#stretch x dyne

[positivelybeastly]

(Seeing your post about Hank's time abilities makes me wonder if Hank would be aware of Kamen Rider Zeronos. If you've never heard of him, his character concept is that he protects the timelines from being destroyed, but every time he uses his armor, people in his life forget he existed, unless they have some kind of connection to time. So do you think if Hank were to meet him, that he'd remember his existence?)

So, I actually kinda delved into a concept not dissimilar to this in a fic I wrote . . . a few months ago now, I think?

It's a post House of X Krakoan fic about the night that the Krakoan nation is established, and in it, Alex Summers, aka Havok, is feeling kind of out of sorts because everyone is in full swing of celebration, but he's newly resurrected, been sold the dream . . . and oh. Madelyne Pryor isn't on the resurrection list. Never will be (at that point anyway), because she's a clone. And he's bummed out about it. So he bumps into Hank, and they end up going out drinking because Hank is also out of sorts, and there's a moment where Hank looks at Alex.

And he can see Katie Summers.

Katie being the child of Alex and Janet van Dyne, in an alternate future (it was a Kang the Conqueror plot, I think) that present Alex and Janet jumped into. Alex and Janet jump back to the present, and they're told that Katie can still exist.

But, thanks to Alex getting inverted by Axis . . .

She never exists. She can't, not the way she was.

It's probably a little bit of a stretch, that Hank can see her, but it makes sense, right? A whole life not lived, hanging around like a shadow, that has to count as a timeline shift.

Besides, it was literal fan fic, I can write whatever the fuck I want.

So, in my view, yes, Hank would absolutely remember Zeronos' existence. That was a really long way around to answer your question, but my personal view is that Hank would be able to remember and see through these shifts and changes in time.

[dragons-and-dwarves-are-nice]

To the Shadows that Cry Witch /// Chapter 11

Hello!! I know it's been less than a month, but it feels like I haven't posted a chapter in forever! As much as I've enjoyed this small hiatus, it's definitely given me the motivation to start writing again. Now, as for the first chapter of Part 2, Chapter 11 includes an introduction of one of my own OCs, who's name you will find out below and I can't wait for you to meet him! Enjoy! <3

Summary: Magic was real, but it came at a price. So when two girls end up in the one place they never thought they could reach, strange things began to happen. Good or bad? That's up to them to find out.

Tags: Kíli x oc/reader - Fíli x oc (POV to be written soon) - Thorin's company x ocs/reader (platonic) - fluff - angst - EXTREME slow burn - crack - Bagginshield

Word Count: 2355

Warnings: Mentions of Minor and Major Injuries from last chapter.

Taglist - comment or message to be added!

PLEASE START FROM THE BEGINNING IF YOU HAVEN'T ALREADY OK LOVE U

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Now available on Wattpad and AO3 (please let me know if links aren't working)

< Part 1 // Chapter 11 // Chapter 12 >

PART 2: Chapter 11 -

Unfortunate Beginnings

Anodyne (Definition): Capable of soothing or easing pain. (Figuratively) soothing or relaxing. (Adjective / Origin: Derived from the Greek/Latin word anṓdynos/ an·​o·​dyne ˈa-nə-ˌdīn)

Hobbiton, The Shire – T.A. Sunday 25th September 2939 of the Third Age (1339 in Shire-reckoning)

The moment Bilbo’s footsteps faded away, Kay was immediately upon me as she whipped around in her chair and I could see the question she had wanted to ask earlier burn in her eyes.

“Why’d you ask for his name?” she practically blurted out.

“Because we don’t know him.” I stated. Kay’s brows furrowed in confusion.

“But we do? Don’t we?”

“From the book and movies, yes,” I began explaining, “But we don’t actually know him, we just know of him. Plus if we called him by his name without asking for it first, I’m pretty sure he would be given enough heebie jeebies to throw us out. Then we would really have no place to go.”

Kay nodded slowly in agreement, before responding. “I mean, we do know of other places to stay.”

“But, would we actually get there alive, let alone know how to get there?” I questioned rhetorically.

Kay slumped back in her chair disappointedly with a groan at the obvious truth. We were raised and conditioned to live in a – somewhat – sheltered society. We hadn’t had a single lesson in life on how to survive out in the uncharted wild, apart from the occasional Bear Grylls show that I couldn’t remember anything from, except that thing where you drink your own urine, but I would honestly die on the first day of thirst than go anywhere near my piss. Soon Kay pulled me out of my spiralling thoughts as she pushed herself out her chair and I twisted my head to watch as she passed me.

“Oi.” I said, reaching out to prod at her arm. “Bilbo said to stay put.”

“He also said help yourself to tea.” She fired back as she made her way to the kitchen. “And I have two working ankles.”

It was now my turn to slump back in my own chair with a huff. A bit bored, I stretched my legs towards the fireplace in an attempt to warm my feet as I listened to Kay’s footsteps as she pottered around. You couldn’t let her be too sure of herself whilst she walked around with a knocked head after all. The clinks of ceramics became clearer as she wandered back through, balancing everything on the ornate wooden tray in her hands. She plopped it onto the small table that sat in between our armchairs before settling herself back into her chair.

Swatting my outstretched legs away from the fire whilst muttering something about my lack of fire safety, she passed me my cup of steaming tea, before picking up her own. Facing towards the open window, where the sun and many sounds of the morning wandered through, her expressions shifted as thoughts floated around in her head.

“Where do you suppose he’s gone?” She pondered as her eyes wandered about.

“Some sort of healer maybe?” I suggested, taking a sip of tea. “He did seem to panic over our whole ‘We’re severely injured!’ ordeal at the end of breakfast.”

“Huh, maybe.”

We sat in a peaceful silence for a bit as we waited for Bilbo’s return. Though whilst I stared at the crackling fire, an unwanted thought came to mind.

“Wait, so.. how are we gonna repay him in this condition?” I said worriedly. Kay joined me in staring at the fire as she tried to think of something. “I just don’t want to be kicked out for not being able to do anything meaningful.” I added.

“Eugh, you’re right.” Kay replied with a slight panic in her eye as she looked away from the flames at me. She took a moment as she thought of her next words. “Though I’ve read the hobbit enough times to know he’s surely not like that. We’ll explain that whilst we’re healing, we’ll start with smaller things, then the better we get, the bigger tasks we take on.”

I took a deep breath as I nodded, drinking more tea to distract myself from overthinking.

Moments passed before the second stretch of silence was interrupted. The muffled sounds of voices getting closer to the front door increased, one voice sounding familiar but frantic, whilst the other one unfamiliar and annoyed. We both leant over our armchairs to fixate on the circular door as it swung open, and we both watched as a now tussled up Bilbo quickly ushered in another hobbit. This other hobbit looked as if he had been dragged out of bed then through a bush backwards by his pointy ears as he stumbled in with bleary eyes. Poor guy was nodding almost subconsciously at the words that were pouring out of Bilbo’s mouth as he rubbed at his eyes in an attempt to be rid of his tiredness. He slipped off the coat that was already askew on his shoulders, before haphazardly patting down his unsightly bedhead of mousy brown hair as he turned away from his now hung up coat to follow Bilbo deeper into the house.

“Now Master Baggins,” The stranger managed out whilst stifling another yawn. “Let us see what caused you to wake me up at the crack of dawn, on a Sunday might I add.”

“Yes, yes, through here.” Bilbo said almost dismissively as he strode up to where we were sitting, beckoning the other hobbit over. I spotted the relief on his face as he saw that we hadn’t really moved at all from where he had left us. As for the second hobbit, his tiredness was snatched away from him in an instant as his half lidded eyes landed on us, and he almost stumbled back in shock at the sight of us, his hand clutched over his heart.

“By Yavanna! Where in Middle Earth did they come from?!” He cried as his wide chestnut eyes scoured over our appearance. We recoiled slightly at his outcry, eyeing each other concerned. Surely we didn’t look that bad?

“Fell straight from the top of the hill, they did.” Bilbo began explaining, , (Ok, maybe we did look that bad) stuffing his hands in his pockets as he swung back and forth on his heels. The other hobbit faced him with a gaping mouth at Bilbo’s casualness, before turning towards us.

“And you’re still alive?!?” he gasped incredulously. I shrugged whilst Kay gestured at herself with a ‘guess so!’ look on her face. He faced back to Bilbo, “And what in Yavanna’s name made you make the decision to bring two unknown big folk into your home???”

“That’s what I was saying!” Kay muttered to herself, though the two hobbits were too busy squabbling to notice.

“They mean no harm to any of us. No weapons or anything malevolent in their packs. From what they’ve told me, they simply got lost in the woods and never found the way out.” Bilbo stated, his tone indicating that this was his final decision. “And they’ve given no reason for me to have them leave. Nothing but impeccable manners.”

We both eyed each other confusedly at Bilbo’s sudden defensiveness, then all three of us watched as the second hobbit’s mouth bobbed open and shut, unable to form the words. Bilbo looked between him and us for a moment before letting out a frustrated sigh. Gesturing towards us with a firm hand, he glared at the unnamed hobbit expectantly. Looking rather panicked for a second, Mr No-Name brought his eyes back on us. He then straightened up, nervously digging his thumbs into his belt loops as he began to speak.

“I errrr – Good morning.” He managed out and we both smiled politely as he spoke, which seemed to relax him slightly. “I’m Erard Noakesburrow, Hobbiton’s doctor, and uh – my good friend Bilbo here, told me that you both had quite the night!. And he’s certainly not exaggerating, from what I can see.” He said whilst mostly eyeing the bruises and cuts that were scattered around on the both of us.

“You’re not wrong.” I replied jokingly. “I’m pretty sure everything’s broken.”

Erard huffed a light laugh at my half-joke, giving us both a weak smile back that emphasised the freckles dotted on his face. Luckily he seemed to be calming down from his original panic.

“Right,” He said, lightly patting his legs to rid of the rest of his nerves. He turned back to Bilbo who was looking back expectantly. “I guess I’ll go and get what I need to examine them both. Then we can go on about the healing process.” He explained. “I take it they need a place to rest?” He asked Bilbo.

“There’s no need!” Exclaimed Bilbo, causing Erard to blink at him in surprise. “They’ll be.. staying here.”

Erard eyed us both slightly, then back at Bilbo.

“Allllright then, if you insist Master Baggins! Saves me the hassle!” He said as he turned towards the door. “I’ll go get my stuff.”

Kay and I both looked at each other questionably at Bilbo’s insistence. He was a hobbit, and I’ve read many times that hobbits do love having guests, but surely he wouldn’t be this eager to let two strangers he just met (officially) this morning?

We watched as Bilbo waved Erard out the door, nodding at whatever the doctor was saying as he walked away, before pushing it shut and heading back over to us. Bilbo went to say something, but I quickly interrupted as to not forget what I wanted to say.

“Are you sure you want us here?” I questioned. Bilbo blinked at me in confusion. “I mean, you don’t actually know us and you seem very sure about letting us stay.”

“Well I – I’m not too sure, actually.” He said uncertainly. “It’s true that I don’t know you both, in fact the only thing I know are your names.” He uttered half a word, before quickly changing course,” But you should know! Us hobbits truly love having guests – and to send you away, seeing the state you both are in, it would be very cruel to do so!” He finished with a nervous laugh.

My eyes drifted to the ground as my thoughts darted around to try and guess what Bilbo would have said, but the answers were too far out of reach right now, so I simply nodded at him. He gave a strained smile before disappearing off into the kitchen, muttering something about another kettle of tea. Kay and I instantly had a silent conversation, the both of us mouthing questions and gesturing our confusion at each other. It was somewhat unusual for Bilbo to let us stay and despite our uncertainty, it wasn’t like we were complaining.

Finally, Erard had returned with his bag. Placing it on the floor near us, he knelt down to take out what he needed and placed it on the table next to the fresh tea Bilbo had brought in. I leant forward to take a look at what he had. Most of it looked like traditional doctors equipment. I identified a stethoscope, but I’m not a doctor, so everything else I couldn’t put a name to.

“Okay, why don’t we start with what you know.” He said.

Just like we had done with Bilbo over the dining table, we listed off everything we knew. With each injury, we watched as Erard’s face became more and more concerned, and by the time we had finished, he was quite pale.

“I.. – I’ve got to say,” he huffed, his cheeks puffing out as he took a deep inhale. “It’s a miracle that you’re both here.”

Everyone had grim looks on their faces as he said this, reality setting in as Kay and I both realised how lucky we were to survive (and land in Middle Earth of course).

As respectfully as he could, Erard gently examined my ribcage, lightly pressing his small fingers down to identify which areas were broken. As for Kay, no torch lights were available in this dimension, so he used his finger for her eyes to follow to check on her head injury, confirming that she indeed had a concussion, but to add to our growing list of luck, it was only minor. Like he did with me, he used his fingers to see where Kay had injured her back as well. Standing back up, he brushed off his trousers and retrieved a book from his bag. He asked to borrow a quill and ink, which Bilbo quickly rushed off to get. He spoke as we waited.

“From what I have examined from the both of you, it’s not looking good.” He said a bit solemnly and we looked up at him with worried faces. “Though, it’s not the most terrible, either.” At this point Bilbo had walked back in and wordlessly handed him the quill and small bottle of ink. Erard thanked him with a nod and began writing in his book as he spoke again. “Everything I’ve observed will heal on its own, though it will take a while. Bed rest with short spurts of gentle exercise will ensure that you stay healthy. You – ” he pointed the quill at me, “ – will need a sling for that wrist of yours, but your ribs and ankle should heal as long as you’re gentle with those areas. And you – ” the quill darted in Kay’s direction, “don’t lift anything heavy for a while, otherwise you’ll worsen the strain on your spine.”

The two of us nodded obediently at his words and he snapped his book shut, satisfied. After repacking his bag, he beckoned Bilbo over to the front door for a private conversation. We carried on drinking our teas as we tried to tune in to the unintelligible murmuring going on down the hallway. Eventually the front door opened and we both leant over our chairs again to call out our thanks and wave goodbye. Erard raised his hand in response as he slipped on his coat, sending a warm smile in our direction before he turned. Giving Bilbo a nod – most likely to do with what they conversed about privately – he picked up his bag and stepped out, leaving Bilbo to push the door shut behind him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I hope you enjoyed meeting Erard! I'm going to create a character sheet of him soon, so look out for that <3

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< Part 1 // Chapter 11 // Chapter 12 >

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Can't wait to see you soon for Chapter 12! Also please comment if you want to be added to the Taglist <3

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[tinyartsy]

A little doodle of UnderSwap Papyrus and Undyne~ From an RP. I couldn’t help but draw this adorable nerds~

Stretch - @evil-twinsister

Dyne - Played by Me~ 

[widowsofchaos]

trembling in my arms

summary: a love that even the ancients cry for. pairing: knight!Hope Van Dyne x princess!black!reader ao3 // medieval au warnings: smut (scissoring, intense kissing) a smidge angst, asshole parents, mentions of arranged marriages. a/n: 3k words. this was inspired by @imanuglywombat​ ‘s little scenario of Knight Hope from this amazing artist, @petite-madame . It got me feeling things, so I just had to write a small piece of it. <3 title is from this poem, This Dream by Aphra Behn. no beta, all mistakes are my own. Do not repost my works!

Gentle footfalls dash against the stoned flooring, slithering within the shadows. Lit torches illuminate the halls with a dewy yellowish flourish --- lovingly held between your slender fingers was a small platter from the kitchens.

A sweet baked strawberry tart. The brisk night air that breezes through the ceiling high windows strokes your curls, nipping at your toes --- the moon rises in the matins hour, every soul in the castle slumbers.

Out from your bed chambers, tip-toeing past mother’s and father’s chambers, down to the kitchens, through the narrow spiral stairs and pebbled-walk to the gardens --- familiar path, same destination, yet your heart flutters as if it’s the very first time all over again.

Brushed curls bounce as your footfalls pick up hastily, light tip-toes skid against soft pebbles, and grass.

The gardens were massive, flourished with flowers, hedges that contort into a maze that centers around a tiny getaway of benches, and tea tables.

Two directions flow through the maze --- to the centerpiece of the gardens and a narrow path way to the stables.

The path stretches with wet grass that intermixes and soon only dried hay --- as a flash to the stables where the stallions rest, the barn is secluded at night-fall, and one can say cozy.

Slipping through wooden doors, with a silent flicker of your fingertips unlatched the locks, slithering through --- quieter than a mouse.

The barn is a little hamlet away from nosy eyes, just on the edge of the royal castle’s walls, away from royal guards sworn on loyalty --- even would rat on the young princess to their Majesties.

A flicker of dewy vermillion glows through the barn, a glow that illuminates against the wooden walls, walking on the tips of your toes, playfully maneuvering around the massive hay stacked, twirling happily.

Lips pucker whistling, a signal only shared between two souls --- soft crunch of hay emits from the corner, a shadow lingers behind stacks of golden herbage.

Your heart flutters against your breast-bone, your chest inhales deeply, your feet fidgeting against the ground, akin to a horse patting their hooves against the earth’s grass --- impatient for her, for her taste.

“Her royal highness.” Hope bows just a bit, with her fore-arm tucked against her chest, short strands of dark chocolate clings to her cheeks, pink lips splits into a wicked grin.

Translucent white gown flows at her feet, arching higher at her thigh, bunched in her fist, as if hinting.

“Lady Dyne, what a delight.” Licking your teeth, tongue heavy with yearning, as you gawk at Hope slowly relieving herself --- with boldness to present herself shamelessly.

She walks closer now, able to feel her radiating heat fan against your bodice; it makes you fidget under your gown. Cocking her head to the side, she notices how the meat of your thighs shake, rubbing against each other --- Hope creeps closer now.

Hope’s fingers pluck a fresh strawberry slice from the tart,  “Tis for me, my highness?” Suckling her fingertips between her lips, with soft leisure chews, her palate savoring the sweetness.

“A gift for you,” you spoke breathlessly, your lashes fluttering, as you stare at her wet faded pink fingers, “a warrior deserves a well-deserved treat.” You gasp, as Hope continues her assault of her fingertips, the tip of her tongue flickers.

Swallowing harshly, as your bodice cannot control the shivers of lust.

Hope moans at the flavor, “Thank you, my Highness.”

“My, my, your highness, you seem flushed.” Hope snickers, as she swallowed the last pieces of fruit, “Do I make you flush?” She asks, her eyes glimmer with joy, enjoying how she can make you melt with just her gaze.

“Me? Nay, a --- princess never --” you stutter over your words, as Hope nears you, leisurely steps, so close you can feel her breath fan your face.

Nose to nose, lips hairs away, hearts beat so hard the blood could burst --- Hope’s finger traces your jawline, graces the slope to the chin, with ease, tantalizing slow, as if luring you into the lion’s den; guiding you closer to her parted mouth.

“Kiss me.” A low whine emits from you, as Hope’s tongue slithers out, licks your timid tongue, savoring the taste of strawberry that coats her tongue.

Pink muscles flitter against each other, a ballet, wet --- it becomes desperate. Hope’s warm tongue licks the roof of your mouth, tracing your teeth.

---

The lace strings of your nightgown unravel between her fingers --- pulling the knots, as the flaps of cotton white leisurely fall open against your breasts.

Smooth umber skin glows a bronze sheen under burning flame-light, soft flesh under her grazing fingertips; oval nails scratching dully against the skin.

Teeth bite on your lower lip, restraining a squeal --- as you laid upon the hay, limbs stretched out, ‘an angel’ Hope muses to herself.

Waves of curls, and flickering flame engulf your head as a faded corona --- her lips shower over your breasts, as her fingers twirl around the strings, tugging by the curled fingers, as it falls over your shoulders.

It didn’t take long for Hope to whisk you deeper into the spacious barn, leading you up the latter, hiding out on the upper level of the mew.

A blanket, and a few candles awaited you both. Half-eaten plate of tart lays nearby, as Hope plucks a slice of fruit between her pearly canines.

Hope lays herself upon your bodice, tilting your head to catch the peeking strawberry; breaking it in half by your teeth, as lips gently graze each other --- as if teasing, prolonging.

Slick soaks a wet spot on your cotton garments, damp tuft of hair clings to the fabric --- sticky, and yearning. Hope kisses the corner of your mouth tenderly, a path of gentle lips against your cheek, to the curve of your jaw --- suckling harshly, nibbling from her canines.

Breathy moans emit from your mouth, nearly choking on your gasps, as Hope’s open wet kisses travel down to the slope of your throat.

The base of your bare throat blooms with faint amethyst under her loving lips, the tip of her tongue flickers against your raw flesh; gasp moans from Hope’s parted mouth, as she tastes you.

Hope’s slender fingers sneaks through under the cotton, groping your breasts; fingernails scratching softly against your flesh, your nipples erect under the heels of her palms.

Her hands grazing against your areolas makes you quiver, your body shivers. Whimpering, melting into a warm sensation, as Hope continues to kiss your skin.

Hope whispers your name, “Sweet princess of alle women fairest to behold.” Her warm breath beats against your throat, affection --- passionate love floods to your eyes, salty and heavy; peels off of your skin.

