#i think they do let scott play sometimes but mostly he gets to watch them like a lets play | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ofangelsanddevils · 1 year

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Illusion ch 4 Waiting for the school bell

Liana’s last class had started and she wanted to skip to the end, mostly because she wanted to see Scott again, but also because it was Ms. Howells’s art class. Ms. Howell hated Liana. She was the sole teacher in the whole school who didn’t get along with her dad, Mr. Everett, so she had it in for Liana.

The room was drenched in the smells of paint and contained a grocery list of art supplies scattered haphazardly on shelves and in cubby holes along the walls. Normally, Liana relished the unique art room perfume, but sometimes it made her panicky.

Liana had complained to her dad about Ms. Howell once before, but it had only unleashed Howell’s wrath upon her. Liana had learned to shut her mouth and serve her time. Upon taking her seat, Liana glanced at the walls that boasted prints by Monet, Degas and Van Gogh along with many other ubiquitous prints of famous artists and wished she could step into one of them for an hour in order to avoid Ms. Howell.

Class started and Ms. Howell stood up from behind her desk with all of the ceremony that her short and slightly rotund figure could muster. Ms. Howell had short dark hair which faded to gray at the temples that she wore curled close to her face. She sported white orthopedic shoes and large floral dresses cinched tightly at the waist with snake thin leather belts. Her old fashioned horn-rim glasses perched precariously on her hawk-like nose, and despite her nearsighted watery blue eyes, she was gifted at spotting even the smallest infraction.

Liana was aware that Ms. Howell glared in her direction once she’d taken roll, but to her surprise, Ms. Howell didn’t commence with her usual gas lighting.

She silenced the class and then assigned a drawing project to everyone, then retreated to her desk to work on her gradebook. Even though Liana was taken aback by the sudden change in behavior, she welcomed the break in routine. Class flew by with no vengeful behavior from Ms. Howell.

It was only as class was ending that Ms. Howell called Liana over to her desk. She spoke in a low tone so that only Liana could hear what she was saying, though with the noise of the other students exiting the room, it was unlikely that anyone would overhear Ms. Howell;

“Listen Liana, I know that you and I have had our differences in the past, but I wanted to let you know that it’s important that you report any odd behavior about Scott Langer to me.” Ms. Howell demanded bluntly. Her blurry eyes searched Liana's face for signs of understanding.

“I have no idea what you're talking about. Who's Scott Langer?” Liana tried playing dumb.

“You're friends with Scott, never mind how I know this and I need to be informed as soon as possible should anything go awry.” She stated with a knowing nod.

“Why, what’d he do?” Liana questioned, forgetting that she’d just informed Ms. Howell that she didn’t know Scott. Liana was intrigued, so despite her aversion to speaking up close with Ms. Howell she leaned in and caught the whiff of lavender and cold cream, the scent tickled her nose as the arid mixture forced her to breathe shallowly through her mouth.

Ms. Howell shook her head; “I’m not at liberty to say as the principal has sworn all of the teachers to secrecy about what happened at his last school, however I didn’t want to be completely silent on the subject. For now, you seem to be one of the few that has gotten to know him. I merely wanted to warn you to be on the lookout for any strange behavior. I need to know what’s going on with him. Do you think you could do that for me?”

Ms. Howell's bizarre request raised so many more questions in Liana's already confused brain. How did Ms. Howell know that she was friends with Scott? What terrible thing had he done at his previous school that Ms. Howell felt it necessary to warn her, even when Liana knew that her teacher didn’t exactly care for her? Liana had no clue how to respond. She watched her own reflection in Ms. Howell's glasses and wondered how she was going to get out of this predicament. Liana knew all too well how stubborn and unyielding Ms. Howell could be. However, she didn’t feel right turning informant either.

“Let me get this straight, you want me to spy on Scott?” Liana sputtered, to clarify the awkward situation.

“No! Not at all, I merely want to be informed if anything out of the ordinary happens. That’s all.” Ms. Howell protested, her lips smacking as she spoke with barely masked irritation.

Seeing no way out, Liana lied; “I guess I’ll do my part. If I see anything unusual I’ll report it at once.” She avowed hoping that Scott would never do something stupid or dangerous that would justify Ms. Howell's distrust of him.

“Thank you, Liana. I knew I could count on you.” Ms. Howell thanked her as she shook Liana’s hand with her long, claw-like fingers as her way to seal the deal and end the conversation. Liana had thought to escape the unbearable proximity of Ms. Howell, but she followed up the close of their intimate conversation by asking Liana to run a stack of books back to the library.

Liana shrugged, and accepted the chore, happy for any way out of Ms. Howell's presence. So Liana found herself carrying a huge stack of heavy books through the semi-empty hallways of the school. Her mind weighed the task that Ms. Howell had given her in reference to Scott; “What had he done that made him so dangerous? It must’ve been bad enough that one of her sworn enemies, Ms. Howell had told her to keep an eye on him.

Liana felt panic rising in her throat. Perhaps she’d been duped by Scott. He’d seemed nice enough, and she’d poured her heart out to him. Now it could all be wasted effort, especially if he were as much trouble as her art teacher was insinuating. Liana's mind swirled with questions. The vacant halls brought back the sharp and painful void of her missing sister and pressed in on her so forcefully that she resorted to her music as an escape again. She walked towards the library under the double load of books and remorse.

She was nearly to the library when she saw Scott. He was thronged by girls. The group was walking towards her from the opposite direction, and as they passed her, one of the girls bumped her arm on purpose, sending the books tumbling and sounding hollow thuds of thunderous proportions when they hit the ground.

“Watch what you’re doing Everett!” The girl laughed haughtily.

Liana bent down to recover the scattered tomes, and as she did, she saw Scott glance at her for a moment. His look was one of pity and possibly mockery, but he was pulled away by several pawing arms so quickly that Liana couldn’t be absolutely certain of his reaction. Although she shouldn’t care since he might in reality be some sort of a monster, at least according to Ms. Howell's hints, yet she was still bothered by how he’d just ignored her. Traitorous tears tried to launch a full scale attack, but she repelled them, barely.

Liana was irate that so many girls had converged on him like vultures. Didn’t they know that he might be dangerous? She glanced back down the hall, and saw the whirlpool of girls circling Scott like sharks when there's blood in the water. She grunted angrily as she struggled under the heavy load of books that she’d finally managed to pick up.

Even from far away, she could tell that he found those girls as inconsequential and bothersome. “Thank God!” she thought. “At least there’s some justice in the world.” It still irked her that he hadn’t greeted her, or offered his assistance. She felt like an idiot for opening up to someone that she hardly even knew. An emotional storm was threatening to break over her as she finally hobbled up to the library. There was a metal book drop door in the wall next to the larger faded wooden entrance to the library. She shoved the books through its’ gaping hungry mouth as fast as it would choke them down.

After she dropped off the books, she hurried to get out of there before she completely disintegrated. The flood waters were rising rapidly at the edges of her eyes. She sped to her dad’s classroom.

Quinn would be there, and she still needed to exact a vow of silence from him. As she opened the door, she pulled her earphones out of her ears, successfully extinguishing her shield of musical protection. Quinn was seated at her dad's desk and mercifully her dad was nowhere in sight.

Quinn's dark hair had fallen into his eyes as he was hunched over the desk grading papers, and the simple image of him in that position made him appear fragile and ghostly in the late afternoon light that was shining into the dim room. If she didn’t know better, Liana would’ve been tempted to imagine him as a suffering writer.

Either an Edgar Allen Poe, or J.D. Salinger squirreled away behind his desk writing poetry or the next great tragic story, and she was in turn the lover who was about to jilt him, and would therefore send him spiraling further into the bleak world of his artistic musings. But the spell was broken when he glanced up and spoke, bringing them back to the 21st century; “Hey, Liana, your dad will be back in a minute. He stepped out to talk to another teacher.” Quinn smiled up at her from behind the cluttered desk. Liana smiled despite herself, he was absolutely adorable sometimes. Yet, her immediate physical attraction to him wouldn’t help her with what she needed to say, so she shoved the attraction out of her head.

“Thanks Quinn!” She forced a smile, trying not to let him see her hurt from the brief encounter with Scott and the others. But she must’ve seemed off because Quinn noticed, stood up and moved closer to give her a supportive hug.

Suddenly, Liana wasn’t certain about telling Quinn that the kiss had been a mistake. She still had lingering feelings for Quinn. Maybe she’d be better off with Quinn after all, instead of the unknown equation of Scott, and the potential danger he could pose.

Quinn would jump at the chance to date her. Liana was irresolute, and lost in the ebb and flow, the back and forth, trying to decide which boy she wanted. Quinn tried to kiss her on the cheek while he embraced her, but she pulled away, still unsure as to what she truly desired. She prayed that he wouldn’t notice but he was perceptive, and tuned into her troubles;

“Hard day?” He accused, ice in his voice.

“No, not exactly.” Liana evaded his question by feigning interest in the European timeline of wars hanging on the wall behind her dad's desk. Quinn eyed her suspiciously;

“It’s Scott, isn’t it? Was he unkind to you, even after I told him to leave you alone?” His tone was superior and condescending.

“You told him to leave me alone?” Liana bit back her irritation so hard that it made her sick. She couldn’t tolerate interference. Scott might be a jerk or something even worse, but since when did Quinn think it was okay to fight her battles for her?

“I can take care of myself, Quinn. Why’d you do that?” Her voice was severe, much more than she'd intended, but she would not withdraw her statement.

“I figured you didn’t need someone like that for a friend, especially since I’ve been hearing rumors circulating about him all day. Was I wrong?” Quinn dropped his gaze down to his fist that he'd started to clench and unclench in frustration, the veins on the back of his hand popping out a bit.

“Actually, no, but I don’t need a rescue, Quinn.” Liana intoned, anger manifesting itself now.

“Okay, well I’m sorry! I was looking out for you. I care about you, Liana.” Quinn confessed, while he gazed deeply into her eyes. She lowered her gaze, biting her lower lip, and cursing her impulsivity of the morning yet again.

Quinn, thankfully, decided it was best to change the subject to something much less volatile;

“You're checking in to tell your dad you’re going straight home as usual, right?” He proffered in a matter of fact way.

“Yes.” She lied about the true reason that she was there. Liana wished herself brave enough to tell Quinn that nothing would ever happen between them, but it didn’t work; she was still a chicken, afraid to reveal to him what she actually wanted. She wanted to reveal all the truth to him; that she had a crush on Scott but she didn’t want to appear childish, and the truth was she didn’t want to hurt Quinn any more. She remained mute though her mind begged her to unburden herself to Quinn.

“Your dad asked me to stay after and help him grade some papers, but I can come over and keep you company later, if you like?” Quinn raised his dark eyebrows hopefully.

“No. Thanks, but no thanks.” She grimaced which caused Quinn's behavior to morph from love-sickness into anger;

“You want to hang out with Scott. I’ve heard from all my friends how you and he have been all over each other today.” He spoke jealousy tattooed on his face.

“Was I hanging onto Scott all day? Well, I guess that makes me an idiot!“ Liana thought before she fired comments back at Quinn; “I don’t like what you're implying about me. I was going to spend time with Scott and show him around town, but that’s not going to happen now, so you can stop worrying even though it’s none of your business.” Liana replied with heat visibly rising as she choked her words out past the anger in her throat. Quinn didn’t seem too thrilled with her response, and would’ve challenged her on her statement if her dad hadn’t chosen that exact moment to make his reappearance.

As usual he hadn’t listened to Liana, and misunderstood what she’d just finished saying; “Going to show Scott the sights? Sounds like a great idea, Liana! The poor kid’s been through a lot and could use a friend. He asked me before class this morning if I knew someone who could show him around and I volunteered you.” Her dad added in his absent-minded way.

“Dad, I don’t think that would be such a grand idea. I’ve heard that he’s a troublemaker. Didn’t the principal tell you to keep an eye on him?” Liana offered hoping that her dad would reveal some minute secret about Scott.

“Yes, he did. I’m not sure how you knew about that, but I guess people will gossip. I know the whole story however, and it’s no big deal because what happened at that school was in no way his fault. I’m inclined to give him a chance for a fresh start, as well you should too. I don’t want you prying into this.” Her dad’s voice was firm, “I expect you to give him a fair chance, which is probably more than most of the other students or faculty will give him.” His clipped tone was one that she knew well.

“Why don’t you at least let me make my own decisions about him? I don’t want to show him around.” Liana complained, she was upset that her dad would interfere in her life when he didn’t deserve to butt in like that. He’d been absent from her life for far too long. “I’m going straight home. I want nothing to do with Scott.” She confessed in anger, before she realized that her statement would only serve to invite more questions.

“Why not? He seems like a perfectly decent boy. He appears to be someone who you could be friends with, not to mention how polite he acts to everyone.” Her dad responded, still unclear as to why she was fighting him on this. The smile on his face belied his lack of understanding, and she would’ve taken pity on his out of touch behavior if it weren’t for the fact that he was so constantly out of touch. His eyes crinkled as a side effect of the silly grin on his face.

Liana fought in vain to contain her mounting irritation, but somehow his simple sincerity caused her to snap and she yelled;

“NO! I’m not going to show him around, end of story! I’m so sick of people trying to run my life. It’ll be a cold day in hell before I talk to Scott again!” She waved her hands in the air as a sign of her protest.

“What happened? What did he do to you Liana?” Quinn and her dad both asked simultaneously. Quinn's inquiry was full of anger, while her dad's was simply curious.

“Nothing, it doesn’t matter. It’s over and done with.” She sighed, brushing her hair out of her face, as it had fallen in her eyes due to her emotional outburst. Her dad was contemplating her in an alarmed manner.

“Are you okay, Liana?” The furrows on his brow increasing in depth and maybe she was imagining it but some of his black hair turned traitor and joined the white side. She sighed and worked to calm herself;

“Yeah, I’ll be alright. I’m ready for the weekend. It’s been a long week and I’m utterly exhausted, that’s all. I’ll see you later, Dad.” Liana hated lying to him about this but she didn’t need him to morph into a domineering father. She needed to keep the distance between herself and her dad right now. Honestly, she didn’t know why she was making such a big deal over Scott. After all, he’d only pretended to listen to her sob story, and then hadn’t said hello to her in the hallway after school. This was a harmless thing, unless you counted the damage to her ego and her easily destroyed rediscovered ability to trust in others again. She wanted off this emotional roller coaster that Scott had put her on.

As a parting gesture of peace, Liana reached over and gave her dad a quick peck on the cheek so that she could retreat and hopefully avoid a third degree session with him later on. She turned to say goodbye to Quinn. She’d have to extract a promise of secrecy from him later. No way was she going to say anything about it in front of her dad. Quinn had re-immersed himself in the world of test correcting, and pretended to be unaware of her attempt to say goodbye.

“Oh well,” she thought, “perhaps Quinn has already figured it out. Maybe, I won’t have to say another word about the mistake we made. The kiss can’t have done so much damage, after all. What’s a kiss between good friends? A brief moment and nothing more, he’s still the same Quinn and he'll always be a good friend.”

She channeled her mind away from any trauma or hurt that she may have caused Quinn. Inevitably the course her mind chose was already set. Imagine that, her thoughts had sought out Scott, she wondered how she could’ve seen herself falling for Quinn. She was so busy contemplating her crazy choices and the resulting consequences that she hardly registered that Quinn had lifted his head and, with a cold, hard look in his eyes, had watched her leave.

