, but she never made you feel like a burden. Never.

One rainy afternoon, while driving to the psychologist, the silence was so heavy you could almost hear your own thoughts. Scarlett drove carefully, her eyes focused on the road, but every now and then she glanced at you. You rested your head against the window, feeling the cold glass, lost in a sea of thoughts you didn’t want to share.

“Did you have breakfast today?” she asked softly, without looking at you.

You tensed, as if the question had pierced your chest. You didn’t answer, but your silence was enough. Scarlett sighed, without pressure, just love.

“I’m not scolding you,” she continued, “I just want your body to be strong. You already have enough to fight inside.”

You knew what she meant. She noticed it in the looks she gave you when you left food on the table, in how you avoided the mirror, in the nights you couldn’t sleep because your mind wouldn’t let you. Sometimes you didn’t eat. Not because you wanted to, but because you felt your body wasn’t a safe place. Scarlett had discovered this slowly, and it hurt her, but she didn’t pressure you. She was there, simply to hold you up.

The house, however, went on as usual for everyone else. Rose, barely seven, filled every corner with her laughter and energy. Colin, kind and patient though he was, couldn’t fully understand the storm that consumed you. And you felt trapped in that limbo, daughter of two people who no longer loved each other, but not fully belonging to either of their worlds. Scarlett was your refuge, yes, but even she had to divide her time, and sometimes that made you feel even more alone.

On your birthday, the house was full of people, lights, and laughter, but the attention wasn’t on you. In the center of the room, Rose, barely seven, sat on your lap, laughing and playing with the balloons. You wanted to blow out your birthday candles, you wanted that small moment for yourself, to feel seen and celebrated, but the relatives, enchanted by the little one, insisted it be Rose’s moment.

“She’s the youngest, come on, let her have her moment,” they said with smiles that hurt you.

Rose blew out the candles while everyone applauded and admired how adorable she was, and you could only smile weakly, feeling yourself fade a little more into the crowd. Then you got up quietly, leaving Rose in another aunt’s lap, and went back to your room.

You closed the door carefully so no noise was heard and sank into the bed, letting the sadness wrap around you. From outside, you could hear the laughter and conversations revolving around Rose, the little one who absorbed all the attention and affection. And although you loved your sister, you couldn’t help but feel that day wasn’t for you.

The silence in your room seemed to embrace you, but also reminded you how lonely you felt. The soft light from the lamp illuminated the corner where you had left your untouched cake. You wanted to get up, blow out the candles, but the weight on your chest wouldn’t let you.

Minutes passed that felt endless until you heard soft footsteps in the hallway. The door opened slowly and Scarlett appeared, her face marked by worry and tiredness.

“Do you want some company?” she asked in the sweetest voice you’d heard in days.

Without answering, you moved to make room, and she sat beside you, taking your hand tenderly.

“I don’t care if I have to give up everything,” Scarlett whispered, her voice broken, “I don’t care if I never return to a set again in my life. The only thing that matters to me is you. You’re my daughter. No one will replace you. Not Colin. Not anyone. You’re part of me. Since the day you were born. And I won’t lose you.”

The tears you had held back spilled uncontrollably. Scarlett hugged you tightly, as if she wanted to protect you from the whole world.

“You don’t have to do this alone,” she whispered. “I’m here. Always.”

The following days were a mix of small steps forward and setbacks. Some mornings you could look in the mirror without hate; other days you just wanted to disappear. Scarlett never pressured you, she only offered you her hand, her time, her love.

There were moments when you went for walks together, without words, just sharing the city’s silence, the fresh air that seemed to ease a bit of the weight inside you. Other times, Scarlett read you your favorite books, trying to make you smile, reminding you of the girl still alive inside you, even if you felt lost.

One night, while watching an old movie on the couch, Rose slept in Scarlett’s lap, and you, for the first time in a long time, felt like you could breathe a little freer.

You knew it wouldn’t be easy or fast, but with Scarlett by your side, you began to understand that healing was possible. That no matter how dark the night seemed, there would always be a dawn waiting for you.

And although the shadow of loneliness had been your companion, you were learning to let your mother’s love be the light that guided you home.

[saraakpotter]

Imagine: Tom Hiddleston talking about your obsession with Loki

Imagine: Tom Hiddleston (your boyfriend) talking about your obsession with Loki in an interview.

You and Tom were at an interview talking about the new y\m\m\n (your marvel movie name) it was the second one which Loki was also in.