Lashes become damp, as your eyes close gingerly, as your eyes glass over with an idyllic sheen, if you would to die now, you would happily go in her arms.

---

Her bare leg drapes over yours, as two bodies unisonly come together, arms encircle around midriffs --- hugging each other tightly, both scenting the crooks of your necks.

Hope kisses the base of your throat, as you nibble her shoulder with a wet-open kiss.

Mound against mound, velvety lips split against lips, throbbing clits grinding; hips crashing, quivering.

Hope’s fingers cradle your tailbone, sneakily arching lower, as she guides you upon her. Flesh moist, dewey sheen of sweat shimmers by the flames.

Sepia, and honey skin melt, heavy pants swallowed by kisses. Hope’s fingers glide against the arch of your spine, to the smooth terrain of your shoulder-blades; soft as petals your fingertips skim over her skin.

Tracing her shoulders, your fingers bent against your palm --- fingers just stroking.

Venus belts clenching as hips thrust more harder now, tufts of hair soaked in juices; toes curling as ecstasy coils in waves upon limbs.

Juices watering your cunts, dull cadence of wetness. Almost there, the pit of your bellies ignites, thumping, jumping --- it’s coming down, the rain of pleasure.

Heavy pants, belly to belly gliding, a need to be under each other’s skin, the tickle of hay under your bums; as crickets chirp outside. Intermixing with your moans, Hope nibbles on the crock of your shoulder, her flat tongue licks.

Grabbing the nape of Hope’s neck, kindly gripping, as your hips become erratic, hers too.

Fingers finding solace in her tresses. It’s a sloppy dance now, as you both chase the high. No words are needed, the silence is placid, an understanding of one another.

In haze, crashing down, biting down on each other’s shoulders, stifling roarous moans; the meat of your thigh quivers and shakes.

Hope nearly sobs, a mixture of a wail and sigh of relief. Breathy.

Floating, it’s blissful. Chest heaving, backs arching, regaining air back into your lungs, clinging onto each other --- as if you both let go, you’ll fall apart entirely.

This is bliss.

---

Melting white wax trickles to the near end of the golden wick, your fingers pad against the wood, in search of a spare that you hoped still was hidden away, fingertips tickle against firm wax, a tired smile curls.

You snag a spare candle from under a patch of hay, a few were hidden in a few spots that Hope had stashed away for nights like these.

Igniting the candle with the flame of the dying candle, replacing the stubbed wax, you wiggle back into Hope’s warm arms; your back meets her bare chest.

Fingers intertwined, just watching the flickering flame. Hope hums low, kisses your cheek, snuggling you close to her.

Placid glow of happiness floats above you both as a cloak, Hope’s fingers caress against yours --- interweaving.

Nights as these are what you seek for, days filled with dread, regressing boredom deep in your chest, musing around the castle with loyalists on your coat-tails --- oppressive parents who hover every single step you take.

Mousey princess who every-one fawns over, expectations of perfectionism --- your tutor’s tedious lessons over the years to be a proper lady, to get wedded, and continue the legacy of your family’s name.

As a man of another kingdom reigns over your family’s dynasty as king one day.

It was tiring, no space to be yourself, to be seen, but not really heard; it’s when you’re in Hope’s arms where you’re truly happy, a solace to be yourself.

You can recall the fateful day you first saw Hope --- how your heart skipped a beat, once you caught a glimpse of the victorious knight.

A knight tournament hosted by your father, opportunities for fighters to display their skills, at first you were a bit bored, twirling the waves of your curls between your fingertips. As your unfocused gaze watched over the tourney.

Blooded teeth grin at you, leaking as a welt --- a flirtatious grin, her eyes gleaming with mischief, staring right into yours.

Skin ignites with glee, to have such beautiful eyes fall on your body, Hope undresses you with her eyes, in-front of royals, and spectators.

Lady Hope Dyne, the only daughter of Ser Hank Pym, one of the advisors in the king’s council, a respected master and teacher of quadrivium.

A divine creature she is, flowing dark chocolate hair, pink lips, honey-tan skin, yet her cheeks were redden as raspberries.

Days filled with lingering eyes, knuckles grazing, flirtatious quips --- all boiled down to Hope's taking the bold move, cornering you in the desolate hall.

She caught you sneaking around the training grounds, her fingers curled, and stroked your cheek, her warm breath engulfed your space.

Her breathing was labored, sweat clung to her forehead, as she finished practicing with the men.

Towering over, palm leans against the wall, her arm out-stretched, as that shit-eating grin winked at you. “Little princess wanders around like a lamb.

Tell me my sweet lamb,” Hope whispers, her fingertip trains your mouth, soft as a petal, tickles your cupid-bow. “Did you enjoy witnessing the lions fight?”

Speechless, you were stunted, words are caught in the web of your throat, Hope hums, the pad of her thumb drags against your bottom lip.

The risk, the thrill of cradling the puddle of the royal princess --- the king would have her head on a stake, but those doe-eyes of yours struck Hope.

Lips nudge against yours, inhaling your gasp, her tongue peeks out, luring yours. Pink wet tongues lick, Hope sucks on your tongue; to go back to devour your mouth.

The darkness of the hall swallows you both, away from curious eyes --- she was your first kiss.

What was once a thrilling fling, became a forbidden affair.

But now, dread weighs on your heart even more; marriage. Marriage was an insignificant passing discussion from when you were a mere child, but it wasn’t fleshed out before ---- until a few days ago.

During a calm supper, your father boosted with glee in his chair, with animated hands, that you were to be wed before winter.

With pride, he stated the name of your soon-to-be husband, ready to ship you off to a kingdom that lived across the sea; food nearly spurted in vomit chunks from your throat.

For days, harboring it inside of you, every-time your eyes meet Hope’s, it hurts.

Swallow down the bile, whenever in stolen moments her lips lay upon yours. Days of dancing around each other --- a usual routine to hide away from suspicious eyes.

To finally, Hope left a note in your chambers whilst on her watch out route in the halls.

‘Tonight, the barn. - H.’

But, now you must tell her --- soon the Odinson family will arrive on your land in a month’s time, preparations are in tow.

You don’t want to ruin the moment, but --- you need to let her know, secrets don’t exist between you both.

A shallow swallow, a stretch of silence. “Father plans to wed me off.” Hope’s head lifts hastily, her eyes zero on you, a gasp catches in her throat.

“He has already found me a husband. I --” Your voice dies in the air, as Hope scuffs, hiding her face by her tousled hair, hiding her emotions.

A needed moment to let it sink in, the inevitable is here --- the princess needs a husband, a tradition to send off young maidens for the sake of alliances, a trade off.

It was going to happen --- it was always going to happen.

“If it must be done, then so be it.” Hope whimpers, but her face struggles between stern, and painful. Her hand leans against the flooring, facing away from you, as she stares at the wall; batting her lashes from the sting of tears.

“No!” You hiss, nose scrunching, “It shall not be what it is!” You cling to Hope’s arms, tugging her down, bare breasts to breasts.

Hope kisses your forehead, “Tis the same fate for myself.” Hope spoke against your hair-line, gliding back to her side, legs intertwined.

“Your father prefers to marry you off to Ser Scott Lang! More akin to a jester than a knight.” Hope pinches your bare ass cheek, muttering a ‘behave’ under her breath.

You pout, eyes glance away from hers, she was right, but your jealousy rears.

“You princesses, always so bratty.” Hope teases, eyes half-hooded, with a smirk. “Tis not bratty!” you click your tongue, your cheeks puffing as a chipmunk --- lips pouty, with your eyes shadowed by furrowing brows, your arms cross against your chest.

Hope snickers, bowing closer, her lips meets between the crease of your eyebrows, calming you down.

“I cannot provide for you.” Defeat floods to Hope’s eyes, teary-eyed, her palm strokes your face, you shake your head in denial, not accepting that the life you yearn for each other cannot become a reality.

“I have an aunt out in France, she can provide shelter --- a life for the both of us.” Grabbing Hope’s hand, turning your head, lips kiss the heel of her palm, as you tenderly hold her wrist.

“We have our duties. I swore an oath, and you’ll be queen someday.” Optimism laces her tone, but it wavers at the mere thought of you wed to another.

‘Queen? A joke.’ you muse --- your thoughts, and ideas will be snuffed by your future betrothed over your family’s land, you will live under his thumb, a submissive bride.

Hope perches her head on the crock of her shoulder, leaning on her elbow, her eyes are glassy --- the flickering fire mirroring in the shine of her wet scerlas to a granite.

You shake your head, your limp curls heave against your plump cheek.

“What man would want a princess with no virtue?” You snark, crossing your arms against your bare chest once more to halt the tremble in your hands, bouncing your head against the hay in frustration.

“Your flower may have already been watered, but it is not torn.” Hope’s slender fingers tenderly caress your mound through the thin blanket, soft nails graze the tuft of hair --- a ticklish jolt that sends a chill up the arch of your spine.

You moan, your head falls back, but you remain in silence, the jut of your chin wobbles. Hope hides her face in your neck, rubbing cheek to cheek, to pacify her breaking heart.

“What’s his name?” Hope spoke in a hush, voice muffled by your thick hair, you remained silent for a stalled moment, dully biting your bottom lip, face soft and still.

“Prince Loki, the youngest to the Odinson throne.” Your voice pierces through the silence with a tender breath, eyes burning holes through the roof.

“I heard he’s a naughty one.” Hope murmurs with a smile, a failed attempt to lighten the tension. Earning a groan from you, your head blops on the thick hay, turning your head; Hope’s loose strands tickle the tip of your nose.

Hope’s fingers stroke the arch of your jawline, as you mumble to yourself, ‘not fair’ under your breath, toying with her hair ends.

Hope sighs, “My father would rather have a dead daughter, than one who holds love for a woman. The Dyne name cannot die.” Hope’s fingers cup your chin, making you look into her eyes --- she’s crying.

Your thumb catches a lone tear; you sniffle back a sob, your palms hug her cheeks.

Droplets of tears cascade against your face, showering you in her sorrow, suffocating you in her arms, not daring to let you go, fearing if she does, you’ll slip away.

Quiet sobs span through night-fall, seeking each other, comforted by the warmth of thick hay, and bodily heat.

Forehead against forehead, nose to nose, breathing each other in. Curling into the fetal position, as your bodies hug each other.

As the full moon hangs high in the sky, you whisper words of love in the shell of her ear, lulling a teary-eyed Hope to sleep, as your thumb fondles her scalp.

“Flesh of my flesh, my soul weeps for thy. My moon and stars, half of my soul. Before birth, tis tied to thy. When the sun rises in the west, and sets in the east, I will follow thy wherever you go. To Heaven’s clouds, to earth’s soil.”

---

Dawn breaks.

The sun rises above the horizon, the twinkling sunshine paints the grassy land --- the trees are bristling in the morning wind, birds in their nests chirp their songs.

The horses are murmuring in their stables, still slumbering, not a soul yet to arise in the castle.

All but one.

Soft fingers fondle your cheek, tenderly tracing your cupid-bow, and your sleepy pouty lips. Your lips twitch, puffing up a bit. Hope leans down, kissing your eye-lids, savoring every inch of you.

“I would do anything for you, you do know that, don’t you?” Hope whispers, taking a pause, letting your sleeping state sink in.

A strained smile, her eyes are puffy, and red from long hours of crying. “We share everything. We’ll see the world together, I promise to love you forever.” Hope cradles her cheek against yours, as she sniffles quietly.

A promise. An oath of honor --- to protect her highness, perhaps it could work. The two of you together, riding on Hope’s stallion into the sunset, a few jewels, and gold coins stashed.

Where to? To France? Would your aunt take you both in, not to tattle to her sister Queen of where her daughter ran off to --- who she ran off with.

Yearning coils in Hope’s heart, the more she day-dreams, the more she desires it, plotting a strategy to leave.

Another glance at your sweet face, how the glow of the sun casts upon your brown skin --- as shimmering bronze.

That’s the final nail in the coffin --- it must be done, only pain will prevail if neither of you do any action for your lives together.

It will be done.

“I love you.”

[midrashic]

your tag system is so intricate! how did you develop it and do you have any favorite tags or ones with good stories behind them?

ahh thank you so much!! i've been getting a lot of compliments about my tagging recently & i'm glad people seem to be interested in it.

honestly i started doing it because i wished other people would use unique tags so i wouldn't have to see their opinions on things other than what i followed them for lmao. the supernatural / marvel cinematic universe cold war of it all... you can still see some of my early supernatural tags are pretty silly, & right now my tag system is pretty broken because i'm trying to revamp the whole thing to make it more aesthetic and less me-as-seventeen-year-old.

developing a tag system like this is really just... figuring out what tags you will actually use. there are some tags i stopped using because it was too much trouble to try & squint and figure out whether this post fell into this category or that category. i used to have a tag called #just geek girl things, and it was supposed to be for trivia that was kind of academically oriented, but i kept getting it confused with #trivial pursuits, which was supposed to be more like those maps that say the most searched-for animal in each u.s. state. it would stress me out, trying to figure out what belonged in each category, & eventually i dropped them. tagging shouldn't really activate your ocd (i say this as someone with ocd). & the other big part is keeping track of it. i have all my tags in a note to myself which i'm trying to transfer over to a spreadsheet.

fun tag names can come from anywhere! some highlights:

steal! both #relship: we'll always have cuba & #ch: heavy metal broke my heart are both cribbed from this post. (i figured the chances of someone following me & the originator of the tag and the originator still being in the cherik fandom are pretty small, plus i think relship instead of otp: or ship: also adds a level of remove, so if you wanted to filter me out you could lmao); #temp directory: the pornbots are coming from inside the house is a quip someone made about a tumblr problem from, like, years ago, when someone noticed that the only notes ads got were from porn blogs, & hypothesized that tumblr staff ran the pornblogs to artificially inflate post engagement numbers; #hyperfixation: the leveled geocities stretch away is from that "ozymandias" parody that was circulating on here a while ago

some small detail from canon, like logan uses shane to frame its themes so my laura kinney & logan tag is #relship: there aren't any more guns in the valley; my monica rambeau tag is a line from the story carol is seen telling her in captain marvel, #ch: aloutte flew up throughout the night; my yelena belova tag is a line from "american pie," #ch: when i read about his widowed bride

some cool meta someone wrote about a character or pairing that sticks in your brain. like i thought the recurring joke of logan stealing scott's motorcycle in the original x-men trilogy was hilarious, because i'd actually read all-new x-men first & baby scott steals logan's motorcycle in that one, so my scott & logan tag is #relship: a history of motorcycle thievery. #ch: the never-queen of alderaan is from a few fics that dwelt on how leia is forever the princess of alderaan, who will never be a queen, because there is no planet to crown her so. #ch: writers are the enemy for chuck shurley / god is from a refrain that gets repeated throughout postfinale supernatural meta

tags in pairs! like janet van dyne's tag is #ch: float like a butterfly; hope's is #ch: sting like a bee. fitz's tag is #ch: the left hand doesn't know & simmons' tag is #ch: what the right hand is doing

a spin on famous titles or phrases. #hyperfixation: love in the time of amatonormativity is a play on love in the time of cholera; #filed under: your mental health's a joke you're broke your brain chemistry's d.o.a., is, you know, the friends theme; #fandom: unusual medical investigations: princeton plainsboro is of course a spin on those csi titles

lyrics from songs strongly associated with a character or pairing (#relship: the person that you'd take a bullet for (is behind the trigger)), or songs you associate with the character or pairing. my jean grey tag is #ch: gonna change you like a remix, from fall out boy's "phoenix," & my steve + peggy tag, and this is one of my favorites, is from a song from the bonnie and clyde musical that hits all the notes i think of when i think of them

honestly a lot of it is just seeing what associations hit! like my new linguistics tag, #hyperfixation: cunning linguistics, is, you know, an old joke, a middle school joke, but it was what came to mind when i asked myself about phrases i associated with the word "linguistics." #ch: the problem that has no name is an iconic quote from friedan's the feminine mystique, so i used it for mystique. #hyperfixation: and i bless you more life is for queer culture & art, the ur-example of which is, for me, angels in america.

favorite tags... i do have tags that i would never, ever change, because they just make absolute sense to me. & i actually had a whole list typed up of some of my favorite tags, and then i realized... my favorite tag is my greg house + james wilson relationship tag, #relship: amazing how fire exposes our priorities. that quote is actually from a different sherlock holmes adaptation, but house's finale conflagration is much more dramatic than sherlock rescuing john from the guy fawkes fire.

thank you so much for the ask!! if you're curious about any tags in particular, i can expound then, but... i have a lot of tags slkdfjsdf.

[spacesnail3000]

Brooklyn’s Sweetheart Chapter 16: I Don’t Want Your Shitty Tuna Casserole

Pairing: Stucky x Reader

Chapter Summary: The ingredients for a dramatic funeral include unbreakable tension from your two ex-lovers, confronting your fears and past traumas by talking to your father's corpse, and a swiftly planned escape with your new best friend!

Word Count: 5,530

Warnings: Language, drinking, angst, sad Bucky :(

Masterlist / AO3

A/N: Hi everyone, I just want to say thank you for the response on the last chapter! All of your comments are amazing! Also I want to thank @Jessieray98 my beta reader, she is awesome! I hope to have the next chapter out before Christmas, hopefully!!!

The wake was tedious. As soon as they got to the funeral home, crowds of people lined up to offer their condolences. Y/N, dressed in a sweet little black dress with cap sleeves, opaque black tights, hair pulled back with shiny barrettes, was a perfect little doll to receive her father’s mourners.

She stood at the entrance of the small chapel. Pym & van Dyne Funeral Home was owned by Hank Pym and Janet van Dyne, two of the oldest associates of the mob. Y/N didn’t know exactly what they did for the mob, but she had to assume that dead bodies were involved.

The body in question, her own father’s, was at the front of the chapel, his casket surrounded by people. As she had expected, all of the attendees were part of the mob. Tony had parked her in the doorway of the chapel to receive them, to listen to the kindhearted words and sad cadence and see their sorry eyes looking back at her.

They all wanted him dead. She knew it. It made dealing with all this bullshit that much harder.

Their words grated on her mind.

I’m sorry for your loss.

How are you holding up?

Is there anything we can do for you?

And she had to perform to them just as well as they did. A sad little smile. Soft tone and feeble words. Wiping away a tear every now and then. Playing the part of the mob’s little doll. Their crown jewel, ignorant to her father’s horrific crimes and the circumstances of his death. Nobody to protect her anymore.

Her eyes were vacant and her smiles were fake. Anyone who really looked could see it. Not that her audience did.

The casket drew her attention again and again. She hadn’t gone up there yet—hadn’t seen him. She didn’t want to. Her stomach felt like it was going to eject itself from her body whenever she thought about it.

“Here, honey, we brought this tuna casserole,” one of the mob wives said, pressing a Pyrex dish into her hands. “I’ll need the bakeware back once you’re done, if you don’t mind.”

Y/N looked at the dish, covered with aluminum foil. She forced a smile. I don’t want your shitty tuna casserole. “Thank you, Jane. Thor.”

Thor placed an enormous hand on her shoulder in a gesture that was probably meant to be comforting. “Little one, if you need anything, we are here for you,” She drooped under the weight of his touch.

They moved on, and she looked back at the casserole.

What the fuck am I supposed to do with this?

She looked up, blinking back tears—where did those come from? Fortunately, they immediately dried up when she caught sight of Bucky and Steve staring at her from across the room.

Once she had made her arrangement with Tony, she had hurriedly gotten ready while Steve and Tony had a shouting match in the living room.

“She’s not going to NYU—how the fuck are we supposed to protect her?”

“Maybe she can commute—”

“To Manhattan?” Steve scoffed. “Every fucking morning? Twice a day? Not a chance. You think she’s taking the subway at night—you’re out of your goddamn mind!”

“Then she’ll have to move to Manhattan, Steve! Jesus! I can’t make everything perfect!”

“This is absurd! This is a death wish for her!”

“No one seems to be after her—”

“Not yet!”

“I’ll have men watching her as security—”

Bucky interjected for the first time, calmer than the other two. “We’re better security for her than anyone, Tony. You know we are.”

“At this point, I’m not too sure about that,” Tony snarked. “My guys aren’t gonna beat her and take her innocence, that’s for sure!”

“Oh, shut the fuck up with that!” Steve yelled. “We do not beat her—alright? I’ve hit her a few times when she deserved it—"

Tony cut him off. “I told you that you wouldn’t be able to handle her—and I was right. Wasn’t I?”

“No, you weren’t fucking right!”

“Maybe this is what’s best for her. To be on her own for a little while. Maybe it’ll make her appreciate the mob a little more.”

She hadn’t seen so much as heard the sound of glass shattering in the kitchen. “Steve,” Bucky sighed, exasperated. “Really?”

And then she heard Steve’s voice, strained and tight. “If she can find a way to pay for tuition, and if she can find suitable housing. Okay? If she can do that, then she can go to NYU.”

A long pause, and then Tony said, “That’s fair. You’ve got a deal.”

Steve snorted. “You really think she’s ever gonna be able to afford an apartment in Greenwich Village?”