Liana walked slowly downstairs toward the front exit. The empty halls resonated with the memories of her dear departed sister. She paced slowly, allowing the flood of memories to wash over her. She shouldn’t feel sorry for herself, but she couldn’t help it and allowed herself a martyred status for a few minutes. She neared the entrance and as school had been out for a while, she was surprised when she saw someone loitering in the common area.

The late afternoon sun was reflecting in and had created a backlight on the person who was lingering in the commons. She squinted trying to discern the silhouette. Success! Her heart automatically chose a rapid deranged beat when she became cognizant that it was Scott. He was alone, and he moved to lean against one of the trophy cases. He hadn’t noticed her yet and she contemplated sneaking past him and out the front door but before she could make her getaway he called her name.

"Liana!"

She froze for a guilty moment but then decided to give him a piece of her mind before she headed home. She stormed over to the case he was leaning on and glared up into his eyes. It was simple misfortune that she was violently reminded of May the moment before she spoke, for she could see May's smiling face gazing out at her from behind the glass in one of the photos that was just to the left of Scott's face.

He smiled graciously unaware of the impending scolding she’d planned, and greeted her with a pleasant hello. She swallowed down the lump of tears and angry bile in her throat. May's image sent her spiraling down a path of depression and she didn’t feel half as confident as she had only moments before. Yet, she decided to bluster forward;

“I think you should stop pretending to be such a nice guy. I had a teacher who hates me ask me to spy on you. I also noticed that you saw me with all of those books and you didn’t bother to help me, especially after one of your fans knocked them out of my arms. I guess I don’t merit a little of your consideration. But since we’re not friends I guess it doesn’t matter in the long run. Where did your ‘real’ friends go anyway?” Liana finished speaking, and felt her nose lift slightly in disdain. She could almost feel May's eyes on her, supporting her and buoying her up.

“I assume you're referring to those girls? Well, I told them that I wasn’t interested in dating anyone and they left.” He admitted, barely acknowledging her taunts.

“And that worked?” She questioned, surprised despite herself.

“Well that, and the fact that I told them that I don’t like girls, at least not in a romantic way.” Scott acknowledged.

“You don’t?” she worried aloud, even though she didn’t care to hear his answer. She felt her stomach drop as she waited for him to reveal additional information.

He stared at her with his breath-stopping eyes. His face was surrounded by his blonde hair that had fallen loose from his pony tail. His hair framed his face with a kind of ethereal glow.

“That’s right. I don’t date. I won’t do the relationship thing. Not ever.” He said in all seriousness. His eyes flashed with firmness and something else that Liana couldn’t define, and it scared her.

“What did his "not ever" mean?” She wondered.

Liana’s heart began a solemn dirge and her brain ceased functioning for a moment. The worst part was that she was unsure if it was due to embarrassment or because she didn’t know if she could place her trust in anything he said.

“Wait, I don’t understand. I thought we were, um, you know…” Liana was mystified, and in her confusion she revealed her motivations. His answer had thrown her off balance. She could feel herself teetering at the edge of a massive chasm that threatened to engulf her. Liana's brain tried to digest the fact that Scott wasn’t going to date her or anyone else for that matter.

She'd been hoping that somehow all the shared moments during the day had been building to an eventuality where she and Scott would end up together sometime in the foreseeable future.

He was diplomatic in his reply; “I think I know what you're implying, and even though I do like you. It’s only as a friend.” He answered and then bent down to pick up his backpack.

“Did you think I had a crush on you or something?” She demanded despite her better judgment that was screaming at her to run away and save her remaining pride. She thought she sounded convincingly unfazed, but she knew the stark reality that she sounded much more like a starry-eyed, love-struck girl.

He glanced back up at her with his unreadable eyes, and she stopped speaking in order to catch her breath. She was on the verge of hyper-ventilating if she didn’t get control of herself soon. This was the kind of thing that his proximity did to her. She was desperate to center herself back in reality.

“Well, I didn’t want to say anything about it, but yes I do think that you like me way more than you should. It’s a very bad idea for you to get involved with me.” He could see the hurt that peeked out from the depths of her blue green eyes. To avoid it he averted his gaze back down to the backpack in his hands, as if he were seeking answers for the conversation at hand.

Liana needed him to pay attention to her and not his stupid bag. She surprised herself by attempting to grab it away from him, but he saw her hand shoot out;

“Don’t!” He yelled and jerked it away from her as he swung it up on his shoulder. She wasn’t surprised by his reaction and knew she’d been in the wrong to grab for it in the first place. Though she was to blame she felt herself draw back from him in fear.

He sensed this and apologized with alacrity; “Sorry, I didn’t mean to yell like that, it’s been a hard day for me, what with all of the people gossiping about me, and Mr. Copeland kicking me out of class.” He sighed and tried out a sheepish grin to play on her sympathy.

“That’s okay! I shouldn’t have tried to take it.” She returned the apology, and made sure to put her hands in the front pouch of her hoodie to keep them from misbehaving again.

“Listen, Scott, you can’t assume that I like you, when it’s not true. I mean what are people going to think? ” She argued, trying to hide her chagrin at being so easily read and classified.

“Well,” He answered showing his warm smile that could flash melt ice, “I was waiting here to go on that tour with you. If you don’t think you can handle just being friends, I completely understand.” His voice was soft and sincere. She could tell that he honestly wanted to be friends with her. All sorts of weird emotions flooded her brain. She doubted herself. With a smile like that how could he not like her?

“Why don’t you want a girlfriend in the first place?” Liana gulped, trying to keep her emotions in check, but deliberately seeking the answer she so desperately clung to.

“Dating anyone is not good for me or anyone else. It’s not safe.” Scott said in a way that intimated he wasn’t divulging the whole truth;

“Don’t you want to be my friend?” Scott chided with a huge lopsided grin on his face that caused the corners of his eyes to crinkle, and in turn caused his irises to sparkle mischievously.

“I’d rather not answer that.” Liana mouthed, surprised at her own bravery.

Scott said with a nonchalant shrug that he didn’t care about her motivations; “That doesn’t matter. Don’t you want to hang out with me?”

“Based on the way everyone at school is treating you, I’m not so sure that I’d be entirely safe. I don’t think that I want to take a risk like that.” She proffered in a blatant attempt to get him to open up to her about his past. Though she wanted to say yes to every chance she could get to be with this intriguing guy. He smiled sarcastically; “Nice try! I’ve already told you as much as you’re going to get from me. And the fact of the matter is, either you trust me or you don’t. Now, can we go?”

After a few moments of staring at him with a dumbfounded look on her face, incredulous that he would reveal nothing more about himself even though that is what their outing hinged on, she turned away without acknowledging him further. Her heart told her that it was the best and only clear solution. She strode with purpose down the stairs and toward the front doors. He trailed close behind, asking if she was going to show him the town. This question irritated her like lemon juice in a paper cut. Liana turned on him as she reached the front doors;

“Listen, Scott, I said I’d show you around town, but that was before I heard some rumors that you’re not all that you seem to be. I won’t give you a tour, not today and not ever, at least not until you trust me.”

Even as she said it, Liana knew her voice betrayed her indecision. She did want to spend time with him, but she wasn’t sure she could trust herself. Even as Liana reaffirmed her negative reply aloud, internally she struggled against her emotions that wanted to betray her.

Liana made the mistake of peering into the blue depths of his eyes and was reminded once again of his recent tragedy. But she wrestled her pity back and spoke with sharpness instead of the softness that threatened to break through on his behalf; “You still haven’t told me the story about your past. I don’t know if I can trust you, yet!”

He ignored her plea for transparency and instead, like a broken record, continued importuning her to show him around.

Scott was holding the door open for her with one hand, and reached for her hand with his other one. Liana stood rooted and wanted to fight his unabashed behavior, and she swore aloud to herself;

“What the hell's going on here?”

Scott finally showed some irritation as he answered her, though he still managed to appear entirely sincere and enticing. Indeed, it was a wonder to Liana that she hadn’t given in to his request to show him around town. “Why did he have to be so god damn endearing, and attractive in the first place? It would all be infinitely easier if he were much less stunning.” Liana lamented internally.

“We’re not going to date even though that's what you desire. I simply want a friend. Is that plain enough for you? And I can’t tell you about my past. Don’t you think I should have a fresh start? A new school should equal a new life, wouldn’t you say?” Scott responded in frustration as he reached out to grab her hand and pull her through the door.

“No! If I can’t trust you, if you won’t open up to me, then how do I know that you aren’t the horrible person that everyone implies that you are? ” Liana screamed as she waved his hand aside and pushed her way past him. “Friendships are built on trust. If you won’t tell me what happened at your last school, then I can’t trust you.”

“Come on Liana, be reasonable!” Scott pleaded with her. Liana had already taken a few strides in the direction of her house. Upon hearing this she flipped around to face him, full of outrage;

“REASONABLE! You’re the one with the mysterious past. I think I’m being completely reasonable by getting the hell away from you. If you want to trust me and open up to me, then I can show you around town and be your friend.” She finished with an angry flip of her hair and she turned to go.

Scott dogged her steps for a few moments. Liana was determined to brush him off. Though her curiosity kept prompting her to glance back at him.

He kept calling after her, so she sought a shield of sound by pulling out her mp3 player and plugging her ears against his voice.

The welcome strains of a rock song cranked out and Liana was oblivious to his pleas as she left him in the dust.

#my writing

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falcqns · 3 years

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Hi, first of all i love your work 💕 and second, I wanted to request a Chris Evans angsty to fluff one shot? Where he is much older than the reader (she’s in her early 20s) and they have confessed their attraction for each other but are not sure how to proceed, nothing much happens during the confession. But the next day there’s an event or party where both attend separately, during it they stare at each other from across the room but suddenly Chris is crowded mostly by women much older than you and they flirt with him, and he sees you getting sad and insecure about your feelings and about his feelings too and obviously your age, so maybe you run off somewhere else and he decides to follow and then reassures you he likes you, then it’s all fluff? Maybe with a kiss at the end?🥺 thank uuuu!! I hope you’re having a nice day💓

Age Gap

pairing: chris evans x younger!reader

warnings: age gap, fluff, angst, insinuations to smut, hannah montana reference lmao

a/n: thank you for the request and i hope you enjoy! also i wrote this on my phone so i apologize for any mistakes lol

being 21 and having a crush on a 39 year old was tough.

finding out that that 39 year old felt the same was even tougher.

when you got the chance to audition with him for his new movie, Deep Silence, you jumped at it. just getting to be in a room with him blew your mind, but when your agent called you and told you you got a role, you were ecstatic.

you had originally auditioned for the role of Emma Garner, Chris’s characters daughter, but he decided you were perfect for the role of his characters wife, Francesca Garner instead.

you had no idea why. you were barely 21, and he was 19 years older than you. it would make so much more sense for you to play his daughter, but you accepted the role of his wife nonetheless.

at least now you won’t have to watch your crush kiss another girl, something that was all too familiar in high school.

when you two had your first love scene, you were terrified. how were you going to keep the fact that you were incredibly attracted to your co star a secret while acting out something that is so private?

you had a suspicion that he felt the same during filming, when he’d purposely ground his hard on into your centre and rasped into you ear “if you liked that”, but he ran away to his trailer before you could ask him about it.

you thought he was finally going to talk to you about it when he approached you a few days later, but he ended up just asking if you wanted to go to disneyland with him and Scott and his boyfriend, to which you accepted.

the day was fun, with the four of you taking lots of photos, going on lists of rides, eating lots of food (that ultimately made Scott throw up after one two many churros and and a ride on Seven Dwarves) and ended in you guys watching Happily Ever After. About halfway through, Chris pulled you into his arms, and pressed his lips to yours.

as soon as he kissed you, all the background noise faded away, and the two of you stood there like teenagers making out for the rest of the show.

when that happened, you thought for sure that he’d finally ask you out. you’d ask him out, but that seemed insanely intimidating, and you weren’t down for that at all. but, he didn’t make a move. other than kissing. he’d kiss you constantly, but it never progressed passed making out, and you were a little disappointed.

eventually, comic con came up, and you wouldn’t be attending with Chris, rather than the TV show you were a regular on. you had spotted him watching you in the crowd, thanks to your favourite actress who was also on the panel with you. you attended his as well, and even asked a question, as your movie hadn’t been announced yet, so people wouldn’t know you unless they watched your show.

then, the after party rolled around. you had messaged briefly, but hadn’t really spoken, something you were hoping to do tonight. you had reached your wits end, and just decided to man up and talk to him about where you two stood.

but, you couldn’t find him. you’d wandered around with your co stars and talked to a few directors and casting agents to get your name out there for future projects, but you couldn’t for the life of you locate Chris.

Until you got to the bar. you had just ordered your favourite drink, when you spotted him at the other end of the bar. but, he wasn’t alone. he was surrounded by five or six women who were definitely much older than you, and your heart sank.

it didn’t shatter, however, until you saw Chris flirting back. your eyes welled up with tears, and you tried to wipe them discreetly without Chris or anyone noticing, but of course that didn’t happen.

Chris was doing his best to ward off the ladies swarming him, so he could come and find you. he had been leading you on for too long, and he just needed to ask you out already, before another guy snatched you from his fingers.

suddenly, he caught movement out of the corner of his eye, and looked up, thinking it was Scott coming back with more food, but his heart dropped when he saw you. you were stood there, looking absolutely magnificent, but your eyes were full with tears, almost to the point of spilling over onto the cheeks he loved to kiss and hold in his hands so much.

he looked at the swarm of ladies that had formed around him, and swore, realizing what you were probably thinking.

he watched as you turned and stormed away, towards the door. he politely excused himself, and headed after you.

he followed you out the door he watched you disappear through, but his heart sank even lower when he realized you weren’t there. he was about to go back inside and ask your co stars for your room number, when he heard the tell tale signs of your sobs coming from a hidden alcove to his left.

he ran down the steps and over to the alcove, and his heart broke when he saw you. you were leaning against the wall, you head in your hands. loud sobs were escaping your mouth, and he knew for a fact you had an endless amount of tears running down your face, the saltiness of them probably already swelling your beautiful face up.

he wasted no time in coming over to you and wrapping you up tight in his arms. you tried to pull out of them, but he stood firm, and eventually you relaxed.

“i’m so sorry.” he whispered, and your sobs subsided. you shook your head and looked up at him.

“no. i’m sorry. i’m sorry that i was born in the wrong generation, because maybe then one of us would have the courage to ask the other out without fear of judgement. i’m sorry that i’m not as mature as those girls, or as talented. i’m sorry that i probably read into things like i always do and ruine-“ you began; but was cut off by Chris soft lips.

when he pulled away, he rested his forehead atop yours. “no. don’t. you’re perfect. so fuckin’ perfect it scares me sometimes. it absolutely terrifies the shit out of me how perfect you are because i don’t want to hurt you. you’re so young and innocent, and i love that about you. i don’t want to be the one to crush that innocence that i love so much by hurting you. but, i shouldn’t have let that hold me back. we’re both legal, so age is just a number. i should have told you that say i fuckin’ dry humped you on set.” he said, and you laughed at the last bit. “i love you so fuckin’ much, y/n, it honestly scares me. but being scared is good. it makes me human, and i’m not letting that hold me back from treating you the way you deserve to be treated. if you can find it in your heart to forgive me, i will spend the rest of our time together showing you just how much i love and appreciate you.” he said, and you looked up at him. “will you be my girlfriend?” he asked softly, and you nodded in happiness, your lips pressing to his.

