#the superhero next door series

[sugarnspice630]

Movie Night - Yunho x Reader

“If you can’t stay awake, I’ll give you a reason to stay awake.”

•pairing: softdom!yunho x fem!reader

•word count: 1.9k

•tags: mdni, golden retriever Yunho turns soft dom, vertically challenged reader, reader has never seen the Spider-Man movies, Yunho is a MASSIVE ass guy, teasing, butt foundling, reader falls asleep, somnophilia if you squint, cockwarming, ...did I miss anything? probably

Summary: Having a movie date night with Yunho, but you find yourself falling asleep, so Yunho does the only thing he can think of to keep you awake

A/N: Inspired by my Thighs, Tits, or Ass man Ateez edition post! Sorry to anyone who has seen the Spider-Man movies (I have not). Please be sure to drop a like, reblog if you enjoyed it, and comment your favorite part! Happy reading!

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆───

It was movie date night with Yunho! You were so excited to have the whole evening with just the two of you. Your objective was to watch the entire Spider-Man movie series, cause you had never seen them before and he was dying to share them with you. Were superhero movies your favorite thing in the world? No, but you agreed to watch them because Yunho loves them. You could never turn down any request he had, especially when he gave you those soft eyes. It makes your heart melt every time.

Yunho was busy preparing the living room for the movie night while you took it upon yourself to make the popcorn. A huge bowl of it to make it through all the movies. You had to stand on your tippy toes to put the first bag into the microwave. Balancing yourself against the counter and stretching your calves and arms as far as they would go to get the bag in. You heard a soft chuckle from behind and felt Yunho’s body pushing against you. You tilted your head back and looked up at him, and he looked down at you. He closed the door to the microwave and pushed the buttons for you, with a smile on his face the whole time.

“Figured you needed some help.”

“I could have managed!” He softly chuckles at your retaliation.

"Right, right, sorry.” He gently rubbed up and down your sides with his frame still pushed against you. Resting his head on top of yours and staying close to you for a few minutes. He gently kissed the top of your head before tracing his hands down to your butt. Gently squeezing both cheeks and massaging. You felt your face get warm.

“Yuyu!” You drew out his name in a playful manner.

“Sorry baby! I just couldn’t help it.” It also didn’t help that you were wearing pajama shorts that just covered your cheeks, and the fabric was a little thin. You could feel him from behind you, but it wasn't hard. The timer for the popcorn bag went off, and Yunho took one hand off your butt and opened the door for you. He grabbed the bag and set it on the counter in front of you.

“Thank you~!” He softly patted your head and gave you a smile before making his way back to the living room to wait for you. You took the bag, carefully opening it to not burn yourself, and poured it into a big bowl for you two to share, taking out all of the kernels that did not get popped. You carried the bowl into the living room and smiled when you saw Yunho sitting there, all sprawled out on the couch, looking comfortable. Setting the bowl down on the table in a spot that would be easy for both of you to reach. The atmosphere was perfect to watch movies together at home. The lights were dimmed, but not enough to affect navigating your way around the furniture. The room temperature was perfect—warm enough that you would not need a blanket while also allowing the extra warmth from cuddling up together. 

You walked around the table to sit down on the couch next to Yunho. In the meantime, he propped his feet up on the table at an angle to allow you to curl in underneath his arms. Before you could sit down, he gave you this cocky smirk and used his toes to kick the remote off the table, landing behind you. You placed your hands on your hips and scoffed playfully.

“Really?”

“My foot slipped.” He said nonchalantly, still keeping that smirk on his face. You rolled your eyes and smirked back at him. Turning around, you bent over at the waist to pick up the remote. While bent over, you could just feel Yunho’s eyes drilling into you. You took your time picking up the remote, just to tease him even further. As you came back up, you turned around quickly, hoping to catch Yunho lacking, but he was staring straight ahead. He must have directed his gaze away just before you turned around.

“I know you were staring.”

“Perhaps I was, perhaps I wasn’t. You’ll never know~.” Still staring straight ahead. You lightly slapped his shoulder before sitting down next to him and getting comfortable. He extended his arm around your shoulders and pulled you in close. You handed the remote to him and let him pick the first movie you were going to watch. 

“This is important, so you have to pay attention.” He said enthusiastically, excited to share his interests. The golden retriever energy was strong at this moment. You swore that if he had a tail, it would be wagging like crazy right now.

“Hard to do that when you’re here too.” He just smiled at your sly comment, and you nuzzled up against him.

The movie started to play, and you watched intently. Your eyes were trying to follow everything that was happening on screen, which proved to be difficult at times because there was so much happening, but you managed. Yunho would occasionally speak up during a quiet part to tell you something really awesome was coming up. About halfway through the movie, you noticed your eyes were getting heavy, so you tried to blink away the tiredness, but it just kept coming back to haunt you. You wanted to stay awake and watch the movies with Yunho. You tapped Yunho on the leg two times to indicate you were going to change positions. You opted for laying your head in his lap and laying sideways, still facing the TV. He softly placed his hand on your side and gently rubbed. More minutes of the movie go by, and you are still fighting tiredness. You find your eyes closing, only to immediately open them back up wide to focus back on the movie. You have missed most of the last quarter of the movie by now, considering how many times your eyes have opened and closed. Yunho noticed this, and one time when you didn’t open your eyes right away, he slightly flicked your side.

“Ya, pay attention Y/N. You keep falling asleep.”

“I know Yunho; I’m sorry. It is interesting; I just can’t keep my eyes open.”

“Well here, sit up and come over here.” Yunho shifts in his spot a little and invites you to sit up in his lap. You picked yourself up and moved to sit on his lap, still facing the TV. He placed his hands back at your side to support you sitting on him. You looked back and looked at Yunho’s face. He was smirking at you softly and rubbing your sides while he looked at you. He placed a soft kiss on your cheek, and you turned your attention back to the movie. You then felt Yunho lean a bit closer to you and felt his breath near your ear.

“If you can’t stay awake, I’ll give you a reason to stay awake.” His tone was low, and it made your face heat up a little. You continued to stay focused on the movie, and soon after, the credits began to roll. Just because this movie was over did not mean you were done; no, you had all the other movies in the series to get through. He picked up the remote and started the next movie in the series. 

Tiredness began to take over you again, but you swore to stay awake for Yunho. Hiding your subtle yawns and slow blinks the best you could. Eventually, you find your head bobbing to the side and your eyes closing. This time, you did not wake up as quickly as before. Yunho took notice of your sleeping figure and decided to do something about it. He took one hand and shifted his hips to pull his sweatpants and underwear down. Then, he grabbed your face harshly, which caused you to jolt awake. He turned his hand to turn your face toward him. You stared at him with a shocked expression.

“I told you if you couldn’t stay awake, I’d give you a reason to stay awake. Take your shorts and underwear off.” He sounded annoyed, so you didn’t want to piss him off any further. You obeyed him and lifted yourself up by your knees, slid off your shorts and underwear, with his help, of course, then sat back down on his lap. To your surprise, you felt his bare skin touching yours. You felt something slightly poking your behind as well.

“Lift your hips back up baby.” He whispered to you, and you lifted your hips slightly, removing his hand from your face to help you out. Yunho took that opportunity to guide his semi-hard dick to your entrance. “Alright, sit back down slowly.” Yunho placed his hands back on your side as you slowly sat yourself back on his lap. You whimpered softly as his thick dick stretched out your opening. You softly bit your lip and felt Yunho push your hips down to put all your weight on him. “You’re going to pay attention now, yes?” You nodded your head softly, your brain becoming clouded by how big Yunho is inside you.

You were having a slightly hard time focusing on the movie, but for a different reason. It was not because you were tired; it was because you could feel your boyfriend’s cock inside you getting harder, and he would twitch every so often. Your heart rate was so harsh and heavy that you could feel it in your pussy. You were almost certain Yunho could feel it too, because he would grunt or groan with pleasure every time you felt it. Yunho wiggled in his seat a little, but really to try to push himself further inside you. You softly moaned, and you felt one of Yunho’s hands leave your side and come up to cover your mouth. He leaned closer to your body, which only pushed his cock into you in a different direction, causing you to moan again and flutter your eyes.

“No talking during the movie love~.” You felt his warm breath near your ear. “You need to focus~.”

“I-I can’t-.” You tried to say it quietly, but Yunho’s hand over your mouth muffled your words.

“What? Couldn’t hear you baby. Could you say that again?” He moved his hand off your mouth a little to allow you to speak.

“I can’t-!” Before you could finish your sentence, Yunho rammed his hips up into you, causing your words to get cut off and you to let out a loud moan. He leaned his body back up against your back and whispered in your ear again.

“I’m giving you one more chance to stay quiet before I completely ruin you; do you understand?” Nodding your head quickly and breathing heavily, you directed your attention back to the movie once again, but Yunho was too far in his head now. He knew you didn’t really care for the movie and just wanted to sit on his dick for the rest of the night, so he lazily rolled his hips up and down to push himself around. Smirking to himself as he could hear just the faintest of whimpers coming from you as you stayed focused on the screen. You could not grasp onto anything that was happening, but to trick Yunho into thinking you were watching, you stayed facing forward and fixed your eyes on the screen. 

This was going to be a long night.

Tags: @pre1ttyies @isiloiale @moongoddess1982 @yeosangsbbg @10nantscompanion @v-lvs-yungi @dawn-iscozy @certifiedmoa @tinyqaa @sleepyw1tch @pancake-freckle @mysteriousrainsworld @xuchiya

[neo-nomatrix]

(My) Nuisance

Hobie brown x reader

word count: 964

find the rest of the mini series here

synopsis: You thought you hated Hobie, but for some reason you’re starting to like him just as much as you like Spiderman.

a/n: (maybe too much) british slang used

You hate your next door neighbor. No, no you loathe your next door neighbor. You think he is the worst person to possibly exist. His stupid flat decorations, his loud punk-rock music blasting at unruly hours, the way he would come back to his flat at 4 am stomping his boots yelling with his friends about their latest anarchist protest. But you hate nothing more than the way he looks at you.

Everytime you try yelling at him he opens his door with the cheekiest grin on his face. While you’re standing there fuming he’s leaning against the door panel looking you up and down. The worst part is how much he tries to smooth talk you.

“I already told you how annoying your music is, no one wants to hear that at 3 am alright? Some of us have work in the morning,” you complain, smoke practically coming out of your ears.

“Oh c’mon love it’s not that bad. Don’t have to be such a tosser ‘bout it. It messes up that pretty face of yours,” he says.

“Are you daft? You’re the one keeping everyone up at night with your dumb guitar,” you roll your eyes.

“It’s not that big a deal sweetheart. Y’know i'm starting to think you’re making up rubbish just so you can talk to me more. I’ll admit it’s pretty cute but you could just ask me out,” he leans closer to your flushed face.

“I don’t fancy you if that’s what you mean,” you scoff.

“Not saying that. I’m saying if you wanna snog me so bad you could just say so,” he shrugs.

You could burst out laughing. Kiss him? That’s fucking hilarious.

“You’re joking right? i’d rather die.”

“I don’t believe in comedy, love,” he says.

“Of course you don’t,” you mumble as you storm off back to your door.

You’ve decided he is the worst person ever. He doesn’t deserve your efforts and time.

You set your keys down and fall into bed as you hear amp feedback and the sounds of Hobie strumming his guitar. You can’t help but roll your eyes. How could someone be so incompetent?

You reach your hand over to where the bed and the wall meet to grab your Spiderman plush. You hate to admit it because it’s kind of dumb but you’ve always loved spiderman. Ever since you were a little kid you collected posters, figures, pins, and merchandise having to do with the superhero. Even now, your walls are decorated in spiderman posters, you own spiderman clothing, and even printed your keys to have a blue and red spider web on them.

There was something so nostalgic to the vigilante and his style that you had to adorn your room with touches of blue and red. You thought spiderman was the embodiment of “cool.” From his suit to the way he acted around criminals to the electric guitar on his back. Sure, a guitar was the main thing you hated about Hobie but Spiderman did it better. He made it work in the way Hobie dreams of.

You wake up to the loudest knock on your front door you’ve ever heard. You immediately know it’s him. You try to ignore the blaring pounding coming from your door but it keeps going. You force yourself to get up and answer the door. You hope you can open it, yell at him, then go back to bed.

To your dismay the second you open the door Hobie places his hand on the top of the wood, stopping you from moving it anywhere else.

“What do you want this early?” you groan.

“It’s like 9 am, love. But anyway-” He cuts himself off before finishing his sentence. You’re too groggy to notice that he’s staring inside of your flat. His eyes search the walls and decor in front of him.

“So, I take it you like Spiderman?” He laughs.

“That’s none of your business,” you sigh, crossing your arms.

He pushes his way inside of your flat, moving around like he’s looking for buried treasure. He picks up memorabilia and smiles at them. He holds up a Spider-Punk figurine and turns towards you.

“Spider-Punk huh?”

“Don’t touch my stuff! You know this is technically breaking and entering,” you scold him, taking the figure out of his hand.

He puts his hands in his pockets and just smirks at you. That stupid smirk, displaying half of his teeth and perfectly showing his lip ring.

“What do you want from me, Hobie?” you question after placing the figure back on its stand.

“Jus- Just wanted to apologize for last night,” he starts.

“You mean this morning? We talked at 1 am, remember?” You say, passive aggressively.

“Right, whatever. You’re… You’re right,” he exhaled, “I shouldn’t be blasting my music that early. It’s inconsiderate and rude to the people in my vicinity,” he breathes.

In the time you’ve known him you don’t think you’ve ever heard him say sorry. You’re taken aback, did he really apologize? And did he sound genuinely sorry?

“Oh, oh uhm thanks,” you sat, still skeptical a camera crew would come out laughing saying this whole thing was a prank.

“I wanted to see if you maybe wanted to come to my show tonight? We could get dinner after or whatever you want,” He scratches the back of his neck, he’s nervous.

“I’d like that, I guess,” you reluctantly say.

“Wicked. Uhm, i’ll be leaving then. Sorry again,” he says. Shooting finger guns at you and making his way out the door.

You smile, maybe, just maybe, Hobies getting to you. As he’s leaving you could swear you see some blue and red material with spikes on it slipping out of his pocket.

[astroboots]

Every You Every Me Issue #3

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x female reader

Summary: You are determined to meet your Spider-benefactor face to face and you go to ever increasing extreme lengths to do so. Problem is, Miguel O'hara is very uncooperative to your plans.

Word count: 5,500 words.

Content: Slowest of the burn, so slow you wonder if it's even burning. Near death experiences, the state of the economy and how expensive it is to live in a big city, the emotional whiplash of Miguel O'Hara.

Astroboot’s Masterlist | Series Masterlist | Spiderverse Masterlist

[Previous issue] [Next Issue]

You saw them in the window display of a bakery in Greenwich Village. Round sugar cookies with red frosting and white eyes, decorated as a tribute to everyone's favorite neighborhood Spiderman.

Before you had time to properly think things over (would he even like the cookies? Is he on a strict superhero diet and workout plan? What if he's gluten intolerant?) you were already standing in front of the cash register having a dozen of them wrapped up in fancy crinkly paper and were $72 dollars poorer. 

Charging six dollars per cookie is practically highway robbery, but that's par for the course with New York bakeries. You wouldn’t be surprised if every bakery in New York was already a part of Wilson Fisk’s criminal empire. 

As you push open the door, box in hand, you wonder wryly to yourself why Spiderman’s ruder alter ego isn't there to save you from that.

You wonder, for Superheroes, what classifies as an event worth intervening in and what everyday citizens need to be saved from?

Financial ailment doesn't quite seem to qualify from what you've been able to glean so far.

Tony Stark, for all the wealth he’s amassed (a large enough treasure hoard that he would be capable of buying the whole planet of Mars according to Forbes) isn't massively involved with charities. He only donates to the one: his own. And the Stark Foundation is really just Tony Stark paying reparations for the damage he and his buddies caused in the first place.

Thor is an actual deity, and you still remember that write-up in Esquire magazine, where local waiters in New Mexico had called him a terrible tipper and a habitual smasher of glassware.

Assault and battery is up in the air. There are accounts of Superheroes intervening; that Tiktok videos of She-Hulk breaking up a bar fight that went viral a few weeks back. But then equally, there are memes of Doctor Strange peeking out the window of Sanctum Sanctorum watching a street fight unfold,, utterly uninterested in getting involved. The internet labeled it as "mood". 

As for murder and mayhem, there's a longstanding public debate as to whether Superheroes cause more than they prevent. Case in point: that Moon Knight guy that paints the streets of London red.

There is no rule book written to explain how Superheroes decides who is worth saving and who is not.

Does one have to be important and have a material effect on the state of the world?

If so, you fall pitifully short. The most world-changing decision you made as of late was deciding to opt out of utensils on your last GrubHub order to help save the environment.

So it makes you wonder: Why on earth has this non-costume accurate Spiderman saved you, not once, not twice, but 13 times to date?

That’s just the first of many questions you’d like to ask him. What does he know that you don’t? Does he know why the universe seems to be out to get you lately? Or why death itself is following you everywhere you go, nipping at your heels?

You haven’t had the chance to ask him anything, because despite all of your encounters, you haven't met him face to face since that very first time. 

Inconveniently, you don't exactly have a way of contacting him. Superheroes aren't listed in the phone book. 

With no other way to reach out, you go at it the old fashioned way. You write him a note from a page you've ripped out of your notebook:

‘Thank you for saving me. Can we meet? I have questions.’

You place the note on the window sill. Setting the plate with $72 dollars worth of Spiderman cookies on top of the left corner of the paper to make sure it doesn't get blown away in the wind. Then you leave the window open for the first time since you've moved into this apartment before heading to bed.

There's nothing else to do but to wait. 

You wake to the spit and splatter of rain against your window. It's gray outside, and the cookies you set out the night before remain untouched. You frown at the sight, but you can't say you're surprised.

There was never any real indication that he was lurking around you. Superheroes are bound to have more interesting things on their schedule than stalking a random insurance employee.

You don't know why you thought this would work in the first place.

Getting out of bed, you walk up to your window to inspect the scene. The note is where you have left it, ink a little smeared from the rain, where the plate has kept it in place on the right corner.

That seems odd, now that you think about it. You stare at the note, eye drawn to the watermarks. Why are there water stains bleeding into the paper if your window was closed? As crappy as your rundown apartment can be, water damage is the one thing you haven't had issues with.

You draw your eyes to the closed window being smattered with the rain outside. Didn't you leave the window open last night? You're pretty sure you did, hoping that the open window would be seen as a gesture of invitation. You had left it open… right?

You did.

You're sure you did.

He must’ve been here.

Rude, not-costume-accurate Spiderman was here.

Right?

Your eyes flicker back to the window.

Or maybe you did close the window?

You close your eyes trying to recall your evening, packing the length of your apartment as you replay the memory. Suddenly, you're not so sure anymore. You always close your window, and even though you had every intention of keeping it open last night, who is to say you didn't close it out of sheer habit?

It's strange. Because if he was here, he would've spotted the note. But it's in the same spot you left it yesterday right under the plate on the left side of it...

You eye the undisturbed note tucked under the right corner of the plate.

Wait, wait. Didn't you put the note under the left side of the plate?

You did.

Yes, you definitely did.

Which means, he was here... Right?

You feel like you are going insane.

Are you seeing things that are not there? Was he actually here and if so why did he go to such lengths to pretend otherwise. Why would he passive-aggressively gaslight you into thinking he was never here?

You decide on a redo.

Because if you can't trust yourself and your questionable memory, you can trust a recording.

A teddy bear nanny cam sets you back $50. Not cheap, but not as outrageous as your stale-cardboard-tasting Spiderman cookies. 

You set it up on your dresser opposite your window and link it to your phone as per the instructions.

As for the bait. After having tasted those brick cookies for yourself, putting it out for a second night for a man who has saved your life repeatedly didn't seem right. You decide to bake them yourself this time.

The added bonus is that you get to mix blue food coloring into the frosting for the decoration that goes on top. In retrospect, the red Spiderman cookies from last time might’ve implied that you’re calling him a knock-off Spiderman. 

Besides, even with the cost of living crisis: a bag of flour, baking powder, unsalted butter, sugar and eggs cost a lot less than $72 dollars.

This time, you don't write him a sloppily put together note. You decide to write him a proper letter. 

If he did visit your apartment, (and you're not just going insane) the fact that he moved the note meant that he must've read it. 

This note didn’t work. 

It must not have been compelling enough, you were kind of in a hurry… 

You’ll have to write something better this time. Longer. More emotionally compelling. Surely if you take the time to really explain your plight, you can make him understand why it’s so important he talks to you! 

The problem is that it’s hard to sound serious when it’s written on lined paper from your ruled notebook. 

That won’t do. You go to the nearest stationery store in your neighborhood, a chain outlet of Paper Source to get yourself some decent looking stationary paper with a matching colored envelope to boot. 

You immediately regret this part of your plan, because it ends up setting you back another $26 dollars. Why is 6 pieces of paper so damn expensive anyhow? Surely there’s a few trees left in the world to chop down?!

$102 dollars down in your bank balance, you sit down at your dining table that night, pen in hand and begin writing. You pour your heart onto the pages, setting out in as precise words as you can manage the effect your near death incidents have had on you. 

How scared you are, how confused you are, but also how grateful you are that he's saved you, again and again and again. That you believe if you and him can just meet in person and talk, if you could ask questions and figure out why this is happening, then maybe you can find a way to stop it from happening again.

Then you fold the letter and tuck it neatly into the matching envelope and slide it under the left side of the cookie plate and go to sleep.

When you wake the next morning, nothing seems out of the ordinary.

The cookies are still neatly arranged on your plate. The letter snugly tucked underneath it.

On the left side this time, you note. 

It doesn’t look like he came. 

The only thing is that you swear that the envelope is now several inches further to the left than where you left it last night.

Again, maybe that’s just wishful thinking.

You pull up your phone, opening the app linked to the nanny cam and press play.

There is nothing but the still frame of your studio apartment, your bed to the right and your window square in the camera-view. You speed up the video, but the only thing that takes you by surprise is that you apparently toss a lot more in your sleep than you thought.

The camera footage goes well into 3am, and you’re resigning yourself to the fact that this was all down to your imagination.

He didn't come last night. Probably didn't come the night before. Most likely you woke up from the rain, closed the window and were too sleepy to remember.

You sigh, setting down your phone on the table, prepared to let this whole endeavor go.

On your screen, a smudged shadow appears in the corner of the window. You jump to your feet from your seat, knocking your chair over in the process with a raucous thud. The dark figure grows larger on your screen, dark navy blue and lines of stark red that perches itself onto your window sill.

YES! yes-yes-yes! You knew it. You fucking goddamn knew it!

You were right.

Adrenaline buzzes victoriously in your veins, and you grip your phone harder. Your heart is pounding so fast and hard in your chest you can hear the drumming beat of it in your ears.

He was here!

(You're not cuckoo for cocoa puffs).

You watch as his large figure sits on your window sill. He's still wearing his mask, and while you can't make out the expressions underneath, the outline where his eyes would have been, painted in dark blue, now narrow into a slit on your screen. 

There's a hostility emanating from that glare that you are able to sense all the way from the opposite side of the screen. He stares down at the plate of cookies suspiciously. Then he just stays there, unmoving, having a staring competition with the cookies you baked in his image.

In the privacy of your living room, you have the luxury of taking the time to get a proper look at him without interruption. It's hard to ignore the fact of just how tightly fitted to his skin that suit is. The dark blue fabric clings to every line of muscles on his body and it makes your cheek prickle with heat when you look. It feels voyeuristic somehow, but you can't help but think that the more modest alternative would be if he had worn nothing at all.

He's absurdly ripped. Muscular doesn't even begin to describe it. Broad shoulders and a narrow tapered waist segueing into obscenely thick and defined thighs that have your eyes linger for far too long. You shake your head to snap yourself out of it, Jesus you are acting like a creep. This isn’t OnlyFans, though lord knows you paid for this privilege! $102 for a cam video! 

On the footage, there is finally movement. He reaches for a cookie, bringing it to his mouth. The blue fabric dematerializes on his lower face until it reveals his tanned skin and that ridiculously cut jaw of his.

His mouth parts. Fangs protrude where his canine teeth are supposed to be and the sight makes you nearly drop your phone in shock.

Is this Spiderman a vampire? Or is he like a tarantula Spiderman with fangs to match?

You watch in suspended horror as he bites into the cookie, those sharp fangs of his are in plain view as he chews. 

He leans over to reach for a second cookie and all your trepidation is forgotten for a second, because if he’s reaching for a second one, it must mean he likes them. You grin at your screen, culinary pride beating out any caution or fear you may have had. 

Then he lifts up the plate, picking up the letter. The anticipation is too much. You press your face closer to the screen to try to get closer, because your screen is too small to pick up any possible nuances in his expression. 