Well, Y/N had scoffed at that and gotten right back to layering on mascara. Challenge accepted. 

The car ride to the funeral home had been tense, and Steve had resolutely ignored her the entire way. Even Bucky hadn’t seemed very happy with her, but it was more in a kicked puppy kind of way that almost made her feel bad.

Until she remembered that he helped kill her father.

Once they got to the wake, the boys mingled with a few people and then disappeared with Sam and Natasha. She lost track of them after that.

Until now.

They stood by the refreshments table, each holding a few vanilla sandwich cookies and little plastic cups of pink lemonade. Whoever had provided the refreshments had not done well by her father—especially with all the money that she suspected this funeral home regularly laundered.

Steve was glaring at her, and Bucky was looking at her with an unreadable expression. Somehow sad and angry and something else—he was closing off, she could tell, upset by her choices.

Well, tough. She was 18 years old—she could make her own decisions. And she had decided that she wasn’t going to let delinquent men embedded in organized crime run her life anymore.

She turned away from their intense stares. Part of her was wary about what they were planning to do to her. What could they do, though? She had Tony on her side.

For the rest of the wake, she held onto that damn casserole. At least it prevented her from having to shake everyone’s hands or give them hugs as they greeted her.

Slowly, all the people filtered out. Steve and Bucky’s eyes still bore into her back, she could feel it, but soon, the chapel was almost empty.

Tony approached her. “Whatcha got there, kiddo?”

“Tuna casserole.”

His brow quirked. “Ah. Hmm. Why?”

She shrugged.

“Have you gone up to see him?”

“Nope.”

“You should.”

“Um. No thanks.”

“Here, I’ll take that.” He took hold of the Pyrex dish and pulled, but she wouldn’t let it go. “Hon. Give me the casserole.” A few more tugs and she finally relinquished it, only because she didn’t want tuna and cream of mushroom soup all over her dress.

Tony breathed out a sigh and motioned to the casket with the casserole. “Go.”

Looking around, she realized she was surrounded by men trying to strongarm her into doing things she didn’t want to do. Steve, Bucky, and Rhodes were all in the room for backup. All bigger and stronger than her, all probably packing guns in the waistbands of their slacks. Great.

She swallowed the taste of bile. “Fine.”

She approached the casket slowly, dragging her feet, her heart pounding harder with each step. It felt like she had swallowed a bowling ball.

A shuddering breath released from her lips when she got to the edge.

He looked almost the same. That was the most shocking part. It looked like he could be alive, if not a little sick, like he had the flu.

Veins jarringly blue underneath thin, waxy white skin. Deep bags underneath his eyes. The smell of antiseptic coming off his body—almost like vodka, if she stretched her imagination.

It made her sick, regardless.

She waited.

She didn’t know what to expect. She was almost waiting for him to open his eyes, look at her, say it was all fake. Maybe he faked his death. That would make sense—right? That’s something he could do as a mob leader, wasn’t it?

He stayed still. He wasn’t coming back.

It was foolish to think he would.

She took a deep breath. Was she supposed to speak to him? She wasn’t sure how this worked.

“I don’t know what to say to you,” she said. She reached out and touched his suit, his satin tie, perfectly knotted, the handkerchief in his pocket. “You’re not my father. I know that now. Great timing, right?” Her fingers trailed up and ran over his jaw. His skin was ice cold and she withdrew her hand quickly. “Well. I don’t know what I would say to you if you were alive. I’d ask why you did all this. And you would say some bullshit like you wanted to protect me. And that wouldn’t give me any real closure about why you’re a terrible man.”

She sniffed, wondering for a moment if she was being too crass for a funeral home. But when she looked back at Tony, he nodded at her, encouraging.

 “I get really mad about it sometimes. I get really mad about a lot of things sometimes. But when I get mad, I know I would never hurt anyone like you did to me and Mom. You’ve done a lot of shit. And now I don’t know how to feel about it, or you, or anyone. And—I don’t know. That’s kind of fucked up.

“Can you even hear me now? Is this how this kind of thing works? Are you in Hell, like the Bible says? Or is that all fake?” She laughed, bitter. “What’s the point of any of this?”

Then she turned around and walked right out of the chapel.

The car ride to the church was somehow more awkward than the one to the funeral home.

“That wasn’t how I expected that to go,” Tony said when they stopped at a light.

“What did you expect me to say?” she asked, staring out the window. She was in the passenger seat. Steve and Bucky were in the back, and she could still feel them looking at her. “Did you want me to have a heart to heart with his dead body and forgive him for all his sins? I can’t do that. Only God can.”

Steve snorted, and she turned to scowl at him. He held her gaze, expression not angry now, but almost mocking. “That’s a little dramatic, don’t you think?”

Thankfully, they pulled up to the church seconds later, and Y/N shot out of the car and up the steps before he could say anything.

The church had always provided her a sense of calm. Peace, and tranquility—a constant in her life. Mass every Sunday, church choir, volunteer events on Saturday mornings, and the entire church community she had grown up with. It had always been a place where she could go for refuge, particularly when her father was dealing with business and Steve and Bucky weren’t available. It was her last resort, but a comforting one, nonetheless.

Now, as she stepped into the chapel, she felt conflicted. All of the events of the past week came flooding back into her mind—namely the premarital sex, which the nuns at her school along with her priest had always warned her against. She used to meet every week with the youth group at the church and talk about saving virginity for marriage—but now, that life seemed so far away. She wasn’t the same girl anymore.

Her parents were gone, her best friends were murderers, and incidentally, they had also taken her virginity—forcefully, at that.

As she sat in the front row next to Pepper, the hard wood of the pew dug into the flesh of her backside—another painful reminder of her depraved transgressions. It no longer stung like it had that night—for the past two days, it had been an incessant ache, a fresh bruise that wouldn’t heal. The flesh was colored black and purple with splotches of broken red, tender and swollen to the touch. Now, the dull ache thrummed on her flesh and down her thighs, and she sat straight, still, embracing the pain rather than flinching away from it.

It allowed her something to focus on throughout the sermon. The words that the priest spoke were meaningless to her now. She didn’t want to listen about how Heaven had gained a good soul, or how Obadiah would be missed, or how we must believe in the resurrection of Jesus, or that we may reunite with our loved ones in the afterlife. She knew the truth—that her father had sinned beyond redemption and if any of this was true, he would be in Hell.

Somehow, she managed to dissociate throughout the remainder of the sermon until she felt Pepper’s hand on her shoulder.

“Time for the Eucharist, honey,” she said gently. “Come on.”

She received the body and blood of Christ with a blank expression, chewing the dry wafer with a clenched jaw, barely tasting the wine as she sipped from the priest’s chalice. She didn’t see the pitying expressions the priest and the rest of the congregation gave her as she walked back to her seat. She didn’t realize how well she was acting the role of the grieving daughter.

Muscle memory guided her through the rest of the funeral, as she recited the prayers and rites by heart, the wooden kneeler of the pew digging sharp into the bones of her knees, before her feet led her behind the coffin as they brought it to the graveyard behind the church.

It was a beautiful day—sunny and bright, one of the last warm days before autumn. She focused on how the sun felt on her skin while they said the last prayers, the Rite of Committal, and then Tony was taking her hand, leading her to the grave after it was lowered into the ground.

Following his lead, she took a handful of dirt. Before sprinkling it onto her father’s coffin, she stopped, paused to think, to take one last look and commit the sight to memory.

And then the dirt slipped through her fingers, sifting down onto the wooden casket with a whisper.

 She was tired. They were back at the Brooklyn house she grew up in for the memorial service, the imposing brownstone that contained nothing but bitter memories. Everything looked the same—and she had only been gone for two days, so she should have expected as much.

So she sought refuge in the kitchen, away from the crowd. There was so much food. Not just Jane’s tuna casserole, but baked ziti, devilled eggs, blueberry muffins, macaroni and cheese, tiny meatballs, two huge Edible Arrangements. 

How could anyone eat? How was anybody hungry at a time like this?

She slumped down on the kitchen table, remembering when her life was normal, and her mother and father would come downstairs and eat breakfast with her, and then she would run off to school and she didn’t have to worry that her father was a mob boss.

Those days were long passed. She felt empty, knowing that her life would never be like that again. What was left for her now?

There was NYU, she reasoned—if Tony kept his promise, that is. But she needed a way to pay for it. Her biological father had left her money in his will—and from what she had seen, it would be enough to cover at least one year of college—she hoped.

And then she needed housing. That would be trickier.

As if God was listening to her, a saving grace walked into the kitchen at that exact moment. 

Wanda’s eyes lit up when she saw Y/N and she rushed over to the kitchen table. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you! I didn’t get a chance to see you at the wake.” Wanda enveloped her in a hug, her warmth and her scent washing over her, vanilla and oranges. Then she pulled back, looking over Y/N’s gaunt face and tired eyes. “How’re you doing, babe?”

Y/N shrugged. “I don’t know how to feel.”

Wanda nodded. “That’s normal. You’re grieving.” She paused, and frowned. “Have you eaten?” The look on her face gave her away—Wanda always could see right through her. “I’ll make you something.”

Y/N focused on the sounds of Wanda moving through the kitchen, even while her thoughts raced through her mind. Should she room in the dorms? Or get an apartment? What could she afford? She had no idea about any of this stuff, so sheltered throughout her life that she had no frame of reference for the cost of rent or how to acquire housing in the first place.

“Here.” Before she realized how much time had passed, Wanda was placing a mug of hot chocolate and a bowl of baked ziti on the table in front of her. “Eat.”

“I’m not that hungry, Wanda—”

“You’ll be hungrier once you start eating.” The look on Wanda’s face left no room for arguments. They sat in silence as Y/N ate for the first time in days—and she hadn’t realized how hungry she was. She was ravenous, almost choking on the noodles with how fast she ate it. Grieving and crying all the time really did work up an appetite.

Once she was done, Wanda got her a second helping, and she went through that one slower, taking her time to savor the flavor. Finally, she felt up to talking. “This is really good.”

“Natasha made it.”

“Oh. How are things going with you two?”

“Good. I’m gonna miss her when classes start next week.”

Then a connection sparked in her brain—the missing connection, the one she had been looking for. Wanda was going to NYU! How could she have forgotten?

“Wanda!” she gasped.

Wanda looked startled, eyes scanning for anything wrong. “What? What’s wrong?”

“You’re going to NYU, right?”

“Yeah?”

Y/N clutched Wanda’s hands and lowered her voice to a whisper. “Tony said I could go to NYU! He’s letting me go—and I need your help!”

Wanda squealed, “Y/N! That’s so exciting—”

Y/N clamped her hand over Wanda’s mouth. “Shhh! We need to keep quiet about this!”

“Why?” Wanda’s voice was muffled behind her palm.

“Bucky and Steve don’t want me to go,” she explained, and a realization washed over Wanda’s face. “They said they would let me go if I could pay for it and if I could find housing. But I don’t think they expect me to be able to do it—so they’re not going to let me go if they can help it.”

Wanda nodded and Y/N’s hand slipped away from Wanda’ mouth. “They’ll probably do whatever they can to get in your way,” Wanda said, voice quiet.

“Exactly.”

“Listen—there’s student loans. It might be tough and you’ll be paying them off forever, but—”

“I have money,” Y/N cut her off. “A lot of it.”

Wanda grimaced. “I heard Natasha talking—the FBI is probably going to repossess all your dad’s money. We need a plan B.”

“I have a plan B,” Y/N insisted. Then she finished off the last few bites of ziti and stood. “Follow me.”

They slipped out of the kitchen through the back staircase and snuck upstairs to the hallway outside of her parent’s room. Y/N pulled the string for the attic and hoped that nobody heard the squeaking sound of the stairs pulling out, or their dull footsteps thudding as they climbed into the attic.

“There it is,” Y/N said, walking over to the stack of photos and papers. Everything was exactly like she had left it the other night before Steve had dragged her out of the attic by her hair. “Look at this,” she whispered, kneeling down, dust covering the knees of her tights.

“What is—” Wanda kneeled down beside her. “Holy shit! That’s a lot of zeros!”

“I know!”

“It’s yours?”

“It was left to me by my biological dad.”

“What? Your biological dad?” Wanda looked ready to launch into a thousand questions.

“I’ll explain later,” Y/N cut her off hurriedly. “My mom said the bank account is already in my name and I can do what I want with it now that I’m 18. And the FBI won’t be able to take it away.”

“How long have you known about this?”

“Three days.” Y/N could have laughed at the shocked expression Wanda wore, but she had other concerns. “I need help figuring out if this is enough to cover tuition—”

“Oh, it’s more than enough,” Wanda laughed. She pulled out her phone and went to the calculator app. “Let’s see… It’s just enough to cover tuition for four years.”

“That’s convenient.”

“But probably not enough to cover other expenses—rent and food and stuff.”

“Oh. Well I don’t even know where I’m living yet. Maybe I can find somewhere cheap.”

Wanda grinned, and Y/N was starting to really like the gleam in her eye. “I have just the place for you.”

 It was surprisingly easy to sneak out of the house and walk the three blocks to the subway, jump on the F train and take it all the way to 2nd Avenue Station. Last time they came to Manhattan, Wanda had called an Uber, but this time, Wanda insisted on the subway.

“You’re gonna have to learn how to use public transportation if you’re gonna go to NYU,” she claimed as the train jostled through the underground tunnels towards Manhattan.

“Where are we even going?” Y/N asked, but Wanda only smirked.

“It’s a surprise!”

And it was quite a surprise when they got off and promptly walked five blocks east to a brick apartment building, not the newest or cleanest in the city, but not quite in disrepair either. Y/N was confused until Wanda pulled her up to the front entrance, took out a key from her pocket, and unlocked the front entrance.

“We’re all the way on the seventh floor!” Wanda said, “And the elevator doesn’t work!”

The seventh floor, as it turned out, was the top floor. Y/N barely registered this as they burst through the top stairwell into a dim hallway, clutching their sides.

“Aren’t you a pro-swimmer?” Wanda panted, “Shouldn’t you be used to cardio?”

Still breathing hard, she followed Wanda down the hallway. “I’ve been slacking all summer. I’ll be surprised if the NYU team still wants me.” The hallway was lined by exposed brick walls and shabby, pilled carpet that was once red but now matched the brown of the walls.

“You’re gonna love the place!” Wanda said, stopping in front of a door with a dull gold plaque reading 7C.

She unlocked the deadbolt and stepped inside the apartment. “So,” Wanda breathed, “This is the entrance! We have a kitchen and living room here.”

Calling it a kitchen and living room would be generous. It was an open space, crumbling brick walls, concrete floors, exposed pipes and beams in the ceiling. The kitchen was set along the wall to the right—a stove, fridge, sink, and one small area of counter space. A table was crammed up against the wall opposite, six mismatched wooden chairs around it. To the wall opposite the door was a sofa, the brown leather faded and worn. The space was so cramped, barely any room to walk around the furniture. A wrought iron support beam was placed awkwardly between the living room and kitchen, and next to the sofa there was a ladder leading up to a loft area.

“It’s not much,” Wanda said with a small smile. “We’re still looking for furniture and decorations.”

“You live here with other people?”

Wanda nodded, “Yeah, other girls who are going to NYU! I met them through my friend Kate Bishop—you remember her, right? You met her at that party in Tribeca, remember?”

Y/N vaguely recalled a girl with long black hair, bangs, telling her about her father’s publishing company in Manhattan. “Yeah, I think so. Who are the other girls?”

“There’s America and Kamala. They’re Kate’s friends—they’re really nice, you’ll like them a lot. We’ve actually been looking for a fifth roommate for a while now, so it’s really convenient that you need a place now.”

Wanda showed her the rest of the house—what little of it there was. There were four rooms and the loft. America had the biggest room—she was the one who had found the apartment in the first place. Kamala and Wanda both had the two other bedrooms, and Kate had chosen to make the loft her bedroom.

“It’s because the last bedroom—well—it’s kind of…” Wanda shrugged as they reached the end of the narrow hallway. “I’ll just show you.”

She opened the last door on the left, and led Y/N inside. To say it was small was an understatement. It was long and narrow, about the size of her walk-in closet in Brooklyn, barely any room for anything more than a bed. There wasn’t a closet or any lighting, but there was a window, and it barely let in enough natural light for the room.

“That window shares a fire escape with my room next door,” Wanda said. “This used to be a closet but when the owner was renovating, they turned it into a bedroom.”

A smirk played on Y/N’s lips. “The place is renovated?” She wouldn’t have guessed it from the stained concrete floors or the half-finished tiling in the bathroom or the exposed wires in the walls.

Wanda laughed. “Yeah, they didn’t get very far, clearly.” There was a pause as Y/N walked around the small bedroom. “What do you think?”

Their eyes met and she gave Wanda a wry grin, the corners of her eyes crinkling. “I’ll tell you what, I’ll move in if you share some of your closet space with me.”

“It’s a deal!”

Before they left, Wanda helped Y/N figure out her expenses, showed her how to pay for her tuition online, and even helped her call the bank to get a debit card linked to the bank account.  

“So, your money will cover all four years of tuition, and barely enough for rent, but you’ll have to get a job to pay utilities and food.”

“Lucky that this place is so cheap. I just don’t know how I’ll have time for a job.”

“Well, look around at some openings—there’s a ton right now since the semester is about to start. You’ll find something, I know it. I’ll help you apply for more scholarships, too.”

They grinned at each other. “Thanks for helping me with this, Wanda. I don’t know what I would do without you.”

Wanda scoffed. “You’d probably be paying $4,000 for a one-bedroom apartment in Greenwich Village, that’s what.”

That sent them both into a fit of giggles, and when their laughter died down, they leaned against each other, sitting on the leather couch. “I don’t want to go back,” Y/N said.

“Well, we have to get your stuff and move it here.”

“Yeah… what are the logistics of that? How are we going to get any of my furniture here?”

Wanda shrugged. “We’ll take my car and fit as much stuff as we can into it. We’ll come back if we need to.”

And so it was settled, Y/N would move into the tiny fifth bedroom, and she would go to NYU, and she would finally be free of Steve and Bucky.

 “Where the hell have you been?” Tony asked sternly when Wanda and Y/N arrived back at the house. They had been gone for about three hours by then, and most of the people have left, only a few upper members of the mob remaining—to include Bucky and Steve.

The boys had realized she was gone a few hours ago, and Steve had been chain smoking Parliaments while Bucky made his way through the entire tuna casserole, barely containing their rage and anxiety, respectively. By the time they returned, Steve was a few drinks in—at Tony’s insistence, who had been quite literally unable to deal with Steve’s uncontrolled anger suffocating everyone else in the room.

“I went to look at an apartment. I’m moving in with Wanda,” she answered simply before turning her back on him and heading upstairs. Wanda followed her, their hands full of flattened boxes for moving.

With her back turned, she didn’t see the way Bucky’s jaw dropped at the mention of her moving out, nor how Steve’s face began to turn maroon with pending rage.

As soon as they reached her bedroom, the pounding of footsteps up the stairs could be heard, and then Steve, Bucky, and Tony all crowded into her room, all different shades of shocked.

“You found an apartment?” Tony asked, disbelieving.

“Yep.”

“How the hell do you expect to pay for it? Or tuition, for that matter?” Steve demanded.

Y/N leveled him with a cool look. “My biological father left me money. It’s all in my name.” She walked up slowly to him until they were almost touching. “I’m leaving, and you can’t stop me. I’m not going to let you control my life anymore.”

She was surprised she was able to say it so calmly, unphased. Inside, she was shaking, a ball of nerves in her throat, pulse pounding in her neck.

It was silent then, and everyone waited for Steve to respond. His eyes narrowed at her, a sneer coming over his face. His hands clenched into fists and he moved to touch her, but he stopped himself with an incredible show of self-restraint. Closing his eyes, he breathed deeply, in and then out. “Is this really what you want?” he asked, every muscle stiff with tension.

“Yes,” she answered. “And I want you to leave me alone.”

His eyes opened, narrowing in on her, lips curling into a snarl. “And what if I don’t want to do that?”

She gulped and said the first thing that came to mind. “I’ll call the police.”

He laughed. “You think that’s really gonna make a difference, sweetheart? You think the NYPD can stop me?” His warm breath and the smell of whiskey hit her nose when he spoke. She cringed away for a moment before drawing herself back up to full size, not allowing him to intimidate her. 

“It will if I tell them all about how you participated in my dad’s murder. Everything I heard you say, everything I know about it.”

“You don’t have any evidence.” 

Tony interjected then, exasperation mixed with exhaustion written in his tone, all over his face. This entire week, with Stane’s arrest, his death, arranging his funeral and then dealing with the breakup of the Three Amigos—it had all worn on him, broken him down, and he had no strength left for it. He had sworn to Obadiah that he would protect his daughter, and the safest place for her was probably NYU, away from the mob, away from other gangs. Plus, she was so determined to go, what could he really do to stop her?

“Jesus Christ, Rogers—let it go. She’s going. It’s done. I really don’t want the police poking around us more than they have to. Leave her alone—and that’s an order. Got it?”