Chris smiled into the slightly salty, but still loving kiss. he finally had you, and he wasn’t going to let you go. you were his whole world, and he was kicking himself for not realizing it sooner.

the two of you were currently walking hand in hand back to the venue, when you spoke up. “that was the sweetest speech. i’m not mad at you because of those girls. i realized shortly after that you wouldn’t do anything like that, but i thought maybe you’d realize that they were better than me, so that’s why i left.” you explained, and Chris tugged you in closer to his body.

“that makes me so happy, sweet girl. it was a mistake letting those girls do that and i should have stopped it sooner, but everybody makes mistakes.” he said.

you giggled before responding. “everybody has those days.” you said with the straightest face possible and Chris turned and stared at you for a second before realizing the reference.

“Hannah Montana? oh my god you’re so innocent,” he said, moaning the last few words into your ears, his hands gripping your waist to pull you against him.

you bit your lip and smiled. “i’m not completely innocent,” you said right back, and smiled in happiness when you felt him hardening against your stomach.

“mmm, really baby?” he moaned, and you nodded, before whispering in his ear.

“take me back to your hotel room and i’ll show you.”

#chris evans angst #chris evans #chris evans actor #chris evans imagine #chris evans x you #chris evans x female reader #chris evans x reader fluff #chris evans fluff #chris evans x reader #chris evans smut

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wlwmarvelenthusiast · 3 years

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Babysitting Duty

Summary: while Scott and Clint are away on a mission, you and Wanda are stuck with babysitting duty

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Warnings: some harsh language

Word Count: 5,117

"Your asses had better not leave the yard, got it?"

"Please don't swear at the kids."

"They're being little shits!" You insisted.

Wanda glared at you from where she was sat on the couch, cradling two-year-old Nathaniel, who had fallen asleep in her arms a few minutes ago. You scowled back at her as you moved to the other seat, closer to the open window, so that you could see and hear Lila and Cassie running around in the backyard. Lila ducked into the shed for a moment, re-emerging with a soccer ball. She kicked it toward Cassie.

Clint and Scott had taken up an offer to go on a mission with Natasha across the country. You didn't pry as to why she needed them specifically. Laura was in Los Angeles visiting some family, meanwhile Maggie and Jim were taking a vacation in the tropics. That had left Scott and Clint in need of a babysitter, and you'd been volunteered for the job. Now, you and Wanda were stuck at Clint's farmhouse for a few days until Laura got back. You were only in charge of Cassie, Lila, and Nathaniel, with Cooper having gone to stay with a friend while his parents were out of town.

"Why don't you go put him down?" You suggested to Wanda, the scowl on your face replaced by a soft smile.

Wanda shook her head. She didn't even bother to stand, instead simply laying him down on the couch they were sitting on. He whined a little as he left her arms, but after she'd stroked his head a couple times, he settled as soundly as he had been. She stood and crossed the room, sitting down next to you. Your arm moved around her waist and she leaned against you, legs curling up to her chest. You kissed the side of her head as you glanced out the window quickly to check up on the girls.

"What do you think about what Tony said?" She asked quietly.

You turned to stare at her. Her light green eyes flickered up to meet your gaze. It put a smile on her face. Her hand reached for yours, taking it and intertwining your fingers. You played with her hand.

"One day."

After getting the babysitting gig, you hadn't exactly been ecstatic. You were an Avenger, not a babysitter. Anytime Clint and Scott weren't around to hear, you'd repeat those words to whoever was close enough to listen. Most of them got that. They thought the same. It's why everyone had tried so hard to avoid the two men for those few days. When you'd gotten stuck with it, Natasha had even gone so far as to laugh at you.

You were good at avoiding. You'd practiced it all your anti-social life. So, it wasn't your fault that you'd be assigned babysitter. It was Wanda's. Clint had managed to corner her one day. Their relationship was a strange one. He'd cared for Pietro, and Pietro had cared enough for Clint to give up his life for him. Now, the surviving Maximoff and the archer had some sort of bond. That bond had made it impossible for her to say no to babysitting the toddler that was named after her brother.

Stuck with two kids anyway, you figured you might as well take care of Cassie at this point. Once you'd been nominated babysitter, though, Tony had taken it upon yourself to never leave you alone. It seemed, for those few days after you'd agreed to take care of the kids, Tony was around every single corner. You wouldn't have been surprised to learn he had been using the security cameras to keep track of you, because no matter how hard you tried to hide from him, he was there.

He was teasing you relentlessly about your having to babysit. Unlike the rest of them, Tony wasn't teasing you because you, an Avenger, were stuck with a 16-year-old high schooler's job. He was teasing you because you were stuck at a nice little home in the country with three kids and your girlfriend. He insisted, every time he saw you, that this was going to be good practice for your future. Wanda had blushed furiously the first time he'd said it. You'd shooed him away.

As much as you hated dealing with the billionaire and his stupid smirk when he'd approach you to tease you about practicing for your own kids, you would deal with it. Wanda would always turn away with a tomato-red blush burning on her cheeks, and so you would always find a way to give her an escape to stick around and take Tony's taunting yourself. Mostly you just ignored him, but he was persistent if nothing else.

Tony had driven you absolutely mad with his stupid suggestive tone and heckling comments. That was undeniable. Sometimes, you even wanted to take him down to the ring just for a reason to drive your fist into his gut. But after a long day of work and having to hear him go on and on, you'd climb into your bed, or sometimes Wanda's, fall asleep for the night, and dream up the pictures that he'd painted into your head.

There were two or three kids. One of them was always a boy. You were just getting home from somewhere, and Wanda was in the backyard of your house, watching the children play. The boy would be with one of the other kids, but when you approached Wanda and slid an arm around her waist, he'd run up to you. You'd ruffle a hand in his hair, and he'd giggle, light green eyes casting up to look at you. He had Wanda's eyes. You'd reach down and pick him up, kissing his cheek as he continued to laugh.

"Hi, Momma," he'd say.

"Hello, Pietro," you would reply every time. "Were you good for your mom today?"

Then he would nod and squirm a little, desperate to get back to his brothers or sisters. You'd set him down on his feet and he'd dash back to the others. You would lean into Wanda, then, kissing her softly. She would kiss you back, just as gently and lovingly as she did in your waking life. No words would be exchanged as you guided her to the bench swing, pulling her close and smiling as you both turned to watch your children laugh and play together.

It was just a dream, and it was entirely Tony's fault, you were sure. He'd put the idea of a family into your head and now you couldn't get it out. You'd always known you wanted kids and, even though you might not have known her all too long, you knew it was Wanda you wanted them with. She was your everything and you wouldn't want anything without her. Your future didn't exist without Wanda Maximoff.

"I've seen those dreams you've been having."

That honestly didn't surprise you too much. She'd seen your dreams on occasion. You'd learned that when you'd woken up absolutely drenched in sweat one night after a particularly inappropriate dream involving a particular witch. She'd watched your eyes open and immediately straddled your waist, promising to make your dream come true. You hadn't gone back to sleep that night, and it was clear as day that she had seen every single detail of that dream.

She was a mind reader. It wasn't hard for her to see just what was going on in your head; conscious or not. So, as you slept, she was able to see those images of you and she with your cozy little house and little Pietro smiling up at the both of you. It didn't surprise you, but it did make you a little nervous to know she'd seen them. You didn't want to seem like you were rushing into things at a pace that she wasn't ready for. You would wait forever for her.

You'd talked about it with her before. It was nothing too serious. It had been a simple conversation, the two of you discussing where you thought you might be five or ten years down the road. When you'd talked about it, the two of you hadn't been dating yet. You'd just been friends, both wanting to be more. It had been a quiet night, and you'd wanted to take her mind off Pietro, who had died only four months earlier.

Wanda pictured her future as a quieter life. She wanted a nice home on a quaint little street where she wanted a family, someone to love and maybe a couple of kids down the road. She'd told you she wasn't sure yet, if she wanted to continue being an Avenger. She hadn't always been fond of the sort of action you guys saw, but she knew she had the power to help people. Her heart was good. She couldn't just ignore that fact.

Your vision had been a little different. You were absolutely sure that you wanted to continue being an Avenger. You were a hero through and through. You couldn't imagine a life where you weren't doing what you did now: keeping people safe. You wanted to stay in New York, but maybe moving out into the suburbs in the outskirts of the city. You, too, wanted to start a family someday. Avenging could be a day job, you'd assured.

Then you'd gotten together. You'd admitted your feelings, you'd gone on some dates, and quickly, you'd fallen deeply in love with her. That dream of a future was still one you had: An Avenger by day and a wife and mother by night. At some point, though, that woman you saw yourself having that family with had become Wanda. Suddenly, you couldn't see it any other way. For a long time, you'd kept that from her. Now, though, she knew, and you were glad she did.

"What do you think of it? The dream," you asked carefully.

Wanda didn't answer right away. Her eyes had cast out the window to watch Cassie and Lila run through the yard, passing the ball between each other before Cassie turned and kicked it into the net. They both cheered loudly, raising their arms in the air, smiling widely, and high fiving. Their excitement made Wanda smile too. Her gaze turned back away from the yard and back to you, searching your face carefully. You let her study every detail of your eyes.

"I think it's beautiful."

Any life with her would have been beautiful. Anything with her was beautiful. You were absolutely sure Wanda Maximoff was the most beautiful thing in the world and there was nothing that could have changed your mind. The Avengers teased you sometimes. Natasha had teased one day, that you looked at your girlfriend as if she were the most exquisite piece in an art museum. You'd only assured her that no piece of art ever held a candle to the Sokovian.

"Would you..." You trailed off and took a breath, trying to figure out just what you were asking. "Would you consider it one day?"

Wanda didn't hesitate a millisecond. "I don't have to consider it. One day, Sweetheart."

That warmed you to your very soul. You put your hands on your cheeks and turned her face toward yours. You pressed your lips together, the feeling never failing to make your eyes flutter shut. You savoured the so familiar taste of her against your lips as you let your hands slide; one moved to the back of her neck to hold her close, and the other came to rest on her thigh. It wasn't a long kiss. It didn't need to be. It only took a few seconds to convey to her something words never could.

"How many?" She asked.

You laughed. "Two or three? What do you think, Baby?"

"Three," she hummed softly.

You couldn't believe that Tony was fucking right. Here you were with the woman you loved so dearly, babysitting your coworkers’ kids, and imagining having ones of your own someday. You had to admit, you did like it. They were a bit of a handful, that much was for sure, but you loved it. You loved watching their smiles, watching them play and laugh, and joining them in their fun and games. You loved seeing how Wanda would sit with them, cradle Nathaniel close, and read the girls bedtime stories. The thought of having this with her made your heart swell.

"Alright, where would we live?" You asked with a soft laugh.

"We'll stay near New York," she assured. "My big strong Avenger."

You laughed when she teasingly squeezed one of your biceps. You flexed a little, pressing the muscles against her hand. At this, the touches to your arm weren't so teasing. Her fingers traced the lines of the defined muscles that lay beneath your skin. You breathed out a quiet laugh, grabbing her hand and gently kissing against her knuckles. Her hand hesitated at your mouth as she ran the pad of her thumb across your bottom lip.

"Port Washington?" You offered. "Maybe a little way outside the city or in northern Jersey? I know you want to raise a family in a small town and New York City isn't exactly that."

She pressed her lips against your neck for a moment. "I love you."

You breathed out. "I love you, too."

She pulled away, moving to touch your knee instead. You put a hand over top of hers, turning to check on Cassie and Lila again. They'd taken to sitting in the grass, leaning against a tree trunk, and talking quietly. You weren't sure what about, but you were just glad that they seemed to still be having a good time. You slid Wanda's hand off your knee so that you could stand up.

"I'm just going to grab a snack for the girls," you kissed her cheek. "When I'm back, you can let me know if you've got any more ideas for this life of ours, huh?"

Wanda nodded.

You moved into the kitchen, opening up the pantry and putting together a couple of PB and Js, cutting them in half and setting them on the counter. You then mixed a few glasses of lemonade, put everything on a tray, and headed briefly back to the living room to hand one glass to Wanda, before heading out the back door. You whistled merrily, catching the girls' attention. They both smiled at your approach, and you settled into the grass beside them.

"For you."

They thanked you repeatedly, taking a plate and a glass each. You took your own glass, sitting back and sipping it as the cool breeze blew through your hair. You crossed your legs, watching their girls bite into their sandwiches. You tried to think back to what you'd been talking about at their age. You'd been in grade school and had often been in the schoolyard with your friends talking about boys. Well... they'd talk about boys and you would hesitate and make something up because you didn't know who the hell you liked.

"So, what are we talking about today, girls?"

"Lila was just telling me about a boy named Sam."

"Cassie!"

"What?" Cassie defended. "She's not gonna tell!"

You nodded. "Cassie is right, kid. I'm the best secret keeper probably ever."

Lila seemed to ponder this for a moment. It was a blatant lie, though. Every secret that was told to you was also told to Wanda, but it didn't go past there. You couldn't keep things from her. It was like she could pull anything from you with just a simple gaze from those light eyes. Even if you didn't tell her, she was a mind reader. Either she'd hear it from your lips, or she'd hear it running through your brain at one point or another.

Lila seemed to be contemplating this. "Okay. Well, there's this boy in my class. His name is Sam. I really like him."

"Oh, yeah?" You asked, sipping your lemonade. "So why don't you tell him that?"

"No! I can't tell him."

"Why not?" You scoffed. "What's the worst that could happen, Li? He either likes you back or he doesn't."

You'd always had trouble with your own advice. If you admitted your feelings to someone and they told you they didn't feel that same way, you felt awkward for months after that. But you were an adult. Lila was eleven. Even if kids these days were growing up way faster than you did, you knew that things were a lot more complex when you were a little more grown up. In a year or two, then she'd start realizing that.

"What about you, Cas? Any boys in your class you've got an eye on?" You winked.

Cassie didn't seem to find this very amusing though. Suddenly, it seemed, her sandwich wasn't very appetizing, and the lemonade had lost its sweetness. Her gaze moved to somewhere no one could meet it, locking to the ground as her fingers began playing absentmindedly with the grass. You tilted your head to the side curiously. You glanced over at Lila, but she didn't seem to know the reason for this either.

"Lila, could you give us a minute?" You asked the older of the girls. "Why don't you go see what Wanda is up to?"

Lila nodded and scampered off. She ran to the house and in the back door, and you watched in the window as she appeared beside Wanda. You saw her explaining something to the Sokovian, likely just trying to express that her friend was upset. You turned your focus to Cassie, who was busying herself by pulling a few blades of grass out of the ground. You didn't try to stop her, the fidgeting obviously calming her anxiety.

"What if..." She took a deep breath as she trailed off. "What if I think I like like a girl?"