He's carefully opening the envelope as he starts to read. It's impossible to tell what he's thinking. There's no visible change of facial expressions in the outline of his masked eyes. His mouth, which is bared to you, doesn't so much as twitch.

It doesn’t take long for him to read it. When he's done, he tucks the letter back under the plate. Then he bends down over the plate of cookies, and for a moment you think he’s going in for a third. Instead his hand lingers on the plate, before he starts to slide the remaining cookies around the plate to your confusion. You watch in confusion as he picks up the cookies one by one to space them out more evenly. You don't quite understand what he's trying to do, wait… is Vampire spider man re-arranging the cookies to make it less obvious he’s eaten them?!  

The bastard really was trying to gaslight you into thinking he was never here.

Once he’s seemingly satisfied with his work, he straightens up, turning until his back is against the camera preparing to leave.

To your surprise his face turns around to take one last look inside. The direction of his gaze settles on your bed where you're sleeping. His eyes lingers there for a handful of moments, inscrutable over the mask.

Is he sad? Angry? You can't tell.

He finally looks away and then he leaps off the window.

Politely asking him in writing is clearly not working out for you.

You decide the only recourse you have left is to try and physically catch him.

Such a simple sentiment that had sounded so easy in your head, but you quickly run into logistical issues when you try to put it into practice.

The man is built like a tank. Can leap off of skyscrapers (and the window of your sixth floor) without breaking a sweat. Potentially also a vampire.

You're not exactly sure how you're supposed to catch someone like that.

Your google research is off to a shaky start. Somehow you end up down a rabbit hole of tutorials for non-lethal mouse traps. It's not very useful inspiration. Because you can't exactly build a 7 foot large cage trap to catch him the next time he comes around to help himself to cookies.

But the concept of having a lure trap set with bait seemed transferable and so you decide to go for a classic spring trap that you’ll modify. No cage, instead you set up a DIY contraption with a sturdy string attached to a bell meant to quickly alert you to his presence next time he comes around. 

The game plan is to wake up and corner him before he has a chance to abscond.

As for bait, you google things that vampires might like in a half-thought of plan it might be applicable. Unfortunately, there are no young virgin maidens you know of as far as the eye can see in New York (yourself included) so that was a no go. 

So you default back to cookies (because hey, at least it worked last time).

Amazon has your whole set up shipped and delivered by the next day and you implement phase 3 of your rapidly escalating attempts to reach out to him.

Unfortunately, it doesn't work. For one he doesn’t show up that night. Or the night after. It takes him four whole days to show up again and when he does, he spots your trap a mile away. When you review the footage on the cam the next day, he avoids the rope and the whole mechanism effortlessly. 

There's no sound on the nanny cam so you can't be sure of it. But you think from the way the line of his shoulders shake as he steps over the rope that he might be laughing at you. He’s definitely seen through few supervillain traps in his days so in hindsight the probability of success here was low.

He does however eat three of your cookies this time.

You get a little bit more desperate after that.

You decide that if a trigger trap to wake you won't work, then obviously, the next best thing is for you to simply stay awake.

The problem is that he doesn't show up every night. His visits are entirely random without an obvious pattern. Sometimes he shows up two nights in a row, sometimes he goes several days without making a guest appearance on your nanny cam footage.

It means you end up downing a whole carafe of coffee, and several energy drinks, every night for a week straight. Entirely unable to predict what night he's going to appear, you keep dooming your already tiny bladder to a dozen visits to the bathroom before the clock has even struck nine.

The saddest part of it is that despite being wired on enough coffee to power a nuclear power station by yourself, you never end up staying awake the whole night through. 

More often than not you end up falling asleep sitting upright by the dining table waiting up for him. Then the next morning you wake with a wry neck, a sore back and your face pressing up uncomfortably against the wooden surface.

But you're nothing if not tenacious. Tonight makes it the sixth night in a row that you’re doing this. You stare down the can of red bull on your dining table as you pick it up and lift it to your mouth. You’re going to keep going, hardness of the wooden table be damned.

You're surprised to find yourself waking up feeling well rested without any aches. Surrounded by the softness of your quilt and your even softer memory foam pillow. 

The luxurious comfort of it all is such a relief that you don't even question it at first. Don't question why you're in bed when the last thing you remember was nodding off against the palm of your hand and the hard discomfort of your dining chair.

In the sanctuary of your bed, you just dig your face deeper into your pillow and snooze for as long as you can. Ignoring the bright sun pouring in from your windows until it sears unforgivingly against your skin and you decide that it’s finally time to start your day.

By habit, the first thing you do as you get up from bed is to pull up the nanny cam app on your phone and press play on last night's recording.

There's nothing of interest. Seeing yourself read a book by the dining table and chugging down a series of Red Bull is hardly riveting television.

Yesterday you barely even make it until midnight because you can see yourself nod off at the table, head sliding off your palm and plonking down on the dining table. You flinch at the impact, vaguely impressed that the collision didn't wake you.

Your (maybe vampire) Spiderman turns up at 3 am.

Much like the times before, he perches himself on your window sill, peering inside (presumably to check for any new traps you might have laid out for him).

His broad frame stiffens, and then, with a smooth leap, he's inside your apartment.

Excitement rushes to your head, because this is the furthest he’s gone and the first time he's come all the way inside instead of just lurking on the window sill. 

He goes over to your bed, flinging the quilt to the side. He seems stressed, the dark shape of his eyes wide as he stands over the empty bed when it dawns on you what’s happening on screen right now. 

Oh, he's worried.

He looks over at you, hunched over the dining table, sound asleep and oh god, is that drool on your cheek? 

The line of his shoulder relaxes. The broadness of his chest rises then dips with a heavy exhale. Something warm trickles in your stomach at his obvious concern for you.

The mystery is confounding. You don't know him. You've never met him, but for some unfathomable reason he cares enough about you to genuinely care about your safety and you want to know why. 

He makes his way over to the table where you are. The mask slowly ebbs away, uncovering his familiar chin, cheeks and then finally his eyes. An other-worldly shade of crimson that has you spellbound and transfixed on the screen. 

You find yourself raising your phone closer to your face, trying to get a better look at him. Cursing the crappy quality of the video. You don't know what to make of the way he's looking at you. It's intensely focused, almost sad, and… and… And you don't know what, but it makes your heart leap up into your throat, chest clenching tight.

He bends over, wrapping his broad arms under your knees. He’s careful in his movements, cupping your head as it lolls to the side until you’re comfortably resting against his shoulders. It’s a practiced movement, as if he’s done this a hundred times before as he picks you up and carries you bridal style to your bed. Gingerly tucking you under the quilt with something that looks a lot like tenderness. 

It leaves you with more questions than ever.

Ever since you started your caffeine chugging marathon, work has become a new kind of hell.

You're already half-asleep and nodding off at your desk by 10.30. Eyes sore and strained as you stare at the bright screen and try to make sense of the endless columns that are all different and also all the same until your brain refuses to try to make sense of any of it anymore.

You need to go for a walk. Clear your head.

Maybe pop out for a coffee... smoothie. Definitely smoothie.

Outside, the heat is oppressive, far too hot for only being May. Definitely too hot when there are this many tourists around. The street is so crowded you can barely make an inch of headway, trapped behind a family with a stroller in front, trapped in front of a pushy businessman who keeps stepping on your heels every two steps, and trapped next to a guy who is really into his airpods.

With the excess of caffeine still trying to make its way out of your system and the unforgiving heat of the sun beating against your back, it all has the effect of making you feel like you’re hung over. Your breakfast is roiling in your stomach. Sweat plastered against every inch of clothing. You don't know why you do this to yourself.

Every morning you tell yourself never again, and yet every night, there you were, spending half of your disposable income on energy drinks.

Starting from today, you're going cold turkey on the stuff. You've finally given up on trying to stay awake long enough to catch your super-stalker in his cookie burglar routine. Endlessly chugging down caffeine every night is not working out for you. Neither are the DIY mouse traps.

You're running low on ideas of how to trap him. You have nothing else to go on anymore. No idea on how to summon the man. The only time you know he'll be there is the moment before each near-death when he's there to save you.

What are you supposed to do with that? Purposely throw yourself off another building to lure him out?

That's crazy!

…Right?

But maybe... No! Definitely crazy.

Someone screams, and you snap out of your thoughts. There's yelling and terrified shrieks all around you. You're caught in the throng of people, panicked bodies pushing and pressing up against you, all of them trying to run the other way.

You dig in your heels, bracing yourself against the stampede of people. They’re pushing in from every direction until it’s impossible to move an inch. It’s hard to turn your body, when second after second, someone is pummeling into your side, knocking into your bruising shoulder. You barely manage to crane your neck back far enough when you finally spot it. 

A red-green truck with a gigantic taco on its roof is careening towards you across the pavement, no driver behind the wheel. The sea of bodies parts around the out-of-control vehicle, people running left, right and forward to escape being crushed under the wheels.

There’s no time to react. It’s too close. Too fast. 

A hand clutches at your wrist and pulls you backwards, your vision obscured as your face is pressed up against a familiar solid warmth. 

"Hold onto me," he tells you, and you do. 

You're held firm against him as the ground underneath your feet disappears, and everything feels weightless. Then all you hear is a loud thunderous crash.

Your feet touch back down on the ground, and the strong protective hold on you unravels.

When you open your eyes he's already gone. You're left on the corner of Lexington Avenue, still trying to catch your breath. The mob of people is still there all around you, but the panic has passed now, everyone is standing still. Everyone is observing the wreckage of the run amok truck that is now flipped onto its side, rendered harmless.

Miraculously, somehow, nobody around you seems visibly injured.

From a distance, you can hear sirens approaching with a deafening wail. 

But your mind is elsewhere, on the shade of the familiar dark blue and red as you were being saved seconds ago. On his gentle voice in your ear that still thrums pleasantly in your chest. 

You want to see him again. 

It's Friday, and you break half an hour early for your designated 40 minutes of lunch, taking the elevator directly to the 72nd floor, which is under construction to renovate it into an open observation deck for the public next year.

The thing with commercial skyscrapers is that nowadays most of them have safety glass panels on all outside spaces of the upper floors to ensure that it is impossible to climb up the buildings and jump.

It's a safety feature that became standard after the financial crisis of 2008.

Turns out that imposing an 80 hour work week on your employees, where they don't get to see their family or friends or have a life outside of work, and then stripping them of their financial security makes a lot of people miserable and suicidal (who knew?)

The elevator pings open, and you exit into the construction zone, carefully avoiding the various tools scattered across the half-finished deck. On Fridays, the construction workers on the site leave by lunchtime, and the space is empty of people. 

Step by step, you walk up towards the edge of the terrasse, until you stand before the temporary safety rail, looking out over the sprawling city below you. Cars look like tiny moving pebbles and the people, a hive of ants scurrying from street to street.

It’s a dizzying view. Both beautiful and grotesque in its grandeur. The 72nd floor will be 28 more floors to fall from than the 44th was.

The air around you seems to thin, and your stomach wants to crawl down to your feet and hold on to steady ground.

Taking a deep breath, you lift the hem of your shirt, running your hand over the safety harness strapped around your waist, reassuring yourself it's still there. Then you feel along the attached cord, using the carabiner at the end to clip it around the rod of the safety rail. 

Being impulsive and daring in your quest is one thing. Reckless and stupid is another.

It’s not a real climbing rope and harness. Turns out professional safety gear is shockingly expensive, but you found a knock-off resistance training set, complete with harness and stretchy bungee cord rope, on Amazon for a very reasonable $15. You’ve already spent $72 on cookies, $50 dollars for a nanny cam set, and an extortionate $26 for stationary paper in your never-ending quest to lure out Fake Spiderman. You figure a rope is a rope, and you're not paying $100 more to get ripped off by the big climbing corporations. But you’re also not willing to go without.

After all, you've already fallen from the Chrysler building once, and you're not angling for a repeat.

As intent as you are on seeing your Spider-benefactor eye to eye, you're not quite prepared to die for the privilege. Your plan is just to make it look like you are going to jump.

Any superhero worth his dime wouldn't actually let you fall before they would be willing to save you.

That would be a real dick move.

You give your impromptu safety rig one last tug to make sure it's secure, then straighten your posture. Grabbing a hold of the metal rail, you hoist yourself up. You clamber onto it, gripping tight with shaking hands as you swing a leg over, straddling the bar.

Left leg then the right, until all of you are on the other side of the railing.

Then you stay there.

One second. Then two. You close your eyes and try not to look down at the many, many floors below, and how one gust of strong wind could probably knock you over and have you falling down the building again. You count the seconds that pass you by. 

Five. Six. Seven.

A strong gust of wind blows through your side, and your legs buckle at the strong resistance, hand gripping down on the metal railing to hold yourself steady so you don't fall off.

Eightnineten! Ok. Fuck. No. You're good. Fuck this! He's not going to come.

If he didn’t come when you climbed over, he's not going to turn up now.

You briefly let go of the railing with one hand, adjusting your grip so you can climb back to safety. The sun beating down on your back disappears and is eaten up by a large and looming shadow. Every hair on the back of your neck prickles in warning.

Your reaction is too slow, you don't even have time to turn around to see what caused it. Then all you hear is an angry booming voice right next to your ear.

"Have you lost your goddamned mind?!"

You panic, flinging out your hand to catch the bar, but the hard metal of the railings isn't there anymore.

There is a sharp metallic snap. The safety rope around your waist splits from the hasp.

He’s calling your name.

The world tilts and everything goes upside down along with it. Your stomach sinks with a sickening plummet, legs dropping through into zero gravity as you find yourself staring up at the blue and endless New York sky.

Then you're falling from the Chrysler building.

Again.

Fuck!

~ Next Issue

Dedication & Credits: To my dearest @thirstworldproblemss who has to constantly listen to me jabber on about this day and night endlessly and forever. She is in every sense of the word a collaborator on this project. She brainstorms, she pitches in, she edits and she beta-reads. This and so many of my works would not exist without her, please send her all the love if you enjoyed this story.

I don’t have a tag list but please follow me on astroboots-writes and turn on notifications to be notified when I post something new!

[persevereforahappyending]

This isn't Your Fault (Interrogation 2)

Pairing: Tara Carpenter x Reader

Summary: Mindy spun around, slamming her hands down on both arms of the chair, shoving it back slightly, Tara furrowed her brow. “Tell us about Y/N.”

Warnings: None

Word Count: 3.1k+

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

Tara’s keys jingled as she got them out to unlock the door. There had been no attacks at the apartment but since Quinn tricked them and had infiltrated their home, Sam had changed all the locks and added even more to the door. Tara understood but she really hated carrying twenty different keys just so she could get into her own apartment.

Tara sent you a quick text saying she’d be over later in the day. She hadn’t heard much from you, but you didn’t have class, so she knew you were busy with one of your games. Tara had intended to go straight to you after her class, but Mindy had asked for a girl's day just her, Tara, and Sam, no significant others or annoying brother. It seemed weird but Tara didn’t question it too much, it had been a while since just the girls hung out, though that was mostly Mindy’s fault since she always brought Anika along or always ditched them to go spend time with Anika.

When Tara stepped through the door she furrowed her brow, all the lights were off. “Sam?” She called out.

She reached to flip the light switch but was quickly grabbed. She let out a yelp, but a hand was instantly over her mouth, an arm wrapped around her waist, and two more arms grabbed her hands. Tara wiggled her body, trying to break free as she was shuffled through the apartment until she was tossed into a chair. The second her back hit the chair she was pushing herself back up, but a hand shoved her back down.

“Who the fuck-” Tara was cut off by a hand covering her mouth again, so Tara did the only logical thing.

“Ow!” Mindy yelped, the hand covering Tara’s mouth instantly being pulled away. “She bit me!”

“Mindy?” Tara asked annoyed. “What the hell is going on?”

A singular light clicked on then it was redirected to shine in Tara’s face, she had to cover her eyes, squinting to see silhouettes of Mindy and Sam in front of her. Tara dropped her hand, blinking until her eyes adjusted to the light shoved in her face. She glared at her sister and best friend, any potential fear she had of being attacked was now gone.

Mindy leaned down, putting her face right in front of Tara’s. Tara leaned back to create some distance, but Mindy just leaned forward, moving the lamp even closer to Tara’s face. Tara stared at her best friend unimpressed by the little display, she just raised an eyebrow waiting for their next move. Mindy squinted, standing up straight and crossing her arms. Sam was in a similar position, her face mostly obstructed by shadows, but she stood behind Mindy, arms crossed, her typical bored expression on her face.

“You know why you’re here,” Mindy said as she began to pace back and forth in front of Tara.

“I live here,” Tara said.

Mindy spun around, slamming her hands down on both arms of the chair, shoving it back slightly, Tara furrowed her brow. “Tell us about Y/N.”

Tara sighed, rolling her eyes. “You already met her.”

“That’s not the point! You had been sneaking around for months. Months!” Mindy pushed off the chair, hands on her hips as she looked at Tara expectantly. “Now,” she pointed a finger at Tara, “you will tell us everything.”

“No,” Tara scoffed. “It’s our relationship and if we don’t want to share with you, we won’t.”

“Anika is with Y/N right now.” Tara glared at Mindy, narrowing her eyes, trying to see if Mindy was bluffing. “While she questions Y/N we are questioning you. So, you might as well tell us everything.” Tara rolled her eyes, slumping back in the chair. Mindy smiled victoriously, resting her hands on her hips again as if she was a superhero.

“Now, question one!” she raised her finger, acting like she usually did when she was listing off Ghostface suspects. “Have you guys slept together?” she smiled cheekily. Tara glared at her, noticing Sam had tilted her head to glare at Mindy as well. “Of course, you have,” she waved her own question off. “What was it like? Tell us everything. I want all the details. All of them. All-” she was cut off by a quick slap to the back of the head from Sam.

“Ow!” she rubbed the spot where Sam hit her. “What was that for?” she turned to Sam who just glared at her, giving her a murderous look, Tara knew that look all too well. “Fine!” she held up her hands. “You don’t want to hear about your little sisters sex life, I get it.” She turned back to Tara. “She’ll give me all the details later.” She winked at Tara. Tara kicked her in the shin the same time as Sam smacked her in the back of the head, again. “Ow!” she put one hand to her head and another to her shin, hopping on one leg as she tried to get away from the sisters.

Sam rolled her eyes, stepping up to where Mindy had been standing. “Where did you meet?” she asked.

Tara rolled her eyes, crossing her arms. “You already know that,” she scoffed.

Sam turned the light, shoving it further into Tara’s face. She closed her eyes, raising a hand to block the light. “You guys are ridiculous,” she said, squinting at Sam. She dropped her hand, rolling her eyes again. “We met in our Film History class.”

“Who made the first move?”

“I did.”

“Really?” Mindy asked, coming to stand beside Sam again. “But you have no game. Not that Y/N seems to have any either,” she started talking more to herself. “How did you two end up together?”

Tara glared at her. Mindy just shrugged. “The professor made us do icebreakers,” Tara mumbled. Mindy burst out laughing, having to clutch her stomach with how hard she was laughing, she was almost doubled over. “Anyway!” Tara glared at Mindy, before turning her attention to her sister. “That got us talking and eventually I asked her out.”

“And I’m assuming with your lack of game you suggested, what, a movie, as a first date?” Mindy chuckled to herself. Tara snapped her mouth shut, her cheeks becoming red as she was unable to look Mindy in the eye. “Oh my god.”

“I asked her to go to a new horror movie.”

“Wait,” Mindy held up her hand. Tara sighed, for someone who wanted to know all about her relationship Mindy sure interrupted a lot. “The one that came out over the summer? The one you said you couldn’t see opening night with me?” Tara tapped her fingers together, looking everywhere in the apartment but at Mindy. “Then why did you go with me Saturday night? You talked like you hadn’t seen it! I could have forced Anika to go with me! But no!” Mindy threw her hands in the air, waving them around dramatically. “I was a good friend and said I would wait for you!”

“Mindy!” Sam snapped. Mindy scoffed, crossing her arms as she mumbled to herself. “Continue,” Sam nodded to Tara.

“We didn’t finish the movie,” Tara said. “So, when I saw it with you, I had only seen about half of it.” Mindy scrunched her eyebrows at that. “She doesn’t like scary movies. I didn’t know it before suggesting it.”

“You didn’t ask her opinion on the movie before going?” Sam asked, raising both eyebrows as she judged her sister.

“She agreed to it!” Tara shot to her feet. “Sure, I suggested it!” Tara started pacing back and forth in front of them. “But she said yes!”

“What happened after you botched your first date?” Mindy asked.

“I didn’t botch it!” Tara pointed a finger up at Mindy, stepping into her personal bubble and glared at her.

Mindy raised her hands, taking a step back. Sam inserted herself in between them, resting her hands on Tara’s shoulders and gently eased her back down into the chair. Tara took a few deep breaths, calming herself back down but she kept her arms crossed, continuing to glare at Mindy.

“As soon as I realized she walked out of the movie I went to go check on her,” Tara said, keeping her voice leveled. “And we went for pizza, then she walked me home,” Tara smiled to herself, “And I kissed her.”

Mindy held a hand to her heart, titling her head as she let out an aww. “Wait,” Sam said, holding up a hand. “You brought her back to the apartment?” Sam crossed her arms, raising an eyebrow, as if she hadn’t already met Y/N and had approved of her.

“Seriously?” Mindy asked with a groan.

“She walked me to the front door of the complex,” Tara said with an eyeroll. “She didn’t even enter the building.”

“How many times has she been in the apartment?” Mindy asked with a smirk. “I know the night we all met wasn’t the first time.”

Tara’s eyes went wide as she glared at her supposed best friend. She was going to have to rethink that status, maybe move Chad into the position of best friend. He seemed excited to get to know you and the two of you could bond of videogames. He would also be less likely to embarrass her in front of you, Mindy on the other hand will take every opportunity she has to tell you all about the embarrassing things Tara did in her childhood. Tara nodded to herself; she might have more in common with Mindy, but Chad was seeming like a better best friend option in the moment.

“You’ve snuck her into the apartment!” Sam shouted, bringing Tara back to the present.

“Oh, come on,” Mindy scoffed, lightly slapping Sam’s arm. “Of course, she has!” Sam slowly turned to the side, glaring at Mindy. Mindy nodded and took a few more steps back without another word.

“A few times,” Tara said slowly.

“How many?” Sam demanded.

“I don’t know,” Tara threw her arms in the air, slumping back in the chair. “To many to count.”

“Seriously?” Sam dropped her arms, her mouth hanging open. “Do my rules mean nothing to you?”

Tara saw Mindy bob her head from side to side but smartly kept her mouth shut. “It was easier,” Tara shrugged. “Sure, if we went to her place, we were alone more but it was harder to come up with excuses as to why I was late.”

“How did I never notice? How did I never catch you guys!”

“I have no idea,” Tara barked out a laugh. “There was one time you got home from therapy early and we got a little caught up doing stuff…” Tara cleared her throat trying to cover her blush which was only made worse when she caught Mindy wiggling her eyebrows at her. “And I didn’t hear you until you were walking down the hall and I shoved her in the closet.” Sam’s mouth dropped open while Mindy burst out laughing. “You were in my room talking to me for like ten minutes, I was just waiting for you to fling open the closet doors.”

“Damn, where were you when I was trying to hide my girlfriends?” Mindy asked. “I could have used the help!”

Tara chuckled at that. “I mean you were rather hopeless, I’m sure even with my help you still would have gotten caught.”

Mindy’s mouth dropped open. “Rude.”

“I can’t believe I came that close to meeting Y/N,” Sam mumbled to herself. “Have there been any other times I don’t know about?”

Tara knew it was rhetorical, but she didn’t want to lie to her sister, so she opted to remain quiet and refused to meet her gaze. The truth was there was many times. Tara is surprised how long she was actually able to keep the secret, the amount of times you were sneaking out last minute was crazy. Not to mention the amount of times Anika, Mindy, or Chad almost caught the two of you together on campus, oddly Chad was the one who almost caught you the most. He was the only one that didn’t share classes with either of you and was in a completely separate major. The only good thing was that Chad could be rather oblivious and was usually with some of his football buddies.

There was one time Tara had taken you to a coffee shop right off campus and Chad somehow managed to find his way there. He had brought a girl with him on a little coffee date and then when he saw Tara, he spent twenty minutes talking to her, despite his clearly irritated date. The only reason Chad even left her alone was because his date stormed out of the shop, and he went chasing after her. Tara spent the rest of the day apologizing and trying to make it up to you. You had been at the counter getting the drinks when Chad came in but with your quick thinking you walked to the corner of the shop and pulled out a book. Tara kept glancing at you, watching as you flipped page after page in your book, while Chad talked to her about the most random things as if they hadn’t just seen each other the night before.

“Well…” Tara said, giving her sister a shy smile.

“Oh my god!” Sam said, throwing her hands in the air.