Steve glanced between Tony and the girl in front of him, before sending a scathing glare her way and finally, stepping back, turning away, and stomping downstairs. They heard the front door slam closed, and then she felt like she could breathe.

Bucky, who had been watching the entire exchange with a pained look on his face, stepped up to her. “You’re really doing this?”

“Yes.” She looked at him impassively, uncaring.

“You don’t—” But he didn’t know what to say. He was beginning to realize just how far they had pushed her. They had caused this—with their actions against both her and her father. And he had done nothing to stop Steve from hurting her, nor had he done enough to comfort her in the aftermath of her parents abandoning her.

This was who she was now. She wanted to be alone now, and he needed to let her.

He sighed, resigned to the fact that she hated him now, and that he could do nothing to change that fact. For the last time, he leaned forward, placed a tender kiss on her cheek, surprised that she didn’t push him away. When he pulled back, he thought he saw something in her eyes, but the flash of warmth was quickly replaced by her cold gaze once again. It felt like sandpaper when he swallowed, and he bit the inside of his cheek to stop the tightening in his throat. 

There was a hoarseness in his voice when he said, “Call me if you need anything, doll.”

And with that, he turned away and left, wondering if he would ever see her again.

[thecuriouscrusader]

Title: Cheek-to-Cheek 

Square Filled: Face-Sitting Ship: Scott Lang x Hope Van Dyne Rating: Mature Tags: Bottom Scott, Dom Hope, Female Dom, M x F, Face-Sitting, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Chubby Scott, Body Worship, Insecure Scott Summary: Since retiring from The Avengers, Scott worries about the changes to his body and their effect on his relationship with Hope.  Word Count: 705

Created for @mcukinkbingo

Scott has been awkwardly hovering over Hope for almost ten minutes now, with a white-knuckle grip on the headboard that shows no sign of weakening. 

“Hey, what’s the hold up?” Hope teases as she playfully kneads Scott’s ass cheeks in her palms.

Scott looks down at her, chin pressing into his neck. 

“A-are you sure about this?” He asks as if Hope is the one showing hesitation. “Wh-what if I suffocate you?”

“That’s what I’m counting on” Hope smirks. “I’m kidding!” She quickly affirms when Scott jolts like he’s going to get off her. 

She brackets his trembling thighs in her hands to steady him, but it does little to steady his nerves too. 

“I-I just...th-this is a bad idea” Scott decides as he shuffles off Hope and ends up laid back in bed beside her.

Hope gives him a sympathetic smile, knowing something deeper is bothering her sweet sensitive husband - more than merely making a fool of himself in bed. 

“Tell me what’s going on, love bug” Hope urges as she affectionately scratches the hair on Scott’s chest.

“I-I just think I’m too heavy for... y-ya know” He claims, tugging at the sheets self-consciously to cover himself as he mentions it. “Since I retired from the Avengers I’ve put on a load of weight; you must have noticed?” 

“Of course I have” Hope replies as she moves her palm down to massage his softened belly. “Knowing your body is my pleasure, sweetheart; and this extra weight is certainly not a bad thing. More for me to love.”

She pushes the sheets back down and presses her lips just above Scott’s naval. She starts a path of kisses down his happy trial which almost has the older man giggling from the tickle. 

“I-it really doesn’t worry you?” Scott asks. 

“Of course it doesn’t” Hope stresses as she moves back up to cup Scott’s face in her palm. As long as you’re happy and healthy that’s all that matters to me.”

Despite his concerns, Scott manages a smile - how can he not when the woman he loves is expressing her love for him in return. 

“Thanks, honey” he says before they share a kiss on the lips. 

It’ll take some time for him to overcome his insecurities but knowing Hope will help him to do so doesn’t make them seem as daunting. 

“You wanna try again?” Hope asks, not wanting to pressure her husband, but also not wanting him to deny himself pleasure for unfounded fears.

Scott’s cheek flush pink, but he nods his head bashfully. 

“C’mon then, baby” Hope encourages with a grin. “Take a seat.”

Scott chuckles as he repositions himself above Hope, gripping the headboard for support.

Hope sees his thighs trembling with nerves, so she takes a moment to kiss some of the stretch marks which now litter them, and it seems to put Scott more at ease.

“I’ve got you, sweetheart” Hope says as she takes hold of his hips.

Scott allows her to lower him down, and as soon as Hope spreads his cheeks apart and her tongue enters him, all of his inhibitions ebb away. 

“Ooh, Hope~” Scott croons as he throws his head back, rattling the headboard as he does so.

Hope just grins to herself as she continues her crusade on her husband’s greedy hole.

As Scott’s hips start to gyrate, he lets out a continuous string of moans and whimpers. 

At one-point Hope plunges her tongue in so deep Scott almost loses his balance, eliciting a guttural groan from the older man.

He feels his orgasm building, his cock now practically taut against his belly and leaking with pre-cum. 

As Hope un-gratuitously eats her husband’s ass she’s happy to experience Scott as his more usual carefree self, watching as he starts to stroke himself in order to aid his climax. 

And as Scott finally cries out her name and releases his seed all over himself, Hope makes sure to keep a firm grip on the extra meat of his thighs, so he doesn’t completely collapse on her head.

“What were you worrying about again?” Hope teases as Scott rolls off her and thuds onto the mattress panting for air.

“I have no freakin’ idea.” 

[authoressskr]

Write Into My Arms [3]

Characters: f!Reader, James “Bucky” Barnes, Tony Stark, Pepper Potts, Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson, James “Rhodey” Rhodes, Peter Parker, Hope Van Dyne, Natasha Romanoff, Scott Lang, Wanda Maximoff, Vision, Okoye, T’Challa, Shuri, Clint Barton, Happy Hogan, Dr. Strange, Wong, Bruce Banner, Thor, Amelina Rodrigez (OFC), Carol Danvers, Rocket Raccoon, Groot, Peter Quill, Gamora, Nebula, Mantis and Drax.

Warnings: Language, Angst (mostly in last two chapters), Action (in last chapter) and no Beta (just me and Grammerly up in here)

Word Count: 11,278  ::  Pairing: Bucky x f!Reader

This was written for @jewelofwinter’s Writing Challenge!! I also incorporated a prompt for @jaamesbbarnes + @sgtjbuccky’s D&S’ Milestone Celebration!!

Prompt: “Tin Man lost Y/N.” (@jewelofwinter’s prompt) + “Publicly, I agree. Personally, I think it’s chickenshit.” (D&S’ prompt) Bolded in text below. Prompt #1 will appear in the third part while Prompt #2 appears in the second part. The next parts will be posted by the end of this week. All will be linked.

Summary: You’re a small time blog writer who is invited to interview the Avengers. ALL the Avengers.

*Note: Endgame happened - kind of. Steve didn’t go back to the 40s. Tony didn’t die. Natasha got brought back with the Bruce Snap. Bruce is not the Hulk mashup they had going on. Everything else happened. This takes place 3 years after defeating Thanos.*

[PART 2]

Please do NOT repost, copy & paste, post or share my works on any other platform without my EXPRESS PERMISSION.

-+- REBLOGGING is fine and very appreciated! -+-

Waking up later that afternoon to Bucky gently shaking your shoulder is...nice.

You open your mouth to apologize for your breakdown earlier but he just gives you a soft shake of his head, sporting a shy smile before yawning.

“Lunchtime,” He rumbles out and it’s a whole lot sexier than it should be. “But eat some of the fruit first and take a couple of aspirin.” His second yawn makes you yawn, but you manage to nod, slipping from under the covers and stretching a little before seeing the banana on the side table. You manage a few small bites before reaching greedily for one of the bottles of water, downing a third of the bottle before reaching for the aspirin. You shake out two pills and toss them back before offering the other water to Bucky who is slipping off the bed to get his boots. He shakes his head ‘no’ before pulling on his right boot. You set it back and finish your water, surprised at the ease of this whole thing between you two now and at Bucky appearing before you, taking the banana from your hand and polishing it off before flashing you a round-cheeked smile.

“Let’s go, chipmunk,” You mutter with a smile before slipping into a pair of flats and heading through the door, the handsome sergeant following behind you with his own smile flirting on his lips, this whole thing making the tired wheels in your mind spin.

Bucky couldn’t like you like you, could he?

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Lunch is served later than usual and you thank Tony quietly when you enter for it. He just gives you a genuine smile before reaching out to squeeze your wrist affectionately.

Your seat is in between Natasha and Hope for this meal, a beautiful salad set before you before it’s swiftly pulled away by Bucky, leaning over the giant ass table. He pushes his plate in front of you while you watch quizzically. He looks at the salad with a tiny hint of disdain before handing it to Steve and heading back to the buffet table.

Looking down at the plate, it’s loaded with food. Fried potatoes, antipasto salad, some cottage cheese, three slices of ham, and a little white frosted cupcake.

“Need something solid,” He remarks as he sits down with his new plate. You nearly start crying again - there is no reason for all of them to be so nice to you. Especially Bucky. “Eat,” Bucky orders around a mouthful of chicken, Sam shaking his head - at what exactly, you aren’t sure.

But they must all be in on it since most of the Avengers are giving you smiles like they know something you don’t but right now, you are simply too tired to care.

“Our space division will be here tomorrow, probably just before dinner,” Tony states loudly, disturbing the soft conversation you were having with Hope about adding the ability to “talk” to ants to her Wasp suit or if she could dare to control wasps since it’s her moniker. You meet his eyes and nod your understanding. “We’ll let you rest up the day after they arrive - they can show you around the ship and take pictures, but I want you to rest as much as possible.”

“I’m not doing anything difficult,” You reason, setting your fork down with a frown.

“But you’re still pushing yourself a little too hard, kid.” Unable to argue, you just tuck a piece of hair behind your ear and pick up your fork to continue eating. “I don’t want you run ragged, okay? Just rest up tomorrow and take it easy the day after and then you can go right back at it.”

“Fine. But I’m only agreeing to this because I don’t think I can win an argument right now.”

“Good.”

“And I’m still going to interview Happy after lunch.”

“Fine,” Is uttered through clenched teeth with a forced smile as Pepper reached over to pat his hand, while Peter grins from beside Pepper.

“It sounds like you’ve been adopted or are close!”

“Adopted?”

“Yeah! Mr. Stark shows his affection in not the usual way. He’s kind of compliments you, then tells you what you can do better. Then he starts to orders you to rest and to stay safe and will keep tabs to make sure you do.” He shoves a whole slice of ham in his mouth while Scott and Wanda both give little shakes of their heads.

“Um, thank you?” You look at Tony who just looks away before shoving some antipasto in his mouth.

“Maybe we just let her and Bucky nap some more?” Shuri sing-songs oh so innocently from the other end of the table by Clint and Vision.

When you look across at Bucky, his cheeks that cute pink you remember for your interview. You feel the heat creep up your neck at this as well, all though your eyes shift from Bucky back to Shuri.

“Well, not everyone can have my good taste. Thank you for lunch, Tony. Pepper. And thank you for the care, Sergeant.” And it takes all the confidence you can muster, but you slide from your seat with grace, taking your cupcake with you, and walk from the room with your head held as high as you could manage while nerves ate at your insides.

I just let that damn teenager rile me up...

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Tracking down Happy is a little more difficult, but by now you aren’t ashamed to ask FRIDAY to help locate people. It’s a big compound.

Happy’s in the garage after an errand run to Avengers Tower and he’s more than a little shocked that he’s included - which in turn makes you a little sad since he’s been with Tony longer than Pepper has.

He tells you of his life before Tony, after Tony, his boxing background and helping Peter navigate superhero duties now that he’s not just the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man.

“Kid thought AC/DC was Led Zeppelin…” He shakes his head with obvious fondness. “Tony bought him all of AC/DC’s stuff and told him he was gonna quiz him after that.”

“It’s a terribly dad thing to do.”

“After Tony assigned me to look after him, the kid called constantly. ‘A lady bought me a churro.’ ‘When do I get to help Iron Man again?’ But I know Tony picked him for a reason. Tony second-guesses nearly everything he does, but not that kid. Under-roos was a good choice.”

“Un-un-under-roos?” You cackle happily, bending over a little as you laugh and nearly jostling the recorder off your knee as you do so.

“The kid seems to like you.”

“To be fair, Peter seems to like everyone. He’s a very sweet young man.”

“They all do, honey. You’ve brought a lot of normalcy to them in a very short period of time. They won’t say it, but they get attached quicker than they like to admit. And they all like you.”

“There are a lot more interesti-”

“Not to them. They like the normal. They like the wit. They like your enthusiasm...that you can connect with all of them. They’ve been to space. Time traveled. Met a talking raccoon and tree. Trust me, they got interesting.”

“Are you implying I’m not interesting?” Happy looks flustered for a moment, backtracking like his life depends on it while you can’t hold your serious face anymore and burst out laughing. “I’m just screwing with you. I know what you meant, Happy.”

Happy is lightheartedly funny, teasing you more after that, and you make the notation that he’s obviously a very good influence on Tony and Peter. He also tells you he helped Rhodey change the signs from Stark Industries to Stank Industries, which still makes him smile every time he drives into the compound.

You take a break after that, twenty interviews in five days a lot to go over - and in your case, go over and over and then once more, just in case.

Spending the rest of the afternoon and early evening shut in your room as you type and listen, type and go over your notes, type and re-type. This has to be perfect. If you never write another story again, this has to be perfect.

For them. For all they’ve done.

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If she’s not interviewing, she’s writing.

And if she’s not writing, she’s taking photographs - the grounds, the woods, them.

When she’s not interviewing or taking photographs, she’s singing.

It’s soft, always under her breath when around them, like after lunch today when she came to grab some lemonade from the fridge. Sam told him it was an 80s song called ‘Total Eclipse of the Heart’. He mentally added that to the list he’d already compiled in the last five days from listening to her.

It’s a little spaced out, with whole verses skipped when she’s seated on one of the patios, furiously typing and rereading - typing and rereading.

It’s in her normal speaking volume when it’s early morning and she’s seated in front of the windows in her room, scribbling in her notebook or listening to her boss complain on speakerphone about deadlines, hiring decisions, or suggestions on things he knows already that she’s going to ignore.

He hears her softly singing as he heads towards the living room, silence breaking it up every so often, so he knows she’s typing. Part of him wants to go in and talk to her, but he knows he shouldn’t. She’s working and he needs to let her do that. It doesn’t stop the need burning in his chest but he just shoves it down as much as he can, knowing that he’ll see her later.

“You know, that means she likes you too Tin-Man.” Tony’s smirked-riddled words from lunch keep tumbling around in his head. Over and over and over again.

He grabs an empty bowl and some Lucky Charms from the cabinet, filling the bowl to the brim before pouring the milk and settling in at the bar top to eat his cereal. Peter is a few stools down, shoving a brownie into his mouth as Tony and Sam come in, Tony calling out a gruff “Hello freeloaders” to T’Challa, Shuri, Steve, Vision, Wanda, and Natasha who are all seated in the living room, watching Animal Planet. Shuri, Wanda, and Natasha all give him smirks while T’Challa grabs hold of Shuri’s hands, keeping them firmly on her lap while chuckling.

“Whatcha doin’, kid?” Tony asks Peter, stealing a brownie from the giant serving platter in front of the teenager as Peter looks at his phone with a smile.

“Sending some memes to Y/N. To cheer her up.” Bucky nearly drops his spoon into the cereal in disbelief.

“How’d you get her number?” Tony asks, his gaze sliding from Peter to Bucky, a big smile stretching his lips. Asshole.

“I asked,” Peter answers like it’s the most obvious thing in the history of things.

“Well, I’ll be damned. First DUM-E and now the spiderling…” Sam’s voice filled with the joy this revelation begins as Bucky’s voice overlaps his with an edge of shock.

“We can just ask?” Peter looks at Bucky like he’s confused for a second before his phone dings, Shuri appearing and looking over Peter’s shoulder at his phone.

“That’s a good one,” Peter tells her over his shoulder as Shuri laughs.

“That is a good one!”

“Y/N has a wonderful sense of humor,” Vision agrees from across the room, Wanda nodding in agreement.

“She has retained all of her phrases I’ve taught her so far. And sometimes rearranged them to make them humorous. You should just ask her out already, Bucky.” He feels the heat creep up his neck. He saves himself from answering Wanda by shoving a big spoonful of cereal in his mouth but glares at Sam and Tony who are still staring at him with big smiles. Dicks.

“She seems to like you too, Mr. Bucky.” Peter pipes up helpfully.

“Yes, you two looked very cute earlier,” Shuri adds with a wink.

“And the Guardians are supposed to be here tomorrow night, so you need to get in as much flirting time as possible, Mr. Bucky. Thor is coming. And he’s handsome.” When Bucky just stares, Peter clears his throat. “Everyone says so.”

“Everyone,” Natasha agrees as she gets up to refill her coffee cup.

“If Thor doesn’t try to steal her attention then Peter Quill will,” Tony adds loudly, his back to everyone while digging through the junk food cupboard.

“Star-Lord?” Stephen snorts from his spot on the loveseat in the corner. “I hope she’s a lot smarter than that.”

“Nebula said he wore Gamora down…” Tony argues, eyebrows raised as he shoves an oreo in his mouth.

“Well, we aren’t in space and he is in no way the pick of the litter here on Earth. Regardless of what he thinks.” Stephen comes over to steal a cookie from Tony.

Y/N comes down the hall with Wong, talking animatedly, making Bucky throw his spoon at Tony, who drops his oreo.

“What the fuck, Tin-Man?” Tony hisses as he looks forlornly at his oreo before bending to pick it up.

“Hi everyone! Wong told me we’ll be having dinner in the mess hall tonight. Does that mean the Guardians will be here sooner than planned?”

“No, still due tomorrow, but Nebula said it might be around lunchtime when they arrive. Tony, Pepper, and Natasha just want to work out schematics,” Steve pipes up from the couch, shooting you a bright Captain America smile.

“I was thinking,” You begin nervously. “I’m sort of glad Tony is forcing me to take a break. It gives me time to finish up my notes on you all but also gives them some time to recharge and ask you guys about me.”

“I’m glad you’re gonna rest some, imposed or not. Plan sounds perfect to me,” Pepper answers with a bright smile, taking the oreo package from Tony and closing it as he frowns slightly at his cookie loss. Then Bucky sees Peter slip him a brownie. Tony shoots you a wink as he accepts it.

“Good!” You perk up at the acceptance before you and Wong continue to what Bucky assumes is the library.

Scott and Hope walk in with Okoye and Clint, Scott looking excited.

“Thor’s gonna be here soon!” He rubs his hands together as Peter, Shuri and Sam laugh.

“What did I say?” Scott wonders aloud, looking at Natasha as she pats his shoulder once as she returns to her seat on the couch.

“They’re obviously trying to get the White Wolf to make a move before Thor comes. He may have gained some weight, but he’s still very handsome. Funny. Powerful. Pleasing to the eye and ear.” Okoye comments as Scott and Peter nod along eagerly.

Bucky drops his empty bowl into the sink and sulks off to his room.

Would you really like Thor better?

Of course, you would. Thor wasn’t a former brainwashed assassin who still have difficulties remembering his past as a normal person should. He probably doesn’t sit up nights after rough missions and hate that he can still feel the person he used to be. He can offer you charm and laughter and he was fucking royalty. Space royalty!

Bucky was a man out of time with more blood on his hands than any man should, he was a man who couldn’t offer you a lot...all he had to give was his damaged self.

He was just a semi-stable soldier who liked watching your beautiful eyes light up as you get excited about the smallest things and who liked to follow you around to hear you sing - how could he compete when he was possibly up against an actual god?

::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx::

It’s after midnight, so it’s mostly cleared out, with the few who are still awake settled on the patio with a few bottles scattered across the glass tabletop, soft words and the soft clink of glass on glass is all you hear from the partially opened patio door as you slip into the kitchen.

You open the junk food cabinet to find the tin of cookies Bucky had gifted you with two days ago is still there (how you don’t know, but you’re thankful) and still half-full of the little sugar cookies identical to the ones you had the other afternoon. He’s so thoughtful, you muse.

You’re almost back to your room with your tin of goodies when it happens.

A loud boom echoes far too close for comfort, making you jump while you clutch the tin to your chest, fighting back a scream. Then you hear the sound of gunshots, your heart rate already rising.

There is nowhere safer to be. There is nowhere safer to be. There is nowhere safer to be! You repeat the mantra in your head as you automatically head towards Bucky’s room at a run.

He’s not here. Panic blooms in your chest as you throw open his bedroom door and find it barren. No. No. No! He’d gone to his room when you had after dinner...where could he be?! You close his door and rush back down the hall towards the kitchen. Kitchens have knives, you reason to yourself. Killers don’t look that often in kitchens, right? Velociraptors, yes. Bad guys, hopefully not so much.

The lights go out as red alarm lights begin flashing overhead, spurring your feet to move faster.

That’s when suddenly you crash into a hard body.

You’re praying it’s Bucky or Steve.

It isn’t.

The man in black tactical gear grabs your arm, forcing you to face the wall before shoving you into it harsh enough to make the precious cookie tin slip from your grasp. You gasp loudly at the pain shooting through your cheek he’d smashed into the wall and at the angle he’s still got your arm in. Your back is to his chest, so you do as Gracie Lou Freebush taught you and SING!