Cassie Lang was ten years old. That's around the same age you started wondering what the other girls saw in boys. You hadn't realized as young as she did that you'd liked girls, but you knew something about you was different. At that age, you'd thought maybe something was wrong with you. It had taken you a few years to realize you weren't broken, just different. It had taken you even longer to realize that was okay.

You knew Cassie probably felt more comfortable asking one of her babysitters this question than anyone else. She trusted her parents and her stepdad, and she loved them, that much was clear. With them, though, she watched a man love a woman. With you, she watched you love Wanda the same way Scott loved Hope. She watched you do something she was feeling in herself. It made everything seem a little more normal and a little more okay. You knew that much from experience.

"Cas, look at me, Sweetheart," you said gently. Cassie looked up at you. "You can like whoever you want to like, and you can be whoever you want to be."

"But at school, all the girls like boys and I don't. Why don't I? I just want to be the same."

"Because not everyone is the same, and that's okay. You don't think there's anything wrong with me, do you?"

"No."

"No. And I love a girl. Isn't that okay?"

"Yeah."

Maybe it was a bit of a guilt trip, but it got Cassie to look up. You watched as her eyes travelled from you, to Wanda, and back. There was no longer any trace of nerves or anxiety on the young girl. It had instead been replaced by curiosity. It seemed your little pep talk had actually worked. She seemed more at ease after assurance that she didn't need to be normal. You knew that wasn't it for those nerves, you even got them yourself once in a while, but you were glad to have put her at ease for a while.

"Kiddo, are you going to talk to your mom or dad about this?"

As honoured as you were that you'd felt to be a safe person to come out to, you weren't really the person that she should be going to for support. Her mother and father would give her that. You didn't know Maggie well, but you knew Scott. He would be unconditionally supportive and wouldn't hesitate to reassure her if she ever felt like this again and if there were someone who didn't, he'd make sure to immediately remove that person from their life.

"I think I'm gonna talk to my dad when he gets home. Can you talk to him for me?"

"I can give him a little heads up, but you're going to have to be the one to actually talk to him."

She took a deep breath but nodded. "Okay."

You smiled proudly.

You sat with Cassie for a little while longer in that spot. Following your conversation, she seemed to be feeling better. She was eating and drinking again as she told you a little about this girl she was sweet on. You didn't comment too much, smiling and nodding along as she told you stories about the schoolyard. Soon enough you were once again trading places with Lila. The two girls resumed their gossiping in the grass, and you moved back to sit with your girlfriend once more.

When you sat down next to Wanda, glancing at a still sleeping Nathaniel as you moved, you immediately turned to the window. The two preteens had already regained that same calm expression they had been sporting earlier. Satisfied that they were both alright, now, you turned back to Wanda. She was watching you carefully, eyes flickering down to peek at the smile on your lips. You beckoned her to come back against you like she had been before you left.

"You and Cassie seemed to have quite the heart-to-heart," she hummed quietly as she leaned back against your side and your arm snaked around her.

"She confessed she might have a crush on a girl."

Wanda raised an eyebrow. "Yeah? Well, I see why you were a safe person to confess that to."

You chuckled and kissed the side of her head. "Yeah, I do, too. I gave her a little bit of reassurance before telling her she should really talk to Scott or Maggie."

Wanda nodded in agreement. She reached out to the table to grab the glass of lemonade you'd made for her, sipping it quietly. The cool glass pressed against your arm when she lowered it, sending a shiver throughout your body. She seemed to notice this, as she laughed, moving the cold cup up to your cheek. The condensation that coated it transferred onto your skin and you frowned, pushing her hand away. She laughed a little harder.

"So, what did you come up with?" You asked her. "I seem to remember asking you to come up with some more details."

"You did. So, I wondered what Pietro's siblings' names might be?"

You froze. That was from your dream. You knew she'd been seeing it, but you still got a little curious when she brought up the more minor details. You turned to look at her, curiosity burning in your chest. Pietro was her brother, not yours. You wondered briefly if she even wanted to name any children she might have in the future after the brother she'd lost.

"Pietro," you repeated softly. "Is that okay?"

"Fuck, Honey."

Wanda rarely swore, so when she did, you knew she was feeling something strong. You were assured it was a good feeling, though, when she grabbed you and pulled you toward herself roughly. Your lips connected and you felt the intensity in her kiss. You didn't dare be the one to pull away from this, letting her show you how she was feeling through the intimate touch. When she finally did, her hands were immediately in yours.

"Thank you. He meant the world to me and you mean so, so much to me, too and... thank you, Honey."

"You don't have to thank me, Baby. He deserves it," you assured, a hand on her cheek. "But did you have other ideas too?"

She nodded. "I did. We'll obviously discuss more when the occasion arises, right?"

"Right," you agreed with a laugh. "So?"

"I like the name Tommy. It's cute, don't you think?"

"I do think so," you hummed.

You don't know what it was, but something had you so drawn to her in this moment. You wanted to pull her close and never let her go. Granted, you wanted that most of the time. Right now, though, the thought of releasing her from where you had her flush against your side, her head resting so softly on your shoulder, made your heart feel a little weaker. As if she could feed that absolute need radiating off of you, she kissed your shoulder and put her hand into yours, squeezing tight.

"Any girls' names you like?"

Wanda stopped to ponder. "Violet."

"That's cute too," you smiled at the thought of your family. "You're pretty good at this, my dear," you paused for a moment. "So, Pietro, Tommy, and Violet Maximoff?"

She hesitated at hearing that. Her head moved off your shoulder, and you immediately missed the lack of pressure. You had to suppress a quiet whine as you glanced over at the curious eyes that were peering at you. You cocked your head to the side, in the movement, willing her to tell you what was going on inside her head. You felt as though her eyes could see into your very soul with the way she was watching you.

"Maximoff," she finally said.

"Yeah. I like it," you told her. "And doesn't my name sound so good with your last?"

You didn't even have to say the name aloud. Just hearing it in her own mind had a shiver running through her body- something you felt it against your own. She didn't have to say aloud, either, that she loved the idea. You knew she did. You both did. It was something that made you entirely hers. You were entirely hers. You belonged to Wanda Maximoff and her last name attached to your first would prove that to anyone.

"One day," Wanda said, repeating the words you'd spoken earlier. "One day you'll be my Mrs. Maximoff."

It was your turn to hesitate at those words. You were both talking about this as if it were inevitable. As far as you were concerned, it was. You couldn't even picture a life that didn't have Wanda in it. You didn't want to. You wanted to be her wife and live in a small house in the suburbs and raise children with her. You wanted all of it so bad you could hardly fathom it. You turned to her, making sure to catch her eyes.

"Did we just get engaged?" You teased.

You hadn't, but you had. All engagement was, was a promise to be each other's and to get married. There was no time limit on that. In the last little while, you'd promised that to each other. You had both promised each other this entire life that you could see laid out before you. Neither of you had been discussing it as if it were a possibility, but more as an inevitability. That sure sounded like a promise to you.

"I don't know," Wanda admitted. "We agreed we'd get married one day."

"Yeah," you agreed. "We definitely did."

Then you decided to make it less of a question as to what had or had not happened. You slid away from her and stood up off the couch. You took a knee on the floor, bringing her hand into yours. Your heart was thumping so loud in your chest that you had to wonder whether or not she could hear it from where she sat. Judging by the way her eyes widened, though, you thought that maybe her own heartbeat was drowning it out.

You didn't think this was how you'd do this. Sure, you'd many times thought about how you'd one day propose to Wanda. In none of those scenarios was she sitting on the couch in Clint's living room whilst Nathaniel slept ten feet away with Lila and Cassie's giggles floating in through the window. They were usually a lot more romantic than this. You couldn't find it in yourself to care. This was the moment. You could feel it.

"So let me clear up the confusion," you offered, eyes not leaving hers. "Wanda Maximoff, I cannot picture my life without this little suburban house and these sweet little kids and you, my love. I will walk to the ends of the Earth and back for you. I'd give you my heart and my soul in an instant if you wanted me to. Will you marry me?"

Wanda didn't seem to be able to find her voice. Her expression was one of shock. Her jaw had dropped a little, and her eyes were wide, watering a little. You wanted more than anything to reach out and wipe those tears away and to kiss her cheeks, even if they weren't tears of sorrow. But your knee was glued to the floor until she gave you an answer. She seemed to collect herself, then. Her hands wiped at her eyes, her lips curled into a smile, and then, finally, she nodded.

"Yes. Of course, yes."

She pulled you back onto the couch. It might have been a little far, with your knees on either side of her waist. The two girls could have walked in at any moment. But you were so completely happy that there was absolutely nothing that would have stopped you from resting your arms on her shoulders, linking your hands behind her neck, and kissing her like you needed her more than you needed oxygen in your lungs. You supposed you might have. She finally pushed you away.

"I love you."

"I love you, too, beautiful fiancée of mine," you teased. "I guess Tony was right then, huh? The babysitting gig was good for us."

She laughed and then buried herself in your embrace. You held her there, not a single care in the world, knowing she was yours and you were hers. One day you would have a life a little like this one. You and she together with a family of your own and so much love around you.

It was all thanks to the stupid, stupid babysitting gig.

#wanda maximoff #scarlet witch #wanda maximoff x reader #marvel #mcu #wlw #lesbian

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maxineswritingcenter · 3 years

Text

Short Stack - Stiles Stilinski x fem!reader

@nyotamalfoy : So, I was thinking, could you write a Stiles Stilinski x reader? Like the reader is short and the pack just loves to make fun of her (all in good sense) and could it include Derek too?

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The problem with hanging out with werewolves wasn't that they were werewolves. It wasn't that that they could potentially lose control and kill you (although that was a concern on the full moon). No, the problem was that they were all giants. No one was under 5'10. And being someone who was considered a normal height, maybe shorter, (Y/N) was the butt end of everyone's’ jokes.

Before the whole werewolf thing happened, it was usually just a joke here and there from Scott and your boyfriend, Stiles. But Stiles knew better than to say a joke more than once.

But now there were a gaggle of freakishly tall individuals around her all the time and they loved to point it out too. They all had their own nicknames for her, even Derek. The only person who could even understand her situation was Lydia, who was a whopping five-three. But no one made fun of Lydia about her height, mostly because Lydia was un-make-fun-of-able.

Lydia and (Y/N) were sitting on the bleachers, watching a Beacon Hills scrimmage. It was one of the last few games that Scott would be coaching since he was going to college full time.

Next thing you know, Liam and Theo walked past them, playfully shoving each other.

“Sup Mighty Mouse.” Liam smirked as they walked by. (Y/N) sighed loudly in frustration. Lydia glared after the two and huffed.

“Why do you let them do that?”

“Because I’m not intimidating like you?” Lydia opened her mouth to retort, but closed her mouth and thought a moment.

“Okay.” She shook her head, “Yeah. But still? So what if you’re short? I accomplished a lot being short.”

“Like what?”

“Being popular and surviving this hell hole of a town.” She said as if it were obvious. (Y/N) nodded after a moment. Maybe it was obvious. Being human in this supernatural town meant you a little underwhelming. You feel alone in your little world.

After the game was over, Lydia and (Y/N) were standing around, waiting for Scott and Stiles to get done with the team meeting.

“Alright, see you at morning practice, guys!” Scott waved to the players and made their way to the two.

“What’d ya think?” Stiles came around, wrapping an arm around (Y/N)’s shoulders.

“It was a great game.” She smiled.

“Sure you could see over the people in front of you?” Scott joked. Stiles chuckled, but dropped the smile when he saw the look on his girlfriend’s face. Lydia glared, smacking Scott on the shoulder.

That was last straw.

“That’s it. I’m done.” She shrugged Stiles arm off of her shoulders, making her way to her car and driving away. Was this dramatic? Absolutely! But everyone she knew was in the running for Miss Drama Queen Beacon Hills, the winner would be crowned by Peter Hale.

(Y/N) was just so sick and tired of all of them making fun of her. Sure, it was all in good fun. But all the time? Enough was enough.

The cliffs were a good place to go when you needed to think things over. Stiles had called a few times, voicemails apologizing with Lydia in the background telling him how dumb he was. (Y/N) just sent a text back saying that she just needed time for herself. But even that was too much to ask.

(Y/N) sat on the edge, legs swinging. Footsteps made her heart jump, she turned, pepper spray in hand.

“Back up fiend!” She shouted at the darkness. She heard a chuckle and the familiar figure of Derek Hale appeared in her sight. She relaxed, setting her pepper spray back in the spot besides her.

“Fiend? What year are you from?” He looked down at her, “What are you doing out here by yourself?”

“Being pissed. Would you like to join me?” She swept her hand out to offer him the spot in the grass beside her.

“Being pissed is my specialty.” He sat down, staring out at the city below, he leaned back using his arms to keep himself up. Derek used to be the most intimidating person she knew, but after a while she saw that Derek was just like anyone else. But he had a real bad case of grumpy face.

“What are you pissed about?” She asked, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye.

Derek shrugged, “Why wouldn’t I be pissed? My uncle killed my sister, tried to kill me, etcetera bullshit that we’ve all been through for the past couple years.” He looked at her, “What are you pissed about?”

“Well, now I would rather not say.” What she was pissed about didn’t compare to Derek.

“C’mon, Short Stack, you can tell me.”

She sighed, “It just that... I’m so sick and tired of being made fun of for my height. Every once in a while, sure, I can take a joke, but lately it has been constant. Just...” She looked at him, seeing that he was actively listening, “Never mind, it’s stupid to be mad about this.”

“It’s not stupid.” Derek said, totally surprising (Y/N), “You want more respect from the pack. I understand that.”

(Y/n) blinked a few times, “Really?”

“It’s only fair. You’ve done a lot, you earned your position in the pack, you deserve respect. I’ll talk to them about it.”

She shook her head, “No, Derek, that’s-”

Derek smiled, “I got it.” He stood up, helping (Y/N) to her feet. It was nice to see Derek smiling, especially after everything that had happened to him.

“Besides, I’m grumpy face, aren’t I?”

Her eyes widened, covering her open mouth with her hands, “Oh my god, who told you that?”

“Lydia is loud.”

Like usual, Stiles was at her house after having used the key he made to get in. He stared her down as she watched Xfiles reruns. He came around, standing in front of the screen just as they were about to reveal the aliens.

“Is there a reason why you are interrupting Xfiles time?”

He crossed his arms over his chest, “Since when are you and Sour Wolf friends?”

“I thought we were all friends.” (Y/N) moved on the couch to get a better view of the TV. Stiles sighed and fell down on the couch besides her.

“We are. But Derek basically called us together and told everyone to stop doing the short jokes all the time.” He titled his head to the side, “Then Theo asked if he was your guard dog now and lets just say he’s gonna need the night to heal the bones he broke.” A grin pulled at her lips at the thought of scary Derek Hale getting her the respect she deserved, even fighting the pack to get it.

“What’s the problem?” She asked.

“I guess... The problem is that you should have come to me first. I’m your boyfriend and that should be my thing. To defend you.” She guessed Xfiles had to wait. She turned to Stiles to fully look at him. He looked upset, a little pout on his face.

“It’s hard to talk to you about it when you laughed at it today. I got angry with you. Derek just happened to be there and we talked.” She rested her head on his shoulder, “I know you would defend me with your whole heart. Derek’s just faster.” He mocked offense, his mouth agape.