“so moving on, y\n, I heard you like Loki a lot…..” The interviewer started just to be cut of by Tom

“a lot?” Tom shouted jokingly “she is obsessed with Loki she even has a green hoodie with Loki symbols on it!” y\n giggled and so did the interviewer.

“no way!” the interviewer joked

“that’s nothing, y\n just show them your phone.” Tom said with his famous smile

y\n burst out laughing hitting his arms playfully “oh come on Tom! Plus I’m that obsessed with Loki!”

“you are not? show them your phone then” Tom said trying to hold back a laughter but failing. y\n showed them her lock screen rolling her eyes playfully and the crowed cheered as they saw a cute picture of Loki as her background picture.

y\n couldn’t help but laugh even harder at Toms half jealous face.

“oh come on Tom, you are literally him!” y\n said teasing him

“no, he’s literally me!” Tom said half-jokingly with his Loki smile.

“oh my god! Is the famous Tom Hiddleston jealous?” y\n faked a dramatic gasp

The interviewer was just laughing and trying to catch his breath

“I’m not jea….” Tom started just to be cut of by y\n

“…of himself?” y\n smirked

Without another word Tom looked at y\n’s seat beside him and then pulled her into a short but loving kiss making the crowed cheer loudly once again.

y\n, now blushing, managed to say: “well…umm…the internet is going to definitely explode tonight!”

“what can I say? You may be Loki’s girlfriend in the movie, but your mine in this universe” Tom smirked “plus the paparazzi was going to catch us doing it sooner or later!”

[ur-fav-inactive-writer]

𝐁𝐚𝐛𝐲 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐧, 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞

𝐬𝐨𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐦𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐚 𝐚𝐮

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: Sebastian Stan x Pregnant!Reader

𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: Im going through a Sebastian/Bucky phase, can you tell? This might be trash but who cares 🕺

part two 🤍

@ynstanofficial and @imsebastianstan

@ynstanoffical WE’RE HAVING A BABY 🫶🤍 Baby Stan coming 2024 🧸

View comments..

@ynstanfanpage1: AHHHHH THIS IS NOT A DRILL BABY WINTER SOLDIER IS OFFICIAL

@chrisevans: AM I GONNA BE THE ONLY ONE WITHOUT KIDS???

@anthonymackie: name them after me

@imsebastianstan: no

@sebastianstanfan1: THEYRE HAVING A BABY OMG MY HEART, CONGRATULATIONS 🫶

@therussobrothers: congratulations from us 💙

@ynstanofficial

@ynstanofficial life’s been pretty great lately, getting closer everyday. 6 months today. Only 3 more months until you’re here, baby girl. Mama loves you so much already 🧸🤍

View comments..

@imsebastianstan: my girls ❤️

@ynstanfan2: HE CALLS THEM HIS GIRLS 😭

@sebastianstanfan2: i’m crying they’re so cute

@ynstanfanpage1: THEYRE HAVING A GIRL?? 🥹

@sebastianstanfan1: sebastian as a girl dad i can’t do this today 😭

@anthonymackie: still think you should name her after me

@imsebastianstan: still no

@ynstanofficial: anthony no

@twhiddleston: congrats!! 💙

@imsebastianstan

@ynstanofficial

@imsebastianstan

@imsebastianstan 1 week to go! 🍼 I did not know pregnant women slept this much, genuinely think she might be dead. Love you though, @ynstanofficial ❤️

View comments..

@ynstanofficial: low-key feeling exposed, you did not tell me you took this picture

@imsebastianstan: you look fine don’t be dramatic

@ynstanfanpage1: they’re so couple goals

@chrisevans: how is she here in a week oh my god

@robertdowneyjr: so excited for you guys 💙

@sebastiansmyhusband: oh my god one week until girl dad sebastian i’m dying

@ynstanofficial: loving the username

@sebastiansmyhusband: OH MY GOD YN READ MY COMMENT OH MY GOD

@ynstanofficial

@ynstanofficial Day away from being due and absolutely nothing :( Having one of THOSE weeks. ☹️ I haven’t gotten off of the couch all day and I’m answering every phone call with ‘No, I am not in labour yet.’ Everything hurts and I want nothing more than for this baby to just get out to me. Hoping baby girl makes her appearance real soon 🤞🏼🤍

View comments..