You bring most of your weight onto your right heel, shoving in at the tip of his boot before snapping your head back hard against his face. He yelps out a few expletives while you thank whoever that this dude was just a little taller than you and not Steve or Bucky’s size. You spin around now that you’re free of his grasp and bring your knee up as quick and hard as you can into his groin, hoping that the tactical gear isn’t that thick there, before flattening your palm like Natasha showed you and thrusting it up and into his nose. You fist that same hand and jab at the uncovered skin you can see by his Adam's apple. He doubles over and while you know it’s stupid and cliche, you grab your cookie tin and continue past the gasping man faster towards the kitchen.

When you run into a second body, you decide you’ll try out the whole tossing your foe over your shoulder thing, but then you feel the cool metal against your wrist before Bucky pulls you against his chest roughly. He releases your wrist, metal hand cupping the back of your head and pulling you tighter against his chest.

“Scared the shit out of me, doll.” He breathes against your hair as you cling to him. Safe. He pulls back to look at you and he frowns, eyes running frantically all over you. “Are you hurt?”

“Not really.”

“Where’d this blood come from?”

“I think I broke a guys nose,” Your voice is unsure but Bucky looks proud.

“Good. Good, babydoll. Okay, we gotta get you to the safe room now.” You nod shakily as you pull away, your hand slipping into his easily before your eyes widen. Bucky drops your hand and pushes you behind him, looking at the six men now standing in the hallway, blocking your way to the kitchen and wherever the fuck the safe room is. Bucky looks around before tapping the comm in his ear. “Hall blocked. I’ve got Y/N. Sending her outside to safety.”

Sending you OUTSIDE to safety?! What sense does that make, Bucky!?

“Run for where you saw the 3 bucks,” Bucky orders sternly before grabbing you, throwing open a little hatch in the wall and tossing you through the tight metal shaft.

You scream most of the way down until you land on mostly soft things. You shove your hand down to steady yourself on the - fuck, he threw you down the garbage shute! Climbing through the giant dumpster trough is a feat in itself, only to reach the sides and find them sticky with residue that nearly makes you faceplant back into the dumpster. You manage to wrangle yourself out and shimmy down the side, with only minor scrapes and cuts your sides and hands, trying not to gag at the scent that now clings to you. At least you’re safe...Well, safer. You still need to get to the clearing.

You aren’t sure how many are outside, so you press yourself against the dumpster as close as you can and ease your way around it until you can almost see the corner that will lead you to the patio and the edge of the woods.

But that’s when a man holding what looks like an electrified baton, steps out of the shadows just feet in front of you, teeth gleaming menacingly in the moonlight.

“Well, fuck,” you huff out angrily before searching the ground around you for a weapon.

::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx::

“Where’s Y/N? Anyone have eyes on Y/N?” Steve yells through the comms before soft grunts echo through.

“Tin-Man lost Y/N.” Tony’s voice comes in before there is a crackle of lightning right beside Bucky as he exits the house in a mad dash for the clearing.

“Fuck you, Stark. I didn’t lose her, I simply misplaced her. House is clear. Eyes? Anyone?!” He’s sure he’s panting because his chest is so tight with worry. Fuck, he did lose her. There is no answer, which means no one has seen her. Sweet Jesus, please don’t let anything have happened to her...

“All clear on the east side,” Clint’s voice confirms, not easing the worry bubbling inside Bucky.

“All clear on the north side,” Natasha huffs out. Shit. Shit. SHIT!

The clearing is empty, no sounds coming from the forest. NO! Bucky spins on his heel and heads back for the compound.

“The west side is clear,” T’Challa’s voice comes over. “No sign of Y/N, Bucky.”

“Southside is clear. Except for the debris and unconscious dudes,” Scott affirms before adding softly. “No Y/N here either.”

“Alright - everyone spread out and find her. Queens and Bruce can stay out here while Thor, Strange, Wong and Vision all start to round up these morons. Buck, where do we start?”

“I tossed her out the chute by the kitchen and I just checked the clearing and she’s not here.”

“I’m sorry, you what?” Wanda asks, disbelief clear even through the comms.

“He tossed the girl he’s been mooning over for a week down the damn kitchen garbage chute!” Sam chortles while Bucky fights the need to punch something. Anything. Preferably Sam.

Okoye, Shuri, and Natasha all are headed towards where she was last seen when Okoye stops.

“Do you hear that?” The others stop, straining their ears. They hear a few soft grunts followed by a soft “Help” so breathy if they hadn’t stopped they might not have heard it.

Hope and Steve are coming from the opposite direction, all of them looking around before the shouts grow louder.

“Help! Please!” A pause. A cough. “HELP!” Bucky comes huffing up behind Steve, searching you out.

“Doll?!”

Hope is the one who peers down into the open incinerator hole, “Got her!” she yells before Steve jumps down to help you out.

When Hope and Okoye pull you up, you’re beyond relieved but you only manage to get one semi-clear breath in before hands are cupping your face, making you look into relief-filled storm blue eyes.

“Are you alright? Is anything broken? Are you hurt? Doll, answer me.”

“I don’t think anything’s broken,” You answer before feeling the rage you’d felt earlier returning. “You threw me down the garbage chute.”

Bucky tenses at your angry tone. “It was the safest option at the time, sweetheart.” Tony and the rest of the Avengers and Thor come around the corner about this time, your eyes never leaving Bucky’s as you get angrier and angrier.

“You. Threw. Me. Down. The. Garbage. Chute.” You shove his hands from your face. “And safe?!” You wave the baton you’d taken from black tactical uniformed asshole #8. “That asshole,” pointing the baton down towards the hole you’d both tumbled down, with you luckily landing on him to break your fall. “Was waiting out here ready to electrocute my ass into either compliance or peeing on myself, but yeah, I’m sure sticking with a fucking former sniper and super soldier was a bad plan.” Bucky is grinning with relief, he can practically feel it coursing through his veins like a drug. Now, his mind supplies with glee. And Bucky heeds the call, reclaiming the little space you’d put between the two of you, his hands cupping your face before his lips gently meet yours. He can hear you inhale sharply, moving his lips gently against yours.

And for a few moments, you surrender. It just feels so nice. You don’t want it to stop. But the anger reminds you that you could have died from the fall while your brain reminds you that you didn’t. And his lips feel so damn good.

You pull away, taking a deep breath as Bucky looks at you with hope dancing in those blue eyes.

“I need a shower,” You snap, withdrawing further from Bucky and marching back towards the compound’s closest patio. They can all hear you talking to yourself as you leave. “Maybe update beyond a plain chain-link fence? Who the fuck attacks the fucking Avengers compound, huh? Maybe put a stupid cover over the giant ash and fire pit in the ground! Stupid asshole, he’s lucky he broke my fall. What is in my hair?! Can’t believe he kissed me...fucking cookies...”

Pepper and Wanda follow after her while Natasha shakes her head at Bucky.

“A garbage chute, Barnes? And then she fell into the incinerator pit?”

“I didn’t plan it that way! I figured she’d get to the clearing and be safe!” Bucky defends, throwing his hands in the air.

“I thought you were smooth with women back in the day?” Rhodey asks, gesturing from Bucky to where you’d gone.

“You must go and make this right. But you might want to wait a bit since she still had a very firm hold on that stick.” Thor offers with a cheery smile. “I like her already!” Cookies. The thought of her holding that tin so tightly to her chest spurs Bucky to begin searching the ground before heading over to the garbage bin.

“Whatcha doin’, Tin-Man?” Tony asks, hovering to watch him.

“She had her cookie tin when I found her,” He grunts out, shoving the garbage out of the way to see the bottom of the metal bin.

“It’s not in there, Sergeant Barnes.” Vision confirms, making Bucky jump out with a huff.

“You can make her some more as an apology, Buck.” Steve huffs out as he dusts off the ash from the pit.

“Yeah…”

“You’re going to need a lot more than cookies,” Wanda’s voice is a whisper through the comms.

“Why?” Bruce asks, looking at Wong who shrugs.

“Whatever was in the dumpster, it mixed with the ashes and residue in the incinerator and it’s clumping in her hair. Pepper has her in the bathtub, trying to work it out as you would gum, but it’s not all coming out. We’ve got some of it...Maybe Shuri or Bruce can help? Otherwise, Pepper is going to call her hairdresser…”

“Oh shit. Yeah, you’re gonna need a whole lot more than cookies if you’ve fucked up her hair. I know that from experience,” Sam affirms before giving a shiver and heads back to where they tossed all the intruders.

“Best way is to admit you were and are a dumbass, then give her a few of her favorite things...oh, and she liked those chocolate chip pancakes you made - make those!” Bucky groans, looking from Clint - his suggestion is the best, after all - to Steve who is ready to begin doling out orders for cleanup.

“I’m just gonna give her some time. I’ll apologize in the morning. With pancakes and cookies.”

::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx::

After Pepper and Wanda try to work the solidified goo from your hair for almost two hours, you give up and just ask Pepper to call her hairdresser.

You didn’t know she’d come right away.

You barely step out of the shower when Wanda knocks to let you know she’s there.

It takes her about twenty-five minutes to cut all the wads from the ends of your hair, the highest luckily only coming a couple of inches up. You had wanted to cut your hair anyways you suppose…

She evens it out beautifully before smothering your hair in a mask as a knock on your door, draws all of your attention to the door. Part of you wants it to be Bucky. Needs it to be Bucky... The other part is hesitant - mostly because now you’ve had time to calm down and think about everything - you had said some harsh things. You had basically rejected him. And it hurt that you did that to Bucky.

The person at the door isn’t Bucky, it’s a nurse to check you over. You have a few scrapes on your hands from the metal edges of the trash bin and a few cuts on your arms and neck from wrestling with your assailant. You have a nasty bruise on the back of your left thigh from landing on it but right now it’s just a dull ache. She adds split lip and an electric-based burn on your forearm to the papers.

“Nothing major, thankfully!” She’s far too chipper for you right now so you just give a little sigh and nod.

After everyone leaves - having to placate Wanda and Pepper several times over that you are alright - you stand there in the middle of the room, bewildered. What do you do now? Is this how they all feel after battles?

You wander over to the desk, looking over the interviews you were working on before the attack, but you can’t seem to settle.

Just like before.

A shiver runs down your spine at the thought.

::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx::

Bucky is lying in bed, rubbing both hands roughly over his face while his mind goes over the last couple hours like fucking torturous instant replay.

A groan bubbles up in his throat as he stares at the ceiling.

He knows he’s made things bad but he hadn’t wanted you to see him like that.

Because he had felt more unhinged than he had in a long time...he didn’t know where you were and then someone had hurt you. The rage he had barely contained was let loose the moment he had turned around from shoving you down the chute. The six men were lucky. The man who had limped from the hallway after he finished with the six idiots, was not.

He’s so lost in his thoughts, in his selfishness - he barely registers the knock at his door. Huffing out a breath, he tosses his sheet over to cover his nudity...Steve didn’t seem to care but Sam threw a hissy fit every time he barged into his room and found him naked.

“Yeah,” Bucky calls out gruffly, tossing his flesh arm over his eyes, trying to prepare himself for whatever lecture he was about to receive.

“I don’t want to sleep alone.” He pops up at the sound of your voice, drinking the sight of you in like a thirsty man who had just crossed the desert. “I’m scared.”

His heart breaks. You should feel safe here. That’s all they had to do was protect you and he failed. Miserably. You look so small against the dark wood door, the oversized shirt from before is gone - a dark blue tank top in its place - but those tiny little shorts still there. Those would have been considered underwear back in his day.

You move forward slowly, coming to a stop at the empty side of his bed.

“I’m...um…”

“Naked?”

“Yeah.” She turns her back and sits on the edge of the bed with a soft sigh, perhaps relief? “Okay,” Bucky is standing by the bed in his black boxers, searching your face for what he’d seen earlier, but all he sees is tiredness and tears sitting ready to spill. “Come on.” He eases back into bed, watching as you mimic him.

Bucky can hear you swallow once you’re settled, staring up at the ceiling as he had done earlier. The both of you lie on your backs with a small space between the two of you, the soft breathing the only thing to break the silence.

“I’m sorry for how I acted. You saved my life. I should have been more grateful.”

“I shouldn’t have tossed you down that chute like that. I didn’t - I couldn’t - let you see me do what I did. You’d have been safer if I would have kept you with me.” You don’t reply - not verbally, at least. Your hand finds his under the sheet, gripping it tightly before linking your fingers through his. “I’m sorry about your hair,” Bucky whispers in the dark room, half-afraid to look at you.

“It’s just hair. It will grow back. Maybe I’ll cut it shorter once I get used to this length. I cried a little when Pepper was working on getting it out...seeing chunk and chunk of that stuff on one of those plush white towels...I honestly think it was the whole ordeal that made me cry. The hair was just the kicker.”

Bucky doesn’t know what to say, just squeezes your hand before he feels your gaze on him. Like a siren call he can’t ignore, his eyes meet yours.

“Stop blaming yourself Bucky. You thought you were keeping me from seeing you beat the ever-living fuck from those guys and keeping me safe by getting me out and away from where they all were.” He can hear your voice break as you fight back tears. “Please don’t take that burden. I’m fine. I’m safe.”

“With me,” Bucky breathes out, releasing your hand for the second time that night, turning on his side before drawing you closer, as close as possible. “You’re safe, babydoll. Okay? I’m a dumbass. I should have done what made sense and keep you close.”

He can feel you chuckle against his chest, inhaling the sweet scent of your shampoo as he idly rubs his cheek against the top of your head.

“You are a dumbass, Barnes.” He sucks in a breath, a tightness already forming in his chest. “But you are an achingly good person, so I’m going to forgive this incident. Next time, I’m not gonna be so lenient.” It’s all mumbled against his chest, your fingers digging slightly into his back as you cling to him like he is doing to you.

“I’ll make you chocolate chip pancakes and cookies ‘til you pop.”

“Mmmhmm,” You hum against his chest, giving a little wiggle before taking a few deep breaths. “Goodnight Bucky, you handsome dumbass.”

“Goodnight, doll,” Bucky waits until he hears your breathing even out before he adds. “Your dumbass, sweetheart.”

::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx::

Everyone wakes up to find Steve panicking that Y/N isn’t in her room.

“She’s gone!”

“Calm down, Steve.” Natasha orders, handing Clint his third cup of coffee.

“I checked the surveillance cameras, she didn’t leave the compound,” He rambles. “And I’ve checked the grounds, she isn’t anywhere to be found.”

“Did you ask everyone? Maybe she’s talking to Wong or Bruce or Okoye. Get ahold of yourself, Rogers. A man your age doesn’t need the added stress.” Steve shoots her a glare that clearing has some language undertones.

“Morning,” Tony says brightly, tossing the morning newspapers onto the kitchen bar top and taking a seat.

“Tony, Y/N is missing.”

“Ah. Is she now? FRIDAY?”

“Yes, Boss?”

“Is our little writer still on the premises?”

“Yes, Boss.”

“See? No need to worry, Steve. A man your age could have a heart attack.”

“Oh hardy-fucking-har har,” Steve spits out while Tony grins, just before they all hear a loud gasp.

“Captain!” Shuri has her hand over her heart dramatically. “Language!” Steve throws up a hand.

“One more language or old man joke and someone - or multiple someones - are getting some shield. Understand?” They all fucking snap to attention and salute, T’Challa walking in with a sigh.

“Please say this is for him and not for me.”

“No, it’s for the Captain,” Peter clarifies with a bright grin before schooling his face back to serious.

“Alright then.” Steve nearly snaps when T’Challa joins in, trying to hide a smile as he stands at attention.

“Fine! I’m going to keep looking for Y/N!” And stomps from the room.

“You guys really should have shouted ‘America’s Ass!’ when you snapped to attention,” Scott muses as he heads towards the coffee pot.

“Damnit! Why didn’t I think of that?!” Tony groans out before Natasha slides him a glass of orange juice and smiles over the rim of her glass.

“There’s always later, Tony.”

::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx::

“Bucky! Have you seen - AHH!” Bucky shoots up, making sure to angle himself to cover you as he held a gun pointed at the intruder.

“Jesus, pal. Maybe knock next time?” Bucky grumbles out, replacing the gun next to his lamp on his bedside table as he feels your fingers on his bicep. You sleepily peeking around him to look at Steve with murder clearly written on your face is the epitome of too cute.

“I didn’t - I’m sorry - I-I was just looking for -”

“What time is it Steve?” You yawn out, interrupting him.

“It’s, um, 8:30.”

“AM?!”

“Yes.”

“What the actual fuck? I didn’t get to sleep until after 3. Not cool, Rogers.” And you toss yourself back down before reaching up to pull at Bucky’s arm with a little whine at the back of your throat.

“Oh, yeah. I’ll, um, I’ll just go then. See you when you get up.” Even Steve doesn’t understand what you mumbled out, his brow furrowed as he pulls the door closed quietly behind him as Bucky waves him off. Bucky wiggles downward, changing their positions from last night - his face pressed against your collarbone as he feels your fingers slip into his hair, winding his arms around your middle with a sigh of contentment.

You both drift off wrapped up safely in each other again.

::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx::

“You find her?”

“Yep.” Steve walks briskly into the kitchen, reaching for his coffee cup.

“Well, don’t leave us hanging in suspense!” Hope chides as Steve adds some brown sugar to his coffee before moving around Sam towards the liquor counter. All eyebrows raise as he pours a healthy amount into his coffee cup.

“She was with Bucky.”

“What?!”

“After what happened last night?!”

“Did the old man finally get laid?” They’re all talking over one another or talking to each other about this development.

“I don’t think she’s gonna have sex with him after that. Maybe she just went in to talk and they fell asleep together. I don’t know. I didn’t get to ask too many questions. She’s not a morning person and running on less than five hours of sleep doesn’t make her any more of a morning person.”

“Well, where are they?”

“She pulled him back down and they went back to sleep.”

“That’s adorable!” Wanda gives a little squeal of delight before adding a dollop of whipping cream to Steve’s cup of Irish coffee.

“It seems the endeavor to bring them together has worked,” Vision expressed, nodding at everyone like they had done a good job.

“He has to ask her out. That’s the goal.” Wong utters as he waits for the tea kettle to warm up.

“Wong’s right. He’s gotta ask her out.”

“Who has to ask whom out?” Thor asks as he struts into the kitchen. “I am glad I came ahead. I got to have some fun before the interrogation.”

“Interview,” Okoye corrects with pursed lips.

“Ah yes, interview. But who is asking who out?”

“Bucky needs to ask Y/N out,” Pepper clarifies, hugging Thor before taking the barstool next to Tony.

“She seemed upset with him earlier this morning.”

“He threw her out the trash chute,” Shuri reiterates.

“Better than a high window. Or into the vacuum of space.” Natasha shoots Clint a look at Thor’s words, which just makes him chuckle loudly before gesturing at the Irish whiskey Steve left on the counter. She rolls her eyes and hands it to him.

“Yes. Very right, Pikachu. But what else can we do? We’ve pushed them together at mealtimes, they’ve napped together - now they’d slept together,” Thor opens his mouth but Bruce just shakes his head and Thor closes his mouth. “Sleep, not sex, Thor. He’s been smiling more, following her around when she isn’t interviewing...maybe we should send them to town for supplies make up an activity to do and then we all bail?”

“What scares me is you are a certified genius…” Shuri utters with a hearty sigh. “This isn’t a Lifetime movie, people.”

“It wouldn’t be a Lifetime movie anyway!” Scott argues, drumming his fingers on the countertop. “We need, like, a ‘You’ve Got Mail’ scenario.”

“That’s not gonna work! They’ve met. They aren’t competitors,” Clint argues back, shaking his head vehemently. 

“Okay, everyone gives ONE idea!” Stephen pipes up as he leans against the coffee bar.

“We should go over tropes!” Peter jumps in with the first offer.

“Finally! A good idea!” Shuri agrees with a broad smile.

“Alright, let’s make a list,” Pepper pulls out her phone. “Trope one?”

“Bedsharing. Check.”

“Could we do a sick/injured one?” Natasha asks, looking from Shuri to Peter.

Peter nods seriously. “I’ll allow it.”

“Sending them on a blind date?” Hope offers, smearing butter on her toast as Scott hands her a jar of peach preserves.

“Oh, yes. That could work. Add that please, Pepper.”

“Why are we listening to children?” Stephen looks around the group, hands wide with a universal ‘what’ gesture.

“Cause we are very intelligent. And you aren’t throwing out any good ideas, Strange.” Peter snorts at Shuri’s comment.

“Mutual pining for sure,” Sam adds, cracking open an energy drink.

“Poorly timed confession? When he kissed her?” Okoye slips into the last barstool, Shuri grinning from ear to ear at her addition.

“You know so much, Okoye.”

“It is my job, Princess.”

“Anger born of worry, definitely a possibility for Y/N…” Tony mutters more to himself than anyone else, as he scrolls through his phone, looking at the list of tropes he found.