“See, one time,” Tara started to explain, leaning forward in her seat. “Once again, I didn’t hear you come in. She was about to leave and then you started turning the doorknob and I pushed her out the window and onto the fire escape.”

“Smooth,” Mindy deadpanned.

“You even looked out the window,” Tara added, nodding to herself. “I still don’t know where she went,” she looked up thinking back to that day. After Sam left her room she ran to the window, looking up and down the fire escape and didn’t see a sign of you anywhere.

When Tara looked back at her sister Sam was just glaring at her, shaking her head. “What?” Tara asked innocently.

“Let’s get back to the important stuff!” Mindy announced, putting her hands on her hips. Both sisters looked at her with raised eyebrows. “What’s her favorite movie?”

“Really?” Tara and Sam asked at the same time.

Mindy’s mouth dropped open. “Yes!” she looked between them as if she was trying to figure out if they were serious.

“Out of all the questions,” Sam said, gesturing widely with her hands. “Out of all the months of sneaking out. That’s what you want to know?”

“It’s important.”

“How?”

“Well,” Mindy clapped her hands together as if she was about to make a big presentation. “She is dating your sister,” she pointed to Tara. “Who is a horror movie fanatic, like me,” she gestured to herself. Sam rolled her eyes but let Mindy continue. Tara was just watching her friend, curious about where she was going with this. “We’ve now learned Y/N doesn’t like horror,” Mindy placed her hands on her hips again as she suppressed a sigh. “So, we need to see where the rest of her movie tastes lies. I get she’s more of a gamer and into audio.” She shook her hands with a slight eye roll, Tara knew Mindy appreciated a good soundtrack though. There were times Mindy would rant about the shitty audio or the back score of a movie just as many times as she would praise the musical score and how it immersed her in the movie so well. “So, what is her favorite movie?” Mindy crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow.

Tara leaned her head back, closing her eyes as she let out a long sigh. “Jurassic Park,” she finally answered.

Mindy bobbed her head back and forth, her eyes looking at the ceiling as she seemed to take in the answer. Tara relaxed back into the chair, crossing her arms as she waited for her best friend’s approval. “It’s a classic, has a good score, and used practical effects,” Mindy mumbled to herself. “That’s always a good call,” she pointed knowingly at Tara. Tara shrugged, nodding her head in agreement. She wasn’t wrong, practical effects were better the majority of the time and much scarier than anything produced by a computer. “Despite lacking any taste in the best movie genre.” Tara rolled her eyes. “She has acceptable taste in other movies it seems.” Mindy clapped both her hands together, smiling down at Tara. “Congratulations, I approve of your relationship.”

“I didn’t ask,” Tara said, tilting her head.

“Anyway,” Mindy smiled widely, showing all her teeth, it kind of scared Tara, making her lean as far back as she could. “Tell us about the tree incident,” she clapped her hands several times.

Tara scoffed, rolling her eyes. When she looked at her sister, she saw Sam was even looking at her, a small smile tugging at her lips. “No,” Tara said.

“Oh, come on,” Mindy whined, dropping her arms in defeat.

“No.”

“I’ll just ask Y/N.”

“She won’t talk,” Tara scoffed at the idea. She knew you loved teasing her about it, but you wouldn’t tell Mindy, Chad, or Anika if they asked you. The only one she wasn’t confident in learning the truth was Sam. She had a feeling you would probably willingly tell Sam, no bribing or threatening involved.

“But it happened twice!” Mindy’s eyes were wide as if this was the most shocking piece of information she’d ever learned in her life. “Twice!”

“How does one fall out of a tree twice?” Sam asked, silently laughing to herself.

“I’m short!” Tara said, jumping to her feet. “Mistakes were made.” She pushed past Mindy and Sam before spinning around to give them one final glare, “That’s all I’m saying.”

“Where are you going?”

“Y/N’s!” Tara was already grabbing her keys and halfway to the door.

“What about hanging out?” Mindy pouted.

“Nope,” Tara flung open the door.

“Do you need me to pick you up?” Sam asked. “I don’t want you walking home so late.”

“I’ll just spend the night there.”

“In the house where she was attacked?” Sam shouted. Tara could hear Sam running through the apartment after her.

“She replaced the door,” Tara looked back at her sister as if that answered her concerns.

“That solves nothing!”

“Bye!” Tara waved at Sam and Mindy as she walked out of the apartment.

“Tara!” is the last thing she heard Sam shout before the door closed.

Tara chuckled at her sister’s concern. Sam didn’t need to know that the day you got home from the hospital, Tara checked every singly door, locking and relocking them. Tara even checked the alarm system every fifteen minutes to make sure it was still armed, she had it pulled up on her phone, waiting just in case it ever said disarmed like it had during her own attack. Sam didn’t need to know how paranoid she was though; it made her more fun to mess with anyway.

Taglist: @lilbitdepressed27 @fanboy7794 @noooodlessstuff @tatumrileyslover @alexkolax @canvascoloredin @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @youralphawolf72

[starkwlkr]

beautiful boy | cillian murphy

do I know anything about labor and the process? no 😭 pls remember this is fanfiction and idk anything about childbirth

barbenheimer series

The day Y/n began to feel ill, she had an idea of what was going on. Of course she did some math and realized her period was late. Cillian was still filming in the uk so she was alone in their cottage. A little family owned market was close by so she decided to walk there to buy a pregnancy test just to make sure. The owners already knew her and Cillian, they were nice people that brought great comfort to her.

While she was there, she figured she might as well get some groceries that she needed. As she browsed the aisles for spices and other items, she got a text from Cillian.

C ❤️

i should be done filming soon. i miss you.

She quickly replied.

Okay, I’ll pick you up from the airport. I love you more ❤️

After she payed for her items, Y/n walked back to her cottage. She put away her groceries rather than immediately take the test. She didn’t want to get her hopes up so she occupied her mind with something else.

It wasn’t until she thought about Cillian, that’s when she decided that it was time to take it. She grabbed the small box from the bag and walked to her bathroom. She read the instructions over and over again until she ripped open the box.

“It’s going to be fine, you’re going to be fine.” Y/n whispered to herself.

Y/n was early to the airport the day Cillian was scheduled to come back home. She couldn’t contain her excitement. It had been months since they last saw each other and she desperately wanted to feel him close to her.

She finally spotted him wearing sunglasses and a hat, his outfit reminded her of the crappy disguises superheroes wore when they were under cover.

“Well hello Tommy Shelby.” She said in a flirty voice.

“You’re hilarious.” Cillian replied. He placed his hands on her cheeks and kissed her on the lips. “Let’s go home, I’ve missed you too much.”

Cillian wanted to drive, but Y/n wouldn’t let him. After all he did come back from a long flights and months of filming, he needed the rest. Eventually Y/n and Cillian made it back home. He quickly took notice of the garden she had made while he was gone.

“You’ve been busy.” Cillian got out of the car. He opened the trunk and got his luggage out. “Are those red poppies?” He pointed out.

“Yeah. I also planted tulips and daisies.” Y/n pointed to the flowers that decorated her front porch.

Cillian then saw the light blue flowers next to the poppies. “Forget me nots, your favorite.” He smiled.

“You remember?” Y/n asked. She had told him about her favorite flower many dates ago.

“I never forgot.” Cillian replied. “Ha, forget me not, I never forgot.” He tried to joke.

“Funny.” Y/n chuckled lightly. “Come in, I have a surprise for you.”

“Oh?”

“It’s not what you think.” Y/n rolled her eyes playfully.

Cillian opened the door allowing Y/n to walk in first. He saw their home completely normal so it wasn’t something like a new furniture piece or art work that she had bought.

“Okay, wait here.” Y/n instructed. She walked to their shared bedroom and came back with something in her hands, Cillian wasn’t sure what it was. “I never told you I was feeling sick when you were away, I didn’t want you to worry and i most certainly didn’t want you to leave your work and fly back just for me. I had an idea of what was wrong with me so I went to the market and got a pregnancy test and it’s positive.” She nervously said. That’s when she showed Cillian the pregnancy test.

Cillian immediately pulled Y/n into a tight embrace, burying his face in her shoulder. “Oh, I love you so much.”

“We’re going to be parents.” Y/n whispered as her eyes filled with tears.

As they held each other, Cillian knew that his life would never be the same. But he also knew that with Y/n by his side, he was ready to embrace the journey of fatherhood.

MONTH 3

“People are starting to ask questions. What do I say to them?”

“Tell them you don’t know me.”

Her assistant, Joli, had been on the phone with her for the past hour. Y/n had finally told Joli about the pregnancy. Only a few people knew, obviously both of the parents’ families and close friends, but apart from them, no one knew that Cillian and Y/n were going to be parents and they liked it that way.

“You know I can’t do that. Listen, I love you and I’m happy for you and Cillian, but are you really going to step away for good?” Joli asked.

“Not entirely. I’ll just take a break.”

“Y/n, no one has seen you for a while.” Joli stated. “But when you decide to come back, I’ll be here. If you or Cillian ever need anything, let me know.”

“Thanks, Joli.” Y/n smiled. Joli was always her biggest supporter.

“You’re going to be an amazing mom.”

MONTH 7

Y/n loved her quiet life. She was living in a cottage starting her family with the love of her life. What more could she want?

Her stomach was growing everyday and it amazed her every time. The gender was going to be a surprise so all the baby clothes and furniture was gender neutral. She even wrote down some gender neutral names that her and Cillian might like.

“Here,” Cillian came back from the kitchen with a glass of cold lemonade. “Let me know if you want a refill.”

Y/n and Cillian were enjoying some time in their garden. All this time at home, Y/n picked up a new hobby and in no time, the couple had their own garden.

“Thank you, my love.” Y/n replied as she grabbed the glass from Cillian’s hands. “I’ve been thinking about the name Rowan, cute or not?”

“Rowan, Rowan . . . Rowan Murphy-L/N.” Cillian tested it out. “Not sure. Can you imagine yourself yelling the name Rowan like what if our child is running and you have to yell their name for them to stop. Rowan! Hmm, I don’t know.”

Y/n began to laugh at Cillian’s words. “That’s how you decide if the name is good or not?”

“It’s a good way, just try it.” Cillian encouraged.

Y/n hesitated a bit, but cleared her throat. “Rowan! Rowannnn!”

“See? Now what’s the verdict?”

“The verdict is . . . We have to find another name.”

JULY 21ST, 2013

Cillian was thankful that he didn’t have to work that day. It was all going good. Y/n was in the final days of pregnancy and everything was ready for the arrival of baby murphy. Around 2PM was when Cillian’s driving skills were put to the test.

“Fuck! Fuck! I hate this! I’m never having kids again!” Y/n groaned. “Hey, did I ever tell you how much I love you?”

“Not recent-” Cillian said as he kept his eyes on the road. They were only two minutes from the hospital.

“I hate you right now! But I love you so so much, but I fucking hate you!”

“Love you too, baby.”

Soon, Y/n was being taken by nurses to labor and delivery. Cillian made sure to call both of the families to let them know that in a matter of minutes, he would be a father and Y/n would be a mother.

“Are you Mr. Murphy?” A nurse asked. “Your wife is calling for you.”

Wife. He loved the sound of that.

Cillian quickly ended the call with his mother and ran to Y/n’s room. “Hey, I’m here.” He grabbed her hand, placing gentle kisses on it.

“Do our parents know?” Y/n asked.

“I just got off the phone with them. They’re so happy for us.” He smiled.

Thankfully, a C-section wasn’t needed. Baby Murphy entered the world crying. He was perfect in the eyes of his parents.

“Congratulations, it’s a beautiful boy.” The nurse announced.

“A boy.” Cillian whispered to Y/n. “Our beautiful boy.”

“Alex. His name is Alexander or Alex. I like it.” Y/n said, completely out of breath.

“Alexander Murphy-L/N. That sounds perfect.” Cillian smiled.

TAGLIST

@leclercloml @butterfly-skinnylegend @rockerchick05 @equallyshaw @agustdpeach @celesteablack @hnybitches @ietss @probablypossesedbysatan @kittyrumbl3r @electrobutterfly @knpgituloh @butlersluvbot @captainwans @bellstwd @theekileypage @marti-su @multifans-things @ceruleanrainblues @litterallnobody @jackierose902109 @sinarainbows @cosniffee @thatgirlthatreadswattpad

[libraryofgage]

Harlequin Prince

Part of: Steve Deserves Good Parents, Actually Debbie and Fester Addams One | Two Rick and Evelyn O'Connell One Harley Quinn One (you're here!) 10th Doctor and Rose (on the way! might take a little, I have plans for this one) Scooby Gang (there are also plans for this one lmao, so plz be patient with me orz)

I'm a simple woman who believes Steve deserves to be a little unhinged sometimes, and having Harley Quinn as a mother is the perfect excuse to make that happen lol

Anyway, I know I haven't updated some of my other series in a hot minute; I've just been busy with work and a little sick ngl

If you'd like to be tagged for any new parts in this series, let me know!

And, as always, if you see any typos, no you didn't ;)

-------

Steve's earliest memory is of being tucked into bed with a Batman night light plugged into the wall and his mother squeezed in next to him. She's wearing her softest pajamas, and Steve idly rubs the fabric under his thumb. In her lap is a huge book that she flips through, humming "Pop Goes the Weasel" under her breath before finally stopping on a page. "Okay, Dumplin', let's read about Narcissistic Personality Disorder," she finally says, wiggling some to get comfortable before clearing her throat.

Her voice is soft and a little nasally, and Steve obediently closes his eyes when she starts reading. After a few minutes, she gently cards her fingers through his hair, her palm warm as it slides over his scalp. Eventually, he drifts off, his dream so vivid that he still remembers the oversized hammers with their white doctor coats and floating clipboards.

The first time Steve's mother is sent (back) to Arkham, he doesn't realize anything is wrong until Uncle Bruce picks him up from school. Steve had been waiting long after the other kids were picked up by their parents, a misshapen pink-and-blue coaster for his mother that he made in art class in his hands, when one of Uncle Bruce's fancy cars pulled up to the school.

The passenger window rolled down, and Bruce looked almost pained as he met Steve's eyes. "Hop in," he said, leaning over to open the door from the inside.

Steve walked up to the door but didn't get in. "Mom said I should only go home with her," he said, "unless you know our secret code."

"Cognitive Behavioral Therapy."

Steve stood for a moment longer before nodding and climbing into the passenger seat. He closed the door, pulled on his seat belt, and carefully held the coaster in his lap. "Where's Mom?" he asked, watching as Bruce turned down the radio and slowly pulled away from the school.

"Your mother is....going to be away for a while," Bruce said, gripping the steering wheel tighter. "She did something bad, and now she's going to stay in time out because of it."

"Mom says you shouldn't dumb things down just because I'm young. She says it's not good for my development."

Bruce got a slight smile at that, his lips twitching up as he glanced at Steve. "Is that so," he said, his grip on the wheel loosening some. He seemed to think for a moment before saying, "Your mother blew up a warehouse. She was apprehended by Batman and has been sent to Arkham for a few months. Since I'm listed as your godfather, you'll stay with me until she's released."

Steve didn't reply. He just looked down at his coaster and wondered if he'd be able to convince his Uncle Bruce to visit Arkham so he could give it to her.

He did not, in fact, get to visit her at Arkham during that stint. But Steve did get to visit on her next one, which was almost three years later to the day. Steve's first visit to Arkham was on his 8th birthday, and he was chaperoned by Uncle Bruce and Nightwing (he wasn't allowed to call Dick by his real name when he was in costume, so Steve just didn't call him anything at all).

That was also the first time Steve truly experienced Arkham's lax security. Through no fault of his own (and he would continue to argue this point; how did two superheroes let an 8 year old wander off?), Steve had somehow ended up in another part of Arkham altogether.

This hallway had large cells with reinforced glass walls that allowed Steve to look inside. He could name most of the people he passed, recognizing Killer Croc and Riddler and the Penguin by his mother's descriptions of their defining features. Most of them tried talking to Steve, but he pushed ahead, eager to see if his mother was at the end of the hall.

She wasn't. Instead, Steve found another woman. She had green skin and bright red hair and Steve hadn't been able to contain himself. He'd practically squished his face against the glass and asked, "Are you Poison Ivy?"

"Oh, her he talks to," the Penguin said, his tone mean and his voice carrying.

Poison Ivy ignored him, choosing to instead open one eye from where she lay on the bed. She stared at Steve before sitting up. "Do I know you?" she asked.

"Nope! But my mom knows you. She talks about you all the time. She said you're the baddest badass to ever badass," Steve said.

"Oh. You're Harley's kid," Poison Ivy replied, walking over to the glass and crouching down to meet his gaze. "What are you doing all the way over here?"

"It's my birthday, so Uncle Bruce said I could see Mom."

"Well, happy birthday. Now, what are you doing here?"

Steve blinked, looked around the hall again, and realized for the first time that he was, in fact, a bit lost. "Uh, I'm not sure. I was with Uncle Bruce before."

A moment passed between the two of them in which Poison Ivy said nothing while Steve tried to remember how, exactly, he'd ended up here. When he came up blank, he simply shrugged and looked back at her. "Hey, you like plants, right?" he asked.

"Yeah, kid, I like plants," she said, her tone taking on the same inflection his mother's did when he asked something she thinks is obvious.

Steve didn't linger on the tone. Instead, he dug around in his coat pocket for a few seconds, pushing past candy wrappers and erasers until his hand closed around an acorn he'd picked up off the ground a few days ago. He pulled it out and presented it to Poison Ivy on his palm. "Is it still a plant if it fell off the tree?" he asked.

"Yeah," Poison Ivy said, her voice soft like she was staring at something unbelievable. Steve watched as a huge grin spread across her face, her eyes lit up, and she pressed her hands to the glass. "Can you do me a favor, Steve?" she asked.

"Sure! Mom said you're a person I should listen to," he said, starting to close his fingers around the acorn. Now that he was thinking about it, he didn't actually know how to give the acorn to her with the glass between them.

"Your mom is right. You should always listen to me. And her. But mostly me right now," Poison Ivy said, her gaze a bit softer as she looked at Steve. "So, go ahead and put the acorn on the ground and stand as far away as possible."

Steve didn't question her. Whatever Poison Ivy wanted to do would probably be fine. After all, Uncle Bruce didn't warn him about talking to her like he had about the Joker. So, Steve put the acorn down and hurried to the other end of the hall. "Now what?" he shouted.

The only response he got was the acorn shuddering, spinning across the floor, and then bursting open. In the blink of an eye, a tree grew, its roots breaking through the ground and its branches shattering the glass of Poison Ivy's cell. Steve was just thinking that was probably why Poison Ivy told him to stand back when she walked out, rolling her shoulders and breathing like the air is fresh.

She looked at Steve and walked over, standing in front of him for a moment before sweeping him into her arms. "Thanks, kid," she said, opening her hand and letting a tiny purple flower grow from her palm. She tucked it behind Steve's ear. "Now, let's go find your mom."

Of course, Poison Ivy's escape had set off numerous alarms, and Uncle Bruce just about fainted when he saw her carrying Steve while Nightwing looked two seconds from laughing. But Steve's mom had smiled so wide that her cheeks must have hurt after only two seconds when she saw them.

It was, by far, the best birthday Steve had ever had.

‐-----------------------------

Hawkins, Indiana, is...boring. Steve has only been in the town for a few weeks, and he's bored out of his mind. He could have been sent to Metropolis or Central City. Hell, he would have preferred Bludhaven to the absolute snoozefest that is Hawkins. But, no, Uncle Bruce insisted on somewhere safe, which means somewhere boring, which means...Steve will just have to make his own fun.

That's why he's found himself in a dive bar on the edge of town, sitting at the bar as the owner (a woman named Bev who definitely killed her husband; Steve would know, he's met plenty of women who definitely killed their husbands) refuses to give him anything alcoholic. "Listen, kid," she says, her tone hard and unyielding, "I can give you water, a Shirley Temple, or a permanent ban. Which do you prefer."

After a few seconds, Steve sighs, slaps way more money than is necessary on the bar, and says, "Gimme a Shirley Temple."

Bev nods, swipes up the cash, and starts making his drink. He watches her with a slight frown before looking away, noticing another boy his age wiping down a table. He looks, and Steve cannot say this affectionately enough, like a wannabe goon for a motorcycle gang. Between the bandana stuffed into his back pocket, his slightly frizzy hair falling to his shoulders, and the leather jacket/vest combo, the guy is the first reminder of home Steve has seen since arriving in this sleepy town.

When he notices the guy's shoulders tense, Steve looks away to keep from being caught staring. A Shirley Temple is placed in front of him, and Steve represses a sigh, missing the sounds of fights happening behind him as he drinks with Jason.

"Aren't you a little young to be hanging around here?"

Steve slowly takes a sip of his drink, the saccharine cherry flavor washing over his tastebuds, and glances at an older man a few seats down from him. He looks the man over, lingering on the half-tucked shirt, muddy loafers, and circles under his eyes. Without permission, his mother's DSM-V rushes through his mind, a blur of his mother's voice accompanying the page flips. They finally settle on "Adjustment Disorder," accompanied by his mom saying, "Sometimes, that's just a fancy term for a mid-life crisis, Dumplin'."

Without thinking, Steve asks in return, "Aren't you a little old to still be going through a mid-life crisis?"

In Gotham, that might get him a laugh, an eye roll, and possibly an elbow to the ribs from whichever friend accompanied him. Here, it gets him a tense silence that he only thought happened in bad movies gearing up for a fight sequence. Seriously, what is wrong with Hawkins?

"I'll give you one chance to apologize," the guy says, clearly thinking he's being sufficiently threatening.

It takes every ounce of Steve's self-control to keep from laughing at the guy. Does that usually work? Do people usually find this guy threatening? He's got nothing on Alfred, so Steve just can't bring himself to even fake intimidation.

"Yeah, don't hold your breath, man," Steve says, rolling his eyes as he takes another sip. The Shirley Temple isn't bad, but it's not what he was expecting, and it feels like just another disappointment atop a pile of them.

They're building in his chest, now that he thinks about it. Steve is slowly suffocating under the weight of them. They buzz in his lungs, surging through him until the energy is so overwhelming that he has to bounce his leg and tap his finger against his glass to expel some of it. He shouldn't have agreed to leave Gotham, or at the very least, he shouldn't have left the location entirely up to Bruce. Holy shit, that was a dumb decision. He ought to know better.

A sudden, annoyingly harsh drag of chair legs against the floor rings in Steve's ears, making his shoulders tense and his fingers twitch. He looks over to see the guy standing over him, glaring down at Steve like that's supposed to scare him when nothing else has.

Steve sighs, drinking the last of his Shirley Temple before standing. Over the guy's shoulder, he can see the boy his age watching them, and...well, Steve kind of wants to make a good impression on the first person to remind him of home. Plus, a fight sounds great. He'd love a chance to expel some of this disappointment-fueled energy.

The guy suddenly snorts, pulling Steve's attention back. "You're young, kid, so I'll let you off the hook this time around, but learn some respect."

What? Seriously? All of that, and the guy doesn't even start a fight? Does he know how rude that is? He'd get killed in Gotham. "Oh," Steve says, his voice flat, "you're scared of getting your ass kicked."

Somehow, that's what the guy considers the final straw. It wasn't even that good. Like, that's just fucking small talk in Gotham, and Steve can't bring himself to understand what about it was so infuriating that the guy swings his fist.

Either way, Steve happily embraces the fight. His eyes light up, and adrenaline rushes through his veins as he ducks and kicks the guy's left knee. The familiar sound of a bone snapping rings out. Steve's ready for more, hands curled into fists and held up to protect his face, when the guy drops.

After one kick, he drops. Steve blinks, staring down at the guy cursing and holding his knee. He slowly lowers his hands when he realizes this isn't some kind of fake-out diversion and looks at Bev behind the counter. She's frowning at him, hands on her hips, and Steve comes to the conclusion that bar fights are not, in fact, a thing in Hawkins. "Do they usually go down so easy around here?" he asks.

"They usually don't fight at all."

Oh. Holy shit, this place is boring.

Steve sighs and pushes some hair out of his face, frowning slightly. "Well, uh, sorry about the disturbance, then. I'll just...get going," he says, awkwardly pushing his chair in and doing the same for the guy whose kneecap he kicked. Nobody says anything as he leaves, and Steve shoves his hands into his jacket pockets, frustration and disappointment and homesickness building in him.

He's halfway to his car when somebody shouts, "Hey! Wait!"

With a huff, Steve stops and turns, his mood only lightening when he sees the boy that was wiping down tables. He waits patiently, watching as the boy runs up to him and holds out a wad of cash. "Bev said to give this to you," he says.

"What, is my money not good enough?" Steve asks, raising an eyebrow at the cash before looking up and meeting brown eyes.

"No, no," the boy says, "Bev only gives change to people she likes. She said you're welcome to come by and kick Phillip's ass whenever you want."