@scarlettjohansson: i’ve been there 😂 always here if you need it 💗

@chrisevans: tell her to hurry up so i can come visit already

@imsebastianstan: i’ll try my best

@ynstanfanpage1: i am checking insta every two seconds waiting for the birth announcement

@yourmomsnameofficial: one week until my first granddaughter 😭💗

@ynstanofficial: love you mama 🥹🤍

@imsebastianstan: she’s making me do the dishes and cooking cause she won’t get off the couch 😔

@tomholland2013: YES @ynstanofficial SERVES HIM RIGHT

@imsebastianstan: you’re getting blocked.

@anthonymackie: tom get out of here

@ynstanofficial: you guys are horrible leave tom alone

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐓𝐖𝐎 🫶 Had to split up due to the 10 image limit per post 😔

[th3mrskory]

✨Absolute works of art!✨

All the works listed in this masterlist are for mature audiences and contain adult themes. Please proceed responsibly.

Hello friends!

This masterlist is a heartfelt collection of works that have captivated me, stayed with me, and, honestly, left me more than a little obsessed. These stories are nothing short of masterpieces, crafted by authors whose talent knows no bounds, bringing characters and worlds to life in ways that feel almost tangible.

It’s important to note that none of these stories are mine. Each one belongs to the brilliant writers who poured their creativity and heart into them. I’m simply here to share the love and appreciation for their work.

To the authors: thank you, sincerely, for sharing your talent and for creating these worlds that let us escape, feel, and dream.

You’ve made a mark on me as a reader, and I hope this masterlist helps others fall in love with your stories as much as I have.

Logan Howlett

@bluetimeombre

Hugh and you are WIRED

@briseroyawritingsblog

Futuristic Lover (Masterlist)

@bpmiranda

Friendly competition

Role Play

Off Camera

Guard Dog

Best in The Business

@cupidscorpsee

You missed the damn line (Hugh)

@d1stalker

This is Ours

@dilf-docs

Misery Reigns My Lonely Neon Nights

@eufezco

After Midnight

@fartcloudfartcloud

Logan Howlett × Squirter! Reader

@gothgoblinbabe

The Art of Make-believe Matrimony

@hidden-behind-the-fourth-wall

Celebration

@hyper-fixates

Time after time

@inkedells

Old Logan!

Logan x reader

@joelsflower

Love Language

@joelsgoldrush

Never is a Promise

You can Use my Skin to Bury Secrets In

crawl home to her

@logansbaby

Guilty as a Sin

@mistyorchid

Meet-Cute

@moonlight-prose

THE GRAVE OF LUST

Right Where you left me (Masterlist)

@murdrdocs

80's Logan

go about things the wrong way

@mcrdvcks

Until I Found You

Nasty

@retrosabers

How I look on you

@sceletaflores

I COULD PLAY THE DOCTOR ( CAN CURE YOUR DISEASE)

he's a good time, cowboy casanova!

SINK IN ME WITH YOUR DOG TEETH!

@shellshocklove

Snapshot

@thinkinonsense

Wicked

call me if you're only

@tteotlma

Silk and Submission

Missed Every Inch

Edge of Redemption

@wyniepooh

Loving him was never enough

@wlwloverwrites

Quiet Drive

@yxtkiwiyxt

Beggin' for Seconds

A New Kind of Beautiful

I Think You Know

@flowersforbucky

for always and ever is always for you

@eloquentlytired

Fisherman LoganxOlder Reader

@pandapetals

Pony

Frankie Morales

Life In The Fast Lane by @mylostloversbookmarks

you make loving fun. by @redahlia-writes

Listen by @frannyzooey

Meant To Be by @absurdthirst

Plastic Hearts (Masterlist) by @guess-my-next-obsession

Sweet Lies (Masterlist) by @lavendertales

Older by @likesomeoneinlovee

[loversrocktvgirl2]

my mini multiverse of madness…

Apartment (Peter Parker x Reader)

word count: 1k

masterlist

a/n - posting this because i’ve had it in my drafts since april 16th lmao

You are the opposite of Peter. Where he likes logic and math, you like destiny and music. Where he’s good at science, you shine at art. But you’ve been neighbors living on the same floor of the same apartment building since you can really remember. And while you’re not super close, you’re close enough to know what goes on in each other’s lives. This is probably strengthened by your weekly dinners together with your mom and Aunt May. 

You are the first to figure out that he’s Spiderman. It actually takes you longer to confront him than it does to figure it out. After about a week of knowing, you walked up to his apartment, gently knocked on the door, and found yourself soon let in by Aunt May. You marched yourself over to Peter’s bedroom door and knocked on it. “One second!” he called, and a moment later, he opened up the door. His shirt looked like it had been just pulled on. “Oh, hey, what’s up?”