“Innocent physical contact?” Steve peers over Tony’s shoulder. “Hand holding when they napped.”

“Sleep intimacy.”

“Well, that didn’t seem to help. We just made a list of things they’ve done,” Thor looks at Sam’s can before rooting around in the fridge for a similar one.

“Exactly, Mr. Thor. We need a starting point. They both seem to be sort of dancing around each other, so we have to also go with what they’re comfortable with.”

“Excellent, Spider-Parker. Continue.”

“Just go old school. Send her flowers in his name. She thanks him, he plays along, if he’s smart he asks her out - Done.” Bruce vocalizes, Hope offering him a slice of toast.

“Or…,” T’Challa begins, “We could take them to Vegas, get them drunk and get them married. I have now solved all the future problems they’ll encounter as well. You are welcome.”

“Why not just get them drunk here and since I’m ordained, and you’re a King, we could just marry them?”

“Is this really what we’re going with?” Skepticism is rampant in Pepper’s voice as she sets her phone down, eyebrow raised at Rhodey - who has been remarkably silent in the corner, a guardian of the newly brewed pot of coffee.

“Listen, if he’s not smart enough to see he needs to snap her up, I can’t help the man.”

“I just think he needs a little push,” Wanda expresses as she picks at her fingernail absentmindedly.

“Or we just watch and hope he pulls his head out of his ass,” Stephen mutters, pouring more hot water into his cup with a grimace.

“God, it’ll be another 70 years,” Steve groans, polishing off his Irish coffee.

“We’re talking about Bucky, Steve - not you,” Natasha reasons, patting his forearm and flashing a cocky grin.

::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx::

Tony staring down at the marble countertop with his hands on either side of his head with Pepper sitting beside him at the kitchen bar top reading something on her tablet. Bucky is making breakfast - well, more like brunch and a brunch overload at that - pancakes, coffee, bacon, sausage, ham, waffles, and he’s working on eggs when everyone drags themselves back into the kitchen.

“Where’s Y/N?” Shuri asks as she pours herself some juice.

“In the garden,” Bucky answered distractedly before taking a long drink from his black insulated tumbler.

“How is she?”

“She’s been on the phone since she came out of Mr. Bucky’s room,” Peter pipes up happily before walking by Tony and squeezes his shoulder. “Did you guys see she posted the first interview?”

“Who did she post first? Was it me?”

“No, uh, sorry, Sam. She posted Mrs. Pepper’s first.”

“How many times have you read that Tony?” Steve asks, taking his own long drink from his coffee cup as his blonde hair sticks up everywhere.

“Four. He didn’t even tell me until the third time,” Pepper answers for him.

“Five now,” Tony corrects, leaning back in the barstool. “It’s everything I could have wanted.” Natasha takes the tablet from in front of Tony, bracing her elbows on the counter before scrolling to the top and settling in to read. Pepper hands her tablet to Steve as Thor climbs into the seat besides Tony, taking a few waffles from the pile and dousing them with far too much syrup.

“Kid, tell her breakfast is ready,” Bucky orders softly, Peter already out of his seat and out the wood covered patio door before Bucky gets to the word ‘ready’. Repairs to the windows and door the intruders broke will be fixed later today, Pepper confirmed earlier since Tony was distracted, for now, they’re just boarded up.When Peter returns with her, there is just the sounds of Bucky finishing up and soft shuffles as people shift where they’re sitting or standing. Almost everyone is looking down at their devices or eating, which makes you more nervous, he can tell.

Bucky had woken up to an empty bed and his giant tumbler filled with hot coffee sitting on his bedside table, the sweet smell and pale color tipping him off immediately to what his doll has been up to. He didn’t know exactly what she’d put in it, it was different from the other times, not as chocolatey but sweet enough to appease his sweet tooth.

He watches you from the corner of his eye as he carefully plates the two biggest, warmest pancakes onto a plate for you, balancing two pieces of bacon and a couple of pieces of sausage at the top of the plate while you slip into the barstool on the other side of Okoye who had claimed the seat by Pepper.

Bucky carefully slides the plate before you, a silent offering of apology. Even if you’ve said multiple times he doesn’t need to apologize...he knows he has to. You deserve every apology he can muster.

“Morning,” He rushes to say it and it comes out rougher than he planned nearly wincing at his overeagerness.

“Good morning,” You reply softly, “Thank you for breakfast.”

“Of course, doll.” Everyone is trying not to look at the two of you and you both appreciate that.

Tony points to the tablet in Natasha’s hand.

“We need to talk about this later, kid. Wonderful stuff.”

“Really?” She’s beaming, the nerves she had suddenly gone - like a weight lifted from her shoulders. Tony nods as he takes a big bite of sausage.

“Yeah, kid. I love it. I really do.”

“When we get done eating, can Thor join me in the garden please?” Bucky fights the need to tense up at your words, putting a few pancakes on his own plate before adding a heap of eggs, smothering his pancakes in buttery syrup as if every action will somehow prolong the inevitable. But you slept in his bed last night. Woke up wrapped around him. The thoughts don’t stop the jealousy already clawing at his belly.

Thor just looks at you with happiness painted on his features, extending a hand behind Pepper to shake yours.

“I did not think last night was a good time to introduce myself. Thor, Son of Odin and Frigga.”

“Y/N, Daughter of Lily Lee. Pleased to meet you.”

“You as well. I like your hair cut. I know what it is like to have no decision in removing your hair and I am sorry. But it will grow back.” He adds cheerfully, spearing a forkful of eggs. “This is only 8 years worth since that madman on Sakaar shorn me like a sheep!”

“Asgardians hair must grow fast.” Thor bobs his blonde head. “Where is Sakaar?”

“It is a place I would never take a lovely woman such as yourself. It is a prize fighting planet filled with thieves, vagrants, and mercenaries which is ruled by a sexually-deviant man called the Grand Master.” He shoves half a waffle in his mouth, cheeks round as he smiles and points his fork at Bruce. “You remember Sakaar, don’t you, Bruce? Hulk was top fighter there!”

Bucky watches your eyes widen as your gaze falls on Bruce.

“You didn’t mention Sakaar, Dr. Banner.”

“Why-why would I? It’s a terrible planet, like-like Thor said. Plus, I-I was Hulk and don’t remember everything about that time.” Thor and Bruce nod along together, Bucky nearly rolls his eyes at the two. Their sublty and Shuri’s absolutely needed some work.

“Of course. I’m sorry to prod, Bruce.”

“No problem. No problem at all.” Tony is looking at Bruce, confusion written all over his face,  who shrugs as soon as you look away.

“Well, I’m going to get my things, Thor. I’ll see you in the garden.” She rises from the seat and puts her dirty plate in the sink, Bruce stuttering out he’ll wash it before her hand falls on Bucky’s wrist. “Thank you again for breakfast, Bucky.”

Now it’s his turn to stutter. “O-of course, doll.”

As you disappear down the hallway, Bucky meets Thor’s gaze, the god smiling knowingly at him.

Asshat.

::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx::

Thor starts your interview with a hug, complimenting you on the stories that Nebula shared with him from the many electronic mails that Tony had sent.

“I’m glad you liked them.”

“Oh yes. I think even my brother would have had to admit they were well written.”

“How is your brother?”

“I have seen him but twice on my travels with the Guardians. But he seems well. He is not the brother I lost to Thanos, not as mature, he is more Trickster...but he seems to avoid getting himself into too much hot water.” He sighs, absentmindedly stroking his beard. “I suppose I am just happy he is alive and well. I dare not ask for more.” You pat his knee as you nod.

“We can’t change our family. But the family you found is always here and welcoming.”

“Of course. I am very grateful for such a family.”

“May we begin?”

“Yes. Let us begin.”

“What was it like growing up on Asgard?”

“Beautiful. Peaceful. Even when we were being trained to be warriors, there was still joy in me. I was always happy to protect Asgard.”

“It’s been mentioned to me by others that you are actually not the King of Asgard as many news agencies constantly report.”

“No,” He gives a little chuckle as he looks over the roses. “No, I am not King of Asgard. I never wanted to be. Loki should have been King, he was more for politics and intrigue and silver-tongued words. I am a warrior. It is that simple.”

“Is it?” Those electric blue eyes bore into you, brows furrowed slightly. “‘Cause you let your home planet be destroyed to protect your people. You ferried quite a few Asgardians who were flung across the cosmos back here to live with their own people. I’d say that’s more than just a simple warrior.”

“You flatter me, my lady.” You laugh at his words.

“I’m not terribly into flattery, so you won’t be getting any more of that from me.”

“Noted,” He remarks, his serious face being held for only a few seconds before it breaks into a wide smile that reminds you of the sun. Did his mother ever look at him as a baby and think ‘this is Thor - my little god of sunshine’? You’d bet a fair amount of money she did.

“Things on Asgard were medieval-ish in terms of the way you spoke, the way you dressed...yet you were far more advanced than even we are now. Probably more than we will be in a hundred years. Why visit us so long ago, when we were far less advanced than now?”

“You were a simpler people. Not stupid, but not quite ready to dream of going out into the stars. All of the cultures we visited were so different...good medical knowledge, fairly good at outlining the stars, planets, and constellations, all very clean and focused on the betterment of their people. And then I believe it was the Dark Ages and you lot seemed to take a few dozen steps backward. Like you had all, as one, forgotten the hard-earned knowledge of your forebearers. We did not come back for a great many years after that. But you have relearned most of what was lost. Wakanda seems to be the best because of it, seeming to have lost the least amount of knowledge over the centuries.”

“Have you read any of the Viking mythology?”

“Tony has made a few mentions of it during our time together, but I did not understand all of his references.”

“Viking mythology is quite different from Asgardian fact. You are the oldest legitimate son of Odin, so you would still be King. Loki is still a Frost Giant raised as an Asgardian. But Hela is not your sister, Hela is Loki’s daughter - well in some versions. He - um - in a certain story,” You wiggle a little on the bench under his intense, but friendly gaze. “Turned into a mare and let himself be impregnated by an Asgardian stallion. He then gives birth to a nine-legged horse that Odin uses named Sleipnir.”

Thor bursts out laughing, deep, rich and from his belly as he slaps his hand on his knee a few times before taking a deep breath and wiping away a few tears.

“Oh! You MUST send me more of these stories! They are wildly inaccurate and very, very amusing!”

“What’s your favorite thing about Earth?”

“Besides these stories I have just learned of? I enjoy the clothes but dislike the lack of armor. I like coffee! I add a little bit of Asgardian mead to mine to make it more enjoyable. I enjoy the fact that you are all so resilient. Most of you so willing to do what’s right, you just act upon that need - it is quite endearing. Selfies! I have become quite good at taking selfies with people! You all also opened your planet to me and my people when we were in need. I also enjoy those Oreo cookie things that Quill packs onboard that I steal and share with Rocket and Groot.”

Another snack thief… You make a note under Thor’s name, before adding Oreos just under it.

“You left New Asgard to go travel with the Guardians. Is Quill still the leader?”

“Yes. Of course.” You giggle at his face.

“Your mouth says yes, but your eyes don’t seem to agree!”

“You have a lovely laugh. And I suppose I am used to being the leader or, at least an equal to the leader, and 3500 years of that is a hard thing to break. I will call it a toss-up on most days.”

“Thank you for that compliment, Thor. Are you a morning or a night person?”

“I like all times of the day, but I do enjoy sleeping in when I can.”

“What would happen if you summoned lightning and I was holding onto Stormbreaker at the time?”

“You would not be able to wield such a weapon, little one. But you have nothing to fear, I would not let any harm come to you - lightning or attempting to wield Stormbreaker. The lightning would simply go where I wanted it to and I would be wielding the ax, so no harm would come from you hanging onto it.”

“How do you deal with all the loss you’ve had in the last fifteen years?” Thor gives you a sad smile.

“One day at a time, as do we all. I have very much to be thankful for, so I think of that often when I feel weighed down.”

“Do you take fruit from Tony’s farm when you go into space? Have you tried giving them space fruit?”

“Yes, Tony has had some. As well as Rhodey. I am not sure the others have tried any. I should bring a few big crates for them to try next time we come to visit!”

“Would you like to tell me more about your family and growing up?”

“What else would you like to know, little rose?” You cover up the shock at the nickname with a bright smile, nodding eagerly before flipping to another page of questions you have for him.

::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx::

You’re all about to sit down when FRIDAY announces that the Guardians are about to land on the east side of the compound. You snatch up your camera, which had eerily reappeared in your room this morning, from the kitchen counter and run outside to snap a few pictures of the landing.

Meeting “The Space Division”, as Tony lovingly refers to them, is amazing!

Carol is funny, sarcastic and a bit dry, she immediately reminded you of a lot less weighed down version of Tony. Maybe a mix of Tony, Wanda, and Clint. That thought gives you a little concern.

Nebula glares as you extend your hand before giving a little huff and shaking it roughly. You don’t mind, Tony and Thor have warned you she was rough around the edges. You give her your warmest smile and allow her her space afterward.

Gamora gives you a firm handshake, sizing you up before offering a tight smile. “Don’t mind the idiots too much, I’ll help keep them in line for the questioning.” She says softly before dropping your hand and stepping aside.

Thor wraps his arms around you in another hug, tighter than the last, before pulling back to introduce you to Groot and Rocket. You manage a thank you as he releases you, seeing Bucky come into your line of sight behind Thor, you smile again - this one just for him since he looks a little glum.

“These are my very good friends, little rose. Tree and Rabbit,” His voice is filled with pride and glee, so you try to school your face when he calls Rocket a rabbit.

Groot shakes your hand and smiles wide, “I am Groot,” falling easily from his mouth as he beams down at you.

Rocket perches up by Groot’s elbow to shake your hand afterward, “I’ll be translating for him during your interrogation thing.” You thank him profusely as Thor gives a little frown beside you.

“Interview, friend.”

“Right. Right.” Rocket agrees with a little shrug before a giant wall of muscle stands before you - shirtless.

“I am Drax the Destroyer.”

“Y/N Y/L/N,” You pause. “The writer.” He nods as if the title is exactly what he needed to hear before yanking your hand away from your side and giving it a few firm shakes before dropping it and moving to the left.

“This is Mantis. She knows she is hideously ugly, so there is no need to bring it up again.” Your brows furrow at Drax’s summation as you look at the woman before you. She isn’t ugly. At least not here on Earth.

“Hello, Mantis, nice to meet you.” She keeps her hands clasped together lightly before her, giving a nod at you instead

“Don’t mind Drax. His vision of beauty is horribly skewed,” A male voice says from behind Drax, pushing him out of the way to reveal a nice looking man in red leather who has plastered on his most charming, boyish smile as he extends his hand. “I’m Peter Quill, you may know me as Star-Lord.”

“Of course,” You answer brightly as his other hand comes up to clasp tightly around the hand he still has a hold of, stepping a little closer as he does so.

“You have beautiful eyes,” He begins before Steve clears his throat loudly to your right.

“Lunch?” He reminds in a tone that leaves no room for argument. Bucky appears at your side like magic, offering his arm as he stares ahead. You gently slip yours through it, setting your other hand on his forearm. Thor is holding the door open and smiles brightly at you, blue eyes nearly electric with the light shining in them. Bucky gruffly thanks him before escorting you to your seat, which is opposite the Guardians. Bucky makes sure you’re settled before he takes his seat beside you, with T’Challa on your other side.

Lunch passes much like the first dinner you had with the Avengers, with you recording and feeling a bit like an interloper, but at the same time more comfortable in the group. The Avengers really help you not feel like the odd man out, and it does seem to ease something in Carol and Nebula as they interact with you. Quill and Thor keep smiling overly friendly at you, Bucky’s arm landing on the back of your chair about halfway through dinner. T’Challa says something to him in isiXhosa that nearly has Bucky sputtering into his wine, making you pat his back roughly before rubbing a few circles as you make sure he’s okay.

“Fine, doll. Just fine. Sometimes T’Challa’s humor throws me off.”

Dessert is individual layered desserts with cookies on the side and you nearly squeal when you see the homemade sugar cookies on your plate with the colored sugar on top. You bite into one eagerly, making a little noise at the sound, a chuckle sounding to your right as Bucky watches your happy little wiggle.

One of the things you learn quickly is that Nebula doesn’t talk much, and when she does, it’s blunt. Quill, on the other hand, talks a lot. Especially about himself. Which you don’t mind - just look at your chosen profession - but it’s cocky and you aren’t one for this ego-boosting performance. Especially overly dramatic, long-winded ones... Rocket is rolling his eyes at the story Quill is telling, his hand miming talking while he mouths ‘Blah, Blah, Blah’. Then Quill throws one of his cookies as Rocket, who ducks and it hits Groot - and while you’re sure he’s physically fine, the look in his eyes is one of betrayal and you pick up your unused soup spoon and throw it at Quill. He looks more startled than anything at the turn of events, rubbing his chest where your spoon hit.

“Don’t worry,” Drax shouts as he shovels in the last of his dessert. “He does not have sensitive nipples!” You try desperately to smother your laughter with your hand but fail for the most part.

“Good to know,” Clint replies for you further down the table as Bucky leans over to whisper in your ear.

“No one needed to know that, doll. And that was a hell of a shot with the spoon.” You turn to face him, foreheads almost touching.

“Did you doubt my spoon throwing skills, sir?”

“Haven’t come across a spoon thrower…” He rumbles out, smiling so wide his eyes are wrinkling on the sides again.

“So that makes me all the more impressive. I mean, you are over a hundred years old…” He leans back a little, hand over his heart.

“Ow. Bringing my age into it, doll? Rough.”

“Don’t be such a baby. Sam brings up your age constantly.”

“Does he? I ignore him most of the time…”

“No you don’t, you old fogey!” Sam hollers from a few seats down, making you laugh again. Tony leads all of you into the lounge, complete with a fully stocked bar. Bucky brings you a dirty Shirley Temple before sitting beside you with a big glass full of whiskey, Thor making himself comfortable on your other side.

He regales you with stories from his journeys throughout the nine realms, about his brother and his friends the Warriors Three. You listen to a particularly suspenseful one, Steve smiling as he leans against the bar edge a few feet away, your hand shooting out to grab onto Bucky. You miss the shocked expression when you grab his knee, squeezing it before you sputter out an embarrassed apology.

“I was - I’m sorry - I just - I was so caught up in the story…”

“It’s fine, doll. Startled me was all since I was talking to Stevie is all.” He pats the hand that was just squeezing his leg, his small smile comforting. Thor coaxes your attention back to him, finishing the story with gusto.

About two hours later you’re excusing yourself off to bed, saying you’d like to get better pictures of the outside and inside of the ship before you start the interviews. Quill eagerly agrees, offering to give you a tour until Rocket makes what you assume is a crude comment under his breath since Quill tries to kick him before flashing a bright, flirty smile at you.

You don’t see Bucky glaring menacingly at him, standing at his full height just to your left as you say your goodnights. When you turn to wish Bucky sweet dreams, his face is normal - his eyes even softer than usual as he wished you sweet dreams in return.

You don’t hear the sound of a whip Sam makes but you hear a few soft grunts just before the door clicks closed behind you.

::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx::

[PART 4]

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Tagging: @jewelofwinter @sgtjbuccky @jaamesbbarnes @thewhiterabbit42 @nobodys-baby-now @unleashthemidnight @stay-frosty-royal-unicorn @chelsea072498 @clockworkmorningglory @sakurablossom4 @marichromatic @blondecoffeecake @ourloveisforthelovely @whinywingedwinchester @feelmyroarrrr @rowdyhooliganism @everythingisoverrated @iloveyouthreethousand-o6 @puddinsqueen @emotionallysalty @maraudingmarauder @you-bleed-just-toknowyouarealive @strangersstranger @thefridgeismybestie @transcendent-heroes @jotink78

A/N: Found the pic online and edited it, props to Google and all rights/privileges/ownership goes to who took the photo and to Marvel who made up all these characters.

[avengerscompound]

Ex Boss

Ex Boss:  A Wasp Fanfic

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing:  Hope Pym x F!Reader

Word Count:  1528

Warnings:  Smut (F|F Domme/Sub, oral sex, public sex, vaginal fingering)

Synopsis:  You decided to quit your job to pursue a relationship with Hope.  Turns out she has some very specific tastes.

A/N:  This is a sequel to Bad Ideas, but can be read alone.

Ex Boss

You had been so good.  So, so good.  Okay, there had been that one slip up.  Which, yes it had been an all-night slip-up but it still only counted as one.  Hope Van Dyne was your boss and you were her employee and even though you were both extremely attracted to each other you had been good and things had stayed professional.

Which sucked, to be honest.  It sucked having to choose between a job and maybe getting a chance to be in a decent healthy relationship.

So you decided you weren’t going to.  You were going to do both.

Hope often took her lunch in the boardroom so that’s where you went to find her.  You knocked on the door and let yourself in, finding here sitting at the large table eating an array of sushi she had laid out in front of her.

She looked up and frowned.  “You know we can’t.”  What it was about the way you were holding yourself that she had known exactly what you had wanted to talk about.  You hadn’t brought it up with her at all since the night you had spent together.  You had been nothing but professional.  She’d never brought it up with you either.  Yet, right away she knew.  Maybe you had a terrible poker face.  Or maybe she could just read minds.  “I’m your boss.  The balance of power is off.”