“Faster? You better be fast then, missy!” His fingers found their way to her sides, tickling at her ribs. She yelped and scrambling up, running through the house with Stiles close behind. Laughter filling the empty home as the TV played in the background. Maybe being around tall people all the time wasn’t so bad. Sometimes they defended your honor and sometimes they were the love of your life. Sometimes the tall boy you met freshman year, the one who tripped over his own feet, would be the boy you spent the rest of your life with. Through thick and thin. Through life and death. And that was worth it, right?

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Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!

Thank you for reading!

#teen wolf fic #teen wolf x reader #stiles stilinksi imagine #stiles stilinski #stiles stilinksi x reader #stiles x reader

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dynamicduoofstackie · 3 years

Text

I’m curious why SamBucky is so rare-ish in these streets when it comes to pairing Bucky with an MCU character? I get it, I get it, with the Stucky ‘end of the line’; we been teaming up since the comic book days spiel. I personally see Bucky and Steve as brothers after Captain America: The Winter Soldier cause it felt like Bucky was ready to adopt Steve after his mother, who was his only remaining family, died.

That’s me. I know everyone not going to see it in that light. But Bucky gives me big brother vibes whenever he has to save pipsqueak Steve in the MCU. Plus the original comics had Bucky as an adorable, little sidekick that would make you think reverse big brother and little brother, with Steve being the big brother and Bucky the little brother. I don’t read the comics so it might just me. No offense.

Is it really about the, Steve knew him longer thing? I mean other than possibly Natasha in the comics, Bucky has no clearly defined MCU love interests. Bucky was a flirt before he met Sarah Wilson, so him being able to flirt, just proves he’s coming into his own. I’m not saying he doesn’t like Sarah that way. But he also flirted with Peggy in the first Captain America movie because he’s a lady killer and was more than willing to take the two girls off Steve’s hand at the Stark Expo when Steve floundered. Steve/Tony I sorta get with the enemies to lover trope. The Bucky x Clint thing is really mind-boggling to me because there were no interaction between them in the MCU; so something must have happened in the comics. So okay... But the fact that Sam had more interaction with Bucky in the MCU and had a whole comic book series with him and Bucky shouldn’t have the ships OF SamBucky and Sam x Clint at a 700+ fanfic difference. Fandoms are so weird sometimes... anyway...

Sam and Steve are the only ones in the MCU who really interact with Bucky outside the strong and beautiful people of Wakanda. None of the Wakandians seem interested in Bucky, except in maybe a familial way. Like they found a stray cat, nursed and raised it; but the cat is still an outdoor cat that might visit from time to time, but is mostly out there doing its on thing. Just the feeling I get with how comfortable Bucky was interacting with Princess Shuri and/or the Dora Milaje. They respect him, fixed him, and let Bucky roam free.

Steve is somewhere on the moon or wherever, in The Falcon and Winter Soldier tv series and Sam is the only one willing to stay in contact with Bucky. Shoot in Endgame only Sam and Steve were Bucky’s only people because Steve protecting Bucky caused a rift between the Avengers. It was repaired, but Team Iron Man doesn’t know Bucky at all, and/or don’t seem interested. Team Captain America are either dead (Natasha), being with their family (Clint and Scott), or dealing with their own shit (Steve and Wanda). So that leaves Sam. That’s really no coincidence even though I’ll admit, Steve going to a support group to more Peggy instead of his two best friends that were recently missing was kind of shitty.

So again, getting back on track, why isn’t their more Sambucky love? We already know Stucky is default most popular in the fandom for Bucky pairing. But Sam, who has the enemies turn friends aspect about him and has been the only one, besides Steve, who openly tried to find Bucky. I mean what better love story is it for a man who went from thinking Bucky would be better off dead, to suddenly sacrificing his 9 to 5 and freedom to search for Bucky and help him escape the airport in Germany?

I mean SamBucky is one of the few ships that has a foundation of amazing content from Anthony Mackie and Sebastian Stan’s interactions with each other. Mackie and Sebastian literally went from play pretending like they couldn’t stand each other, to damn near needing someone to chaperone them in their interviews because they so random shit, flirt and love to be close. Sebastian has talked about Mackie more than any costar and Mackie has a wonderful knack for finding Sebastian on any red carpet event to compliment the hell out of him. They literally had a show created for the two characters because of that amazing chemistry and Sebastian even co-signed on it with this gem below.

The MCU was throwing Bucky and Sam together over and over again, way before they got their own tv series. They argued together, fought each other, tried to one up each other by ripping wings and dropkicking from the air. Even in the television show big-hearted Sam willingly allows Bucky to go on a top secret government mission with him. Checks in on him constantly to make sure he’s okay. The only one that defends Bucky against people like Zemo, Sharon and John Walker.

Sam really was the one person that helped put most of Bucky’s demons to rest in The Falcon and the Winter Soldier. He gave him the tough love he needed in the end. He gave him purpose. He teased him like he was a normal person and not a former, brain-washed assassin. Sam watched over Bucky because he wanted to. Steve never asked him to check on Bucky. Steve never asked Sam to help him find Bucky. Steve never asked for Sam to sacrifice his freedom and go to the raft just so Bucky and Steve could escape in the airport. Sam volunteered to do that all on his own because he saw how worthy Bucky was.

Why else would Sam have him on a top government mission? Why else would he try to bail out Bucky from jail or follow Steve and Bucky against his Avenger allies? Why else would he let Bucky talk him into let Zemo go? Or any of the other insane things they did together, unless he didn’t care?

And that’s what Bucky needs, someone to give a damn about him. Someone to text him and chase after him. Someone to defend him and remind him that he’s not the Winter Soldier anymore. Someone to offer him a place to stay and normalcy. Someone who isn’t afraid to introduce to his family or watch his six in a battle. Someone touch him because he knows Bucky’s been touch-starved or tease him because he’s not afraid to be next to him.

Sam knows this Bucky. The Bucky who was determined to give the Shield to Sam. The Bucky who dangled kids off his arm while talking to Sam’s sister. The Bucky who has trouble sleeping at night because he still has demons. The Bucky who tried to kill him because he didn’t have control of his own body The Bucky who was just as broken as Sam when Steve just Peggy over them. The Bucky who is trying to find purpose in a world that has forgotten about him. He doesn’t have to remake himself into the old Bucky for Steve because Sam only knows this Bucky. Bucky doesn’t have to be anybody, but himself around Sam and he is.

I mean maybe people don’t care to pair Bucky with Sam because he was against saving Bucky the first time; or didn’t pull up the car seat; or didn’t want to jump in believing Bucky after he threw him across the room by his chin; or maybe because Sam’s black... WHO KNOWS.

I just thought it was odd that the fandom doesn’t respect Anthony Mackie as a whole, too. Like the poor man has to insert himself into interviews with his white costars just to not be pretty arm candy. But that’s another rant for another post.

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when-they-write-stuff · 3 years

Text

SOMETIMES, STILES THOUGHT he understood Derek Hale.

Other times, he thought he never would.

The man was a million things tucked into a leather jacket. Stiles remembered the first time he’d seen Derek in the preserve; scowling, grey-green eyes hard, with an air around him that made younger Stiles a little bit terrified and a little bit intrigued at the same time. And honestly, if he would’ve known then that one meeting would turn into a whirlwind of chaos afterward, the younger version of him might have turned right back around and walked away without thinking twice.

Or maybe he would’ve just grinned. Grinned, knowing that one little meeting with the grumpiest werewolf in Beacon Hills would one day turn into a little bit more.

If he just had the patience to wait, that is.

But that was then and this was now. Sitting in the loft with the rest of the pack, some rom-com that Lydia had picked out playing on the TV, though most of them were only half paying attention. Scott was all wrapped around Allison, Erica had fallen asleep in Boyd’s lap, and Lydia was scrolling through her phone while Jackson snored at her side. Stiles sat on the floor by himself and watched the TV silently, his brain not even caring what was happening onscreen at the moment.

From somewhere in the kitchen behind all of them, he could hear the faint sound of running water and clinking dishes.

The movie changed scenes— the main couple was kissing. Stiles sighed and pushed himself up.

Isaac made a sound of protest as Stiles accidentally blocked his view, craning his neck to see around. And honestly, the beta seemed to be the only one of them that actually cared about what was happening. Had it been any other time, Stiles might have made fun of him.

But instead, he just rolled his eyes and moved around the couch.

There was a stack of empty pizza boxes on the counter as he entered the kitchen and a line of clean plates next to the sink. Stiles paused in the doorway for a second and stared at Derek literal Hale standing in front of the sink with a towel thrown over his shoulder and an apron wrapped around his hips; a rare sighting of the man without his jacket on.

Then, like a wild animal caught on camera, Derek turned the water off and turned around, giving Stiles an unimpressed look.

“What.”

Stiles hoped his face didn’t look as red as it felt as he snapped out of his thoughts. Forcing himself to just shrug, he moved further into the kitchen and pulled the fridge open, staring unseeingly at the leftovers that he really didn’t care about.

After a long moment of silence, Stiles heard Derek turn the water back on and waited for a few more seconds before stepping back and shutting the fridge again.

“So…” he said, desperately trying not to pay attention to how utterly domestic Derek Hale looked. The man glanced over his shoulder, raising an eyebrow.

“So.”

“Uh. Do you need any help?”

Derek shut off the water again and Stiles noticed for the first time that there weren’t any more dishes left— Derek finished toweling off the last one and gave Stiles a flat look. “No.”

Internally, Stiles cursed himself. “Oh, right. Sorry.”

Derek pressed his lips together, still looking unimpressed. And before he could continue making a fool of himself or Derek could make him feel any more judged, Stiles nodded again and quickly exited the kitchen. Isaac glanced up from the couch as he moved back over, a definite smirk on his lips.

“Nice one, Stilinski. You call that flirting?”

Stiles’s heart skipped at least three beats and he threw a look over his shoulder back toward the kitchen— but all he could hear was the sound of cabinets opening and closing. Derek didn’t seem to have heard the beta.

Clenching his jaw, Stiles gave Isaac the darkest death glare he could muster. “Shut up, Lahey, or I swear to god, will strangle you with your own scarf.”

Isaac smirked wider. “I don’t think Derek would like that very much.”

“I really don’t care what Derek would think.”

“Yeah, we all know that’s not true.”

Stiles glanced over at the others but nobody was even paying their conversation any attention. Well, nobody awake, anyway. Stiles glared back at Isaac, who looked even smugger.

“What, Stilinski? Do you want me to talk a little bit louder?”

“Okay,” Stiles said, shoving himself back up. “You’re an asshole and that’s my cue to leave.”

And just like that, Derek materialized in the doorway of the kitchen. “You’re leaving?”

Stiles blinked at the man, pretty sure his heart had skipped another few beats. Because Derek hadn’t been listening in to any of their conversation, had he? “Uhm, yeah. I’ve got… stuff to do. Important stuff. To do.”

Isaac snorted loudly and then covered it up with the fakest sounding cough Stiles had ever heard. Grinding his teeth together, Stiles reminded himself to throw all of the beta’s scarves into the toilet the next time he came around.

Derek looked at him for a moment longer before nodding. The man turned around, disappeared back into the kitchen, and Stiles gave Isaac one last furious look.

The beta just smirked and Stiles hated him even more.

Except, as he turned back around to make for the door, Derek came out of the kitchen again. This time, the man approached him with something in his hands.

“Uh,” Stiles froze, blinking at the container that Derek pushed into his hands. He looked down at it, glanced back up at Derek, and then carefully pulled the top off, realizing with a start that it was the rest of the leftover pizza. Blinking again, he gave Derek a confused look. “This is pizza.”

“Yes.”

“Okay.” Stiles didn’t know how to react. “You know my dad will eat this the moment I bring it home, right?”

For a moment, Stiles could’ve sworn he caught a touch of red in Derek’s cheeks; the man almost looked flustered. But then Derek just shrugged, turning back away, and Stiles was left gawking at the werewolf’s back.

Isaac made a strange noise from the couch. It sounded a little bit like a strangled groan.

Shaking his head, Stiles shoved the lid back onto the container and threw one more confused glance toward the kitchen before heading for the door. And, leftovers in hand, he honestly didn’t know what to think.

It was times like this he didn’t think he’d ever understand Derek Hale.

The night Stiles was stuck out in the preserve with Derek, it was raining.

He figured that sounded about right. They’d all drawn straws to decide who would be on watch for the omega that was running loose around Beacon Hills, and Stiles had immediately drawn the shortest one. And then, just because it was his luck, Deaton called Scott, his watch-buddy, in for an emergency shift.

So Stiles was going to have to go out on his own. But then Derek stepped in.

Which really wasn’t so bad, right? Stiles had been alone with Derek Hale before. Like… literally the first day after they’d met. When Stiles had been driving the near-dead werewolf around for a full day while Scott attempted to infiltrate the Argent’s house.

So yeah, he could handle one night. Easily.

But then they got out in the preserve and it started raining. Stiles thought that would make things a little less enjoyable.

“So,” he said, trying not to shiver as his hoodie stuck to his skin like wet paper. “This is nice.”

Derek shot him a sideways glance, not even looking the least bit bothered by the cold as raindrops rolled right off his leather jacket. And Stiles thought the entire world was unfair sometimes. Running a hand through his hair, he attempted to pull up his hood, but it was already soaked through, doing nothing but making his hair even wetter.

He groaned. “Yeah, this isn’t nice at all.”

To that, Derek paused and looked him up and down. Then the man sighed— like Stiles was the ridiculous one— and stripped off his jacket, shoving it into Stiles’s chest.

Stiles froze, not even daring to touch it for a second.

“Er, Derek?”

“Put it on,” Derek said, letting go. Stiles barely managed to catch the jacket before it dropped into the mud and he blinked as Derek started forward again, head slightly bowed against the rain. The man’s long-sleeved t-shirt instantly started to stick against his skin.

Stiles stared after the man, looked down at the jacket held tightly in his hands, and then looked back up. Except, Derek wasn’t slowing down and he cursed silently, pulling the thing over his shoulders before hurrying after the man.

The jacket was like a portable heater. Stiles probably could have melted into it if his mind wasn’t spinning so fast, shoving his hands into the warm pockets as he stumbled after Derek.

“Dude, Derek, dude.”

Derek finally paused and turned around, giving him a pained look. Stiles fumbled to a stop and despite everything, wrapped the jacket further around himself. Even as he asked the question,

“Are you sure?”

Derek raised an eyebrow, looking from the jacket to Stiles’s face. Stiles flushed.

“I mean, if you’re not—”

“There’s nothing out here tonight,” Derek interrupted, turning his gaze to the dark trees around them. “Let’s head back.”

Stiles snapped his mouth closed, staring at the man. But once more, Derek didn’t wait for an answer before starting off in a random direction. Shaking his head, Stiles hurried after him, feet slipping and sliding in the mud.

So, Derek Hale was officially the biggest grumpy-growly weirdo Stiles had met, he decided. One who owned an incredibly warm leather jacket.

He understood that much about the man at least.

Sometimes, Stiles hated werewolves.

Mostly, he decided one day, laying in bed feeling like he was dying, he hated them for their stupid immune systems. Because honestly, how was it even fair that the assholes couldn’t get sick?

Stiles didn’t see how that followed nature’s rules in any way.