Steve blinks, studying the boy for any signs of lies. When he doesn't find one, he takes the cash and nods. "Good to know," he says.

"Yeah. Right. Um, I'm going back inside now."

"Hold on," Steve says, grinning when the boy listens and stands still. He takes a step closer, holds out his hand, and says, "My name's Steve. I'm new around here, if you couldn't tell."

The boy stares at his hand for a few seconds before taking it, the rings on his fingers pressing against Steve's skin. "Eddie. I could tell," he says, his shoulders relaxing some. "Where you from?"

"Gotham."

"Holy shit, no wonder you looked so ready for a fight," Eddie says, staring at Steve like he's incomprehensible. Steve tries not to preen under his gaze. "Hawkins must be dead compared to Gotham."

"Yeah," Steve agrees, glancing down at his and Eddie's hands still clasped together despite the handshake being over. "But I think I'll have some fun anyway."

[jamie-leah]

Lifeline

Bucky x Reader Fic

Oneshot? Series? You tell me...

Summary: You have a past that you're running from and maybe Bucky can be the lifeline you had no idea you were searching for.

Word Count: 1,809

Warnings: Mentions of physical abusive, Abusive relationship, descriptions of panic attack, rusty writing, fluff

A/N: Thought I would dip my toe back in the water, see how you're all doing? Feel free to tell me if you want more and feel free to make requests. I need to get back into the swing of things!

Next Part--->

Masterlist of Masterlists

It’s been two months, and he still hasn’t found you yet. Despite the nightmares and the hypervigilance, you would call that a win. It’s the longest he’s gone without finding you. Maybe he’s given up? But deep down you know that isn’t the case. You humiliated him when you ran, left in the middle of the night without a word to anyone. There would be questions from the neighbours, friends and family. He would never let a slight like that go, and you know it.  

The bell dings above the door in the diner you’ve been working at since you arrived in New York. It brings you out of your head and into the present, to see Bucky walk through the door. You hadn’t realised that it was that time in your shift, looking over to the clock to confirm that it was in fact nine at night.  

You give him a smile. A small one, but the most genuine you’ve been able to manage since running from your ex almost a year ago now. He returns a full watt smile of his own. A smile you never see him give to anyone else, but you don’t look too deeply into that considering you’ve never seen him outside of this diner.  

He sits at the bar upfront to the counter where you already have his black coffee waiting, “you fancy any food? Kitchen is closing soon”, you ask.  

“I’ll take a plate of fries if there’s any going?”, his voice sending a tiny shiver down your spine that makes your toes curl ever so slightly. You are aware of this growing attraction you have to him since he started to come in here regularly a week after you started. And you hadn’t thought about anyone like that since...well since you started your relationship with Andrew around seven years ago.  

Bucky never said much the first few times he came in. He would just nurse a few cups of coffee at night and then leave but after two weeks like that he caught you on a particularly rough day. You were in the middle of a panic attack when he jumped into action and calmed you down and stared anyone down who might have looked or said anything.  

Since then, the damn broke and while you may have not told him about your ex, you both shared some personal titbits that would probably qualify you as friends rather than acquaintances. And ever since that time you told him you hadn’t had time for a break or a bite to eat, he orders fries and makes you share with him. He feigns that the portions are too big, and he needs your help to finish them off, but you know better. You don’t say otherwise, you’re grateful either way.  

When you place the fries in front of him, he asks, “busy tonight?”  

You shake your head as you pop a fry into your mouth, “not really. It’s always quiet on a Tuesday. How was your day? Save anyone today?”  

Bucky rolls his eyes at you. You had no idea who he was when he first came in. And Bucky still had to spell out who he was and why people stared at him in the diner. You were vaguely aware of superheroes, but Andrew kept you rather sheltered so you never knew who they were or the politics of them all.  

Bucky grabs the ketchup and squirts some on your side of the plate and some on his, “no missions today. You know I’m gone for a while when I am.”  

You sigh, because yes you do know he’s gone for a while when he has missions and its usually the longest days or sometimes weeks without him coming in every day.  

You shrug, “I don’t know, there was that time you saved someone from a car explosion on your way here.”  

You smirk as he groans at the mention of his heroics, “that was one time! I can’t believe that even showed on the news.”  

You throw a fry at his face, “I can’t believe I had to find out from the news! You didn’t say a word the entire time you sat here.”  

You laugh as you see a familiar blush creep up from his neck and blooms on his sharp cheeks, “I didn’t think it was a big deal”, he mumbles out.  

Someone walks in through the door, the familiar bell ringing. You walk from behind the counter as they take a seat at a booth. You squeeze Bucky’s shoulder as you pass by and murmur, “everything you do is a big deal to me.”  

You don’t wait for his reply or even a reaction as you head over to the couple talking quietly. You take their order and head over to the back and shout through to Kevin, “hey Kev, you got time for one more food order?”  

He pokes his head from the back, “sure thing”  

You pass him the slip and turn back to Bucky about to say something when a smash comes from the kitchen. You duck. No time to think, your body reacts on instinct, preparing for the worst while try to dodge the inevitable violence that is always directed at you.  

You stay crouched on the floor frozen in place, trapped in your mind at a time when you burned dinner for Andrew, and he threw places and cups all around the kitchen. Curled up on the floor, arms over your head trying to stop any shards from catching your face. You had to pick a few from your arms when he finally calmed down and left to go to the bar.  

Warm hands reach out to hold your face steady. You didn’t know your body was shaking until those hands held your face. So gentle in their touch you know they can’t be Andrew’s. You peek your eyes open and see beautiful, plump lips moving, forming shapes that should come out as words, but you don’t hear anything. Just rushing in your ears.  

It isn’t until your eyes glide up to the steel blue of Bucky’s that you let the air back into your lungs, the roaring subsiding until you hear his quiet murmurs, “you’re here, you’re safe with me. Come back to me.”  

Bucky feels you return to yourself more as your eyes dart around and your hands come to grip his tightly which are still holding your face. You manage a strangled, “I’m sorry” before your throat closes again.  

Bucky shakes his head, “nothing to apologise for.” 

When your whole body stops shaking, Bucky guides you back to a standing position. You glance over the counter, and no one is looking. They had no idea that your whole world suddenly came to a stop. No idea that you practically broke down over a broken plate in the kitchen.  

Bucky pulls your gaze back to his, “you with me?”  

You nod slowly, still not trusting your voice.  

Kevin puts the plates of food down on in the window without even looking before heading back to the kitchen. You reach out, your hands still shaking to take the plates but Bucky captures your hands with his. He links them for a few moments before placing them back at your sides. He takes the plates and heads over to the table you took the order from and delivers them with the fakest smile you’ve ever seen on his face.  

His false cheeriness is what starts to bring you back to yourself as you raise your eyebrows at his return, “why don’t you ever greet me like that?”  

He laughs, his head tipping back as he takes his seat again, “because you’re special.”  

“That’s what you say to all the girls”, you reply.  

And just like that the incident is gone. Not forgotten though, you don’t miss the way Bucky watches you more closely, the corners of his mouth set slightly lower now that he’s reminded of how broken you really are. He doesn’t ask, and you’re grateful for that. You’re not ready to talk about the monster that you try pretending doesn’t exist. But you never forget either.  

Bucky stays with you for the rest of your shift. He stands behind you like a bodyguard as you lock up the diner at one in the morning, just when the clubs really start getting busy. He makes a point to walk you all the way back to your apartment building and you don’t miss the frown he always gives it.  

You bump his arm with your shoulder, “it's not as bad as it looks, you know.” 

His face scrunches up, “if you say so. Still don’t like the thought of leaving you here though.”  

You bump into him again with a small smile, “careful Buck, some people might think you’ve gone soft.” 

You see his mouth twitch upwards as he replies, “only for some people.” 

You stare into the eyes that are staring back at you. You can feel them trying to tell you something, but you can’t quite understand. Or maybe you don’t want to because it doesn’t make sense. Someone like you doesn’t get to be happy, someone like you doesn’t get someone like him. You’ve never been that lucky.  

A horn blare down the street, as people whoop from the windows. It breaks the spell as you both turn to look with a small chuckle.  

“I better get inside, I’m beat.” You tell him as you point to your building.  

Bucky clears his throat, “Uh, yeah, definitely. I might be gone for a couple of days. A few things I need to take care of but I’m back on your day off...fancy hanging out?” 

The question almost trails off, but his stare remains intense. It dries up your throat as you open it and close it like a fish for a few moments.  

“It’s okay if you had plans, I just thought it might be nice to do something outside the diner and-”  

“I’d love to.”  

“And I was thinking we could- wait, really?” He looks to you as if he’s waiting for the punchline and it makes your heart ache.  

You give him a warm smile, “I’d love to do something. Despite being here for a few months, I haven’t seen much of New York so will be nice to get out with someone that knows it well.”  

His face splits in two to let out a huge smile, “Okay...okay, I’ll text you when I’m back?” 

You give him a nod and a shy smile, “yeah, sounds good. Goodnight Bucky.”  

His smile is so wide you don’t think he’ll be able to get any words out, so you turn and walk into your building, only glancing back once the elevator doors open to see him still stood there, smiling.  

[illiterateaffairs]

behind the scenes chapter one | i enjoyed our meet cute

masterlist | next

pairing: jamie tartt x actress!reader (ted lasso)

rating: T

word count: 4,722

summary: you’ve been in richmond one day and you’re already having chance encounters with famous british football players, what are the odds?

a/n: welcome to the first chapter of my new jamie series, behind the scenes! fake dating is a god tier trope and i’ve always wanted to write something for it. it will also be very rom-com-y, just like ted would like. i really hope you enjoy the first chapter, i’m so excited to kick off this new story and can’t wait to hear your thoughts. also wanted to shout out @buckychristwrites​ who wrote an incredible fake dating jamie series called could this be and you should totally check it out if you haven’t already ♡

Your alarm goes off at 8AM on the dot but you’re already wide awake. You’ve been in London for 48 hours and instead of taking in the sights, you’ve been trying to reset your sleep schedule. After landing at 10AM Friday morning, you pretty much passed right out as soon as you arrived at your rented, two story brownstone. 

See, London was eight hours ahead of Los Angeles - your home base. While you were used to traveling for work, you’d never had a job in another country before. And jet lag was a bitch.

You’re an actor. You have been since you were 15, when you got a recurring role on a kids show after an opening casting call. Some called it luck, but you called it busting your ass in theater classes as soon as your mom could afford them. You’d been a “drama queen” since you were in diapers and you begged her to sign you up for every class, camp and play in your small town and she did everything she could to support your dream. She’s your biggest fan.

By the time you were 20, you’d had a sitcom and several supporting roles in films that made you an underrated fan favorite. Your biggest break came, though, when you were 22 and were given the opportunity to star opposite A-list actors in the superhero film of the summer. After that you blew up, you did a few more action movies and a couple other dramas. 

Now, freshly 25, with a lot of credits filling your IMDb page, there was one genre you still hadn’t tackled: romance. And that’s what brought you to London. You were filming your first romantic comedy in the beautiful town of Richmond. Usually when your job brought you to a new place, the first thing you wanted to do was explore it. However, spending the last couple days in and out of sleep was preventing you from doing so. Today was Sunday, your last day before production kicked off tomorrow, and you’d be damned if you didn’t get the chance to get out and do something before you were swamped with work.

You get ready quickly, eager to not waste another second inside. However, just as you swing your front door open, you come face to face with your assistant, who’s hand is poised to knock. 

“Oh, good, you’re already up,” she chirps, brushing past you and into your temporary home as she taps away on her iPhone. 

“Margot, I thought we agreed on no work this weekend,” you sigh, reluctantly following her into your living room.

“I agreed and you agreed, but Harry on the other hand,” she frowns holding up her phone, “He didn’t agree.”

You groan. Harry was your publicist. You’ve worked with him since getting the role in one of the Spiderman movies. He always had some crazy idea how to boost your public image, most of which you’ve shot down, but his most recent pitch he hasn’t been able to let go of. 

“He’s still bugging you about that shit?” you question, flopping down in an armchair. 

Margot perches on the arm of the sofa, “He’s only bugging me because you keep ignoring him. He still thinks it's a good idea.”

The good idea in question was agreeing to a fake relationship with another celebrity - or anyone really. Usually the goal of a PR relationship was to gain attention for one or both parties, or their upcoming projects. While that wouldn’t hurt, your publicist thought the benefit of having a fake boyfriend was that you’d appear more desirable. 

In your previous roles, you’d been typecast as the funny best friend or snarky sidekick. Not only was this movie you were about to film your first as the leading lady, it was the first where you were playing a romantic lead. You also haven’t been known to be seen with many suitors in your personal life as well. Not that you hadn’t had any significant others since entering the spotlight, but they’d been short lived and you tried to keep those relationships under the radar, not necessarily wanting the public’s opinion on your dating life. 

Of course, that didn’t stop journalists and people with Twitter accounts from speaking on it anyway. Since you got cast in this Rom-Com - Hopeless Romantics was the working title - you’d been subjected to criticism over how you couldn’t possibly be seen as a realistic love interest when you’ve yet to be painted as such both on and off the screen. Though, you’d love to point out that just because you hadn’t played a romantically driven character before didn’t mean you couldn’t now. You’ve learned to just ignore trolls like that. 

That didn’t mean from time to time the odd comment didn’t get under your skin. 

Still, you didn’t see the point in faking a relationship just to get these people off your back. You had the best fans in the world, who’d watch you do anything no matter the genre. And your co-star was Charlie Knox, who’d been pegged as this generation's Hugh Grant, so plenty of people would be buying tickets regardless. You could hardly argue, feeling flushed after your chemistry reed with the actor even though he was doing just that; acting. Harry had even previously suggested faking a relationship with him, which would be the perfect scenario according to him, but Charlie was of course already taken. 

“He’s going to have to give up eventually,” you shake your head, “Because I’m not doing it.” Margot makes a weird face and you tilt your head, “Don’t tell me you think I should do it.”

“No, of course not. You should have the autonomy to make your own decisions about your love life, real or fake,” she insists, “I just wish Harry didn’t make such a big deal about it.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry he’s bugging you about it. I can talk to him again.”

“No, don’t worry about it,” Margot sighs, “You should be enjoying your day off. Were you on your way out before? What were you thinking of doing?”

You shrug, not really having had a game plan, “I was thinking breakfast or something to start, and then seeing where the day takes me.”

She nods, once again tapping on her phone, “That sounds nice. Don’t be out too late, though. A car will be here to get you at 6AM for the read through.” As she stands up and starts walking to your door, she glances at you, “And wear a hat please. Last thing we need is you to be stampeded by fans like in The Lion King.”

“Margot, I love you, but there is no need to bring Mufasa into this,” you tease, “I promise I will be discreet, but only if you promise me you will also take time for yourself today.”

“I promise,” she says with a small smile, but before you know it, she's already back on the phone and out your door. 

You can’t be too hard on her. You were also known to prioritize your work over everything else most days. But she was not only the best assistant you could ask for, she was also one of your closest friends, and she deserved some time off. You’d have to talk to Harry at some point tomorrow to get him off her back. And yours. 

But first, food.

It had been one month - one fucking month - since Keeley had gotten back together with Roy. And it was the worst month of Jamie’s life. 

Yes, he still has feelings for Keeley. Yes, it hurt him to see her choose Roy, even if it had nothing to do with him. And it was twice as bad that Roy and him had finally started becoming actual friends after all these years. But that wasn’t really the problem. 

It was the way everyone has been looking at him since it happened.

It started with the apologetic look on Keeley’s face that greeted him when he answered the door one summer morning. Before she could get a word out, he knew what she was going to say. In fact, he’d seen it coming. Despite Keeley insisting she wasn’t choosing between him and the grumpy old fart who was now his head coach, the two had been spending more and more time together. Keeley was around the club more and Roy was less grumpy. That morning, Keeley told him she wanted him to hear it from her that they were thinking of starting things again. His stomach twisted, disappointed that he’d practically lost her for the second time. But, God, the look of sympathy she was giving him felt even worse.

That was nothing compared to the way Roy looked at him when he walked into the locker room later that day. Roy wasn’t one to talk about or express his feelings, but he still managed to somehow convey his guilt and apology through a single look. Jamie just shook his head, eager to not speak a single word about the topic and move on. For the first time he wished Roy would just yell at him like he usually did. 

Then a week later, Roy and Keeley were publicly a couple again. The rest of the team and staff were elated, but the few who’d known Jamie had been pining for the bubbly blonde again looked on at him sympathetically, patting him on the back and muttering affirmations on the way to training. In the grand scheme of things, they were just being nice, but he fucking hated it.

He was Jamie Fucking Tartt. He could be with anyone he wanted. Sure, the only girl who’s liked him for him and the only one he’s truly loved would rather be with someone else; someone else who was one of his best friends now. So what? The last thing he wanted was everyone around him treating him like a wounded puppy. He was fine.

It didn’t help that he saw Keeley and Roy all the time. At work. At team celebrations. At friendly gatherings. They were everywhere. In fact, they went the extra mile to include him in things to make him feel better, though it had the opposite effect. He felt like a charity case. He didn’t need them babysitting him, like he couldn’t spend a single night alone without collapsing into a full mental breakdown. 

To be fair, the last time he’d had a night to himself, he’d made the mistake of turning on The Notebook for the first time out of morbid curiosity and he wept for an hour. But it was The Notebook for fuck’s sake, what else was he going to do?

Things improved little by little as the weeks had gone by. Sam and Colin stopped giving him glances everytime Keeley visited the locker room to drop something off for Roy. Keeley stopped looking at him with guilt riddled eyes, but there was still a weird energy between them when they hung out. And with Roy things felt mostly normal. 

At least he thought so, but this morning Jamie’s been wandering around his house aimlessly waiting for Roy to show up for their regular early morning training. He’d been ready at promptly 4AM but there was no sign of his coach. He waited thirty minutes before calling but no answer. So, he plopped on the couch and watched some cooking show for another hour or so before trying again. It wasn’t until 8AM - four hours later - he got a call back from Roy.

“Hey, I thought old people were usually up early,” Jamie teased upon answering, “Did you oversleep, grandad?”

Instead of Roy’s gravelly voice responding, he hears another familiar voice in the background, “Is that Jamie? Tell him I’m sorry.”

Keeley.

Jamie’s stomach twists. Of course.

“Uh, yeah,” Roy’s voice eventually says, “Keeley was here and I forgot to set an alarm. We were going to get breakfast but then we can meet at the park if you still want?”

Roy grunts as Keeley speaks up again, voice distant, “Oi, ask if he wants to join us.”

Roy sighs into the phone, “Yeah, unless you want to come to breakfast with us?”

Jamie closes his eyes. Another pity invite. “Um, thanks mate. That’s alright, though. Think I’ll get some running in on my own and maybe we can meet up later tonight.”

“Yeah, that works…” Roy says before tacking on, “Sorry, Jamie.”

Jamie chuckles humorlessly, “Not a problem. Talk to ya later.”

He hangs up and tosses his phone across the couch. Not only did Jamie not like feeling like a third wheel, he didn’t like being one because the other two felt guilty. Especially when he was still getting over his feelings for one of them. He groans, forcing himself off the couch, eager to stay true to his word. He needed to run off these feelings. 

You’d been leisurely walking through the streets of Richmond for a little while, enjoying the early fall breeze and the sights as the leaves started to change color. You’ve been trying to keep an eye out for a place to grab breakfast or a snack, but you’ve been distracted by the shops and the people walking around you. For your part, you were donned in sunglasses with a ball cap tilted low on your head. So far no one has stopped you, which was nice. Not that you minded meeting the occasional fan. Most were sweet and you adored connecting with people face to face, but there was always the risk of someone just in search of an autograph or selfie despite not caring about you or your work, not to mention nosy paparazzi who pop out of nowhere to get a photo. So, you’re enjoying the semblance of normalcy while you can. You sense that once filming starts, those in the area will be eager to catch a glimpse of you and your costars any chance they get. 

You’re a little too comfortable with flying under the radar, when as you’re turning a street corner someone runs right smack into you. You both fall to the ground, your sunglasses flying clear off your face. Your heart hammers in your chest, wondering if someone had done this on purpose, but the stranger next to you also appears to be scrambling. 

“Fuck, sorry,” they mutter, grabbing your discarded sunglasses for you before pulling you both up. As he places the glasses back in your hands, his eyes meet yours for the first time, “Oh shit, are you…”

You smile sheepishly, his eyes alight with recognition. You’re still a little anxious from the encounter, as you try to get your breathing to return to normal. You vaguely wonder if this guy is going to ask for a picture or something, when you actually hear the familiar click of a camera and your blood runs cold. 

“Hey Jamie Tartt!” an accented man calls, “Who’s the girl, Jamie?

The man in front of you looks back at you with wide eyes and grabs your hand, “Shit, come with me.”

You can barely process what he’d said as he pulled you down the street, “What? Where are we going?”

“Somewhere private,” he explains as you continue jogging alongside him, “Where there’s one paparazzi, ten will follow. But I’m sure you know that.”

You can’t argue with him. But you do wonder who the hell this guy is that he’s so familiar with paparazzi. You also briefly consider if following a guy you’ve never met through alleyways is a smart decision, but you hardly have the time to dwell on it. 

After a few minutes, this mystery guy, who you can only presume is named Jamie if the paparazzi was right, leads you through an unassuming storefront that ends up being a charming and quaint little café. You look around curiously. It’s not completely vacant, but the patrons don’t bat an eye when the two of you enter. The middle aged barista behind the counter looks at your companion with a warm smile and greets him, once again, by Jamie.

After your heart rate returns to normal, you turn to the man beside you. He gives you a tiny shrug, “I come here when I don’t want to be bothered. Not many people know about this place but it has the best scones in Richmond.”

You squint at him in curiosity, “So, I’m guessing you’re…someone of note then, too? If that paparazzi was taking your picture and you have a secret hideout.”

He chuckles, looking a little bashful, which you have a feeling is out of character for this guy, “Uh, yeah, I’m Jamie Tartt? Premier League footballer for AFC Richmond?”

Your cheeks heat up, “Oh, uh, sorry, I’m not really familiar with…”

He cuts you off, “No need to apologize. Wouldn’t expect an actress from the states to know anything about English football.”

You chuckle, despite yourself, “Well, if it helps I don’t know much about American football either. Or any sport for that matter.”

Jamie’s lips quirk up again, “I know you, though. From that thing.”

You snort, “Well, I’ve done a couple of things.”

He shakes his head, “No, no, no, you’re in that one movie, what’s it called,” he snaps his fingers, “Meet Me in Melrose, that's the one!”

“Wow, that’s a deep cut,” you comment, the film being an indie you worked on years ago; one of your first bigger roles despite the lower budget project.

“Yeah, my old coach? It was one of his favorites, so the whole team became obsessed. We’ve watched a bunch of your stuff,” he explains.

“That’s cool,” you nod with a small smile.

He nods along with you before suddenly becoming very aware of his situation, “Uh, can I order you something? Or, shit, you probably had somewhere to be. I usually try to wait things out for a while here, but if you have to go…”

You once again consider the oddity of casually hanging out in a cafe with a man you just met, but he seems trustworthy enough. And even a bit intriguing.

So you respond, “No, I don’t. I was just out exploring before. I was actually looking for a place to eat so this is perfect. I’m happy to hang out here for a bit.”

“Okay, cool,” Jamie nods again, still feeling a bit unsure of what to do when a Hollywood movie star is suddenly in your midst, “Uh, do you like coffee? Tea?”

You shake your head, “You don’t have to buy anything for me.”

“Well, I was the one who crashed into you and abducted you here so it’s the least I can do.”

You giggle, “Okay fine, I’ll take a hot chocolate. Coffee makes me anxious and tea tastes like a worse version of water. No offense.”

Jamie laughs to himself before walking up to the counter to order for you both. He returns moments later with a hot chocolate for you and coffee for him, as well as two of those scones he mentioned, before leading you over to a small booth in the back of the cafe. 

“So, uh, you must come here often if the staff knows your name,” you say as you blow on your drink for it to cool, “Unless they’re all soccer - sorry - football fans?”

“Actually, Olive, the owner of the café doesn’t know shit about football. It's part of the appeal,” he tells you, “I manage to avoid photographers most of the time, but even if they’re not hounding me, I still like to come here to get away from things.”

“That makes sense. I feel like it's hard to do that in LA. Even the small businesses are overrun with influencers trying to find the trendiest spot nowadays,” you muse.

“Is that where you live? LA?” he asks.

“Mhm. Have you been?” 

“Nah. Been to New York before, but spent most of my time in some clubs,” he tells you, “Have you been to London before?”

“No, actually,” you admit, “I’ve always wanted to come but never got around to it. I’m actually here for a film.”

“Oh, yeah, a Rom-Com, right?” he asks and you nod, “It’s all anyone can talk about around the club these days. We’ve never had a big movie shoot in Richmond before.”