“Why?  Because you’d hate to boss me around?”  You asked making sure the sexual suggestion dripped from your words.

She laughed softly and shook her head.  “Like to play with fire don’t you?”

You sidled up closer to her, leaning against the table.  “Maybe.  I can tell you something else I like to play.”

“I said we can’t.  Don’t make me come down hard on you.”  She said.  The finality of it hurt a little but it didn’t dissuade you.

You bit your bottom lip and quirked your eyebrow at her.  “I’d like you to come hard on me.”

“Seriously,”  She said, all humor now gone from her voice.  “I’m your boss.  You need to stop.”

“No, you’re not.”  You said with a smirk.

She pushed her chair back and folded her arms.  “What do you mean I’m not?”

“I just resigned.  I don’t work here anymore.  Or at least I won’t in two weeks.”

She looked you up and down.  The first sweep of her eyes was confused like she was trying to tell if you were lying to her or not.  The second sweep was predatory, like she was about to devour you whole.  “Is that so?”

“It sure is, Ms. Van Dyne,”  You hummed, crossing one leg over the other.  “So now, the only reason not to pursue this -” you indicated between the two of you - “Is because you don’t want to.  Because I - Want to.”

She pushed her chair back and strummed her fingers on the arm.  “Take your panties off.”

A shiver ran through you and you stood up and worked your panties down and off.  “It’s funny you know, you just quit so I wouldn’t be your boss anymore, only now, I am most definitely your boss.”  She crossed her legs and continued to strum her fingers on the chair.  “I want you sitting on the table, legs spread.  I still have lunch to finish.”

“Yes, ma’am.”  You said climbing up on the table.  You sat with your legs wide and your knees bent so your feet rested on the edge of the table.

She moved her sushi so it sat between your legs and picked up her chopsticks.  “So,”  She said picking up a piece of tuna nigiri from beside your thigh and dipping it into soy sauce.  “Do you have another job lined up or will you be lining up for unemployment?”

“No, I have a job.”  You said watching as she slowly chewed her food.

She swallowed and picked up a cucumber maki that was sitting so close to your quickly moistening cunt that you almost felt it brush past your skin as she raised it up and brought it to your lips.  You took a bite and chewed it.  It sent a slight shiver through you.  There was something about sushi.  It tasted like being at the beach.  That fresh salty air that came from the ocean.  A flavor not unlike that of clean pussy.

“So where is it?”  She asked.

“S.I.”

She paused with a piece of tuna halfway to her mouth and rolled her eyes.  “Stark?  Really?  Of all the places.”

“It was the best offer I got.”  You replied.

‘Well, here’s another offer for you,”  She said putting her chopsticks down and tenting her fingers on the table.  “I really like you.  I think we could have something together, but you need to know that I like control.  I can get rough.  We’ll need to discuss what you’re comfortable with.”

If you weren’t already completely turned on, you would be now.  Your mind flicked over the things she might be into.  How ‘in control’ she liked to be.  Would it just be instruction and praise?  Would bondage be involved?  Pain?  “Okay, that sounds good.”

She smiled.  It was a dark and hungry smile.  “Good.  Dinner tonight?  You can tell me what you like, and I’ll tell you what I like and hopefully, there’s some crossover.”

You hummed.  “I don’t think there will be a problem with that.”

She chuckled and started moving her food to the side.  “Oh good, because you might need to be punished for the S.I. thing.”

“Sounds fun.  What now though?”  You asked.

“Well, right now, I eat.”  She said and grabbed your thighs dragging you to the edge of the table.  You yelped.  The yelp turning into a deep moan as she sucked on your pussy, her tongue swirling around as she drank up your fluids.

You lay back on the table looking up at the off white ceiling tiles above you as Hope held you in place and swirled her tongue around your folds and ruffled them with her lips.  A warm tingle built in your cunt and spread out through the rest of you.  It made your skin flush and prickle and your nerve endings come alive.

As your arousal grew you began to rock your hips gently against her face.  Wanting more than just this light teasing she was providing.  She smacked your hip.  Not in a way to cause pain, but she cupped her hand so it made a loud slap sound that echoed in the large conference room.

She sucked your clit in her mouth and pressed her lips against it. Her tongue flicked back and forth and circled around, eliciting a loud moan from you.  She sat up and slapped your hip again.  “We’re at work, you need to keep quiet, you bad girl.”

“I don’t know if I can.”  You said with a slight whine to your voice.

She smirked at you and picked up your panties.  “Well, we might be finding out a limit sooner than I thought.”   She balled the fabric in her hands.  “Shall I gag you?”

You rubbed your legs together, the thought of it alone sending a shiver up your spine.  You nodded your head and she shoved the fabric in your mouth.   She smirked down at you and returned to your pussy.  This time when she pulled your clit into her mouth, she thrust two of her fingers deep inside you and spread them, stretching your cunt and making you cry out.  Your cry was muffled by the fabric of your panties.

She curled her fingers, dragging them inside you as she sucked and nipped on your clit.  She said she liked control.  She had all of it.  All you could do was give yourself over to it as you arched up on the conference table.

Electricity crackled through your veins, making your skin buzz and your hairs stand on end.  It built in the pit of your stomach like a ball of hot lead pressing down on you.  You writhed under her as she worked your g-spot, your muffled moans getting louder and blending from one to the next.

With a sudden jolt and clench of your muscles, you came, crying out into the fabric of your panties.  She drank you down greedily as your body shuddered on the table.  When she sat back she smiled and wiped her mouth with a napkin.  “That’s a girl,”  She hummed.

You sat up and pulled the panties from your mouth and moved closer to her, planning to return the favor.  She kissed you gently and took your underwear from you, slipping it into her pocket.  “I need to get back to work.  And so do you.  Be at my place by seven.”  She said getting up.

You blinked at her.  “Okay.  Can I have my underwear back.”

Hope smiled and you knew the answer before you even said it.   “We’ll see.  I’ll give them to you later...  if you're good.”

With that she left you to straighten up and spend the rest of the day on edge, waiting for tonight.

[redvelvetreel]

Red Velvet Reel 4.3: A Crabapple A Day

                                            [Fic Directory]

Pairing: [Married] Spicyhoney (Underfell Papyrus x Underswap Papyrus)

Summary: Undyne finally shows up, and tells Stretch and Blue the rumors about Edge and Red- much to their delight. The Fell Bros take advantage of the situation to try and scare Undyne....

Characters: Edge (Underfell Papyrus) & Stretch (Underswap Papyrus) & Red (Underfell Sans) & Blue (Underswap Sans) & Undyne (Underswap Undyne)

Contains: Mpreg/Skelepreg! Awkward & Anxious Swapdyne! Red and Edge being mean, lol.  

Rating: Teen and up! (I guess?)

Note:  Allie is Swap!Alphys’ nickname, of course! :’D She’s just mentioned~ While technically she works with Edge on the ‘military matters,’ she’s more of Swap!Asgore’s personal body guard. TBH, Edge’s got enough confidence, bluster, and charisma to make it work by himself most of the time anyway.  

“I’M SO LATE AND I AM INCREDIBLY SORRY ABOUT THAT-” “Dyne-a-mite!” Stretch was on the other side of the room in an instant, cutting off the incredibly nervous-looking fish monster by giving her a big bear hug. “Pap-Bomb!” She sounded equally excited, squeezing back hard enough someone’s bones popped. She reached up to loop her arm around his neck, noogieing the top of his head affectionately. “Where have you BEEN?! You missed out on the newest m00n-single! Serena got a rap solo, and she was so good! I didn’t like her look very much though- gray hair! White I could live with, but gray?!” Stretch winced, still hunched over and trapped in her grip, “Owie Ow Ow-  I’ve been busy-“ Undyne’s grin widened, “Don’t I know it, you sly-“

Blue cleared his throat pointedly, and Undyne literally jumped in alarm. Her face darkened in a mortified blush, tripping over her feet to stand in front of him. She grabbed Blue’s hand and started shaking it hard enough his entire arm was moving. “HEY MR. EDGE OH WAIT YOU HAVE A RANK UH UM COLONEL NO WAIT ITS HIGHER GENERAL GENERALISSIMO IN CHIEF IM SO SOR- SORRY I DONT KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT MILITARY THINGS SIR EDGE IVE HEARD A LOT ABOUT YOU-“ Blue sighed, prying her vice grip off of his fingers and shaking them out with a wince, “Ow! It’s me, Undyne!” She blinked at him owlishly, putting her slightly skewed glasses back in place firmly and leaning forward. “Oh. So it is. Hi Mr. Sans. Wait. Sans. Hi Sans.” Blue smiled warmly, reaching out to gently clap her on the shoulder. She jumped with a little scream. “Why are you so nervous?! It’s just us!” “It’s not just you!” Undyne hissed, leaning close and looking around suspiciously. Edge and Red had been quick to move out of her line of sight, quietly watching her every movement with strategic calculation. “Pap’s husband and his brother-in-law are here too! Didn’t they come with you? Are they coming later? I’m super nervous about meeting them! First impressions are the most important!” Blue raised his browbones, exchanging a quick glance with Stretch. Edge had knocked her out cold that one time... It was probably for the best she didn’t remember that incident. “Why? What have you heard?” Undyne turned to Blue looking incredulous, not realizing he hadn’t been the one to ask the question. “Wha- you guys told me! And Allie, but she doesn’t know them very well cause they don’t work together often. She said they’re a different kind of monster. Like how some humans look pretty much the same, but they come from different countries and cultures? They’re like immigrant monsters! Which I never even thought was possible! We were all in the same Underground, but no one seems to know them!” Edge and Red exchanged a look behind her back, and Stretch started to sweat a little. “Can’t get anything past you! My mail-order husband! Directly shipped from an alternate universe!” Undyne frowned, rubbing her arms self-consciously, “That’s just... a pet theory... it’s dumb, I guess, yeah...” Blue gave Stretch a disapproving look, turning to Undyne with a reassuring smile, “I think it’s a very interesting theory! What makes you think that about Red and Edge?” Undyne opened her mouth, before stopping to look at Stretch a little warily. He sighed, slumping, “Sorry Dyne-amo, I was just teasing. I could never afford the cross dimensional shipping fees!” She laughed despite herself, punching  him in the arm in camaraderie. Stretch blinked back tears of pain. Undyne’s excitement came back tenfold, “Allie says that Edge is unlike any other monster she’s ever met, which is why he can’t be from around here! He’s got the highest LOVE of any non-Boss monster EVER! Even higher than hers!” Undyne lowered her voice to a reverential whisper, “But she said he’s always professional and observant, wearing his scars like badges of honor and keeping his thoughts and emotions a secret. A grizzled veteran whose calm is a mask for the raging storm and power beneath! He’s as cold as steel in the winter, as sharp and mysterious as a blade in the moonlight! The glinting Edge of a sword poised to strike!” Edge didn’t say anything, but Blue could see the stars in his eyes all the way from across the room as he visibly vibrated. Stretch snickered, trying very unconvincingly to disguise it as a cough. “He sounds super dreamy- I wish he were my husband.” Edge didn’t look like he cared (or heard) still riding that flattered high. Undyne gave Stretch an incredulous look, “As though you don’t cry about how hot and cool he is every time we have A-Drama night.” Stretch blushed, looking down at the ground and playing with the cuffs of his sleeves. “Yeah, well, I never wrote detailed fanfiction about our future together!” Undyne turned an impressive shade of purple, “Wha-?! I-?! That’s!” “What about his brother?” Blue cut in to save them both from their embarrassment, although Red and Edge seemed to be enjoying themselves. “Allie says he usually sticks close to Edge, so she hasn’t had much of a one on one conversation with him. Red walks with a self-assured swagger, and has next level reflexes. She doesn’t know his LOVE or any of his stats because he manages to move out of the way before she can even try to CHECK him!” There was that familiar spark of excitement in her eye, and Stretch smiled fondly, “He’s irreverent and bold, speaking his mind to everyone, including the King and Queen themselves! Open and dangerous like a nail-studded baseball bat, warm like the last rays of summer sunlight in an alley without an exit. The silver tongue between Red-stained fangs!” Red’s grin was equally large, turning to his brother in glee. They had some sort of quick, whispered conversation, agreeing on something and- SLAM! Blue had seen it coming and he still flinched as the door slammed shut. Undyne and Stretch, distracted, both jumped and clung to each other. “Interesting.” Edge and Red radiated confidence and power, circling them leisurely like sharks sensing blood in the water. Edge circled to their right, lifting a browbone as he pointedly looked them head to toe. Undyne visibly shuddered under his scrutiny, clinging to Stretch even tighter in obvious apprehension. “Red, I need a second opinion,” Edge sounded disinterested, pointedly pulling a file from his inventory and sharpening the tips of his claws, “What does this look like to you?” Red, hands folded behind his head irreverently, slowly circled around them from the left, scrutinizing them in a way that had both Stretch and Undyne squirming uncomfortably. He scoffed loudly as he came back to stand by his brother, mouth quirking into a sly smirk. “Thinkin’ there’s somethin’ fishy goin’ on, Boss.” Undyne tensed, looking down at where she had been holding onto Stretch with a vice grip with mounting alarm. She let go and shoved him backwards hard enough he ended up crashing into the door, scrambling to smooth her clothes as though she had been caught doing something indecent. Undyne’s face turned such a dark shade of purple and she was positively shaking with nerves, stumbling over her words so badly it was essentially unintelligible. Edge tucked his file away, arms folded behind his back, calculating and menacing. Red stuffed one hand in his pocket, baring all of his teeth in a nasty smile, dangerous and intimidating.

[Part 1]  [Part 2]   [Part 3 - Here!]  [Part 4]  [Part 5]  [Part 6] [Part 7]

[aion-rsa]

What If…? Episode 3 Ending Explored

https://ift.tt/3mAM15C

This article contains spoilers for What If…? episode 3.

The third episode of Marvel’s What If…? goes in a different direction than the two that preceded it. Instead of switching roles like Captain Carter and T’Challa as Star-Lord, the third episode hides its turning point under a murder mystery. It’s an episode about the Avengers never existing, which has absolutely nothing to do with the actual comic issue What If the Avengers Had Never Been?, but instead turns out more like DC Comics’ Identity Crisis.

In this branch reality, Hope Van Dyne ended up becoming an Agent of SHIELD. Reading between the lines, she was most likely killed in action by the Winter Soldier (the location she died is the same place Bucky wounded Black Widow). This caused her father Hank Pym to go completely off the deep end. Wearing the Yellowjacket costume, he proceeded to murder Iron Man, Thor, Hawkeye, Hulk, and Black Widow. He was ultimately defeated by a vengeful Loki, who then went and took over Earth in a mere 24 hours.

And hey, good for Loki! When it comes to What If…? stories, Loki is up there with Magneto and Kingpin as a villain who rarely ever wins. Sylvie’s decision paid off for this world.

In the epilogue, we see that Nick Fury has not given up. Even with all those Avengers dead, he’s still going to rebel against Loki with the help of Captain America and Captain Marvel. Maybe in the second season we’ll get a continuation and see if Captain Marvel is overpowered enough to take on everything Asgard has.

In the meantime, I can’t help but think about the other players and factors in this brave new world. Who else could help the Captains and Fury?

The Thanos Threat

So, good news! Thanos probably isn’t going to be a looming terror anymore thanks to Loki’s success. The Tesseract is still on Earth and Thanos would still be interested in it, but the difference is that he would not have found Loki floating through space and would not have used him as a minion. That means we’d probably see him outsource to his other top goon, Ronan the Accuser.

In the regular timeline, Thanos gambled on the mission by giving Loki the Mind Stone, only to lose both. He’d probably try the same strategy with Ronan. Remember what happened when Ronan actually got his hand on an Infinity Stone? He IMMEDIATELY betrayed Thanos. That’s definitely the easy option for him, considering the last time he tried invading Earth he ended up escaping with urine trickling down his leg.

Ronan and his mind-controlled Thanos are more of a problem for the Nova Corps. Let them deal with that.

Iron Man’s Friends and Foes

At the very least, we can count on War Machine helping out. He may have missed the boat against Loki in regular continuity, but he’s still ready to attack with…Hammer tech. Ah, crap. Yeah, Justin Hammer’s just going to be a liability in this situation.

On the other hand, one has to wonder where this leaves Ivan Vanko. He wanted to destroy Tony Stark. Hank Pym did it for him. There is no glorious suicide or massacre destroying Stark’s legacy. What’s next for Whiplash? We could really use the know-how of someone who actually understands arc reactor technology.

Who else has Stark pissed off in main continuity…? The Vulture is a non-factor here, as the events of Avengers do little to push him away from the blue collar lifestyle. Aldrich Killian might oppose Loki via straight-up terrorism by sending exploding Extremis soldiers towards Asgardian forces. I don’t expect any collaborations coming from his corner.

Now, Quentin Beck is someone who might actually prove his worth. It’s too perfect. A man using trickery and illusion to go toe-to-toe with the godly expert on trickery and illusion. Mysterio could really become the alternate universe superhero that his mainstream counterpart pretended to be!

Hulk’s Odds and Ends

Hulk is mainly important in the grand scheme of things for being the perfect wielder of the Infinity Gauntlet and undoing Thanos’ scheme. Otherwise, he’s the big supporting character of the MCU and having him gone is no big loss in terms of ripple effects.

It does mean something that the events of Incredible Hulk are half-finished. Emil Blonsky is a super soldier, but Hulk exploded before he had a chance to kick Blonsky into mush. He might still mutate from the serum he took, but he should at least be an asset for Fury. Having Rogers with him would probably be for the better.

Meanwhile, Samuel Sterns gets to continue his gamma experiments. Who knows if such a thing will pay off?

Where Does HYDRA Fall?

The episode does a good job of using HYDRA as a red herring early on when Black Widow is being led away in handcuffs. They’re still integrated into SHIELD and, unfortunately, that’s probably good for Loki. Unless ego means too much to those in charge, Loki’s rule is everything HYDRA could ever want. Not only order through fear and control, but what’s more for a Nazi offshoot to love than being ruled by Norse gods?

The real problem is that the corrupt part of SHIELD would have access to the Tesseract. In other words, Loki would have access to the Tesseract. That’s very bad.

Darren Cross

For once, Darren Cross is interesting. He’s the x-factor in all of this because of how Hank Pym turned out. Cross was the crazy, rebellious son figure in Ant-Man, furious that Pym wouldn’t let him tamper in God’s domain. One has to wonder, does that mean that he wouldn’t be so villainous in this brave new world? Would he still be rebellious, but in relation to a madman, thereby normalizing him?

I would argue that Cross is still bad news. Pym would probably embrace Cross’s attempts to meddle with Pym Particles. Why would Pym care if the technology would go into the wrong hands when he’s already the wrong hands? It could very well be that Cross was already an accomplice to the Avengers murders. It would certainly explain Pym’s costume’s design choice.

Ragnarok

One elephant in the room is the events of Thor: Ragnarok and how they’re affected. Guys, Asgard is doomed, especially without Thor. We’ve already seen how lax Asgard becomes with Loki in charge. Think how bad it’s going to be when he’s spread thin and nobody has been keeping tabs on Surtur. This is not going to end well for that world.

Hela’s arrival is only a matter of time. Then again, I’m not sure how the destruction of Asgard would affect her powers and threat level.

The Heroes Yet to Appear

The new characters from Avengers: Age of Ultron are for the most part negated. There’s no Ultron and therefore no Vision. The Maximoff twins won’t be exposed to the Mind Stone and Stark being dead has to do something to soften their need for vengeance. On the other hand…is Wanda truly off the table?

Read more

TV

What If…? Episode 3 Review: The Avengers Initiative Is DOA

By Kirsten Howard

TV

Marvel’s What If…?: The Huge MCU Ramifications of Episode 2’s Ravagers Lineup

By Gavin Jasper

Wanda already has that magical spark. Does it HAVE to be the Mind Stone that sets her on her path to becoming the Scarlet Witch? The Aether is still out there. Maybe Jane Foster still finds it. Maybe not. It’s also possible that reality simply finds a way for someone who unconsciously controls probability. Wanda becoming one with a red energy that warps reality itself is just too on the nose to ignore.

Falcon only joined the superhero business because he got roped into it. Still, considering his skill with the wing tech, Fury could easily be aware of him and what he’s capable of. Sam being one of Fury’s pinch hitters isn’t too big of a stretch.

That leaves two extremely powerful parties. First, there’s Wakanda. I can’t imagine they were really conquered by Asgard. Not if the whole conflict ended within a day. Wakanda probably fell through the cracks of Loki’s interest, seen as a powerless country with no threats worth caring about. He sees the surface and it’s beneath him. Now there’s something to Earth’s advantage.