He, on the other hand, was very capable of getting sick. And approximately two days after his dad came home with a slight cold, Stiles caught the thing so hard, it felt like he’d been hit by a truck.

Sometimes, he hated werewolves. And laying in bed, his head pounding and his nose feeling like it was about to start leaking out his brain, Stiles very nearly considered calling up Derek and taking the bite.

Then, as if his thoughts had somehow summoned the werewolf, Stiles’s window was shoved up and Derek pulled himself through.

Despite everything, Stiles didn’t even have the energy to be startled. A psychotic murderer could have come through the window and he wouldn’t even lift his head to complain. In fact, he’d take a psycho murderer if it meant his headache would stop.

He was pretty sure Derek had frozen the moment the man’s feet touched the carpet, because silence descended over the room for a moment. Then, he blinked up as Derek plodded over to his bed and glanced down at him, brows knitted tightly together.

“Stiles.”

Stiles gazed up at him blearily. Derek sniffed deeply and then drew back, looking repulsed. Which— rude.

“You smell bad.”

Stiles groaned loudly, which turned into a sharp cough, which turned into a minor lung hacking, before pulling his blankets up over his head. “Fuck you too, Derek.”

Once more, the room was silent. After a long moment, Stiles peeked back out again and saw Derek was still watching him with a mildly concerned look on his face. After another long minute of literal staring, Stiles sighed.

“I haven’t showered in like two days, dude. Stop looking at me like that.”

Derek raised an eyebrow. Stiles groaned again.

“I’m sick, asshole.”

The man’s face finally cleared. Stiles noticed for the first time that Derek had the bestiary in his hands— and there was no way in hell he was doing research right now. But then Derek set the book on his bedside table and tucked his hands into his pockets, looking a little awkward. “Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.”

“What can I do?”

Stiles blinked. “I’m sorry, what?”

“What do you need?”

And that was the last response he’d expected to hear from Derek Hale. Ever. “Uhm, nothing? It’s fine. I’m just going to lay here until I wither up and die, but everyone has to go at some point, right?”

To those words, Derek definitely looked concerned. The man’s eyes flashed red for a second and Stiles startled, drawing the blankets further up to his chin.

“That was a joke, Sourwolf.”

But the man just looked at him for another moment before turning back around and heading for the window. Stiles didn’t even have a chance to protest before Derek was pulling himself right back out— and Stiles stared at the empty sill for a moment before sighing heavily.

Stupid sickness immune werewolves. Derek probably thought this was a life or death situation or something.

And honestly, Stiles didn’t expect to see the man again. After all, he smelled bad.

God, he hated werewolves.

His dad had gone back to work that morning and though it had been Stiles’s idea, telling the man he wasn’t five anymore and didn’t need anyone to ‘take care of him’, Stiles still kind of wished he had someone to complain to. Or someone to make him soup. Or even someone to bring him more tissues when he grabbed the last one out of the box.

Because honestly, the very thought of leaving his bed and searching for more seemed like an impossible task. For one bleak moment, Stiles had actually debated using the t-shirt next to his bed.

Then he realized he was losing his mind.

After what felt like a million hours had passed since Derek had left, and Stiles was right on the verge of falling asleep, his window was shoved up again. Stiles snapped right back to reality so fast his headache came back like an avalanche. In that moment, he vowed he was going to murder whoever had just interrupted his sweet, sweet escape into the darkness.

When he could make himself get out of bed, that is.

But then Stiles realized it was Derek. Derek, with a round styrofoam container held in one hand and a grocery bag held from the other. Struggling to sit up, Stiles gave the werewolf an incredulous look, and Derek approached the bed carefully.

The man was still looking at him like he was about to spontaneously combust.

“I brought soup.”

Stiles just stared.

Derek set the round container on his bedside table and then pulled a spoon out of the plastic bag. Close behind it was a packet of crackers, a box of tissues, and a white bottle of painkillers.

“Boyd said chicken noodle works best,” Derek said, still avoiding Stiles’s blatant stare as he popped the top of the container off. “It should still be hot, so—”

“Derek,” Stiles said, cutting him off. Looking pained, the man finally met his gaze.

“... I also brought crackers.”

“Crackers.”

“For the soup.”

For the soup. Yeah, Stiles had to give it to him; that was a fair answer.

But what?

Before Stiles couldn’t even think of an appropriate reaction to everything that was currently unfolding, Derek was pushing the container of soup into his hands. Instantly, the smell of warmth managed to drift into Stiles’s clogged nose and he almost melted into the mattress, mouth watering.

He hadn’t even realized how hungry he was.

“You brought me soup,” Stiles mumbled, still a little lost in his own head. Derek’s face remained carefully blank and the man nodded once.

“You’re sick.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t actually expect soup—”

Except, Derek didn’t even give him a chance to finish that sentence. Instead, as if dropping off an entire ‘get better now’ cold-care package was all he’d come back to do, the man moved back over to the window. Though still, Derek paused there for a moment, glancing back, and Stiles could’ve sworn his eyes flickered for a moment. The man pressed his lips together, looked like he was going to say something else, and then pulled himself back out.

Stiles gaped in shock at the once more empty window. Because Derek was gone. And this time, Stiles was sure the man was not coming back.

He didn’t even know what to think of the werewolf anymore.

Stiles thought it was a little ridiculous how Derek had never learned how to knock.

That’s what he assumed, anyway, when his window was shoved up on a random Friday midnight and Derek the Grumpy Werewolf pulled himself through like he owned the place. Had it been any other weeknight or had Stiles been attempting to sleep, he might have been a little pissed. But as of that night, he was completely procrastinating sleep, and honestly, what use was telling Derek Hale ‘no’ anyway?

The man never knew how to take that for an answer.

Sighing, Stiles paused whatever Youtube video had been playing and half-closed his laptop, giving Derek a raised-eyebrow look.

“Yes, oh alpha of mine?”

For some reason, the man automatically frowned. “You’re still awake.”

And wasn’t that was a creepy way to start the conversation? Stiles blinked and closed his laptop the rest of the way. “Uh, yeah, dude, I am. Now please tell me you weren’t hoping for the opposite because this isn’t Twilight and I own an insane amount of wolfsbane. Just so you know.”

To that, Derek rolled his eyes. “No, Stiles.”

“‘No, Stiles’ what?”

The man just gave him a flat look— but that had been a fair question, okay?

One Stiles clearly wasn’t getting an answer to.

“Okay, then,” he said, raising his hands. “Just be all weird and creepy then, why don’t you? Yes, Sourwolf, I am awake. And no, I don’t plan on going to sleep any time soon. So do you need something?”

Derek hesitated for a moment before pulling something out of his pocket and stepping forward. Stiles sat straighter as the man dropped a set of keys onto his blankets— and automatically balked.

“Are those my car keys?”

Derek shoved his hands into his pockets and looked a little constipated. “Your jeep is parked in the driveway.”

“My jeep is… I’m sorry, what?”

“Parked in the driveway.”

Stiles stared at the man. Then he shoved himself up and stumbled to the window. And sure enough, his jeep was there. A little bit shiny looking, the duct tape no longer wrapped around the driver’s door handle, and wearing what looked like a new set of tires.

Slowly, Stiles turned back around. “Derek, my jeep was at mechanics.”

“Yes.”

Stiles stared. “Because it wouldn’t start.”

“Yes.”

“And it’s been there for three weeks because I couldn’t afford to get it fixed.”

Derek gave Stiles a look that made him feel like the idiot. As if all of this was somehow supposed to make sense. Because…

“Derek, did you pay to have my car fixed?”

The man didn’t answer for a long moment. Stiles took a deep breath, forcing himself not to turn right back around and stare at his jeep for a minute longer. Just to make sure all of this was real.

“Dude, I’m gonna need an answer. That really wasn’t a hard question.”

“... Yes.”

For a moment, all Stiles heard was white noise. Then he stalked forward and shoved a finger into Derek’s chest, but the man didn’t even move. “What do you mean, you fixed my car? Derek! Oh my god, how much did it cost? I’m going to need to get a job to pay you back. No, two jobs. And dip into my college funds. Oh my god!”

Derek finally reacted— by rolling his eyes. “I don’t want you to pay me back.”

“You don’t what ?”

If Stiles was overreacting a little bit, it wasn’t his fault. No, it definitely wasn’t. It was Derek Hale’s fault because apparently, the man thought it was normal to go around paying for people’s car repairments and—

Stiles blinked, staring blankly at the wall beyond Derek’s shoulder. “I’m gonna faint.”

Derek’s eyebrows shot up and he stepped forward; to which Stiles reacted by raising his hands and stumbling back. Ramming into the nearest wall, he closed his eyes and shook his head.

“Nope, nope, nope. Do not get any closer, dude. Don’t take one more step. In fact, I think I’m gonna need a minute.”

“I can go,” Derek said, sounding uncertain. Stiles opened one eye and stared at him.

“That… might be a good idea.”

And it probably wasn’t. No, it definitely wasn’t. But Stiles didn’t know what to think, he didn’t know how to react, and if Derek stuck around any longer, he might feel the need to throw himself out the window instead of sending the man away through it. And his dad would probably not appreciate that.

Oh god, how was he going to explain this to his dad?

Derek looked at him for a moment longer, concern still written across his face. But then he just nodded and moved back toward the window. Stiles didn’t even watch the man leave, his attention fully fixed on the set of keys on his bed. His stomach flipped.

Derek Hale had just paid to fix his car.

Stiles had never not understood the werewolf more.

It took a while for Stiles to regain the courage to go back to the loft.

The way things had ended the last time he’d been face to face with Derek Hale, he wasn’t really sure what he was supposed to expect. But stepping through the front door, it was clear almost instantly that nothing had changed.

Somehow, literally nothing had changed.

The betas were all gathered around the couch watching something on TV. Stiles caught what smelled like pancakes and heard the sound of dishes clattering in the kitchen. He stood still for a moment, head-spinning, and then moved toward the noise.

Derek was moving around the room with a towel thrown over his shoulder and a line of clean dishes next to an empty sink. The man’s grey-green eyes took their time drifting to where Stiles stood, gaping, and he just raised an eyebrow.

“I didn’t know you were coming by.”

Stiles opened his mouth, then closed it. He had no idea what to say.

There was a stack of pancakes next to the stove.

“Are you hungry?”

And with those words, Stiles finally snapped back to reality. Slipping a hand into his pocket, he gripped his keys tightly and stepped forward, holding Derek’s gaze. Because dammit, all of this was throwing him through a loop and he didn’t know how to react anymore. It was driving him crazy.

“Derek, we need to talk.”

The man’s other brow raised and he crossed his arms; Stiles swallowed hard.

“Somewhere else.”

Because the last thing he wanted was any of the betas listening in to their conversation. Derek studied him for a moment longer before nodding and pulling the towel off his shoulder, dropping it onto the counter. Running his hands nervously through his hair, Stiles followed the man out of the kitchen, toward the loft door.

Isaac was the only one who looked away from the TV. The little bastard was smirking wide and obvious.

Stiles ground his teeth together and followed Derek out of the loft.

He’d kind of expected things to be awkward right from the start when he’d stepped foot in the loft. But Derek was acting like the entire event from a week ago hadn’t even happened. Meanwhile, Stiles could barely even look at his jeep without remembering every last word said.

Out in the hallway, Derek gave Stiles a blank look, his expression not betraying a thing. And, god, Stiles hated that about the werewolf sometimes.

“So,” he said, words sticking to his throat. “Yeah.”

Derek’s brows furrowed. Stiles cursed himself internally, biting down hard on his lower lip.

“Derek, what the hell is going on?”

“What do you mean?”

Stiles gaped at the man before shaking his head. Because he wasn’t imagining these things, dammit. “Uh, what do I mean? Derek!” He rubbed a hand over his face. “My car. The jacket. The constant weird leftovers and that one random time I was sick, you literally brought me soup? Even Scott didn’t bring me soup! And I had been complaining through text to him the entire day.”

Derek’s right eye twitched. The man didn’t say a word. Stiles’s head spun.

“I’m not going crazy,” he said. And he kind of needed to hear that out loud, even if he was the one to say it. “I just… I don’t understand you.”

Derek's face did something strange— maybe he looked a little red. But he didn’t say a word and Stiles hated him a little bit.

“I’m not going crazy, Derek.”

“No,” the man said, something in his expression finally softening. Stiles stared and Derek shoved his hands into his pockets, glancing at the wall over Stiles’s shoulder. “You’re not.”

Stiles swallowed hard, desperately hoping the man wasn’t going to leave him at that. Because he didn’t think he could manage more half explanations. The silence stretched as Derek didn’t say anything for a long moment, and then the man dropped his gaze.

“I… don’t know how to do this.”

“Do what?”

“This.”

“I’m gonna need more than that, dude.”

Derek scowled at nothing. The man literally looked constipated now and Stiles might have been a little bit worried if he wasn’t so confused. So damn confused.

“Derek, do what?”

“All of… this! All of this, dammit, Stiles!”

Stiles startled. But before he even had a chance to react, Derek was moving forward. And then there were hands on the sides of his head, desperate lips pressing against his own, and Stiles jolted, nearly yanking back, and then all but melted into the touch.

For a moment Stiles.exe stopped working. His brain officially logged off and his instincts took over, leading Stiles to press right back, kissing Derek as hard as he could.

And if this was another thing he didn’t understand about Derek Hale, Stiles never wanted to figure the man out.

He kissed Derek hard and hungry. Because how long had he wanted to do this? There was a not-so-little part of him that had imagined kissing Derek Hale. Ever since Stiles had first laid eyes on the man. And okay, maybe he didn’t understand it, maybe he didn’t understand him, but at the same time, maybe Stiles had never wanted anything more. Wanted to know something, know someone, more.

At the rate his thoughts were going, that’s what he clung to anyway.

Derek broke contact first. The man drew back almost as fast as he had moved forward and Stiles was left standing there for a moment, swaying just a little, torn between catching Derek’s lips once more or passing out right where he stood.

But when he met Derek’s gaze, the man looked terrified. The coolness of the werewolf’s expression had finally vanished and Stiles wasn’t sure he’d ever seen Derek’s expression hold so much before.

“Oh,” he said. And yeah, that was the first thing that left his mouth. If possible, Derek’s face paled even more.

“I’m sorry.”

Stiles blinked. Just like that, he didn’t understand a thing about Derek Hale all over again. “You’re… what?”

“I’m sorry,” Derek said, clenching his jaw. “I shouldn’t— I didn’t—”

“Derek.”

The man cut off and looked at him with what could only be called a fragile expression. Stiles swallowed hard, all of it crashing down on him suddenly.

“Derek.”

“Stiles.”

Stiles stared. Derek Hale… god, Derek Hale was an enigma wrapped up in a leather jacket. Every time Stiles thought he was getting close to understanding even the smallest thing about the man, something had to change. Soup on a shitty day or a set of keys dropped onto his mattress. And sometimes Stiles thought he understood Derek Hale. But other times, he thought he never would.

The feel of the kiss still lingered on his lips. Maybe… just maybe he could understand that much. For a moment.

Stiles stepped forward carefully. “You confuse the hell out of me.”

Derek stayed stiff and silent. Reaching out, Stiles brushed the tips of his fingers against the man’s own.