“Hmm, wait til everyone hears how you kidnapped one of the stars,” you joke, finally braving a sip of your drink.

Jamie laughs, “I think I’ll keep that one to myself. Plus, I don’t think they’d even believe me.”

You laugh along with him, thoroughly enjoying his company as well as the delicious cocoa. You also finally try the scone Jamie placed in front of you. Your eyes light up after the first bite.

“Is that blueberry?”

Jamie’s eyes widened, “Sorry, I should have asked…”

You furiously shake your head, “No, no, don’t apologize. I love blueberry.”

Jamie’s lips quirk up, “Me, too. It’s my favorite.”

You smile back, but it drops when you feel your phone buzzing in your pocket. Pulling it out, you see that you had a missed call from Harry along with a few text messages. Instead of responding, you roll your eyes and put it away, eager to forget that the man exists until tomorrow.

“Uh, everything okay?” Jamie asks tentatively. 

“Oh, yeah,” you reassure, plastering another smile on your face. Then you find a part of yourself that desperately wants to vent about your situation to an unbiased party, “Actually, uh, I’m not sure how much pressure football players are under for their image, but have you ever been asked or been in a fake relationship for PR?”

Jamie leans back, processing the question, “Uh, no. I haven’t really had a problem finding my own girlfriends.”

You snort, “Of course.”

“But I’ve heard of it happening with other footballers,” Jamie adds, “And there was this whole reality dating show I did and none of that was real.”

You gasp, “You were on a dating show?”

Jamie nods reluctantly, “Yeah. It was called Lust Conquers All. It was a low point.”

You can’t help but laugh, “Wow, I’ll have to check it out.”

“Please don’t,” Jamie groans, rubbing a hand over his face, wondering what possessed him to even bring it up.

After your laughter quells, Jamie eyes you curiously, “Why do you ask? About PR relationships, I mean.”

You sigh, looking down at your hands in your lap as you answer, “My publicist wants me to do the whole fake relationship thing.”

Jamie’s eyebrows furrow, “Why?”

You shrug, not eager to admit but still wanting to know his take nonetheless, “Apparently, I don’t seem like a romantic person, because I haven’t done a romantic role or publicly dated someone before.”

Jamie continues to look confused, “So? Isn’t that what actors do? Play new roles even if they haven’t done it before?”

“Yes, thank you,” you agree, nodding furiously, “But since I’ve only played cynical or sarcastic characters, that’s how people see me. Apparently, I don’t seem like a good choice for a movie called Hopeless Romantics.”

“But you’re not like your other characters in real life right?” he asks, “You’re not completely cynical about romance.”

You falter, your eyes flitting away from his. Jamie scoffs.

“Oh, come on, don’t tell me you’re anti-romance.”

“I’m not,” you sputter, “I just think dating is a little more complicated than the movies make it seem.”

Jamie doesn’t listen, “Wow, I can see why your publicist thinks you need a fake boyfriend for this to be a little more realistic. You can’t be against love and in a movie about love.”

You gasp, lightly shoving him, “Hey! I’ll have you know I’m not against love. It’s just…hard to come by for me.” You sigh, trying to figure out what exactly you’re willing to admit, “The last few guys I’ve dated weren't so great. They either only wanted to date me for the exposure or connections or money.”

Jamie’s expression sobers, “Oh.” 

“Yeah,” you nod, “My last relationship, if you could even call it that, was so short lived. It ended because he stole this fancy vase thing from my house.”

“Wow,” Jamie whispers.

“And jokes on him, it was from pottery barn,” you huff, “But yeah, basically its not love I don’t believe in. It’s other people. So I’ve been pretty content to be on my own these days.”

“I get that,” Jamie says softly after a beat, “I’ve dated plenty of girls who only wanted me cause I’m a footballer. Or cause I’m great at sex,” you snort, shaking your head, but he continues, “Not that I really wanted a real relationship, but it still hurts when someone doesn’t want you for you.”

“Exactly,” you nod, picking off pieces of your scone, “I’ve never been with someone who felt genuine. Have you?”

Jamie sighs and you sense there’s a story there, “Once, but I fucked it up. Didn’t realize what I had until it was gone. Classic right?”

You huff lightly.

“The worst part is she was kind enough to stay my friend even after the way I treated her,” he continues, “So not only does she treat me with kindness that I definitely don’t deserve, but I have to sit by and watch her be with someone else.”

You frown, “That must make it hard to move on.”

“You have no idea,” he chuckles humorlessly. 

“And you haven’t been with anyone else since?”

“A couple girls, but nothing serious. And no one recently. Haven’t really seen the point.”

“So I guess I’m not the only one who might be a little cynical then, huh?” you ask with a teasing smile.

He gives you a half smile. “Yeah, I guess I can’t be one to judge.”

You study him for a few more moments. After your introductions, you would have guessed Jamie Tartt was another classic playboy athlete, and after conversing with him that seemed to be his reputation. But now you weren’t so sure. He was…peculiar. 

You continue chatting for a while longer. He tells you more about his football team and you tell him a few spoiler-free details about the movie you’re shooting. Before you know it, you’d been camped out in this cafe with Jamie for a full hour. Time flies when you’re enjoying yourself. You had to imagine the paparazzi had to have left the area by now. And while you weren’t in a hurry to cut your conversation short, your hot chocolate was no longer hot and your scone was long gone. 

“Hey, this place is really nice by the way,” you comment, as you gather your trash, “I might have to come back here. That is, if you don’t mind sharing your secret hide away with me for the next three months?”

Jamie chuckles, following you back to the front of the café. “Feel free.”

You smile at him softly, as you walk out the door, “Maybe, I’ll uh, see you around?”

He shrugs his shoulder, “Yeah, I’ll be around. Maybe you could catch a football match while you’re in town.”

“I’ll definitely keep that in mind,” you nod, “Well, thank you again for the rescue. I owe you one.”

“Nah, it was nothing. Get home safe, yeah?”

“You, too. Bye Jamie.”

He bids you farewell, before you two reluctantly turn and head in different directions. You wrinkle your nose, recapping your encounter in your head. What a random coincidence to run into an apparent famed football star on your first day in town. You wonder if you ever will run into him again, but you assume the odds of that are low.

Meanwhile, on his walk home, Jamie is questioning whether or not he should have asked for your number. In a strictly platonic sense, just to keep in touch or to be available in case you needed a friend while you were in town. But he brushes the thought away. Like a famous actress would want to willingly hang out with him if she wasn’t hiding from paparazzi. Yeah right. Odds are this was all a dream and the boys would laugh in his face if he brought it up tomorrow. 

Real or not real, he’d remember your morning together fondly. 

a/n: please let me know any and all those! again, so excited for this story and brand new journey for jamie x reader. also! i will be starting a fresh taglist for this story, so let me know if you’d like to be tagged. the distractions taglist will stay the same for any one shots i may continue to post in that universe. <3

taglist: @respondingtoshowerthoughts-blog​ @royalestrellas​

[rogersideup]

Nice to be Kneaded

Chapter one:

Welcome to Greenwood

Series Masterlist

Next Part: Inhale, Exhale.

Word Count: 4,893

Warnings: My blog is 18+ only. All minors or blogs without an age in bio will be blocked. Minors DNI.

The sound of the bell rattling on the front door pulled your mind away from the cake on the rotating stand in front of you and the piping bag in your hand. Coincidentally, you had just sent your cashier to break so you moved your work station to the decorating desk visible to the doorframe into the kitchen of your bakery, allowing you to see the customers as they walked in.

"Hey there, honey! I'll be right with ya'." You greeted the customer as you piped out the final details on the custom ordered cake you had spent the last half an hour perfecting.

"No worries, take your time." A polite voice responded.

Your head immediately turned at the sound of the deep and slightly raspy voice you had never heard before. In a scanty little town like Greenwood, you swore just about every friendly face within thirty miles of your bakery had stopped by for a treat at least once. You could recognize just about anyone with a blindfold on and nothing but the sound of a friendly greeting, but that charming bass was one you'd be sure to recognize if you've heard it before.

It belonged to a face you'd also be sure to recognize. An over six-foot stunner with blue eyes, a nicely groomed beard, and what looked like dirty blonde hair hidden behind a baseball cap.

You grinned before looking back at your cake, trying to process the new specimen in the lobby. It only took a few seconds before placing the piping bag down and ripping off your gloves, curiously walking out to behind the counter to help him out.

"Sorry about that, what can I get'cha?" Since you closed most of the distance, nothing but the bake case between you two, you got to notice more detail.

There was some serious muscle happening underneath the black long sleeved shirt he was wearing. Also, he was really good at picking out jeans that fit him perfectly in all the right places. Oh, and there was just a dash of green in the blue of his eyes.

"Just a chocolate chip cookie please." He asked timidly. You could tell he felt a little out of place, rocking back and forth on his heels in attempts to sooth his unsettled energy.

"Anything else?" You grinned.

"No thank you." He gently shook his head and walked over to the register as you put his cookie in a pastry bag.

"Okay but I'm giving you two cookies, because I think anyone who only gets one cookie is lying to themselves." You called out with a friendly smile, earning a chuckle from the man.

It allowed you to get a good look at his smile. He had pretty pink lips and perfect pearly whites.

Now, it was time for the investigative process you perfected to the tee. It usually started with an extra cookie and a big sparkling smile, followed by some friendly questions, and ending with a 'hope to see you again sometime soon'. You didn't mean to be invasive, really, you just needed to have all the answers when your neighbor, Georgia, asks for more information once you inevitably ask her if she knows anything about the new stunner in town.

"Well thank you, I appreciate that." He grinned, pulling the wallet out of his jeans.

"I don't think I've seen you around before, are you driving through?" You asked.

Steve shifted once more as he thought about how to answer this question. Almost every news station in the country was covering the chase for the missing superheroes post-raft-escape following the Civil War. His face had been plastered on every the cover of every news paper, fliers stapled to street lamps, posted on bulletin boards in what felt like every coffee shop in the country. If he was still in the 40's he was sure his face would take the place of the missing persons on the sides of milk cartons.

It had been just a few long months shy of a year , just long enough to grow out his hair and beard to make himself as unrecognizable as he could manage. Though he was still the poster boy of disorder within the states, it had calmed down enough for him to feel comfortable trying to settle down for as long as he safely could.

He finally found someone to rent him a house in a town quaint enough for his liking that was willing to accept under the table cash payments in rent, no proof of income, and didn't ask too many questions.

"I'm actually moving to Greenwood in the next couple days, I just picked up the keys to my new place. Saw the bakery sign and decided to stop by, figured a new start is grounds for a little celebrating." Steve explained, convincing enough.

All he could do was cross his fingers in hopes you didn't care about politics or the news enough to recognize his face.

"Really? What made you want to move here?"

He shrugged, and his lips stretched into a straight line. "Just wanted to go somewhere quiet and relaxing I guess. You know, the simple life."

"Well, most people here spend their days chasing something a bit more exciting and busy. I think you're in for exactly what you hoped for" You reassured him. "I'm sorry, honey, I didn't catch your name?"

The pet name that seemed to run off your tongue without a second thought felt warm and welcoming to him. In the big city, a sentiment like that was a title that was typically earned, but here it was given with almost an immediate understanding that everyone around was inherently good and trustworthy. He almost didn't want to tell you his name so he could keep hearing the word slip passed your lips.

"Oh, sorry!" He apologized. "I'm Steven."

Steven? Really? Already off to a bad start. He told himself when he settled down for a bit he'd be distant to the people around him. Never get too close, never tell the truth, go by an alias. But for some reason, he just couldn't get himself to lie to you. You just seemed too sweet for that.

As he took another look around his new surroundings, he chalked it up to be the homey atmosphere of the bakery. The walls were covered in tasteful art installations, celebrating the very pastries that were being perfectly displayed in the illuminated case. Although the color schemes of earth tones, contrasting yet complementary wood colors and grains, and mixed metals seemed like it wouldn't work for a bakery, it worked for this bakery. It was warm and inviting; the polished concrete floors reminded him of the home he once knew. The wall-full of jarred sprinkles in all sorts of different blends and colors to match with the bakery and playfully pull the interests of customers eyes made him feel a sense of child like wonder again.

The booths were built into cozy corners, there were lounge areas with low to the floor tables with alternate seating, a tasteful shelf full of board games for families and friends alike to play together while enjoying a coffee and a treat.

It smelled like browning butter and vanilla beans. There were throw pillows on the booths and lounges. On the main wall behind the bake case and above the beautiful espresso machines read the name of the shop, 'Nice to be kneaded' in a warm golden neon glow.

Steven it is.

"Well, Steven," You handed him the bag of cookies, he hesitated to take them from you. "Everyone who decides to make a home out of Greenwood deserves a warm welcome. Here's to a quiet and relaxing new start."

"Thanks I appreciate it" He smiled. "How much for the cooki-"

"They're on me today" You insisted.

"I couldn't possibly do that" he declined the offer. He was used to the generous hand outs as Steve Rogers, but never just as Steven. "Please let me pa-"

"Nope." You stepped back from the register. "Take them and go before I force you to take a third one!"

"So threatening!" He smiled and put his hands up in defense. "Thank you so much"

"Of course, have a good day! Hope to see you again soon." You waved, walking back into the kitchen to finish off the cake that was almost near perfect.

"Have a good one"

After finishing up the cake, you tagged the board with the invoice of the correct customer, then walked it back into the front to the cake display fridge to pop it in so it would be perfect and ready for pickup later that day.

You started tidying up the lobby of the store by re-organizing all of your retail items. Cute candy bars, greeting cards made by local artists, birthday candles, and the wall shelves full of sprinkles. You had a knack for making sure your store looked perfect and pristine at all times. It took a lot of blood, sweat and tears to get to where you were now, so you'd be damned if you let it be anything less than perfect.

You tidied up the bake case one last time and straightened up the register before the tip jar caught your eye, inside of it was a crisp $20 bill that definitely wasn't there before Steven.

Though there were a few customers in the store, all of them were students looking for a calm place to study. Headphones over their ears, their noses dug into their laptops. None of them had even moved in the last twenty minutes.

The smile and eye roll that took over your face was almost invasive, and you instantly knew the polite man would have no issue fitting in here in Greenwood.

Though you let your precious employees keep their well earned tip, you did take a $20 bill out from your own wallet and vowed to keep it with you every day until you hopefully found Steven again.

Just like every other day, you stayed at work until it was far too late before locking up and going home. You didn't even get passed your open car door in the driveway before your beloved neighbor Georgia was exiting her front door and running out of her house to greet you.

"It's about damn time, sweet cheeks, I was near ready to file a missing persons report!" She enthused.

Georgia never failed to be your best friend, gossip buddy, and the honorary mother you always wished you had. She'd send her husband to bed alone all night just to stay up and make sure you got home okay if she knew you were out late.

"Sorry" you giggled, grabbing the box of pastries you brought home with you and handing them to her. "Busy day! Treats for your troubles?"

She happily took the box from you knowing that whenever she was given one, there was always something mind-meltingly delicious on the inside. "You know Michael and I have put on a good five pounds in the last few months, and I fully blame you for it."

"Hey! I know you love a big boy, I'm doing you nothing but favors." You denied the blame. "Plus, you're pretty as a peach. A sweet thing like you deserves a sweet treat at least once a day."

"I ran over here to tell ya, we're hosting game night for the block on Saturday. If you don't come I'm going to keep rescheduling it until you do." She insisted.

"Saturday sounds lovely." You accepted the invitation. "What can I bring?"

"Just your pretty face"

"Okay, I'll bring salted caramel bars" You smiled.

"Bring a date" Georgia insisted.

"Now now, watch yourself..." You scolded, pointing your finger at her.

"You've been living in this beautiful house all by your lonesome for three years now. You know all I want is for you to be happy"

"I'm happy all on my own." You insisted with a smile you really had to force yourself to smear across your face. "I don't need a man to make me happy, I've got everything I need."

"You've got no one to prove that to but yourself, sweet cheeks." Georgia reached out and pinched your cheek between her fingers lovingly once she saw how deflated you became..

"Believe it or not, it's kind've hard to find someone worth your time in greenwood when your only options are guys you've already tried your hand at" You defended yourself.

"And what's wrong with that?" Georgia sassed.

"All the good ones are married, and all the bad ones are still bad. So if you don't mind, I'll be bringing some salted caramel bars on Saturday." You smiled.

"I haven't given up hope, and you shouldn't either!"

"Who said anything about giving up hope?" You furrowed your brows together and cocked your head to the side.

"...you have a good night now darlin'" Georgia smiled with a slight chuckle before waving and starting to walk away.

"Mmmmhmmm" You sassed. "Enjoy those pastries."

"I always do!"

The moment you walked into your humble abode, you could feel the weight of your day fall off your shoulders. Even more so as you put down your bag, kicked off your shoes, and dragged your feet up the stars with a heavy thunk on each step just to get yourself into the warm shower you had been dreaming of since waking up at 3:30am. 

Just like a responsible adult, you cooked and fed yourself dinner then ate it on the couch with a thick faux fur blanket over your lap while watching The Great British Baking Show. Georgia liked to yell at you when she invasively yet also somehow welcomely showed up at your house with no warning and caught you using your time away from baking to, well, watch a show about baking?

Your defense was that their recipes are just so different over there! The difference in American and British flavor palettes was immense, and you loved getting new ideas for fun new pastries and flavors to implement onto the rotating menu.

After scolding you, you'd point to the Television above your fireplace to show her how they were doing a technical challenge to bake the perfect Victoria sponge cake, a quintessential and uniquely british dessert, and how that was so much different than your typical vanilla sponge in the States. Then, it would peak her interest.

You were never really sure if she was actually interested, or if she only payed attention because she desperately thought you needed someone to listen to you. Sometimes when you babbled on about baking, she would slow blink at your before gently saying, "Baby, you might as well be speaking a whole other language to me right now, but I'm just so happy you're doing what you love."

She'd get comfortable on your couch as you made her a cup of tea, the end up staying until her husband Michael called and reminded her that she had a husband at home.

But tonight you were happy to just be shoving some pesto pasta in your face with the company of no one but Netflix in complete peace. The small sensation of an almost distant ache in the back of your head also had you thankful that they had finally either finished, or were taking a break from construction on the little house next door to yours.

You didn't mind it much at first, you were gone for most of the day to miss the sounds of sawing and jackhammering, but sometimes the sounds would continue even after sunset and keep you awake past your geriatric bedtime. Sleep was very important when you had to wake up before the sun.

But your mama raised you to love thy neighbor and keep patience and grace close to your heart, so you bit your tongue for five long months and occasionally showered the construction workers in warm breakfast sandwiches and croissants. You hoped that their awareness to the neighbors occupation would keep them from working late into the night, but nope. You just continued biting your tongue a little harder.

Even worse than you was Andy and Phoebe that lived two doors down, the construction happened sandwiched between you two, and they had their new born baby girl at home through all of that banging and drilling. Apparently little Willow could now sleep through anything. Their dog barking at the sound of a door bell wasn't even an equal contender against the baby who had been subconsciously trained to stay calm in the midst of chaos.

You were in bed by 7 pm, up at 3am, back at work by 4am with $20 in your back pocket. A little part of you felt stupid while slipping the green bill into your denim jeans, it was quite delusional to assume the man would be back so soon, let alone at all, but a bigger part of you couldn't stand that his free cookies were not free.

The empty bake case was filled to the brim by 6:30am, all custom orders were done by 7. You barely even got a chance to wipe the sweat off your hairline from your face being in front of the oven before taking off your chefs coat and hair net and switching it to a front-of-house apron.

You had an excellent team of trained bakers, decorators, baristas, and a cashier, but that didn't stop you from getting your hands dirty by any means. Though your team was mighty, collectively you were tiny. Only 9 employees to hold the busiest bakery in the greater area down, you tended to step in wherever you were needed the most.

Today, you just happened to be taking orders and handing out latte's through morning rush before dedicating the rest of your day on getting a head start on custom orders for tomorrow.

Then tomorrow came around and all you did was start the dough for a few loaves of sourdough, your girls were going to take over after the first rise so you could focus on the payroll and product order placement that would be delivered on Friday. You got done all the boring stuff, responded to customer emails, printed out the invoices of all the orders through Friday, sorted through and organized the endless amounts of cookie cutters in the kitchen, then cleaned out the fridge to make sure all the ingredients were properly labeled and within date.

You worked one more day after that before having your first day off in 10 days. Yes, you made your own schedule. Yes, you worked far too much. No, that's not your fault.

You started by going on a short run, and taking a shower before going to the little diner 10 minutes down the road with Georgia for breakfast. The summer heat made your thighs stick to the leather booth beneath you, and the ceiling fans gently moved your hair around but you didn't seem to mind much. How could anything be a bother to your while you we're sneakily stealing a forkful of pancakes from your Neighbor's plate as her eyes were stuck on the news that was playing on an old TV in the upper corner of the diner.

You smiled as she peeled her eyes away just to glare at you while you stuck the syrupy goodness in your mouth. A bit of sticky maple caught on your lip, threatening to drip down your chin before you even got a chance to lick it off.

"Child, you are a mess." She shook her head at you and handed you a napkin. "How are they?"

"Heavenly." You giggled, wiping away the warm syrup on your face. "Hey, is it okay if I have a bite?" You questioned after stealing her food.

"You're like the child I never wanted." She insulted in good fun. Her being in her mid-fifties and you being late twenties- early thirty something, she loved to tease you because she knew you could take it in good fun. "See what you could've had if you didn't order... whatever that is?"

"An omelette?" You giggled. "I was in it for the side of hash-browns."

"Mmmm" Georgia tried to stay engaged, but her eyes kept wandering back to the news on the television.

You quickly looked up at the TV facing you in the opposite corner to the one she had her eyes on, but all you saw was pictures of Black Widow. She was beautiful, you always were jealous of her stunning fiery red hair and strength. You didn't pay much attention to why the bottom banner across the screen said 'Breaking News: Emergency Broadcast". Nothing Natasha Romanoff could've done was more important to the crispy shredded potatoes in front of you.

You didn't know much about the Civil War besides the basics. Most of what you knew came from Georgia and Michael. Politics was never your strong suit, you're pretty sure you almost failed government class back in high school. However, politics was something Michael was very... passionate about.

His political opinions were strong, and he wasn't shy to let you know about them. Whenever you were over at their house for dinner and the topic came up, you tended to just let him get it all out while you soaked it in and ate silently.

Though you didn't have an extensive knowledge on economics or how congressional issues worked, you did know how you felt about social issues. Most of the time; your opinions did not match up with Michael. And most of the time Georgia soaked in and inherited all of Michael's political stances.

Only a few times did you seek out information on the bombing of the United Nations meeting and the sokovia accords by your own means. Mostly because you felt like the information you were getting from Michael was probably influenced by his own stance on the matter. But from what you gathered, it was a complex issue you couldn't even begin to put your nose in. Especially since they were all superheroes arguing over what was the correct thing to do.

You grew up very much in the mindset of not judging people until you've walked a mile in their shoes, and walking in their shoes was impossible. Especially superhero shoes with jet blasters and and steel toes.

So as Georgia stated, "Miss Romanoff had so much potential, why she wasted it on protecting a brain washed assassin I will never understand." you stole another bite of her pancakes and shoved them into your mouth.

In turn, she stole some of your hash-browns and looked at you, waiting for feedback on her remark. "What did she do now?" You asked.

"She was found on American soil. The secretary tried detaining her considering she's a fugitive but she slipped passed his fingers." Georgia explained. "They're asking for tips trying to find her again."

You nodded your head in understanding of the urgency in the news broadcast, but you didn't exactly feel like having a passionate discussion about morals in the middle of a notoriously conservative small down.

"I guess I just don't understand why the government is treating Captain America's friends as criminals when they've all done so much to protect us... Aren't they just trying to do the right thing?" You questioned carefully as to not start an argument.

"Sweetheart it's not about what they used to do for us, it's about what they've done recently. They broke the law, destroyed public and private property, and broke out of the highest security prison in the world all because they didn't want to be controlled by the United Nations." Georgia explained.

"...but the issue was that they didn't want to be controlled, it was that they wanted to come up with a different solution because lives would be lost while waiting for the whole United Nations to decide what business they could stick their noses in, right?" You framed your opinion as a question once more as to appease any potential anger.

"Captain America and his whole team of friends became war criminals the moment they turned their backs on the government. It's really that simple." She insisted.

You looked back up to the TV to see the pictures of Captain America, Black Widow, Scarlet Witch, the Falcon, the Winter Soldier, Ant-Man, and Hawkeye all looking back at you. The atmosphere between you and Georgia had gone quiet allowing you to hear the broadcasters voice.

'... if you see any of these individuals, do not approach. They are dangerous. Call 911. Remember, failure to report these individuals will be considered a misdemeanor punishable by jail time and a hefty fine. Do not approach.'