“Can I talk to you?” you asked.

“Uh, sure, what’s…” Peter’s voice trailed off as you walked into his room. “What’s going on?” He closed the door, not sure what you were about to tell him. 

“Are you Spiderman?” you asked. 

Peter sighed. “You’re not supposed to know that.”

“Get better at sneaking, then,” you replied, a slight hint of sarcasm in your voice. 

Peter chuckled at your attitude. “Okay, okay… how’d you find out?”

“Figured it out about a week ago when I kept seeing you scale the building and jump into your bedroom window in broad daylight,” you answered matter-of-factly. “I’d suggest maybe finding a bathroom to change in and coming in the regular way if you’re gonna go out and about like that in the middle of the damn afternoon.”

It was this moment that you and Peter became partners. Because, to be honest, he wasn’t very good at sneaking, and he wasn’t very good at costume design. You agreed to keep it a secret and to work on the suit with him. In turn, you got a little extra sewing practice and your mom was happy that you weren’t locking yourself up in your room, like you tended to do on a daily basis. 

But then came the questions. “What are you doing with Peter?” your mom would ask, and you’d just shrug and tell her that you were just hanging out. One day, she finally asked, “Are you two dating?”

“Oh, God, no!” you exclaimed. “Nuh-uh.” 

And so the cycle repeated for about a year. And then goddamn Mr. Tony Stark showed up. It felt like he was taking Peter away from you, the way he replaced everything you did with or for Peter with his own toys and goodies. You felt it was just because he had the money to do so. And while that bothered you, the biggest punch to the gut was how much Peter idolized the man. You didn’t have anything against Tony Stark—you thought he was a smart and successful guy, and you’d never been given any reason to dislike him previously—but him taking Peter away from you was just too much. You went back to doing things by yourself all day. 

Granted, Tony kind of took Peter away from everyone. May had no idea where he was half the time. He was quitting all of his school clubs, flaking out on people constantly. It felt like he was beginning to all but disappear from the life that surrounded him in Queens. 

Finally, you confronted him. “Peter, where the hell do you go all day?!” you asked him. You felt inexplicably angry. 

“You know better than anyone,” Peter answered. “I’m…I’m Spiderman now. I gotta take care of everybody. I’m out here saving people. Mr. Stark needs me. Queens needs me. I’m the friendly neighborhood Spiderman, and I gotta protect the people that live here.”

“What about the people who care about you, huh? Why don’t you gotta take care of them instead of just strangers who don’t know you? People who only see a man in a red and blue spandex suit? Well, news flash, Peter, you’re not just Spiderman, you’re Peter Parker. And you’re not a man, you’re a boy.”

The words stung Peter’s heart more than he cared to admit as you stormed out of his apartment. He knew he had to make it up to you. Somehow. He did care for you—he cared for you a lot. But like a lot of the other people he cared about, lately, he’d been neglecting you. And did he deserve to say that he cared if he couldn’t even show up for you?

So one night, you heard a little knock at your window. You got up from your desk and walked over to see Peter in his Spidersuit, the one that you had originally made him, hanging upside down. “What are you doing here??” you asked in a hushed voice, confused. 

“We’re gonna go on a little quick trip,” Peter answered. “Unless…if that’s alright with you, that is.”

You thought it over for a moment before agreeing. “Yeah, okay,” you said. 

“Take my hand,” Peter held his hand out to you. You took it, and then wrapped your arms around him, holding on for dear life as he swung throughout the city you called home, swinging across buildings and phone lines. At last, he landed on the roof of your favorite donut shop. He’d set up a blanket with a box of your favorite donuts. “It’s kinda hard to have a picnic around here, but I, uh, I thought a rooftop might be a cool place,” Peter said after he’d taken off his mask.

“It’s awesome!” you grinned. 

Peter smiled at your excitement. “Really?”

You nodded. 

As you sat on the blanket, eating donuts on the roof, Peter asked, “so does this mean I’m forgiven?”

“Just a little bit.” 

Peter grinned. 

taglist@spaceycat @vidanand @xo-cench @raikan624 @yeehawgiddyup13 @wpdarlingpan @puer-aurea

[romanoffshouse]

Hey, hunny bunnies!

I hope you have/had a nice Easter! 🐰🐣