“You’re like a thousand lines of red string, Derek Hale.”

Something flickered in Derek’s eyes. Stiles couldn’t tell if it was confusion or a hint of nervousness. Maybe it was a little bit of both.

Licking his lips, Stiles tilted his chin up and searched the man’s face. “I’m not sure I’ll ever fully understand you.”

This time, Derek looked a little pained. Stiles offered a small smile.

“But I’d like to.”

Grey-green eyes flickered with the faintest hue of red. Stiles closed that last foot of space between them and took Derek’s hands fully, hoping the werewolf couldn’t hear how fast his heart was racing. Because he felt a little lightheaded and a little nauseous— like if this didn’t work out, he might throw up.

Which totally was not sexy at all.

“Derek?”

The man stared at him. The barest hint of color had finally returned to his cheeks. “Stiles.”

“You should totally kiss me again.”

Derek blinked. His expression did something strange. And then it was like the tension had been wiped from his face. In the breath of a moment, warm lips were pressing against Stiles’s again and this time, there was nothing desperate about it. Nothing hard, nothing sudden, nothing rash. The man kissed him warm, careful, and it was kind of like a leather jacket being draped over his shoulders in the cold of the rain.

Stiles smiled against Derek’s lips. Because honestly, there was something about it that just seemed right. And he thought he knew what it all could become.

He'd like to, at least.

For the moment, though, Stiles kissed the man with just as much hope and decided he understood that much.

#sterek #teen wolf #sterek prompt #sterek fanfiction #ficlet #derek hale #stiles stilinski #stiles x derek #eternalsterek #prompts

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hepaidattention · 3 years

Text

sometimes I just think about how every side character/new character in Teen Wolf were confused why Stiles and Lydia weren’t dating so I wrote those scenes for you all.

*Stiles leaving their house after studying*

Mrs. Martin: That Stiles boy again? Honey, you sure are spending a lot of time with such a spaz of a character.

Lydia: He’s not a spaz, mom. He’s just... enthusiastic.

Mrs. Martin: Mhmmm... are you having sex? Because if you are-

Lydia, gagging: Ew! Mom! Gross! Stop. Just stop. And the answer is no. God no.

Mrs. Martin: Well he is most certainly in love you with you, honey, so maybe you should consider that if you don’t intend on dating him.

*Lydia leaving their house after she comes to visit Stiles for emotional support*

Mr. Stilinski: So... Lydia Martin, huh?

Stiles: Wh- wh- what do you mean? Wh-what about Lydia Martin?

Mr. Stilinski: Well, haven’t you had a crush on the girl since you were a kid? I remember you coming home from school telling me all about her almost every day. Who knew you’d finally get to date her - proud of you son-

Stiles: What? No, no, no, dad no, no I wish I was dating Lydia but no, no she’s just a friend.

Mr. Stilinski: Hm. You sure about that?

Stiles, looking at his dad with a furrowed brow: Yes dad, I think I would know if I was dating Lydia Martin.

Mr. Stilinski, hands raised: Okay, alright, well when you finally sweep her off her feet let me know. We can celebrate with dinner or something.

*Scott and Liam in a supernatural bind*

Liam: What about Stiles’ girlfriend? Could she help?

Scott: I don’t see how Malia can be any help with this situation, Liam.

Liam, confused: Malia? Who’s Malia-? I meant Lydia Martin. You said we need someone who’s connected to the supernatural, didn’t you say Lydia was?

Scott, mouth agape: Who told you Lydia was Stiles’ girlfriend?

Liam: Uhh, the whole school? The whole freshman class were updated on the it couples in the upperclassman. Stiles and Lydia, Chris and-

Scott, trying to hold back his grin: They’re not dating. Stiles and Lydia are just friends.

Liam, eyes narrowed: Right... do they know that?

*Kira and Scott on their first date*

Scott: Yeah, Stiles is best friend. We’ve been friends since we were kids. He’s practically my brother, honestly.

Kira: What about Lydia?

Scott: Me and Stiles have known Lydia for a while, but she never really became a close friend until a couple years ago. It’s funny, now I can’t imagine her not in our lives.

Kira: And... what about Stiles and Lydia? Ya know, as a couple? Sorry - I know I’m being nosy but I just can’t help but wonder what’s going on between them two.

Scott, smiling: You’re not being nosy. No, everyone asks me about them. They’re just friends. Stiles would hang the moon and stars for her, and Lydia likes to pretend she wouldn’t give them the time of day, but ... I don’t know, I like to think one day they’ll figure things out.

Kira, nodding: They practically act like a bickering married couple now, so...

*Lydia and Allison tagging along on the Cross Country trip that led to Motel California*

Coach: Stilinski!

Stiles, running up to him: Yeah, Coach?

Coach: Is there a reason why you’re little girlfriend is here on this bus?

Stiles, looking around confused: Who- who do you mean Coach?

Coach, pointing at Lydia: Stilinski, don’t play dumb with me. I am looking right at her.

Stiles: Oh, Lydia? Oh geesh - god no she’s not my girlfriend, no she’s just a good friend. Or, well, I’d call her friend. I think Lydia would be a little iffy on that word but-

Coach: Really? You’re not dating?

Stiles: No...? Or, I mean, yes to the no?

Coach: I could have sworn I saw her wearing your jacket.

Stiles: I mean, if a person is in need of jacket to stay warm I’m not gonna deny them that, Coach. I mean, if I’m honest, I would love for us to be more than friends but you know those things take time and -

Coach: Stilinski, let me ask you something.

Stiles: Go for it.

Coach: Do you think think I care about your pointless high school will they or won’t they drama?

Stiles: Nope, no I do not sir.

Coach: What I thought. Next time, tell your little crush that she needs to bring her own vehicle if she wants to watch her not-boyfriend compete. Do you understand me Stilinski?

Stiles: Yup, yup I do, Coach. Loud and clear.

Coach: Good. And be a man and ask the girl out, for pete’s sake. What are you, 12?

*Theo and Scott after Theo is brought back. Lydia ran off with Malia in hopes to find/remember Stiles more*

Theo: So, I guess this means Stiles and Lydia finally got together?

Scott: I... I mean, I don’t really know. I...don’t really remember. Why? Were they not before?

Theo, laughing: Stiles and Lydia? God, those two had the most sexual tension in the room, but would refuse it in a heartbeat. Especially Lydia.

Scott: Really? Lydia told us she loved him, I guess I just assumed...

Theo: Yeah everyone did. No one really understood why they weren’t together. The moment I saw them together I caught on to the weird kind of connection they had. It was honestly entertaining, watching them both silently pine for each other like idiots. You should’ve seen Stiles’ face when Lydia was in Eichen House.

Scott: Stiles - Stiles was there for that?

Theo: Uh, yeah? Stiles is the one who saved her. Or, well I helped, a lot, and so did mostly everyone I guess - but Stiles did most of the planning and action. He was a mess when he couldn’t find her. And when he did? God I thought they were gonna make out right there.

Scott: But... they didn’t.

Theo: No. They didn’t. They pretended to just be friends. Does Lydia seriously not remember any of this?

Scott: Honestly... I think all she really remembers is how much she loved him. I think that’s about we all remember.

Theo, rolling his eyes: It would be the Wild Hunt to erase Stiles from reality to make her finally figure it out.

#stydia #because everyone in the show was a shipper #especially theo #teen wolf

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spade-riddles · 3 years

Text

Submission: Adjusting expectations

Okay, guys. Wading in here where it’s possible no-one wants me, but … here goes.

We - Kaylors - are in a hard place right now. People feel hurt, they feel hopeless. They feel like they were led on by the likes of Spade. I’m not here to invalidate any of the feelings that come from seeing Karlie and Taylor play out this charade.

But I think we (collectively, as a fandom) need to take a breath and ask if any of this is really as bad or unfixable as we think it is. Because, for me, the recent stunting is hard to stomach but not truly surprising. On some level this is how I expected Karlie and Taylor to handle both the birth of the baby and the launch of the rerecorded albums. As much I wanted to believe in the idea of spring breaking loose and bringing with it a fervent revolution … I could see the pieces still in play on the board and I doubted it was coming.

I think the problem is that there was a split between the optimist and pragmatist sides of the fandom, over the last year or so. To be clear - I’m not judging the optimist side of the fandom. Not at all. Taylor has pulled wildcard moves before, and emotions run so high in all this, especially with a baby involved now, that I don’t blame people for wanting to believe the best. But it reached a stage where some of the things people were trying to talk themselves into were just wildly unrealistic. And when that happens, of course you’re going to get hurt. It’s inevitable.

But let’s really look at this for a second. We should have known that neither Karlie nor Taylor was going to be shaving her beard in March. Ditching Jerk right after or just before the birth would have been too soon for Karlie. It’s not unusual for a celeb marriage to fizzle out within a year of the birth, but before the baby even arrives? That would be weird, and would draw attention just when it seems Kaylor don’t want it. They just had a baby. That’s an adjustment in itself, and Karlie is suffering enough social media hate on top of that. I wouldn’t blame her for just wanting to take a break and lie low during this difficult time. And unfortunately, for Karlie, that means maintaining the status quo of the situation she put herself in with Jerk. She may be doing the bare minimum to maintain it, but if she wants to avoid attention, she has to make it seem like everything between her and her “husband” is normal. And that she’s trying to make it work, which I believe will be important later. Good people try to make it work, even in bad relationships.

Toe wasn’t going anywhere either. Taylor had relied on him so heavily during the promotion of Folklore, with the William Bowery narrative, that she was almost backed into a corner. She had to give some allusion to his air quotes “creative input” and their so-called happy relationship, or her failure to do so would have become the story and overshadowed her night. The headlines would have either been break-up speculation or complaints that she didn’t give him his due. We think the cutesy coverage after she named him in her acceptance speech was bad, but negative headlines have a far longer shelf life and can take on a life of their own. They would have been worse. Whatever we might think of Taylor’s actions, Folklore is one of her best albums and she deserved to have her night.

So, on to the announcement of the birth. This is a tricky one, and again, I completely understand why people reacted so badly against it. It was everything we as a fandom said we didn’t want. It was Jerk using the baby for personal good PR. But I have to be honest here. I always thought we were kidding ourselves believing he would NEVER be seen with the baby or implied to be the father. I do believe Karlie is doing her damnedest to minimize the digital footprint of his involvement and keep her actual baby out of it. But he was always going to get to bask in the glow of playing daddy for a while. It’s the trade off Kaylor made when they used him to shore up their closet.

This is also why I increasingly suspect the timing of the announcement got the green light from Kaylor too. If Jerk was always going to be assumed to be the father of Karlie’s baby, then there was always going to have to be a birth announcement that incorporated him somehow - unless the girls were ready to answer awkward questions, and it doesn’t seem like we’re there yet. So the best way to minimize the damage is to have his moment of glory overshadowed by a bigger win for Taylor. It worked pretty well actually. Even on Kaylor blogs the stunt was mostly buried by Taylor content.

I know a lot of fans feel gaslit by all the hints, but I do think there’s a possibility Taylor really didn’t grasp how hurt Kaylors would be. From her perspective, she “fed” fans three times over that night. She gave us a beautiful performance, a gorgeous red carpet moment, and a win to celebrate. I think it’s possible she really didn’t realize the double whammy of stunting that night would make it all feel worthless for many.

Taylor is in an awkward position. As a consequence of Kaylor retreating into the closet, the support base for them has shrunk. (When I use the words “Kaylor fandom”, I refer to this support base.) I would say Kaylor fandom consists of two parts. There is a silent portion, who observe events and comment anonymously, but don’t say anything “on main”. And then there are the small corps of true believers, who think Karlie and Taylor are still together and the baby is theirs. This latter group do most of the actual talking about Kaylor, but they tend to be pretty battle-hardened. They’ve been around for years, they never believe any of the stunts and their capacity to be hurt by them is, as a result, pretty limited. These Kaylors criticize sometimes, but they tend to fall back in line eventually and mostly adopt a “let’s wait and see how this all shakes out” approach. The problem is that I would say these “chilled” Kaylors are the minority. For their own sanity they curate their blog experience and often don’t post the more negative anons they get. Which is fine, but if you were looking at it from the outside, I could see how it might create an impression that the fandom as a whole can roll with the punches. And for a lot of the silent majority, that’s not the case.

But again, I can see how Taylor might not necessarily know that. She went quiet after the Grammys, when I might have expected more celebratory posts from her. If I had to guess, I’d say she didn’t expect the backlash. I’m especially noticing a backlash against her for allowing Karlie to take so many hits while her own reputation has never been better. And I can’t defend her on that one, except to say I hope she has a plan. But I understand where people are coming from when they say the songs aren’t enough and actions speak louder than words. It’s tough to watch.

Still, we’re in a position we should realistically have been able to see coming. We should have known Jerk wasn’t going to be out of the picture immediately after the birth. This is one of those things nobody likes, but maybe we all just have to be patient on. I don’t see Karlie busting out of the closet to admit her marriage was a fake, or testifying to the FBI. I think she’ll just let her marriage quietly fall apart, as many real marriages did during the pandemic. And for that to work, she needs to make it look like didn’t throw away a family unit lightly. Hence the “I tried” post, the social media break, and the suggestions of spending time with Jerk’s family. All of this can be spun later into a narrative of Karlie having tried to make it work, only to never really be accepted. The hate online affected her mental health and she gradually realized how unhappy she’d become and decided she needed to break free and find her old self again for her baby’s sake. This is the most likely narrative for Karlie’s freedom and it’s one that could work - but it’s going to take time to unfold. Personally, I’m giving it a year. If we don’t see a separation by then, and definitive moves to a reunited Kaylor, I’ll be bowing out. I’ll still know what I believe the truth to be, but I won’t see the need to devote my energy to defending it. ,

Meanwhile, the masters rerecords are about to be released, and Taylor has invested a lot in their success. Because of this, I can’t envision her coming out until at least the big three (Fearless, 1989, and Red) have dropped. She might drop hints, but I don’t expect anything earth-shattering. Even the order of the album releases seems to confirm this. She’s breaking out the big guns first.

I’ve seen people speculate that because Rep can’t be rerecorded until 2022, Taylor will hold off on any coming out until then. And I’m not so sure of that. Yes, people listening to the album for clues would give Scott and Scooter money, but if we’re being honest, a fair amount of people are probably listening to those albums already, regardless of the drama. Those sleazeballs are profiting from Rep, full stop. But if Taylor profits more, from her bigger albums, she still wins. And she can still put out a Taylor’s version of Rep with vault tracks and collabs, to seduce people away from the Big Machine version in early 2022. Honestly, I think there’s a good chance Taylor would consider this is a worthwhile trade-off anyway, if it meant she got to live a more open life with Karlie - and most crucially, begin to repair Karlie’s reputation. As children get older and the world begins to leave the pandemic behind, it becomes harder to live behind closed doors. I guess we’ll find out how Taylor finds the reality of such a life, and what she considers worth sacrificing to step away from it.