You observed the picture of the winter soldier in much more detail than the others, then your eyes grazed over Captain America.

One more big mouthful of your breakfast before an invasive thought overtook your brain and caused you to laugh out loud.

"What's got you laughing over there?" Georgia smiled at your antics.

"The winter soldier is so handsome, I think I'd become a war criminal trying to defend him too." You spat out between invasive laughter causing Georgia to laugh along with you no matter how hard she tried to contain it.

"I outta wash your mouth out with soap!" She laughed.

"Hey! No potty mouth here, just speaking the truth"

"This is why you need a boyfriend!" She smiled, pointing her pancake filled fork at you. "And a good one at that! I don't need to be seeing my baby girl all up in the news one day with the word 'wanted' written in bold red letters across her face."

"Hey, I've actually been meaning to ask you!" You started between bites. "A handsome fella came into the shop a few days ago. Said he was moving to greenwood in a few days, d'ya know anything about that?"

"What'd he look like, darlin'?" She questioned further. "I saw a stunner meet up with the owner of the house next door to yours while I was watering my peonies earlier this week. Watched him leave with a key in hand."

"He was tall, but I didn't get to see much to his face. It was blocked by a cap. I think his hair was dirty blonde from what I could see. He had really nice jeans on-"

"Full beard?" She asked.

"The most luscious and well groomed beard I've ever seen in this part of town." You confirmed with a giggle.

"I damn near blushed when I saw him from across the way! I bet he's moving in to that house then!" She enthused with a big smile. "Maybe this will be your escape from the Greenwood boys!"

"Are you kidding me? A man like that always comes a long with a wife and way too many children." You giggled.

"I bet that boy would make some beautiful babies" She kicked your leg underneath the table. "As would you."

"Not anytime soon" You shook your head with a blush in your cheeks.

"You know pregnancies over the age of 35 are considered geriatric?" She said backhandedly.

"Then consider me the oldest grandma in the nursing home." You denied once more

"I didn't see no ring on that man's finger, so he's single until proven married." Georgia smiled. "What did he get at the bakery?"

"One chocolate chip cookie" You hid your grin behind your hand holding your fork.

She raised her eyebrows mid pancake bite, chewing before speaking again as to not be impolite, but you already knew what she was thinking. "A married man would never get a cookie for just himself and not his wife. He's definitely single."

"Well he did say he drove into town for the key, so maybe he ate it before she even knew he had a cookie in the first place. Plus, I gave him two. You know how I feel about people who get one cookie..."

"So he's either single or the worst husband a girl could have. If Michael ever skipped out on getting me a cookie I'd divorce his ass on the spot." She shook her head.

"Why would you ever need Michael to bring you cookies when you have me, anyways?" You questioned, faking jealousy.

"Baby doll you're all I need" She smiled and reached over to squeeze your hand.

"That's more like it." You laughed.

Georgia smoothed over the pain of not being the only cookie provider in her life by paying the breakfast bill, even after you fought her over it for ten whole minutes because you invited her out to breakfast so you could treat her.

And when you two got home, you both immediately noticed all the construction on the house next to yours had been completely cleared out and it looked brand spankin' new.

What once was an older home with lots of rustic character looked more like all the surrounding houses with updated paint, new landscaping, fresh new features. It looked great without all of the dust and equipment blocking the view.

It was officially a home ready to be moved into, and any moment now you would have confirmation if your new neighbor was the same man you desperately owed $20.

Next Part: Inhale, Exhale

Tag list: @patzammit @bemysugarbean

If you’d like to be added to the tag list for this series, don’t be shy to ask 🤍🧁

[imagine-knowing-a-name]

memories feel like weapons

Summary: after your brief reunion with Wanda at the gym, you both overthink what it means

Word Count: 984 Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Reader Warnings: not really any? Wanda and R being bad at conversations. Part 2 of 'half of my hometown' series masterlist <- previous part | next part ->

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Wanda curses herself as she shuts her bedroom door, immediately leaning back to rest her head against it. She questions all her actions that night: why had she said that? Why had she run away? Her plan had always been to leave the gym if someone entered, that was the case day or night, hence why she goes at 2 am, because who else would be in the gym at 2 am? You; that’s apparently the answer.

Either way, she’d already been fleeing from the moment the door creaked open. Seeing your face again after so many years stalled the exit, but, in her disoriented state, her legs carried her back to her room before she could even think of changing her plan.

“Shit,” she mutters softly, debating whether she can go back and fix her mistake, though she assumes by now you'll be gone. Streams of different conversations flow through her mind: she should have asked you how you were, how your life had been, whether you wanted to catch up… hell, she doesn't even know if you recognised her. It has taken her long enough to realise it was you, and she knows the past 13 years have changed her even more.

02:30 flashes from the corner of the room, catching Wanda's eye. She sighs, knowing that she should sleep before her 9 am training the next day. The Sokovian prepares for bed and eventually drifts off, but, until she does, all her thoughts are on you, and whether she'll have the opportunity to see you again.

»»————-　★　————-««

Unbeknownst to the Avenger, you take action into your own hands, not wanting to go another 13 years before you stumble into her again. You promised yourself that you'd give her space, but that vow doesn't stop you from routinely circling back to the gym whenever you work the night shift, hoping that the one thing you know about this present-day Wanda is part of a routine, and not just a fluke nighttime visit.

It works, and, only a few nights later, Wanda is the one to stumble into you.

You pass by the gym, disappointed by the darkness and silence you find within and ready to turn away into the next corridor, when Wanda quite literally stumbles into you. The two of you turn the corner at the same time and collide with a force strong enough to send Wanda teetering back; your instincts kick in and you rush forward to catch her before she could tumble to the floor.

“I'm so sorry,” you both say, before breaking into nervous smiles at the action. You help her stabilise herself back on her feet again then draw back, attempting to speak once again.

“Hi,” is all you manage.

She smiles widely, “Hi.”

“So… you come here at 2 am often then?” the line comes out before you can even think about it, and you do your best to hide how you cringe at your own words.

You know you've hidden it poorly though because Wanda laughs, such a free-flowing sound which, even when you last saw each other, had been sorely missing from your life. She nods though, and ducks her head down to watch her fingers twirl the rings on her hands; you follow her gaze and furrow your eyebrows as you recognise one of them.

“I live here now, so, yeah,” she replies, snapping your attention back to the conversation you'd been having.

“The new superhero of the Avengers, so I heard. You're the talk of the Compound. Though it wasn't until I saw you the other night that I realised ‘Wanda the Avenger’ and ‘Wanda, the girl next door from Sokovia’ were one and the same.”

“The first one is still in progress. The second one is still who I am,” she mutters; the previous amusement is gone from her voice and you realise you've crossed into a topic she'd rather avoid. Unlike the others you've met, Wanda shows no indication of pride in her Avengers status, so you hurry to change the topic.

“Since you live here, I guess it's more ‘Wanda, the girl across the building from me’ now,” you chuckle, a smile spreading when you see the creases reforming around Wanda's eyes.

“You live here too?” she questions, and this time it's your turn to nod.

“Live here, work here, hardly leave here. I'm over on the East side of the building with the other agents.”

“Agent Y/L/N…”

“That's me, reporting for duty,” you joke with a fake salute until you remember that you are meant to be on duty. “I should probably get back to my patrol,” you tell Wanda, not missing the way her smile falters temporarily.

“Yes, I'm sorry, don't let me keep you.”

“It was nice seeing you, Wanda,” you begin, “and catching up a bit after so long. Uh, maybe I'll see you around here at another 2 am.”

Wanda smiles back at you; if you waited just a little longer, you would have seen her mouth hang open ready to stop you, a question dying on her tongue. Maybe then you would encourage her to speak it and hear what she wants to ask. 

But, instead, you turn away as soon as you finish speaking, cheeks burning after the implication that you'd meet her again, that she'd stay up and walk around the Compound at 2 am just to meet you. If you were bolder, you would have asked the question you wanted to ask; you wouldn't have turned away so fast. Living on the outskirts of friendship groups in your adult years has instilled fear into you though, so you leave quickly and bluntly, choosing to dwell on memories of the strongest friendship you had rather than face rejection from the girl you used to know. The girl who you feel sure has better friends than you by now.

next part ->

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General Taglist: @canvascoloredin @fxckmiup @wizardofstories

Series Taglist: @family-house-of-m @emiliaisdead

First part didn't do so well so idk if I'll get any suggestions, but what do you think should happen next 👀

[kyojurismo]

★ — spider-man!bakugo part 2 !

character : katsuki bakugo

tags : spider-man!au, fem!reader, 2.9k words (yeah i got carried away), this is a continuation of a series of hc i posted a while ago, bit of angst, injuries, mention of getting shot, kissing, happy ending i guess? both r & katsuki are 18 by the way, half proofread so don’t look at it too closely.

part one

notes : hi guys !! okay so i finally finished writing it, i was way better in my mind but i wanted to post it anyway since spider-man!bkg is bringing me loads of comfort — idk if i’ll post more about him, for now that’s all i guess >_< so anyway, i hope you’ll enjoy it. plus, i take this opportunity to thank you those who showed love for the part 1, it means the world to me <3

“katsuki!” you rushed to his side as he finished putting some books into his locker. he turned his head to look at you. “what is it?” he tried to hide his nervousness, the look on your face seemed that of someone who discovered something big. “i know who’s behind spider-man!” you said excitedly, but not that loud to let the whole school hear you.

bakugo’s heart skipped a beat and he had to fight for his expression to remain calm. “ah? r-really?” he chuckled as he closed his locker, gulping down. “tell me everything.”

“it’s a student. i wasn’t too sure about this before, but i watched a couple of videos and he had a backpack with a pin from our school! isn’t it cool?” you explained while walking beside him. bakugo sighed in relief in his mind, grateful you had no real information about spider-man.

wait… a backpack?

he was grateful you didn’t seem to notice but he mentally noted that he must change backpack as soon as possible.

“you don’t seem so interested in spider-man, huh? you don’t like him?” you then looked at his face, noticing that he seemed rather distracted. “no no! uh, i just… i’m not a big fan of superheroes, y’know? i trust the police and the government,” he explained offering a small smile before looking away. “hm.” you seemed to be thinking too much about his answer so he changed subject. “today at 4? mine or your place?” he pulled your attention over homework. “i live closer to school, so…” you shrugged and he nodded, before you two entered your classroom.

─────────────────────

“welcome, katsuki!” your mother greeted your friend with a huge smile, happy to see him. he seemed to be liked by your mother a bit too much in your opinion. “hello,” he smiled timidly. you grabbed his hand and pulled you with him towards your room. “keep the door open a little bit!” your father shouted from the living room. you rolled your eyes and stepped into your room, followed by an amused katsuki.

“i’m not a kid anymore, for god’s sake,” you murmured and closed the door anyway. katsuki sat by your desk, as usual, and followed you moving around the room before grabbing your notebooks. “alright, can you help me with this math exercise before we start with biology?” you pleaded, showing him the reason behind your distress. “yeah, sure. it’s nothing too impossible,” he comforted you with a smile.

after hours of studying your mother came and offered katsuki to stay for dinner but he politely refused, saying that his mother was waiting for him as his father was out of town for a couple of weeks due to work. “oh, you don’t have to add more. i totally understand! maybe next time, okay?” you hid your face behind your palms in embarrassment as she left.

“she’s sweet,” he commented, chuckling at your status. you groaned in response and hit his chest playfully. “just with you,” you said and watched him pack his things.

a couple of pins attached to his backpack caught your attention, resembling a bunch of superheroes and a group band. you remembered katsuki told you that he wasn’t too fond of superheroes, so it confused you a bit.

“hey, ‘tsuki… what do you think about that superhero who helped spider-man last week?” you try to sound casual, playing with your pen. “uh, he was cool,” he answered while shrugging. “i saw him on the news, i don’t know if he actually is,” he was quick to add, laughing. he gulped down and finished to put his books away when you threw your pen at him and he caught it without even turning around.

you gasped and quickly got up to your feet as katsuki groaned and turned to meet your face, your hands covering your lips as you tried to process what just happened.

“l-listen…” he tried to think of something to justify his reflexes but you were quick to start throwing small objects at him, to see him do that again.

“why aren’t you catching them? you’re doing it on purpose?” you tilted your head to the side, your tone showing a bit of annoyance. “no, it’s just that the way you’re throwing them is not gonna hurt me so… fuck,” he groaned and sat down at the edge of your bed. “forget it, please. it’s just a thing my father taught me, it doesn’t mean anything,” he lied straight to your face.

did he not trust you enough?

“you’re spider-man, right? it-it just makes sense! god i’m so stupid!” you started pacing around the room, connecting the dots. “when you got hurt, that one time you came here… the next day you couldn’t play basket because you said you fell or something. it was because the wound would open up right? and when you showed up with a big bruise under your eye, it was because of that criminal hitting you with… whatever that thing was,” you spoke fast, your hands shaking slightly as you kept explaining all the things that gave him away — they didn’t, actually. you caught him just because he stopped the point of your pen from hitting his nape a bit too hard.

“[y/n], take a deep breath and sit down for a moment, hm?” he moved closer and grabbed your hands making you sit down on the bed. “you’re spider-man,” you squeaked, covering your mouth once again. “spider-man kissed me, so you kissed me…” you added and katsuki sighed at the memory, regretting it not because he didn’t like it but because it was extremely dumb for him to do something like that.

“you idiot!” you then hit his chest, for real now. he looked at you in confusion. “what was that for?” he asked, stopping you from hitting him again. “you nerdy coward! why would you kiss me as spider-man?” you asked in an angry tone.

katsuki let go of your hands and simply shook his head before going to grab his backpack and reaching the door. you swiftly reached him and planted yourself against the door so he wouldn’t open it. “you can’t just walk away as if it’s nothing, you know? why didn’t you tell me? we grew so close since the last year… don’t you trust me?” you didn’t seem angry in that moment, you seemed… hurt?

he took a deep breath and looked up at the ceiling for a moment before glancing at you, his hand timidly took yours and his thumb started caressing your palm. “it’s not exactly something you shout when entering a room, y’know… plus, no one knows it.”

you were the only one?

“be serious,” you gasped, not expecting to be the only one to know his secret. “i am!” he swore, not breaking eye contact not even for a second. “oh ‘tsuki…” your eyes filled with tears as you suddenly hugged him, holding him tightly. he looked confused as you held him, his eyes staring at the door in silence. “it must have been so hard… but now you have me! i’ll help you, like a sidekick or something!” you smiled enthusiastically at him. katsuki’s face darkened at your statement and pushed you away as gently as he could in that moment, you frowned.

“help me,” he spat, walking to your window instead. “you can’t help me without getting involved or worse, killed. i can’t allow it, so forget about your silly discovery,” he shook his head, his voice was firm as he said all that. you tried to move closer to him but he turned and glared at you with a cold look, you froze in place at that. “forget about it. i think it’s better if i distance myself from you.”

those were his last words and they hurt you deeply. you could only watch him exit your room through your window and swing away, leaving you standing there in silence.

─────────────────────

for the following month, katsuki kept his word. he barely waved at you in class, you didn’t meet up to study anymore. he became something similar to a stranger. your friends noticed how you two became distant and you shrugged it off with a simple ‘we had a fight and he never apologised so i don’t wanna be friends with someone like him.’

your own words hurt. katsuki heard them too, but he thought it was for the best so he was okay with what you told your friends.

this whole situation worked until spider-man was attacked by a strong group of criminals and got shot. you heard the news about how he helped capturing them but no one heard about what happened to spider-man after that. what scared you even more was that he was missing school, something that was unusual for someone like him.

after three days you decided to go to his house, using the notes from the lessons he missed as an excuse.

you rang the doorbell and waited patiently, an anxious feeling biting at your heart. when the door opened you noticed that you were actually holding your breath. “hello!” katsuki’s mom, mitsuki, offered you a warm smile. “h-hello, i um… i brought the notes from the lessons katsuki missed in the past days,” you explained, gripping your bag tightly.

“oh, thank you! come inside,” mitsuki nodded and let you enter inside. you followed her and quietly glanced around, it was the second time you visited his house after all. “i can make you some tea?” she asked while entering the kitchen, glancing at you. “uh, no. no, thanks. i’m fine,” you shook your head before smiling politely. she nodded and sighed, losing herself in her thoughts for a moment. “katsuki is upstairs, first door on the right” she turned and smiled at you. “got it,” you thanked her and reached the stairs.

now you could feel your heart racing in your chest, wondering how could you initiate an actual conversation with him. you bit your lips and knocked on his door, waiting to hear his voice. “i told you i’m not hungry!” he shouted from the other side, making you realise he didn’t know you were there. you sighed and decided to open the door anyway.

he was sitting by his desk, his headphones were covering his ears. you closed the door and slowly reached him, jumping when he suddenly turned ready to shout to get out of his room. he was about to say something before deciding to keep his mouth shut as he took the headphones off.

you noticed the bandage on his right temple and the bruise on his cheek, his rest of his body seemed alright but you were sure he was hiding other bruises and minor injuries. you felt a sense of relief fill your chest, as you realised he was alright after all.

“t-tsuki, i…” you glanced at the floor and gripped your bag nervously, trying to find the right words. “i uh… well,” you bit your lips before simply pulling out the extra notes you took for him and putting them on his desk. his eyes followed your actions before he glanced up at your face, your eyes not meeting his.

“i-i’m glad you’re okay, i just came here to make sure… so i’m leaving, alright,” you spoke after a couple of moments of silence, turning around and walking towards the door. before you could open it, his hand planted itself on its surface and his shadow towered over you. you gulped down and held the doorknob nervously.

the silence was suffocating, you felt more and more anxious as you didn’t know his intentions.

“say something!” you finally snapped, shutting your eyes closed. “thanks for the notes,” was all he said, his deep voice making you shiver. “not about that,” you turned to look at his face, visibly upset. katsuki tilted his head to the side, looking at you in a way that made you feel small. “what do you want me to say then?” he asked, his voice was low now.

“y-you got shot, katsuki!” you screamed as low as you could, not wanting his mother to hear. “you could have died a-and all you can say is thanks?!” your eyes started filling with tears, making it hard for you to keep eye contact. katsuki felt his heart clench at the sight, knowing that he was the reason you were feeling like that.

“but i’m not, so it’s fine,” he shrugged, sighing. “don’t look down on me, i know what i’m doing,” he then added, clenching his fist. “oh? then explain this!” you pointed at his head and he caught your wrist before you could even touch him, making you flinch. “i got distracted, it happens you know?” he said while gritting his teeth.

you shook your head and turned around, trying to open the door. “you’re so self-centred you don’t even acknowledge the feelings of those around you,” you muttered coldly and were about to walk out before he grabbed your arm and made you turn around, surprising you. katsuki cupped your cheeks and pulled you in for a kiss.

it took you a couple of moments to reciprocate it, your hands grabbing hold of his shoulders as you closed your eyes. katsuki pulled you even closer as he moved one of his hand down to your waist, pulling you inside his room and closing the door. your back was pushed against it as he kept kissing you with more desperation now, his hands holding you more firmly. you had to push him away to catch some air, your cheeks warmed up now as he looked at you.

you were the one being silence now and he started to grow nervous as you simply rested your hands on his shoulders. “oi, say something, dammit.”

“it was definitely better than the first one,” you murmured before chuckling. katsuki rolled his eyes before kissing your forehead, his warm hands caressing your cheeks. “i missed you. keeping you away was the hardest shit i’ve ever done in my life,” he confessed and pulled you to his chest, resting his chin on your head. you silently cried into his t-shirt, holding him even tighter. “i’m so sorry.”

“don’t push me away again,” you pleaded, sniffing. he smiled and held you even tighter. “how can i push my little sidekick away?” he chuckled and you gasped, pulling away to meet his eyes. “sidekick?” your face lit up and katsuki was quick to pull you back to reality. “my sidekick that keeps her butt at home and stays in contact with me,” he clarified, making you pout like a little girl. “that’s not a real sidekick, ‘tsuki.”

“i gotta make sure you’re not getting hurt,” his voice was dead serious, he was promising to protect you. “hm. ‘kay,” you nodded before kissing his bruised cheek softly.

“i’m dating spider-man,” you jumped a little while smiling happily as you reached his desk. katsuki chuckled at your reaction and smiled while looking at you, his eyes shining.

tags : [ since multiple ppl were interested in reading more, i thought it would be okay to tag you guys in the second part… if you want to be removed just lemme know !! ] @doumadono @reyathens @ohwhale-exo @its-claude-time @nikoruropesu @selfindulgenthoe @sigmaswaist @archer-fb

[dc-marvel-life]

Perfect Fit

Pairing: Wanda x Natasha x reader

Word Count: ~2.6K

Summary: Y/N is the new member joining the Avengers that came from a top-secret program in SHIELD that she was in all her life. Now that she has joined the team, she is experiencing life for the first time. She has caught the eye of the two most powerful women on the team.

A/N: I haven't had any requests, so I am posting a story that I am making on my AO3. This will be a series. My request is still open. 

Part 2  Part 3  Part 4  Part 5

We all know that there are infinite different universes that are different from one another. This one is the same as the rest. In this universe, the Avengers made the team ten years ago with a group of teenage superheroes. Iron Man, Captain America, Black Widow, Hulk, Thor, Scarlet Witch, Falcon, Winter Soldier, and Captain Marvel made the original team. Five years later, Spiderman, Black Panther, Yelena, and Kate join the group.

They all live on the Avenger compound, a vast building that houses the Avengers and their every need. Thanks to Tony, the facility is all high-tech and has F.R.I.D.A.Y. It has many bedrooms, bathrooms, a game room, a movie room, a weight room, a training room, a vast kitchen, a pool, a garden, etc.

The team is running smoothly, but SHEILD has a program that they want to test out. The program is called Project Gene X, and it is a program that had eight infants with the mutant gene. When the mutant gene was discovered, SHEILD ensured they were on top of it. They were able to find eight infants that they were able to keep in custody legally. All the kids did growing up was train and discover their powers. Over time, not all of the kids could stay in the program for different reasons, but there were only two in the end.

The two were fighting for the open spot in the Avengers, and Fury finally made a choice. The team knew they would get another teammate soon, but they didn’t know when.

Fury called a meeting with all the Avengers in the conference room at the Avengers compound. Now they are just waiting for Fury to show up.

“So does anyone know what this meeting is for,” Tony says, tapping a pen on the table while looking around the room.

“Maybe we are all going on a huge mission,” Bucky says, shrugging his shoulders.

“Ooo, I hope so because I haven’t been on any mission recently. I need to get out of this compound now,” Sam says, leaning back in the chair.

“Let's hope Fury doesn’t send us on a mission then, so we can all go out tonight. How does that sound?” Carol says.

“I like that idea! I’ll call a few clubs right now to get us on the VIP list,” Tony says, pulling out his phone, and everyone nods.

“I can’t wait to go clubbing!” Peter says excitedly.

“Not you, young fry,” Natasha says, and everyone laughs. At that moment, Fury walks into the room, and everyone goes silent. Everybody's attention goes to Fury, waiting to see what he called the meeting for. “I bet you all are wondering why I called this meeting. Well, I wanted to get you all together so you can meet your new teammate Agent Y/N Y/L/N” Fury says. Y/N comes into the room with black cargo pants held up with, a black utility belt with many pockets, and a black short sleeve shirt. She goes and stands next to Fury with her arms crossed behind her back.

“Agent Y/N was part of a secret project that has been going on for years in SHIELD. Now she has earned a spot on the team with you all. She has the mutant gene and will be a great addition to the team. I won’t give you guys a mission for the next few days, so you all can get to know one another. I hope you all welcome her with open arms,” Fury says, then walks out of the room.

Once Fury closes the door, all eyes are on Y/N. The room was silent, and Y/N didn’t know what was happening.

“So tell us about yourself, Y/N,” Steve says, breaking the awkward silence filling the room. Y/N stood there momentarily, not knowing what to say to them. Since she was a baby, she has been training with little to no social life. Her only friends were the people in the program, but once they left, they never stayed in connect. It was just the way of the program not to have many contacts outside. Y/N never developed her own personality, but she knew one thing.

“I am a homosexual!” Y/N blurt out after a minute of not responding to Steve’s question leaving everyone wondering. Then Y/N says that and shocks everyone. Some people tried to hold back their laughs because they thought it was a joke.

“I am sorry that I said that. Well, I am a homosexual, but you know what I mean. I didn't know how to respond when you asked that question. My whole life was about being in the program, so I don’t know too much about myself,” Y/N says with her arms still crossed behind her back.

“What is this program/project that Fury said that you were in? I have never seen you before or heard of a secret project,” Clint asked curiously about what SHEILD was hiding from everyone. Y/N was hesitant because she was told never to talk about the program unless it was with someone with an equal or greater level than her.

“Yes sir, the project was…..” Y/N started to talk, but Clint stopped her.