Then we have the sorcerers. It’s hard to really measure how much these events would alter things with Doctor Strange and his cast of characters. We’ve seen Strange be pretty damn effective against Loki before, but that was without Loki having an entire Asgardian army at his command. Does Doctor Strange even exist as a sorcerer here? Would Loki’s magical tyranny help nip the Kaecilius problem in the bud? This part is hard to call.

cnx.cmd.push(function() { cnx({ playerId: "106e33c0-3911-473c-b599-b1426db57530", }).render("0270c398a82f44f49c23c16122516796"); });

Yes, there’s a lot to play with in the sandbox of this world run by Loki. What’s important is that Mjolnir is still sitting in that crater. Loki certainly can’t move it. Even if it isn’t Steve Rogers, someone has to be worthy of putting it to good use.

The post What If…? Episode 3 Ending Explored appeared first on Den of Geek.

from Den of Geek https://ift.tt/2WjbF4l

[finesseandbones-blog]

Chapter 5

-- Day 3 Of Nostalgic Nightmare --

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M a y   1 7 ,  2 0 3 X

8 : 4 5   P . M .

S a n s '   R e s i d e n c e , M o n s t e r  B a s e

L o c a t i o n   u n k n o w n

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

-- (BACK TO YOUR POV) --

I woke up with a body ache as my eyes try to regain my normal eyesight.

I was expecting that I'm back at my prison room, where Sans used to imprison me.

But I didn't wake up in there.

I woke up in a bed, a comfy one.

Regaining my energy, I tried stretching my arms and legs, but ended myself up suffering in pain.

Then I realized that my clothes were changed.

DID THAT FUCKTARD CHANGED ME LAST NIGHT?

That perverted imbecile.

I quickly tried to sit, but all these muscle pain triggered and guess what, I failed to do so.

While suffering from the pain, Sans came in with pills and my breakfast in a tray.

"Good morning, cookie. Did ya sleep well?" He asked while putting down my breakfast beside me.

My breakfast are newly cooked waffles with syrup and a tall glass of milk.

Damn this is delicious. Never expected this from a crazy ass skeleton.

"Still aching everywhere. Can't even make myself move." I replied weakly as he chuckled.

"Here, let me help you ; nice and slow." He walked beside me and supported my back and the back of my thighs with his hands.

When he attempted to carry me, I felt a sudden jolt of pain as I groaned and closed my eyes.

"Are you okay?" He assures me as he caressed my back.

"Yeah, I guess." I mumbled as he continued to help me sit up.

After seconds of pain and suffering, I successfully sat down in the bed with my back leaning against the pillow and my lower part resting on his bed.

"Okay. Can you feed yourself?" He asks as he settles my breakfast in a tray on my lap.

"I d-don't know. My body's really painful." I groaned as he sat beside me on the edge of his bed.

He grabbed the fork and knife beside my plate and started slicing the waffles into medium pieces that are small enough for my mouth to munch.

"Open wide, babe." He commanded as I opened my mouth to get a bite of his delicious art

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

M a y   1 7 ,  2 0 3 X

9 : 1 8  P . M .

S a n s '  B e d r o o m ,  S a n s '   R e s i d e n c e ,   M o n s t e r  B a s e

L o c a t i o n   u n k n o w n

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

After finishing my meal and taking my medicine, Sans and I had a little conversation.

"So, uh, do you think that this war will end?" I asked.

"I'm not sure, but heck am I tired of doing this." He ranted.

"Tired of what?"

"Of-" His phone suddenly rang as he picked it up from a small table and answered it.

"Hello?"

"She's not fine. She attempted to escape but a part of Undyne's army attacked her to make sure she was weak enough."

"Yeah, weak enough to KILL HER!"

"What do you mean I need to bring her there? Alphys, she's weak and when she tries to move a limb, she'll lose her mind from the pain!"

This imbecile is strangely thoughtful...

and who the hell is Alphys?

"Use a wheelchair? I seriously can't move her limbs remember?! Hey, look. Don't be sad because I am mad at you, okay?"

"Oh, she urgently requested? heh. okay. I'll talk to her instead. Okay?"

"Bye." He ended the call with this 'Alphys' thing

"Who was that?"

"It was Alphys. I'll explain to you later who she is. Right now, I need to call someone else. Excuse me for a minute."

He stood up and walked to the door but he stopped.

"Wait. You'll end up getting bored in here. I might take long but I'll let you watch a movie." He said as he grabbed a cd compiler

(AN: Those circular thing with jean-ish texture and a zipper and when you open it, you'll see cds)

He scanned through the compiler as he smirked and pulled out a cd.

You bitch don't tell me you're going to let me watch something kids wouldn't watch.

"This is one of my favorite movies. It's 10 Things I Hate About You. You'll enjoy it. I promise."

He turned on the television and the cd player and inserted the cd inside of it, then the opening started playing.

"There we go, I'll be back soon, I promise." He smiled as he left me all alone in his room.

Oh boy.

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M a y   1 7 ,  2 0 3 X

9 : 3 6  P . M .

S a n s '   R e s i d e n c e , M o n s t e r   B a s e

L o c a t i o n   u n k n o w n

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

-- Sans' POV --

I rushed to my living room and dialed Undyne's number on my phone.

"HELLO, THIS IS THE GREAT PAPYRUS SPEAKING, HOW MAY I-"

 Oh, wait. I forgot that Papyrus is her "secretary".  

"Hey, Pap. I need to talk to Undyne right now."

"OH! HELLO BROTHER! WAIT A SECOND."

(Background sounds)

"UNDYNE! UNDYNE! SANS WOULD WANT TO HAVE A CONVERSATION WITH YOU RIGHT NOW!"

"GIVE ME A MINUTE, PAP!"

*mumbles something that I can't quite hear*

"What the hell do you want, G?"

"ARE YOU FUCKING-"

Contain yourself, G.

I inhaled as I gave out my best tone.

"Look, the human is badly injured, can you give us a couple of weeks for her to-"

"A COUPLE OF WEEKS? G, ARE YOU SERIOUS? MY ARMY IS GETTING TIRED OF LISTENING TO THE SAME LESSONS OVER AND OVER AGAIN AND MY ARMY'S DECREASING AT POPULATION COUNT! Who knows, some cunt killed a part of them." She shouted, making me throw my phone on the floor.

Thank Asgore that this phone is "surface-proof".

"I know and STOP SCREAMING"

Actually, I'm the cunt who killed one part of your army, Undyne just to keep the lady safe so uhm, yeah. I know.

"But, if it's okay with you and Alphys, can you please try to make Mettaton go here, or maybe Alphys can come too." I hesitantly requested.

"ARE YOU SERIOUS, G? YOUR HOUSE IS IN THE MIDDLE OF THE HUMAN'S BASE! YOU'RE JUST COVERING UP IN THERE TO CAPTURE HUMANS LIKE THAT NITWIT YOU HAVE THERE!"

"For your information, I kinda teleported the whole house to the monster base and STOP SCREAMING IN THE NAME OF ASGORE!

She's not a nitwit! She's fragile and brave. All that she wanted is for this war to end like the other humans desire. Just, please. She's too weak. We're on the surface so food won't heal her that much, even the surface CORE won't do much."

I'd dare not to say this but, Undyne. If you consider her kind as nitwits, then fuck me; she's the bravest and most amazing nit wit ever.

"Wow. That was fast. Okay, fine. I'll give you 3 weeks. After that, I'll send Alphys and Mettaton there. Take care of her with all your dignity. I'll-"

"Christ, Undyne. Stop with those corny-ass speeches. Papyrus will end up training you with his greatness."

"Whatever. Oh and I'll send the Dummy and Muffet there to keep her company. Sounds good?"

FINALLY!

"Yeah. Sounds good. Thanks, Dyne!"

"Don't call me that!" Heh, must be irritated.

"Ok. Sure, whatever. Welp, gotta check how she's doing. See ya."

"See ya, lazy wondernerd."

Muffet.

MUFFET!

"Wait! Undyne!"

"What?!"

"How's Muffet doing? I accidentally crushed her because of my lazers before I kidnapped the human."

"Oh, she's been recovering. When Cake knew about the accident, Cake told me that If she ever saw you again, She'll swear to Asgore she will kill you."

"Oh, I am sooo scared huhu. Anyways, See you soon!"

"She wasn't joking, actually. Cake can get really vicious and relentless than Muffet."

"Yeah I am aware of that. I really need to go now. Bye!"

"Bye again."

Bless this angry fish, Asgore. Bless that fish.

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

M a y   1 7 ,   2 0 3 X

9 : 4 5   P . M .

T h e   K i t c h e n

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

After my heated conversation with Undyne, I plan to make the human's dinner for tonight.

I don't feel hungry that much but I'm sure that the human's hungry.

I chopped some onions, garlic, bell peppers and mushrooms. I started preheating a pan and a pot of water and opened a pack of pasta. If Pap ever had teleporting powers like mine, Oh he will want some of these and run around while shouting "GOOD SHIT" in every angle of the house.

(TIME SKIP LOOOOL)

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

M a y   1 7 ,   2 0 3 X

1 0 : 1 3   P . M .

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

After the cooking process has been done, I did some plating stuff and made sure it's worth her health. I grabbed her pills and a glass of water and placed it on the tray. I grabbed the tray and went back to my room. I opened the door with my powers.

As I opened the door, I saw her still in the same position, still watching the same movie but in a different scene. This is the scene where Kat volunteers to dictate her poem (that was dedicated to Patrick) in class.

"Hey sweetcheeks! How are you doing?" I asked her.

"I feel sad for Kat because she thinks that Patrick was playing her feelings! Buuuut on the other hand, I blame Joey for being a dickass."

"Heh, same here. I'll prepare a box of tissue in case you'll cry on the next thing that will happen."

"What do you mean?"

I pointed my finger on the tv as Kat started her poem:

" I hate the way you talk to me, and the way you cut your hair.

I hate the way you drive my car, I hate it when you stare.

I hate your big dumb combat boots, and the way you read my mind.

I hate you so much that it makes me sick. It even makes me rhyme.

I hate the way you're always right. I hate it when you lie.

I hate it when you make me laugh, Even worse when you make me cry. "

Prue started tearing up as I chuckled a bit. She looks so fucking cute.

"What's so funny?" She angrily asked me as I smiled

"Nothing, nothing. I remembered something." I remembered you being the cutest fucker when I first talked to you.

She scoffed as she continued watching the tear jerking scene.

" I hate the way you're not around, and the fact that you didn't call.

But mostly I hate the way I don't hate you.

Not even close, not even a little bit, not even at all. "

After Kat ran out of class (in the movie), I glared at Prue, all wet with her tears.

I chuckled a bit.

But I asked myself;

Will she love me back?

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

EDITED!

- Lennie x

P.S. 10 THINGS I HATE ABOUT YOU IS A GOOD MOVIE. WATCH IT HAHAHA

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

Chapter 4

Chapter 6

[avengerscompound]

Time

Ava Starr x Reader Synopsis:  Ava knows two things, Pain. And that in time that pain will end one way or another.

Ava knew two things.  The first was pain.  Other people thought they knew it.  They really had no idea.  Not that she would deny other people their pain.  Just, when your molecules are tearing apart and recombining it’s hard to think about anything else.

The second thing was that the more time passed, the worse things got.  It became harder to hold herself together and she knew eventually if she didn’t find an answer to this she wouldn’t be able to.  That ticking clock was like a countdown to when the pain got so bad she would cease to be.

She became single-minded.  There was nothing except pain and a countdown to when she could either end it on her terms or it ended in agony.

Then Janet Van Dyne has stepped out of that tunnel and helped.  Actually helped, not said she was going to and then other things kept getting in the way.  For the first time, in almost as long as she could remember Ava didn’t struggle to hold herself together.  She didn’t feel like she was excruciatingly being torn apart.  She could just breathe and feel good.

Now it wasn’t so much as a countdown, as a thing that stretched out before her filled with potential and endless possibilities.  So when she went to Pier 39 to see the sea lions, actually just taking some time to enjoy her life and you chatted to her about them, she took the time to appreciate it.  When you’d asked if she’d like to get coffee, she’d given you her number.  Why not after all?  She had plenty of time.

[redvelvetreel]

Red Velvet Reel 4.5: A Crabapple A Day

                                      [Fic Directory]

Pairing: [Married] Spicyhoney (Underfell Papyrus x Underswap Papyrus)

Summary: Edge is incredibly unhappy, Undyne is incredibly nervous, and Stretch tries to keep them both from self/outwardly imploding.

Characters: Edge (Underfell Papyrus) & Stretch (Underswap Papyrus) & Red (Underfell Sans) & Blue (Underswap Sans) & Undyne (Underswap Undyne)

Contains: Mpreg/Skelepreg! Iatrophobia (fear of doctors)! Anxiety manifesting as aggression! Awkward & Anxious Swapdyne! Stretch & Undyne being buddies!

Rating: Teen and up! (I guess?)

Note:  Hello! This is still a queued post! I’ll try to edit the links as soon as possible, but since I only have mobile access right now, it’s a little tough… But I’ll get to it eventually! Thank you for your support! <3

“UGH.” Edge looked disgusted. “Terrible. Absolutely horrendous.”

Undyne cleared her throat, clicking her pen and holding her clipboard professionally. “Why don’t we get started. I’m Dr. Undyne, and-“ she stopped suddenly, earfins drooping as she seemed to collapse on herself. “I... I already introduced... myself...”

She stood up abruptly, heading towards the door, “That was really stupid... I’m, uh- I should maybe-“

“Undyne!” Stretch pulled her into a big hug that had her squeak in surprise, lifting her clear off the floor. He nuzzled the back of her head like she was a toy, and she clung to his arms as if afraid of falling. Undyne looked suddenly much more relaxed, for whatever reason.

“It’s going tibia ok! Edge won’t bite you or anything! He’s a lot more nervous about this than you are!”

Edge narrowed his eyes, stung by that inadvertent betrayal. “Doubtful,” he sneered, “You reek of fear.”

“Edge,” Stretch’s voice took on that rare warning tone, giving him that vaguely disappointed quasi-judgemental look that never failed to make Edge actually feel (a little) bad, “Play nice.“

Undyne leaned toward her armpit discreetly, sniffing the fabric a little too loudly to go unnoticed. “I knew I should have taken that extra shower...” she mumbled to herself, cheeks flushed in mortification.

Stretch squeezed her to get her attention, continuing with an obvious undertone of pride, “My Dyne-amo’s a great friend, and an even better doctor! She’s hardworking and honest, and has a great bedside manner! She owns up to her mistakes and works hard to fix them, so you couldn’t be in more capable hands!”

Edge held his tongue, watching actual sparkles manifest by his husband’s head with a carefully neutral expression. That was hardly reassuring, but Blue was right- isolating her would do him no favors. He would just bide his time until he could find a more suitable physician, if necessary. He gripped the plastic on either side of him tightly.

“Oh, well...” Undyne started playing with a loose lock of hair almost bashfully, before she grinned, “You’re such a huge dork!”

She turned around and started mercilessly noogieing Stretch’s head, laughing boisterously as he sank to his knees in pain, “OW OW! WHY DO YOU ALWAYS DO THIS?!”

“BECAUSE I GET OVERWHELMED AND I DON’T KNOW HOW ELSE TO EXPRESS MY SINCERE APPRECIATION OF YOUR SUPPORT!

Edge felt something stir deep in his soul, a strange feeling that made looking at them suddenly unbearable. Was it jealousy? Stretch gave hugs to everyone, and Undyne didn’t seem like much of a threat... What was it, then?! As much as he tried to ignore it, he couldn’t make himself relax.

“Do you know m00nsh1ne?!”

Edge looked back, watching Stretch massage his neck and shoulders for a moment, before turning his attention back to Undyne. She sat on her little stool, clipboard held against her face and looking incredibly excited.

“...Homemade distilled liquor?” Edge asked, unsure of what to make of her odd question. He was fairly certain that wasn’t what she was asking, but he had no idea what else it could be.

“If that’s a roundabout way of asking if I drink, then I haven’t since I found out I’m pregnant.” Edge wasn’t sure why she deflated, turning to look at Stretch in obvious confusion.

“A-pop- Aerok* Pop Music.” Stretch pointed at the poster on the wall. “They’re an A-pop band called m00nsh1ne, and Undyne’s their biggest fan. You were looking at the poster so...”

Oh. The poster featured a group of pretty girls in identical, impractical dresses, posed with something written in the middle in a foreign language. Maybe not, he squinted, maybe it was just very stylized.

“Hm.” Edge felt her eyes on him, even as she started fiddling with a complicated-looking machine. “No-“ He could see Stretch behind her miming a conversation with his hands, followed by a pleading expression. “You may tell me about them some other time.”

That wasn’t the best answer, but Undyne lit up like a Gyftmas Tree and Stretch made him a little heart with his hands. Edge sighed, rolling his eyes.

“Excellent!” Undyne picked up a portable screen and held it up, “I’ve read through your medical file, and you don’t seem to have any underlying conditions, but if there’s anything I should be aware of-“

Edge instinctively scrambled away as she came closer with the machine, only stopping when Stretch physically sat on the end of the examination table. He dug his claws into his husband’s femur as though grounding himself, keeping one arm raised defensively at chest level.

“Why...” He forced himself to take a deep breath, straightening his spine and asking with more aggression than he intended, “What’s that for?”

Undyne flinched as if he struck her, leaning back against her chair and pulling the screen up to her chest. She actually seemed to be trying to hide behind it, looking down as though afraid to make eye contact.

“Uhhh...” she started, worrying at her lips nervously, “Medicinal- um, magic- magicianal-“

“Ok, let’s all calm down,” Stretch was as soothing as possible, draping an arm on Edge’s shoulder and reaching out to lay a gentle hand on Undyne’s lap. It was more suffocating than comforting, so Edge quickly shrugged it off, putting his back against the wall instead.

“Did I say or do something bad?” Undyne asked timidly, ear fins drooping in obvious consternation.

Stretch looked in his direction, but Edge pointedly looked at the machine instead, bringing his foot onto the examination table.

“We’ve had very bad experiences with doctors before-“ Stretch sighed, but kept his voice calming and even, “So we’re very wary and very uncomfortable being here, right?”

Edge gave a curt nod, not trusting his voice when every instinct screamed at him get out of this room. He tapped his fingers on the plastic cushion restlessly, reminding himself over and over that neither monster was an enemy or a threat. They were allies. Allies. Allies. Allies-

“What?!” Undyne got up immediately, eyes dilating and gills flaring in obvious anger, “Doctor’s take a solemn oath to follow a strict ethical code tohelp their patients! That anyone would dare violate this is INEXCUSABLE!“

The aggression put Edge back on high alert, crossing the room with his handle on the doorknob in an instant- but it was familiar. Justice-fueled and aimed outward at no particular target. Just outrage at things outside of her ability to throttle into submission. Comforting. He felt something almost forgotten stir deep in his soul, and he almost smiled as Undyne let out a guttural scream of rage. Edge forced his fingers to uncurl around the handle, making a tight fist at his side as he watched her every move.

“THAT QUACK-! MALPRACTICE SHOULD BE PUNISHED BY EXECUTION!” She snapped her clipboard in half. Stretch looked completely unfazed as he ducked his head to the side, avoiding the largest piece of shrapnel as he kept an eye on both monsters.

“Ah!” Undyne looked down at her clipboard with furrowed brows, “That’s the fifth one this month!”

Stretch patted her back, taking the remains from her hands and tossing it in the trash with practiced ease. “At least it wasn’t the machine. You almost caused a fire last time.”

“Sorry!” Undyne was incredibly apologetic, ducking her head repeatedly in a series of quick bows as she swiveled towards the door, “I didn’t mean to startle you! I just can’t stand bad doctors! I can only imagine what that- that- UGH did if they could make someone as cool and as tough as you are that uncomfortable!”

She shuddered meaningfully. That, more than her praise and passionate outburst, did more to settle his insecurity and anxiety into something more manageable. Edge had to remain stable and in control for the sake of all the monsters looking up to him. For the monsters depending on him.

“Since your previous physicians- if you can even call them that- failed you, it’s my duty to make up for their shortcomings!” Undyne continued earnestly, procuring a new clipboard from a drawer filled with them. “Rest assured, you’ll have the best care here! And I’ll make sure little Pancake never has to suffer the same way!”

Edge nodded, still a little terse, “Very well, Doctor.”

Undyne sat back down, beaming, “What can I do to make you feel more at ease? This is your appointment, after all- you’re in charge!”

He was?! Edge felt something in him unclench, and while not at all comfortable, it was... better.  He went back to his spot on the examination table next to Stretch, discreetly laying his hand next to his husband’s fingers. He felt Stretch shift, squeezing his hand gently. Feeling a little more like he was in control, Edge looked at the machine she was holding, forcing down his trepidation.

“Explain what you will be using, where and how, and for what purpose before you do anything,” he instructed, sounding more confident than he felt. Undyne flinched at his commanding tone, but nodded nonetheless.

“...I can’t run the same risks as if it were just me, you understand,” he added softly as an afterthought, watching her every movement carefully. Her face softened as though she understood (how could she?), but if it was for Pancake’s sake, he could do it. He would do it. He would do anything.

“Of course.” Undyne pushed her hair out of her eyes to little effect, “Well, then let me explain what this thing is first, then.”  

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5 - Here!] [Part 6] [Part 7]