“Don’t call me sir. I feel so old when you say that, and I am pretty sure we are the same age,” Clint says while faking like he had a chill.

“No problem, Mr. Barton,” Y/N says.

“No, no, no, just call me Clint. You know all of our names, right?” Clint ask.

“Sorry, Clint, and yes, I know all of your names,” Y/N says, and she can feel her body tighten. Y/N’s mind is going a mile a minute because she worries she is messing everything up.

“Relax, sweetie, you are too tense and thinking too loud,” Wanda says in a calming voice. Y/N looks over at Wanda, nervous.

“You can hear my thoughts?” Y/N says in shock. Y/N knew that Wanda was powerful and could read minds but not like this.

“Yes, I can. I promise I don’t read minds for fun. I can only hear them without trying because you are overthinking right now. Take a deep breath in and out,” Wanda says with a smile. Y/N takes a few deep breaths in and out and finally calms down a bit. She eventually moves her arms from behind her back.

“I am sorry. I have been waiting for this moment for a long time and can’t believe it is happening. Now I am a nervous mess. Anyway, my project was called Project Gene X. I was taken in by SHEILD as an infant because of my mutant gene. Growing up, I was trained to be the best agent while using my powers. Our end goal was to be a part of the Avengers. It was down to one other person and me, and we had to fight for it. I won, and now I am here,” Y/N proudly says.

“Wait for a second! This is crossing way too many lines! So you are telling me that SHIELD pretty much had their red room! I need to talk to him now about this,” Natasha says, getting up from her chair. Wanda gets up and tries to calm down her girlfriend.

“No, Natasha, it wasn’t like that. Every year after we hit age five, we were often asked if we wanted to stay in the program. Most of the kids dropped out by age 14, and only the other person left in the program was me. It sounds like the red room, but it isn’t at all. I had a great time there and enjoyed myself very much,” Y/N says to everyone but most importantly, Natasha. You can see that Natasha is mad right now because her hands are balled up, and her face is as red as a tomato. She looks like she will fight someone, but Wanda is beside her to calm her down. It seems like they are having a conversation with their minds. After a bit, Natasha takes a deep breath and sits back at the table.

“Okay, it is not as bad as the red room, but it is still like it. I will talk with him about it later,” Natasha says.

“Yeah, Project Gene X doesn’t sound too well, but he did the same for us ten years ago, starting the Avengers. We were like, what 13-16-year-olds running around saving the world. What is done is done; let's move on and have a great time with our new team member,” Sam says, trying to lighten to mood.

“Yeah, I agree with Sam! That means we should all go out and have a party!” Tony says, pumping his fist because he wants to attend a club tonight.

“We are supposed to be bonding as a team, and we can’t go to the club because Peter is only 20 years old,” Carol points out to Tony. Tony quietly mimics Carol.

“Or we can have a party here and invite people to come, so no one is excluded. How does that sound?” Kate says.

“Not a bad idea. Now we need to throw the best house party ever! I will make some calls now,” Tony says, getting up and calling someone.

“So let’s get you to settle into here, Y/N. By the way, to formally introduce myself. I am Steve Rogers, also known as Captain America, and I am 25. The rich boy over there on the phone is Tony Stark, also known as Iron Man, who is 25,” Steve says, and everyone starts to introduce themselves with their real name, superhero name, and age.

“So Y/N, you say you were in the program because you have the mutant gene. What is your power?” Sam asks, and everyone's attention is back on Y/N, wondering what her power is.

“My power is absorption. So any material that I touch, I can turn my whole body into that. That is why I have this belt with different strong materials like vibranium, adamantium, diamond, chromium, and more,” Y/N says while removing her metals from her belt. She puts them all out on the table, then picks up the adamantium. She holds the adamantium in her palm and turns her whole body into adamantium.

Everyone is in awe of Y/N’s powers. She turns back into her usual self and puts her metals back into her belt.

“Now, that’s an extraordinary power that can come in handy. I am happy that you are on the team; now, let’s give you a tour of the facility,” Steve says; he stands up, leading the way to give the tour while everyone else shuffles out of the room except for Natasha and Wanda.

“Wait! Can Nat and I give the tour to Y/N?” Wanda asks. Natasha whispers something into Wanda’s ear to make her laugh. Y/N looks at the pair, confused about why they want to give the tour.

“Of course,” Steve smiles and looks to Y/N, “you will be in good hands. I will catch you later,” Steve says and leaves the room, leaving only Y/N, Natasha, and Wanda staring at each other.

“Are you ready for the tour?” Wanda asks.

“Yes, I am. Let me go and grab my bag” Y/N walk over to the door and picks up one small duffle bag.

“Is that all you have? You know you are moving in here for good, right?” Wanda questions Y/N.

“Yes, this is it. My whole life is in this bag, actually,” Y/N says, a little nervous because she didn’t know that she was supposed to have more than this.

“It’s okay, I understand. Being an agent means you must pack light,” Natasha says to comfort Y/N.

“Thanks, Natasha. Since I will be here for the long run, maybe I can do some shopping for stuff,” Y/N says, and Wanda squeals in excitement.

“Shopping trip!” Wanda says, jumping up and down.

“Dorogoy, maybe we should let Y/N get settled first, then talk about going on a shopping trip,” Natasha says to Wanda, then looks at Y/N, “also you can just call me Nat,” Nat says to Y/N with a soft expression.

“Okay, Nat, and I would love to go shopping. Never been on one before,” Y/N says, smiling at the pair.

“Alright, we will go shopping with you one day, but for now, let’s tour the place and show you to your room,” Nat says, and they take Y/N on a tour of the building showing all the bells and whistles. They end up in front of Y/N’s new room.

“And the last part of our tour is your room. This is great because right across here is our room,” Wanda says, pointing to the door right across.

“You guys share a room?” Y/N looks at them curiously.

“Yes, I would hope so. It would suck that I didn’t share a room with my girlfriend of what….. 7 years now,” Nat says, looking lovingly into Wanda’s eyes. Y/N smiles at the pair and looks at their hands to see two rings. Nat and Wanda notice it.

“They’re just promise rings that we gave each other when we were 18,” Wanda clarifies.

“That’s so sweet,” Y/N says with a bit of disappointment because she did have a crush on Wanda and Nat for the longest time after finding out about them years ago.

“Do you have a girlfriend?” Wanda asks.

“No, I have never been in a relationship with anyone. I have done stuff with people, but those were mission-based, and nothing ever came out of it. The good thing is now I am free and single. Ready to get out there,” Y/N says and starts to laugh, with Wanda and Nat joining her.

“Sorry, that sounded lame saying it out loud,” Y/N says and continues to laugh. Y/N opens her room door and gasps.

“Wow, this room is so big, and I have a queen bed,” Y/N says, running into the room, dropping her bags, then jumps onto her bed.

“And the bed is so soft. I am going to love this place,” Y/N says, getting comfortable in bed while Nat and Wanda watch in awe.

“She is so cute,” Wanda says, and Nat agrees with her.

“So why did you guys want to show me around the place? I am just curious” Y/N sits up in bed, looking at the pair.

“If you want us to be honest here, we wanted to show you around to get to know you and become friends. We are always together, and we need more friends that are women. Yes, we have Kate, Yelena, and Carol, but it is not the same. Yelena is Nat's younger sister, and they get on each other nervous all the time, but it is out of love. Plus, we think Yelena and Kate are secretly dating and not telling anyone. Carol likes to hang out with Sam and Bucky to do dumb shit with. So we saw you and thought we could have a new friend to do stuff with,” Wanda says moving side to side like she is nervous about something.

“Well, I will be an honor to be your friend,” Y/N said, smiling at them and making Nat and Wanda melt.

“Gosh, you are so cute. I think I can say that we are happy to have become friends for the two of us. We will let you get settled here before the party tonight. If you need us, we are across the hallway,” Wanda says and starts to walk out of the room, with Nat closing the door to leave Y/N in her thoughts.

“This is going to be the best time of my life,” Y/N says, sighing and lying in bed.

[c-m-stuff]

They Know

-Description: You and Spencer are having a secret relationship. When the others find out, they tried to play a game with you.

-Warnings: Fluffiness, mention of smut

-Word count: 1859

-Note: Hey y'all, I'm finally back with a brand new one shot! This time, it's one with a lot of POV switch, but I made it clear who's POV it now is. Also, a huge pile of lines are from one of my favorite series. Friends - 5x14

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_________________________

Y/N POV:

Keeping a secret relationship from your coworkers and friends is hard. Keeping a secret relationship from profilers was just impossible. But Spencer and I gave it a shot anyway. We thought that we were superheroes. Hidding a relationship from people you work everyday with? Not even to mention the person you fell in love with works there too, and no one expected a thing? Yes, we were superheroes. At least that's what we thought. But that one party at David's changed my mind.

It was Spring, and to celebrate Easter, we all got invited to David's for a nice breakfast. Nice, you'd think? It was until Emily went to Spencer, who just took place at the kitchen island.

'Hello, Mr. Bicep. You're working out?'

'Um, no. Are you okay?'

'If you really want to know... No, I can't tell you this.'

'You can tell me anything, Emily.'

'Actually, you are the one person I can't tell this to. And the person I want to the most.'

'What is going on?'

'I just haven't been with a guy in so long... And sometimes you're looking for something... And it's right there in front of you...

Now you have something to think about. I know, I will.' she ended the conversation, walking back to the girls, leaving a stunned Spencer behind.

_________________________

This all happened without me knowing it. But when we went to his apartment, he began telling:

'(Y/N)?' he called me, as I just took place at the couch.

'Yes, love?'

'Something weird happened today at the party. I think... Emily was flirting with me.'

'What?' I asked, confused, while he took place next to me.

'Yeah, it was weird.'

'You probably misunderstood.'

'No, I'm serious. I know, I'm not that good at social clues, but I really think she was flirting with me.' he said it in such a serious tone, that I had no other choice than believing him.

I thought for a moment, until my thought went to one person in particular. The only person who knows about us. It was not that is was on purpose, she caught us kissing once.

'Oh God, you don't think Penelope told her about us do you?'

'Okay, is it so hard to believe that I am just maybe attractive to other girls?' he teased me with a giggle. I joined him in his laughter, placing my hand on his lap.

'You are very attractive, honey. I just don't think you are Emily her type. You are my type.' I smiled in the kiss that followed, while his hands found their home in my hair.

'Good.'

_________________________

The next day:

It was lunch break at the BAU, and the genius and I decided to casually pick Penelope up for the lunch, as well to ask her about Emily.

We knocked on the door before opening it. There she was, the tech queen. She turned her chair around, facing us.

'Hello, my buttercups. To what do I owe this nicely visit?'

'Hello, Penny. We wanted to ask you to go eat lunch with us.'

'Of cour-'

'But, I have a question first.' I cut her off, leaving her confused.

'Did you told Emily about us?'

'I didn't tell them!' Penelope immediately answered.

'Who's "them"?'

'Emily and... Penelope.' she tried to save her ass, but it was too late.

'Penny...'

'And our whole team. I would have told you, but I promised not to tell.' we looked shocked at her, and yet we weren't that surprised, either.

'I'm sorry. But it's over now, right? You can tell them you know they know, and I can go back to knowing nothing!'

'Unless.' I began, thinking, when Penelope immediately began to protest.

'No, no. No "unless". This must end now.' a smirk was plastered on my lips, as I figured out what to do.

'They think they are so slick messing with us! But they don't know that we know that they know. So...' Spencer began getting my plan, now smirking as well, while finishing my line:

'The messers become the messees!'

'Come on, you guys. Think how much fun it would be to tell.' Penelope tried but had no chance.

'Oh no, they think they can mess with us? Let's see how far Emily would go. We're going to play this game all along. Spence, call her and invite her in your apartment for a steamy night.'

'Wha-what?' he asked, confused. I smiled at his adorableness.

'Not for real, of course. We let her come and convince her that you are in love with her. I'm telling you, she will never expect that phone call from you.' he began now laughing lightly himself, taking his phone out of his pocket. He dialed her number and putted it on speaker.

'Hello, you.' we heard through the other side of the line. I whispered something in his ear.

'Emily, I've been thinking about you all day. You know that thing you said before? I was intrigued.'

'R-really?' the abruptness was noticeable. I giggled softly.

'Yeah, why don't you come over? I'll let you feel my bicep and maybe more.'

'I'll have to get back to you on that.' and the line got on hold. We laughed, while Penelope began to track their phones.

'Oh yeah, they're all together. Oh, she texted me! She wants to know if I told you about them knowing.'

'So, they know our plan now, but how far will they go?' I thought out loud, as we heard Emily her voice again.

'I'd love to come by tonight. Say around 7? I'm really looking forward to you and me having sexual intercourse.' and she hung up.

We all looked a bit shocked, not expecting that she would actually come. But, we were also determined not to lose.

_________________________

That evening:

'Make her think you want to have sex with her and it will freak her out!' I told my boyfriend when we were back in his apartment. It was almost 7 p.m., she could be here any moment.

'How far am I gonna have to go with her?'

'She'll give in way before you do.' I assured him, knowing deeply that Emily felt nothing for Spencer.

'How do you know?'

'Because you're on my team. My team always wins.' I said, sarcastically, while going through his soft hair, placing it just right.

'At this?' he laughed, but I could see the nerves that he was feeling.

'You got this.' at that moment, we heard the sound of the doorbell. I gave him a quick kiss and disappeared in the bathroom.

I heard Spencer opening the door and Emily coming in. Spencer began talking:

'So here we are.'

'Nervous?'

'Me? No. You?'

'I want this to happen.' she said, confident.

'So do l.'

'I'm going to put on some music.' I heard Spencer say.

'Maybe I'll dance for you.' while the music was lightly audible, there was a silent pause. The two not knowing what to say. Spencer was the one who started making conversation again.

'You look good.'

'Thanks.'

'You know, when you say things like that, it makes me... Want to rip that sweater vest right off.' Emily continued, as I heard my boyfriend make a genius comeback.

'Why don't we move into the bedroom?'

'Really?' she said, flabbergasted and nervous, definitely not expecting that.

'Do you not want to?'

'First I want to take off all my clothes... And have you rub lotion on me.'

'That-that would be nice. I'll go get the lotion.' a few seconds later and Spencer opened the bathroom door.

'It's way out of hand. She wants me to put lotion on her!' he exclaimed, getting more nervous.

'She's bluffing! You can do this, my love. Hang in there a little longer, she is gonna crack!'

_________________________

Team POV:

In the meanwhile, Emily opened the door to the hallway, meeting Penelope, JJ and Derek.

'He's not backing down. He went to get lotion.'

'It's Reid. You can take him.' Derek told her, all enjoying the sensation of the game they came up with.

'Oh, I know it! Show him your bra. He's afraid of bras. Can't work them.' Derek opened the bottom buttons of her dress, smoothly, her black bra showing off just enough.

'You didn't rip off any buttons.' Emily said, impressed.

'It's not my first time.' the group of agents laughed, as they heard the bathroom door go open again.

'Go back there and seduce him till he cracks!'

_________________________

Spencer's POV:

I came out of the bathroom, seeing Emily closing the front door.

'You're going?'

'Not without you, lover.'

'So, this is my bra.' she walked closer to me, her bra visibly in sight. It made me even more nervous than I already was.

'It's very nice.' I tried to stay in my roll, my voice cracking a bit.

'Well, come here. I'm very happy we're going to have all the sex.'

We were standing now close together. I prayed in my head that she just gave up. She placed her hand on my thigh, not breaking eye contact.

'I'll kiss you now.'

'Not if I kiss you first.'

'I guess there's nothing left for us to do but kiss.' I hesitated, just hoping (Y/N) would run out of the bathroom and stop this.

'Here it comes. Our first kiss.' we both hesitated, but the drang to win was bigger. Our faces came slowly closer to one another and suddenly our lips were sealed in a really awkward, uncomfortable kiss. I couldn't take it any longer, as I ended the kiss and jumped away from her.

'Okay, okay, okay, okay! You win!' I yelled, while both the bathroom door and the front door swung open, revealing my girlfriend and the others who were all eavesdropping.

'I can't have sex with you!'

'And why not?'

'I'm in love with (Y/N)!'

'You're what?' Emily asked, shocked.

'That's right! I love her, I love her!' I repeated, while pointing at (Y/N) who was standing in shock. I walked towards her, a smile appeared.

'I love you, (Y/N).'

'I love you too, Spencer.' our lips captured in a sweet, yet passionate kiss. Everyone got quiet, smiles on all their faces.

'I thought you were doing it. I didn't know you were in love!' Emily confessed, when we ended the kiss.

'Hats off to Emily. Quite a competitor.' I praised her, as she nodded in reply.

We ended this eventful night with a drink and some appetizers. I may lost the game, but I won the love of my life. And, that is everything I ever wanted.

[the-marvelclub]

While you were sleeping | Bucky Barnes

Part 2.

series masterlist

Summary: Reader is in love with the mysterious man who goes every week to the bar where she works. When one night she witnesses a fight that leaves the man in a coma and he´s taken to the hospital, she is mistaken for his fiancée, unaware that the mysterious man is Steve Rogers himself. With no family and after losing everything in The Blip, reader becomes captivated with Steve's friends and their unconditional love for her that she can't bring herself to tell the truth. Things get complicated when she finds herself falling for Steve's best friend, Bucky.

Exhausted, you walked down the busy street that led to Joe's bar. The previous hours had not turned out as you would've hoped. After the outburst of emotions at the hospital from Steve's friends, you could feel the headache coming on. You weren't even sure why you hadn't been able to tell the truth at that precise moment, heck, you weren't even a good liar. But for the first time in a long time, you were overcome with a feeling you thought you would never feel again, warmth. It was so familiar yet so foreign at the same time. Soon you realized that your presence there meant something more important to them; hope. Hope of finally knowing what had happened to Steve in the last few years, hope to find out who was responsable for his situation or maybe the opportunity of having him back, you couldn't be sure, but they had welcomed you with such kindness and gratitude, that you couldn't bring yourself to tell the truth.

So when they were getting everything ready to take Steve to the avengers compound, you took the opportunity to return home in hopes of getting some sleep, knowing that Steve was in good hands and that he would be better. A sigh of relieve left your body as you opened the door to your apartment, without even caring about changing your clothes, you lay on your bed and fell asleep.

Joe was leaning on the bar as he stared at you in shock trying to process what you just told him.

“Are you crazy?" he finally opened his mouth after what seemed like an eternity. "Steven doesn't even know you exist."

“Is Steve, and thank you for that" you sighed putting your head in your hands, you had hope that the horrible headache was gone by now, clearly you were wrong. And if that wasn't bad enough, you had found out that the men from last night that attack Steve had disappeared on the way to the police station, as if they had vanished into thin air. Part of you feared they would come for you.

"Let me get this straight" he put aside the glass cup he was cleaning and looked at you "you've fooled the mightiest superheroes in the universe into believing that Steve Rogers, who you've never talked to and who you didn’t even know who he really was less than 24 hours ago, is your fiancé."

I cringe.

"Well, it sounds crazier if you put it that way."

"It is crazy either way" he replied "what have you gotten yourself into? What if those men in the alley find out about it too? What if they come after you to get to him? What if Steve wakes up and see a stranger who claims to be his fiancée hanging out with his friends".

The thought had crossed your mind, things seemed to be getting more and more complicated, you knew you had to tell the truth and that is what you planned to do, but somehow the thought of never seeing Steve again was unbearable.

Joe sighed putting his hand on your shoulder as he saw the anguish on your face, "Y/n... h-how much can you really love someone you don't even know?" he stared at you with sorrow, he paused for a moment as if he weren´t sure of his next question. "Are you sure this isn't about Ryan?

You froze. It had been a long time since you'd heard that name, you hadn't even allowed yourself to think about that name and the person it belonged to. He knew that. "It's just, he looked so much like Steve, maybe the only thing you love about Steve is just that."

You swallowed feeling the tears starting to sting your eyes. You didn't want to talk about it. "I'll tell them the truth Joe, I just need a little time to figure out how to do it." you sighed "but first, remember the time you mentioned you knew the address of Steve's apartment?" you said trying to sound as casual as you could.

Joe narrowed his eyes and looked at you curiously.

"Maybe..." he dragged out "what are you getting at?"

"Natasha sent me a text, she invited me to dinner tonight at the compound, but before that she asked if I could pick up some clothes for Steve at his apartment and I said yes." You said quickly, evading the gaze of your boss in front of you.

"Well of course, what kind of fiancée wouldn't know where her future husband lives, right?" He said rolling his eyes.

After begging some more he finally gave you the adress, in fact, Steve's apartment wasn't too far from the bar so you headed to the address Joe gave you. You had to find a way to get in and get his clothes before tonight's dinner.

You sighed staring at the big brown door in front of you, after 4 flights of stairs you found the apartment, you had to find some way to get in without looking like you were trespassing, maybe you could try to explain the situation to the doorman so he would give you an extra key or something. You were about to go back when you heard a deep voice you didn't recognize behind you.

"So are you gonna open the door or stare at it for another 3 minutes."

You let out a squeal turning around with your heart pounding in your chest. Blue eyes met yours, he was leaning on the stair railing, wearing a cap that covered his brown hair, and a black shirt that accentuated his broad shoulders. You had never seen him before but once again he looked vaguely familiar. His intense gaze swept over you from head to toe.

"I'm James... Bucky, Bucky Barnes. Steve's best friend" oh great, more friends "you must be y/n, right? Steve's fiancée" he added in an ambiguous tone. He cocked his head to the side and you flinched, a part of you felt exposed under his scrutinizing gaze. As if he was able to see right behind your cheap facade.

Red covered your cheeks as anxiety took over your body.

"U-um... yeah" you cursed yourself internally for stuttering so much "I-I don't remember meeting you."

"That's because we haven´t" his answer was dry as he started walking towards you "so? are you gonna open that door? I suppose you have an extra key, don't you?

"S-sure..." you mumbled, with shaky hands you put your arm up over the door frame praying that Steve was one of those people who left an extra key there just in case. You were thinking of what excuse to use for the intimidating man waiting behind you when your fingers touched something metallic. Bingo. "This is where we keep it" you smiled showing him the small key, he looked surprised for a moment but was quick to hide it, back to his serious face.

"How did you know where he lives?" you asked cautiously as you opened the apartment door. If he was part of Steve's friends, he wouldn't know of his whereabouts for the last 2 years either.

"I stopped by Joe's bar" he simply replied following you inside the apartment "Natasha told me I could find you there, so I went, Joe gave me the location and told me you would be here picking up some things."

The apartment didn´t looked like much, a small brown couch, a TV, the little kitchen on the right side, and a hallway that led to what you suppose would be the bedroom.

"So how long have you two been together?" you turned quickly, Bucky Barnes was going through the papers scattered on the coffee table in the living room.

"Oh, Steve and I?" you muttered "since September 17th" you said the first thing that came to mind.

Shit.

"Huh" he put down the papers and looked at you with a frown "so four months, that's pretty fast".

More like less than 12 hours, but he didn't have to know that yet "You have no idea".

You slipped away quickly to the bedroom before Bucky could think of any more questions. You knew he would find out soon, you could sense it in the way he looked at you. There were no thank yous, no tears or hugs like with Natasha and Steve's friends. No, with Bucky Barnes there were only doubts and mistrust.

Your eyes roamed the room, the bed was unmade, there were still clothes on the floor, cds of old rock bands and history books lay on the side table. You fixed your eyes on the dresser next to the door and checked the drawers for Steve's clothes.

Placing the clothes in the bag you had with you, you headed for the living room, Bucky was inspecting the place as if he was trying to look for signs that this was, in fact, Steve's apartment. You forced yourself to look into his eyes, unruly strands of dark hair sticking out of his cap as he tilted his head and looked at you. "Can you pour me a glass of water, please?" he said casually but his eyes reflected a deeper motive.

"Um, sure," you ran your hand over your damp forehead as you headed to the kitchen. "I don't remember seeing you at the hospital," you said, making conversation out of him, hoping he wouldn't notice that you didn't know where the damn glasses were.

"I just got back from a mission" he responded but you didn't pay attention to him, you opened the cabinet in front of you, revealing two boxes of cereal and some canned goods, you closed it quickly and opened the next one.

"You don't know where the glasses are kept?" you heard his voice right behind you, you turned around, he was just a few steps away from you, the corner of his lips turned up, as if he thought it was funny. As if he knew the answer to his question. He was testing you.

You forced yourself to smile at him, trying to act casual about it. “Yeah, it's just that Steve sometimes moves them around.”

"Yes, I'm sure".

"Ha! see, here they are" you said triumphantly opening another of the cabinets. A hand behind you closed it before you could take one of the glasses.

"You know what? I'm not thristy anymore," he replied with a low laugh as he took some keys out of the pocket of his blue jeans. "We better get going, I have a feeling it's going to be a very interesting dinner."

[therealdisneyfan2319]

The Spider and The Witch Chapter 1: The Experiment and The Flu

Summary: Peter Parker and Y/N L/N are junior biochem majors at Empire State College.  Peter needs a volunteer for his research project, and a series of events leads Y/N to come down with the flu...or does he?

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Male Reader

Warnings: Language, blood, needles, description of medical procedures

Word Count: 3.6K

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

“I don’t know how I managed to let you talk me into going to the lab with you this early.”  You stretched your arms out as you yawned, keeping your arm just so to keep your coffee upright.

“Dude.  It’s 10 am,” Peter chuckled.

“These good looks don’t just happen, man.  I need a full nine hours.”

“Maybe if you went to bed before 3 am-” “Now wait a minute.  You’re lecturing me about going to bed early when you used to pull all-nighters slinging webs around Queens?”

“Shut up!” He swatted your arm before you had the chance to pull away.  “At least I was doing something productive with my life, not playing Pokemon-” “Completing the Pokedex is extremely productive.  Now it might not be the same kind of productive as extracting the Spidey mutation from your genome sequence, but categorizing all the Pokemon from the Galar region is an important, time-consuming task.”

Peter rolled his eyes as he rolled down the sidewalk next to you.  You chuckled, taking a sip of your coffee as you shook your head.  This sort of banter was typical of your friendship.  Peter was one of your closest friends and easy to joke with, but you also worked well together.  It didn’t hurt that you were both biochem majors and had the same sort of scientific mind.  Since you met in world civ last fall the two of you had been as thick as thieves.  It didn’t matter that he was three years older than you, a grade above you, or that he used to be Spider-Man.  Finding out that the guy in the Stark tech wheelchair who loved Led Zeppelin and Star Wars was once the friendly neighborhood superhero was not what you expected when you went over to his dorm to hang out for the first time.  Peter was used to people freaking out when they found out and was thrilled when you shrugged it off.  

“So what exactly are we doing today?” you asked.  You had volunteered to help him out with a research project he was working on.  He hadn’t told you much about it, only that it was being funded by Tony Stark and dealt with genome sequencing. 

“Nothing too crazy.  I need to take samples of your blood.  I’ll use those as test subjects against my blood.  That’ll be the control sample.”  He punched in a sequence on the keypad on the arm of his chair.  Tank tracks dropped down from the bottom of the seat as the chair began to climb the stairs to the science building.  

“You know how to take blood?” you asked, holding the door open for him as he wheeled into the building.

“Yeah, well…yeah.  I mean Sam taught me how to start an IV and drawing blood is the same principle, right?  You gotta find the vein.”

“Oh my god I’m gonna die,” you mumbled as you turned down the hall toward the lab Peter worked out of.  It was one of the newest labs on campus.  Tony Stark had donated a sizable amount of money toward the Empire State College science and research division with the provision that all the money go toward funding better facilities for students.  The new building had just opened at the beginning of the semester.  Peter was more than excited to have a space stocked with the latest Stark technology to work on his newest endeavor.  It was more convenient than trying to head upstate to the Avengers Compound a few times a week.

“I won’t let you bleed out on me, man.  Worst comes to worst we’ll just throw some webs on it and send you to New York Pres.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better about all of this?  Because it’s totally not.”  You hated needles.  You hated doctors.  The thought of someone who was decidedly NOT a medical professional fishing around your elbow for a vein made your stomach flip flop.  Maybe a large coffee wasn’t the best idea for breakfast…

The bright fluorescent lights in the lab snapped on as you opened the door.  They seemed unnecessary as sunlight flooded the windows that took up the entirety of the easternmost wall.  The overhead haze added to the sterile feel of the room: the latest in Stark Technology, ranging from microscopes and test tubes to autoclaves and fabricators, shone brightly against the lights.  It was nerd heaven, stuffed to the brim with everything anyone could ever need for any experiment they could dream of.  You threw your backpack on a lab table adjacent to where Peter was setting up his laptop.  Once you were done helping him out, you figured you’d swing by the library to start cracking on the paper for your art history course.

“So I already took my own samples earlier this week,” he explained. “I’m storing them in the fridge over there.  Mind grabbing them for me?” He motioned with his head to the mini fridge that sat next to the sink.  You walked over to the fridge, seeing a rack of blood vials sitting on the bottom shelf amongst the Petri dishes of spores and sole can of Coke.  “Don’t drop it,” he cautioned as grabbed a ziploc baggie of medical supplies out of his bag.

“Whoop.”  You fake tripped, stumbling around and swinging the tray to and fro aimlessly.  He shot you a somewhat serious glare.  You returned a toothy grin.  

“Dude if you drop that-”

“Relax, Pete.  I’ve got steady hands.”  You placed the tray on the table in front of him with the grace of a swan.  “See?” You raised your hands up defensively.  “Steady hands.  I should be a goddamn surgeon.”

“Ah yes, Dr. Y/N L/N, the surgeon who hates blood.”  He dumped the contents onto the table.  Out fell some rubber gloves, a rubber tourniquet, needles, tubes, alcohol wipes, and cotton balls.  You gulped at the sight of the paraphernalia.  “So why don’t you just sit there and roll up your sleeve so we can do this.”

“Are you sure you can’t just, like, prick my finger?”  Plopping onto the stool you rolled up the sleeve of flannel.  

“Do you want to sit here and fill up these tubes one drop at a time?” Peter asked from the sink.  The tray of tubes, empty ones and ones full of his blood, sat next to him as he washed his hands.

“Good point,” you muttered.  It felt like you were chewing on the flannel from your shirt.

“Just relax, I did it on myself the other day and I turned out just fine.”  There was a slight waver in your friend’s voice as he spoke.  Try as he might to hide it, Peter was nervous, too.  He snapped on the baby blue gloves.  You turned your head away, refusing to look until he was done.  “Can you just make a fist for-good okay, yup, I see the vein.”  The sudden coolness of the alcohol against your skin made you shiver, but you refused to look.  Even as you felt the slight prick of the needle against your skin you kept your eyes firmly shut.  “Told you I wouldn’t let you bleed out,” he chuckled, replacing the now full vial with an empty one.

“How many vials do you need?”  You strained your neck as you tried to look as far away as you could from the scene unfolding in front of you.

“I don’t know, I did six of my own.  That should be enough,” Peter shrugged.  

Six vials of blood?  Why did you even decide to do this in the first place?  You could’ve been back in your dorm in the comfort of your bed, sleeping the morning away, instead of having your blood forcibly removed from your body.  Peter definitely owed you big time.  

He removed the tube from your arm, handing you a cotton ball to stop the bleeding.  “That should be it.  Mind putting those back in the fridge for me?”  

The second your feet hit the floor your knees wobbled.  It was probably psychosomatic, but the sight of all your blood sitting inches outside where it should be made you the slightest bit queasy.  “Yeah, no problem.”  You shook your head quickly.  There was no way you were going to let yourself puke or, even worse, drop the vials and have to do it all over again.  

It took all your effort not to look down at the plastic tray in your hands.  You concentrated all your effort on staring down the refrigerator.  That ultimately meant neglecting your untied shoelace.  Before you realized what was happening you found yourself tripping over your feet.  While you managed to not lose your balance completely, the sudden jolt sent two of the vials crashing to the floor.

“Shit,” you mumbled as you set the tray on the floor.  There were shards of glass and blood splattered across the marble tile.  You quickly glanced over your shoulder, hoping Peter hadn’t seen your mistake.  Much to your relief he was engrossed in his notebook.  That bought you some time to quickly clean up the mess.  You looked around for a roll of paper towels, spotting the roll next to the sink and tearing off a few sheets.  The crimson puddles looked like they’d be easy enough to clean up.  Not thinking too much about it, you knelt down and started blotting at the spill.  A sudden stab caused you to recoil from the ground in pain.  As you examined your hand, you noticed a small scratch on the pad of your thumb.  

“You good?” Peter’s voice broke you away from staring at your hand.

“Yeah.  Dropped one of the vials and cut myself.  I’m good.”

“Was it one of mine or yours?”

“Uhh, mine.”  Truth be told you had no idea if it was yours or his.  There was no way to know which vial was which.  Peter knew.  He probably had it marked down in his laptop or something.  But you remembered that his vials were facing you when you pulled them out of the fridge.  That meant yours were away from you and there was an empty spot there.  Yeah, it’s mine.  “You need me for anything else?”

“Nah, you’re good,” Peter focused intensely on his laptop, typing away as you finished cleaning up your mess and putting the samples away.  “Are we still on for dinner tonight?  Ned’s dying to try out that new Thai place on Watts Street.”

“Yeah, shoot me a text.  I’m headed to the library for a bit.”  You slung your backpack over your shoulder as you headed for the door.  “See you.”

“Thanks again, Y/N.”

******

You spent the rest of the day in the library researching and typing and revising your paper.  The minutes ticked by as you lost yourself in the endless barrage of Western paintings you thought looked all too similar.  Yet as the day passed you found yourself feeling strange.  At first you thought you had been studying too long.  The words on your laptop screen seemed fuzzy and you found yourself re-reading the same paragraph on Donatello about a dozen times before anything seemed to click.  Then the library seemed to drop ten degrees before abruptly shooting up another twenty.  Sweat on the back of your neck ran down your shirt and chilled you as fast as it cooled you off.  The lights were suddenly too bright and even the silence was too loud.  

Shit, you thought to yourself as your felt heat radiating off your forehead.  It was probably the flu.  It had been making the rounds through campus for the better part of a month, so you weren’t completely surprised.  Closing your laptop and shoving your books in your bag, you texted Peter as you left the library:

Got the flu.  You and Ned go without me.  I’m gonna go to bed.

The walk back to your apartment wasn’t long, but it was a near-impossible task in your ever-worsening condition.  Every step felt like you were trudging through molasses.  Your legs were as heavy as cement and you prayed you wouldn’t trip because you weren’t sure you’d be able to get up again.  Tears clouded your vision.  Rubbing your eyes didn’t help.  The only thing on your mind was downing half a bottle of Nyquil and passing out as soon as you got back to your room.  

Much to your relief you walked into an empty apartment.  Peter and Ned must’ve already left for dinner.  You kicked your shoes off and dropped your bag at the front door.  There was no doubt in your mind that this was the flu: you felt like absolute garbage as you shuffled to your bedroom.  As you flopped on the bed, clothes and all, your body felt like it was made of lead.  Bone-crushing fatigue consumed you as you shivered on top of your bedspread.  You prayed that you’d be able to get a little bit of sleep to help dull the pain.

When you woke the following morning, you were surprised to find that you didn’t feel sick at all.  In fact, you felt better than you had in a long time.  There wasn’t any evidence that you felt so poorly only a few hours ago.  You swung your legs around to the side of the bed and stared at the floor as you thought about what you were going to do all day, but when you tried to stand up something was off.  As you stretched your arms above your head, you felt something engulf you: it was your blanket.  It was stuck to your hands.  

Did I spill Nyquil on my hands? you wondered as you tugged at the fuzzy fabric.  No, I didn’t take any Nyquil last night.

It took a considerable amount of effort to tear just one of your hands away only for it to stick on the wall as you balanced against it for support.  Paint flaked away as you ripped your hand away.  At that point you weren’t sure if you were still asleep or not.  Squeezing your eyes shut, you reopened them to find flakes of drywall still attached to your fingers.  What the hell?  You shook your hands, trying to free yourself of the debris, but as you flicked your wrist downward, you heard a loud thwack.  The sticky white residue covered Marty McFly’s face on the Back to the Future poster that hung next to your bed.  That same white residue balled up on the inside of your wrist.  When you tried to pull it off, a long spindly web came with it.

Oh fuck.

The implications of what just happened were huge to say the least.  The vial you broke yesterday wasn’t yours: it was Peter’s.  His blood contaminated yours when you cut yourself and now you had…spidey powers?  It couldn’t be.  This all had to be some sort of nightmare.  You were just a normal guy trying to make it through college relatively unscathed.  Sure, your roommate was an Avenger and that was a little weird, but other than that your experience was pretty normal.  You had no interest in having superpowers or saving the world whatsoever.  

“Everything okay in there, man?” Peter asked as he rapped on your door.  It momentarily snapped you out of your panic.

“Uhh yeah, yeah.  I’m good,” you hollered through the door, still looking at the web in your hand.  

“You sure?”

“Yeah.  I’m okay.  Just, uhh, knocked my blankets off the bed.”  You wiped the web up with a tissue, praying that it wouldn’t stick to your hand, too.  It didn’t, much to your relief.  

“How are you feeling?” he called as you started taking off your clothes from the day before.  A long shower would help you figure out what your next move was.  

“Good.  Great actually.  I feel fine,” you responded, throwing your dirty t-shirt on the ground.  “How was dinner?” “It totally sucked, man.  You didn’t miss much,” Ned’s voice was faint as he yelled from the kitchen.  

“Bummer.  I told you that you should’ve done Indian instead.”

“Well hey if you’re feeling better why don’t we go for lunch?” Your stomach grumbled at the thought, but images of getting stuck to the subway pole loomed in your mind.  “Yeah, sure,” you responded absentmindedly while kicking your pants off and grabbing a clean pair of sweats off your bed.  

Wearing nothing but your boxers, you opened the door fully intending to go straight to the bathroom.  The second Peter and Ned saw you their jaws dropped.

“Dude!” Peter exclaimed. 

“Wha-?”  

“Woah!  Y/N, when did you get ripped?” Ned asked.  You were thoroughly confused.  None of your hobbies included going to the gym or working out.  What were they talking about?  The lights came on in the bathroom and as your eyes adjusted to the brightness you were shocked.  It was like someone took a  chisel to your body overnight.  There were muscles in places you didn't know there could be muscles.  The reflection in the mirror showed you defined pecs, swollen biceps, and the faintest outline of a six pack.

“What the hell?” you mumbled in disbelief.  Your fingers traced over your chest, taking in the new body you’d inadvertently fallen into.  It was a surreal experience seeing an unfamiliar body in the mirror.  It was almost like you were watching someone else live your life while you watched from outside yourself.

“Are you sure you’re alright, Y/N?” Peter asked as he wheeled himself in front of the bathroom door.

“Yeah.  I’ve just got spidey powers now.”  It didn’t even feel like you were the one saying those words.  Haze clouded your periphery, forcing you to focus on the newness of your body.  It was an out-of-body experience in every way.  There was no way to really process the profundity of the situation.  

“You WHAT?”

Time stopped.  Everything stopped.  Peter’s face contorted with dozens of emotions in the blink of an eye.  Glass shattered on the kitchen floor as Ned’s glass slipped out of his hand.  

“Umm, yeah I guess.  I’m starting to think that was your blood that I cleaned up yesterday.”  You half expected Peter to be furious at the truth, but the beaming grin on his face told you otherwise.

“It worked!  Holy shit it WORKED!”  He spun his chair around excitedly, whooping all the while.  “Mr. Stark, oh man, he’s gonna be so excited!  He’ll want to meet you.  Man, now he doesn’t even need to look for someone to be the next Spider-Man because…oh this is great, I can teach you everything!  That way you’ll be WAY ahead of where he thinks you should be and he’ll let you onto the team fas-”

“The next Spider-Man?”

“I mean yeah, Mr. Stark will definitely want to talk to you about it,” Peter replied.

“Dude, I’d kill to be Spider-Man!” Ned added, sweeping up what remained of his glass.

“No way, absolutely not,” you groused as you stormed out of the bathroom.  “No offense, Pete, but I don’t want to be an Avenger.”

“You don’t have to make a decision now.  I don’t even know if he’ll ask.  I mean he probably will but that doesn’t mean anything.  He might just want you to come in to do, like, more testing or something.”  Peter gingerly walked back his excitement.  The prospect of training the next Spider-Man brought a sense of optimism back into his life that had long been forgotten.  Losing his identity as the local neighborhood web slinger stripped away a core part of his identity: Peter Parker and Spider-Man were one in the same.  Sure, he still used his powers and webs when he could, but it wasn’t the same.  Tony had offered to make him an exosuit after the accident, but he knew that he couldn’t do it anymore.  One close brush with death was more than enough for him.

“Look,” you sighed, “I’m not you.  I don’t want to go out and swing through Manhattan and stop burglars or fight weird lizard things.  I just want to be a normal guy doing normal guy things with my normal guy friends if I can even call the two of you normal.”  Peter chuckled half-heartedly.

“Wait, can you stick to the ceiling?” Ned suddenly asked.  You sighed again, shaking your head as you extended your arm up and jumped: you stuck.  “Woah!  That’s sweet!”

“Yeah, it is kinda cool I guess,” you chuckled as you watched your fingertips completely suspend your dead weight from the ceiling.  Getting used to your new body was a curious sensation.  Everything felt sharper.  Colors were brighter and bolder.  You saw incredibly small movements even from the corners of your eye.  Your body felt stronger and faster and more agile.  It was strange, spending your entire life as a regular human being and then waking up one day twenty years later with these weird spidery feelings tingling inside you.  

“Do you want one of my web shooters?” Peter asked as you dropped down.

“Web shooters?”

“Yeah,” Peter replied questioningly as he raised an eyebrow.  “You don’t think I can actually make webs, do you?”

You responded by mimicking the hand gesture Peter frequently showed you, flicking your wrist downward as a raveled strand of webs flew out of your wrist.  Peter ducked his head out of the way in the knick of time while Ned’s jaw dropped in amazement.  

“Didn’t see that coming, did you?”

[jamie-leah]

Lifeline Pt 4

Bucky x Reader

Series

Summary: You have a past that you're running from and maybe Bucky can be the lifeline you had no idea you were searching for.

Word Count: 1,570

Warnings: Descriptions of domestic Violence, Self doubt, Angst

A/N: I wasn't expecting this scene to turn out so angsty but the characters run the show, I just type letters. Enjoy!

<-Previous Part Next Part ->

Masterlist of Masterlists

You look up the length of the Tower building, the cold air stealing your breath. You’re not sure if this is a good idea anymore. You agreed to the meal in the book shop because Bucky was so cute asking and the smile afterwards was worth it. And you also wanted to see the family he has now.  

But actually standing outside the Tower? Moments away from meeting the people that Bucky live with, that he considers friends and family? Coupled with the fact that you and Bucky clearly have something special? It’s enough to make you want to run away.  

Bucky gives your hand a squeeze, pulling you gently into the building. He nods to the receptionist but doesn’t break his stride to the elevators. Pushing a button, Bucky glances to you with a warm smile, “you have nothing to worry about.”  

You laugh, “is it that obvious?” 

Bucky shrugs, “I mean, I would be nervous meeting a bunch of superheroes who are just as likely to hug you as they are to run background checks on you and grill you over dinner.”  

“Wait, they’ve run a background check on me?” 

Bucky squeezes your hand again, “I don’t know, I wouldn’t put it past some of them, like Nat and Tony but it’s fine.”  

“Have you ever...?” 

Even though you trailed off, Bucky understands what you’re asking, “no, I haven’t looked you up or asked anyone to. I figured I would get to know you the old-fashioned way.”  

His comments make you smile, but your anxiety quickly steals that away from you, “it’s not the fact that they’re superheroes.”  

Bucky frowns, “no? Then why are you so nervous?”  

You roll your eyes playfully, “Mr. Clueless.” 

You both chuckle as you continue, “because, they’re your friends, family. People that you’ve gone to hell and back with. They’re probably the most important people in your life.”  

The elevator dings when Bucky says, “you’re important to me too.”  

Bucky pulls you through the doors as a smile spreads across your face. You repeat his words in your mind as you get closer and closer to the voices down the hall. It helps to ease the racing in your chest.  

“Steve, have you ever seen Bucky like this with anyone?”, you hear a female voice ask.  

A man chuckles, “not like this, no.”  

“If she had any sense she would run in the other direction.”  

“Sam!”  

“I was kidding mostly. He’s so grumpy all the time, I don’t know how she has any fun around him.”  

“Maybe she’s just as grumpy.”  

“Natasha!”  

“Kidding!” 

“Can we please just have a nice dinner with no bickering or arguing? Just this one time?”  

Bucky steps into the room, your footsteps slightly behind, “I don’t think Sam or Nat can keep their big mouths shut long enough.”  

All heads swivel to Bucky and you. Fighting the urge to fidget, you lift your gaze to meet theirs. Steve is the first to jump into action. He sticks his hand out to you, and you take it with a gentle shake, “it’s nice to finally meet you. Bucky has talked a lot about you.”  

A small smile fights to the surface, “he has? Sounds like Bucky is the one with the big mouth.”  

The silence only lasts a moment. A booming laugh falls from Bucky’s lips, head tipped back, eyes closed. The rest look shocked before joining Bucky in various rounds of laughter.  

“Okay, definitely not grumpy.” Sam concludes.  

Natasha smirks, “keep this one, Barnes. I like her.”  

Bucky looks down to you, murmuring, “I plan to.”  

And just like that you fit right into the dynamic like a glove. Steve loads the table up with different Chinese dishes. Sam puts the plates out, while Natasha sets up the cutlery. Bucky shows you to your seat and takes the one on your left, explaining why the others can’t make it tonight.  

Once everyone takes their seats, the table descends into chaos as they all scramble to fill their plates with all their favourites. They fight over the portions and sharing the rice. They laugh when Sam spills sauce down his top, or when Steve eats something spicy. They chat about their days and things that need doing in their world all while joking and bickering.  

And you watch it all with affection but slight envy. They include you, of course. They get your opinions on things they can’t agree on or ask questions to get to know you. You love every second of it and you envy how you missed out on this growing up. The easy nature of loving people. And being loved by them in return. Trusting them enough to know you and not destroy you.  

When the food is mostly gone and the talking dies down, Natasha studies you holding a glass of wine to her chest. She asks, “so, how long are you planning on sticking around?” 

Lips parted in surprise; you don’t answer right away.  

Steve says her name in a warning tone and if looks could kill Bucky would have killed Natasha on the spot.  

Through all this she continues to stare at you, waiting.  

You clear your throat, “how much do you know?”  

“Enough.”  

Bucky leans forward, “Natasha, don’t.”  

She levels her gaze on him, “how much do you know, Barnes? Do you know she’s married? Still? Do you know how she’s bounced around the country, not staying anywhere longer than two months?”  

You notice the surprise on Sam and Steve’s face. Good to know they didn’t all go snooping.  

Bucky shoots up from his chair, glaring at Natasha. Natasha puts her wine down and stands slowly. They look about ready to rip into each other.  

“Do you know why?”, you ask.  

“I saw the hospital records.”  

In the corner of your eye, you can see Sam and Steve making the obvious connections. But you continue to look at Natasha, “so you understand?”  

She sighs, “to a point. Look, I like you, I do. And it’s nice to see Bucky happy for a change. But if you take off, then it’s us that have to put the pieces back together.”  

You get it. You really do. But you feel a fire spread out from your chest and into your limbs. Anger, like you’ve never felt before comes crashing to the surface like a stormy sea. Anger that no one is considering what any of this means for you. Anger that Bucky has all these people looking out for him and you have no one. You were a good wife. You were a good person and yet you’ve ended up with no one. And this only proves that point.  

You shake your head, “none of you get it. If I stay after he finds me then I’m dead. None of you know him like I do. You can look up his history and see where he was born, who his parents are, his friends. See his military background and all the connections he’s made since. But you don’t know what his hatred looks like. You don’t know what his fist feels like when it connects with your jaw. You don’t know just how cold the floor is when you’ve been curled there for hours after he’s kicked you over and over, telling you to be better, to do better...If I stay, you’re asking me to give up.”  

You stand from the table and make your way to the exit. Bucky tries to reach you as you pass him, but you dodge his grip. Pausing before leaving the room, you add, “and he always finds me.”  

You don’t look back as you make your way to the elevator. You wonder why the world looks so blurry and unsteady when you feel the familiar trail of wetness roll down your cheek. You’re not cut out for this. For family life. Not anymore. It’s too hard, too terrifying. You’re not strong like them, you can’t stand and fight and no one can save you. They’ll only get hurt, either by Andrew or you when you leave.  

Bucky calls your name, running down the hall to catch up to you before you get on the elevator. He spins you to face him, “she shouldn’t have said that-” 

You hold your hand up, the fight leaving your body all at once, “I respect her for wanting to protect her family. Maybe I would do the same in her position, especially when it comes to you. I just need some space.”  

You step on the elevator and press the button for the ground floor. Bucky holds the doors open, “I’ll give you the space. I’d give you anything you want if you asked. I’m heading out on a mission early morning, we just had the call, but...I get it. I really get it. How hard it is to let people in when all you’ve had is yourself. But you’re not alone anymore. At least, you don’t have to be.” 

He steps back, “don’t let him take anymore from you.”  

The elevator doors close. The image of Bucky looking sad and lost burned in your brain is one you can’t help comparing to the last time you looked at him when the elevator doors closed at your building. And you can’t help wondering if he would be better off without you. Either way, you know it’ll haunt your dreams tonight.  

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