All this to say: I can’t predict the future more than anyone else, but I don’t think the situation we’re in now is irreparable, and if we’re being really objective, I don’t think it’s even surprising. I do think Taylor should give us something, if she wants to keep us around. No-one can live on a complete absence of hope, and as I’ve stated, letting the fandom dwindle to this extent has its own dangers. But I think we also need to keep our time frames realistic, even if it means rejecting lifelines like the Spade riddles. We shouldn’t expect Karlie to be free of Jerk for around a year, and we shouldn’t expect Taylor to do anything much beyond general music promo until at least the big three have dropped. Sucks to say it, I know. But at least this way we won’t be disappointed, and if Kaylor do pull a wild card and move towards freedom, we can be pleasantly surprised.

Just my two cents.

___________________

Well written and fair arguments on our reactions and expectations. I had typed up more, but I will let others post their comments before I chime in.

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marvelyningreen · 3 years

Text

Late-bloomer

[Summary: Professor Xavier once said that there was much more in you than you knew. You weren’t sure what he’d meant by that. Then again, when push comes to shove, who knows?

Warnings: mild language, references to injury

Notes: Peter Maximoff x reader, of the low-key established relationship variety. Sequel to “Linger.” ]

“You are gonna come with, aren’t you? Please?” Peter had laced his fingers through yours, swinging your hand playfully. “The professor thinks you’re ready, and I wanna be there for your first mission!”

The better part of a year had passed since Professor Xavier promised to spend more time helping you master your abilities and, true to his word, he devoted time every week to training you. To your own surprise – if not to anyone else’s – you’ve actually been improving. While you sometimes still feel that you’re behind the curve, you can’t deny that you’re much stronger than you used to be.

For your part, you kept your promise to the professor.

You’d always been too intimidated to speak to Jean, but one morning, you psyched yourself up and did it. You asked to sit with her at breakfast, and initiated a fumbling conversation that was mostly about the weather. Scott seemed baffled – and frankly embarrassed for you – but from across the room, Peter gave you a thumbs-up.

You did manage to find out that Jean’s fond of phlox and peonies, and resolved to add more to the garden. You must’ve thought it pretty loudly, because Jean caught your eye and smiled. She greets you when you pass in the hallways now.

You’d overheard Kurt mention that a certain disused alcove was probably once a little Mary garden. He’d sounded wistful to you. You did your homework, bringing in a small statue of Mary and filling the surrounding flowerbeds with irises, lilies, and roses.

The next time you saw Kurt in the gardens, you casually suggested that he walk over that way, trying hard not to sound like a try-hard and hoping that you hadn’t overstepped yourself. Not two minutes later, Kurt suddenly teleported in front of you and hugged you before you could say a word. Now, you often see him go out there to pray. Sometimes, you join him.

Summers are fairly quiet at the school. The students who were able to would go home for summer vacation. Some elected to stay around to further their training and some, sadly, didn’t really have homes to return to.

Your summer project has been an effort to revitalize the mansion’s disused kitchen gardens. You let the remaining students know that anyone who wants to is welcome to help out, and the response so far has been enthusiastic. You haven’t had any shortage of volunteers to help with the planting and weeding and watering. Some of the faculty joined in as well, when they were between missions. You think you might able to get a head-start on replanting the orchard.

And Peter, well…

Peter may not be inclined to gardening himself, but he’s definitely inclined to hang out with you while you garden. Apparently, you’d been the last to figure out that Peter was smitten with you, so it was to the surprise of no one when it was clear you two were seeing each other.

He’d even volunteered to help with your training. Of course, he was almost immediately banned from using the “think fast!” technique, if only because he was way too nice about it. The second it looked like you weren’t going to catch whatever he’d tossed in your direction, he’d zip in and catch it himself so it wouldn’t hit you. It was adorable, but not exactly helpful to your learning process.

He’d be gone for weeks at a time, though. He would get sent on missions here and there, and he took summer as an opportunity to spend time with his mother and sister. Your windowsills are beginning to fill up from all the souvenirs he brought back.

Just this morning, you’d promised him homemade apple strudel for breakfast, and he’d mentioned he might bring someone else along, if that was alright with you. You’d assumed that meant Kurt was coming home early. But no, Peter turned up at your door with Mr. Lehnsherr in tow.

It might’ve been nice to have a little advance notice so you could make a good first impression on your boyfriend’s very intimidating father – who happens to be an ex-supervillain – but at least Peter’s easygoing confidence managed to keep things from getting awkward.

And somehow – somehow – the offshoot of all this was that you and Mr. Lehnsherr both ended up tagging along on this mission. Whether it was the professor’s reassurance that it was strictly a diplomatic errand or Peter’s puppy-dog eyes that were more convincing, neither of you could say.

You’d managed to convince yourself that this was fine. The professor wouldn’t have brought you if he didn’t think you were ready, right? And all of your doubts were in your own head; you knew that. Nobody was looking at you and wondering why they’d brought the help along. Peter, who for some reason seemed to be enjoying the opportunity to spend time with you and Mr. Lehnsherr simultaneously, stuck close to you and gave your hand a reassuring squeeze.

And then everything went all to hell before you could blink.

Now you’re trying to telekinetically prevent a net-full of plastic waste barrels from falling into the harbor, Scott has just lasered a third shipping container in half, Mr. Lehnsherr is turning the wreckage into a makeshift holding cell, and Peter is zipping around tossing your assailants into it.

And just when everything’s finally been safely contained and you think you’ve got a second to breathe, the professor speaks up.

“I’ve lost Hank.”

The fairly upbeat mood darkens instantly.

“One of those guys was running psychic interference, wasn’t he?” says Peter.

“Yeah, but he got knocked out,” says Scott. “Nice shot, by the way.”

That last part is directed at you, with an approving nod.

“We’ll find him, Charles,” says Mr. Lehnsherr. “He can’t be far.”

“I’ll take a look around,” says Peter.

He disappears, and there’s a second or two of silence. The professor presses his fingertips to his temple and glances around worriedly, as if listening all the harder for any trace of Hank. Before you can suggest heading back to your transport, you hear Peter shout.

“Over this way! Hurry!”

Wordlessly, you all take off at a run. He’d only said to hurry. He hadn’t said that Hank was alright, which can only mean…

As you round the corner, you gasp in horror. There lies Hank – injured, unconscious, and bleeding out on the ground. As one, you all rush to his side, but Peter’s there in a blink.

“I can run him back to the mansion,” he begins, but Mr. Lehnsherr interrupts.

“If we move him before we stabilize him, it might kill him.”

Peter had looked worried up until this moment, not panicked. But at the thought that his particular skills won’t help here, his expression turns grim.

“If we don’t get help, he’ll die anyway,” Scott argues.

As the others speak, the floor seems to tilt under you, and you sink to your knees just to keep yourself from falling. You press your hands against the cold pavement, trying to steady yourself.

Is it because of the blood? No, it’s something else. Something pressing against your skull.

Hank, who’d always been kind to you, who’d become like family to Scott after Alex was killed. Hank, who’d been giddy as a schoolboy all week waiting for Saturday, when he was going to take Mystique out on a real date – dinner at a fancy restaurant, just the two of them.

It isn’t fair.

You feel Peter’s hands on your shoulders. You feel sick, like you’re about to faint, like you’re seeing double, like-

You are seven years old, playing out in your yard. A windstorm the night before has knocked several baby birds from their nest. The mama bird hops nearby, chirping and calling to no avail. You watch as the baby birds, featherless and helpless, struggle in the grass.

You feel a horrible crushing sadness in your chest. You’ve been told never to touch baby birds, and even if you did, there’s no way you could climb all the way up to their nest.

A heartbroken sob shakes your body. It isn’t fair. The birds are too small to fly, and too weak to defend themselves. And you’re too small, too.

It isn’t fair. You should be able to fix this. You should be able to help.

You aren’t allowed to touch wild animals. Why couldn’t there be a way to help without breaking the rules?

You reach out, and –

The mama bird shrills in alarm. Your sobs fade, and your eyes widen, and you watch as the little birds are lifted into the air – up and up and up – and set gently back in their nest. You know somehow, although you don’t understand, that you made it happen.

“I can fix this.”

The words leave your mouth before you know you’re speaking, and suddenly the others are staring at you in confusion. They know, as you do, that you don’t have any healing abilities, and yet… There’s an inexplicable certainty in your mind, in spite of the panic in your chest.

“I can fix this,” you say again, “But I don’t know how.”

You turn away from Hank, looking up at Professor Xavier. There’s worry in his eyes, and something unreadable along with it.

“Sir, please, can you help me?” you plead.

The professor nods, and reaches out to place his fingertips on your temple. Almost of their own accord, your eyes close, and your hand reaches out to Hank’s shoulder.

Through the chaos of your fear, there’s a calm presence in your mind.

Focus, it bids you. You can fix this. You can change it. Reach out to that which is damaged, and make it whole. Focus.

You reach out, and your mind is overwhelmed with a sensation that it struggles to comprehend. You’d thought that trying to use your powers was like trying to remember the words to a song. You see now that that’s not quite accurate. It feels like having heard a song played backwards your whole life, and finally hearing it the right way ‘round.

You are thirteen. A girl in your class has just seen her friend get pushed down the stairs by a bully. The girl shouts, and suddenly the granite steps rearrange themselves into a ramp, and the landing turns to sand, and the friend slides down into it unharmed.

The girl runs off before you have a chance to say anything. The following week, she doesn’t show up for class. You learn later that her family moved away.

You’re afraid, and you don’t understand, and you keep going. The effort of focusing is immense, impossible. You hardly know if you’re remembering to breathe, or if the pressure is inside your skull or around it.

You feel… What you feel defies description. It’s as though you’re at a beach, and you press your hand against the sand, and you can feel the pattern, the structure in the seemingly random grains of sand, and you know that it isn’t right. And if you focus – if you focus all your energy – you can will the millions and millions of grains of sand to rearrange themselves into the right order.

For a moment, the sheer vastness of the situation threatens to overwhelm you. But the professor’s steadying presence stays in your mind, like a hand holding yours as you lean further and further out over a ledge. Slowly, grain by grain, the sands are beginning to shift.

You’re in college. Yet another class has devolved into a debate about mutants – their existence, their rights, their purpose.

You don’t speak up in class under normal circumstances. That isn’t about to change now.

A voice, outside your head, drifts through the garbled static in your ears.

“His wounds are healing. He’s… he’s stabilizing. Charles, how-?”

You’re vaguely aware that the professor is answering him out loud, but you hear him in your mind: Come back now. Come back. You’ve done it; just relax.

Relax? You can try. The strange sensations fade from your mind, and their place is filled by the sounds of the world around you and an overwhelming sense of exhaustion. It feels as though the hand has pulled you back onto solid ground, but you can’t seem to keep your balance, and-

The instant you begin to fall, you find your head resting against somebody’s shoulder, and their arms are wrapped around you.

You’re twenty-five, and the entire world is shaken to its foundations by some catastrophe in Cairo. You try with all your strength, but nothing you do can prevent your apartment building from collapsing.

“Professor…?” Peter’s voice is beside your ear, strident with worry, but it seems so much further away.

“It’s alright, Peter,” you hear the professor saying, dimly.

You’ll be alright.

You are twenty-six. It’s far too quiet in this room. This building may function as a school, but it still feels like a mansion. You stare at the cup of tea in front of you. It smells wonderful, but you’re too nervous to take a single sip. Across the table, Professor Charles Xavier regards you with a thoughtful expression.

“I understand you wish to work here at my school. Is that right?” he asks.

“Yes,” you say. “I know I’m too old to be a student, and I don’t really have any experience teaching, but I… I want to learn, and I’m willing to work. If there’s any job that needs doing, anything at all; if you need a custodian, or help in the kitchens, or… or a groundskeeper, maybe. Anything.”

Your gaze darts longingly to the gardens outside the window. The grounds here are so beautiful. It’s one of the things you missed most when you lived in the apartment – having a garden to look after.

The professor takes a sip of tea and sits back.

“My school is open to anyone who wishes to learn,” he says. “What are your abilities, exactly?”

“My…? Well.” Your heart sinks. You were afraid of this.

Painfully aware of the professor’s eyes on you, you telekinetically lift your spoon into the air. Focus, now. Focus. The spoon dips into the sugar bowl, and – spilling a trail of sugar along the way – shakily hovers back to your teacup and stirs itself in before returning to the saucer with a loud clink.

“I know it’s not much,” you say, “But that’s why I want to learn.”

With hands trembling as badly as the spoon had, you pick up the teacup and take a sip, just to buy yourself a precious few seconds.

The professor nods. “I see.”

He leans his chin on his hand. You’re certain that you’ve failed. Just as you’re bracing yourself to hear him politely send you packing –

“We hire a local company to maintain the grounds,” he says, “But the gardens themselves could use better tending, especially from someone who cares about the work. There’s even a little groundskeeper’s cottage that’s only being used to storage now, if you need somewhere to stay. The job is yours, if you want it.”

You can’t believe your ears. Professor Xavier – the Professor Charles Xavier – is offering you a job, and a chance to learn, and a place to stay? You nearly upset the whole tea set as you stand abruptly, reaching across the table to shake the professor’s hand.

“Yes! Absolutely, yes,” you say, “Sir, thank you. I’ll work hard, I promise.”

The professor laughs. “I don’t doubt it.”

Are you ready to wake up?

No, you mumble. Five more minutes.

The voice in your head chuckles gently.

It’s been three days already.

Three days? Ridiculous. No one would’ve let you sleep for three whole days. The gardens would be overrun with weeds. The windowboxes would’ve dried up. Indignant, you open your eyes.

And immediately squint them shut again. The intense brightness of the room stings.

You feel a hand lift from your forehead, and a shadow falls over your eyes and lingers there. Beyond its merciful shade, you can tell that the light in the room has dimmed. Cautiously, you open your eyes once more, blinking a few times.

You’re disoriented for a moment, expecting to see the familiar walls of your room in the cottage. But this rather featureless room is in the infirmary beneath the mansion. You don’t have the faintest idea what you’d be doing there.

The hand shading your eyes withdraws, and you follow its movement to see Professor Xavier looking down at you. He smiles.

“Welcome back.”

“Back?” you repeat. “Back from wh- … wait.”

You remember. You remember all of it – the docks, the blood… Hank.

You have to get up. You have to find Hank.

The professor catches your shoulder, preventing you from sitting up.

“Easy. Easy, there,” he says.

“What happened? Where’s Hank? Professor, did I… Is he-?”

The professor speaks slowly and gently, like he’s calming a frightened child. And to be honest, that’s exactly what you feel like in this moment.

“Hank is fine,” he says, “He’ll need to take it easy for a while, but he’s going to make a full recovery. You saved his life.”

Relief floods through you, tightening your throat. For a moment, you don’t trust that your voice is steady enough to speak. You look away from the professor’s kind gaze and blink back tears. You’d been so scared that a good man might’ve died because you and the others were too late to save him. You’d been certain that, once again, you were powerless to help.

“I don’t understand what happened” you say, finally, “All of that… Was it you, Professor?”

He shakes his head.

“All I did was help you keep your focus. Everything else was you entirely. Didn’t I say that there’s more in you than you would guess?”

“I… I figured you were just saying that to be nice.”

Your sheepish honesty makes the professor laugh, and that puts you a little more at ease.

“I said it because it’s true.” He pauses, then continues on to answer your unasked question. “Hank has some rather complicated term for your abilities, but the more common expression for it is a reality warper. Telekinesis is merely the simplest manifestation of those powers.”

“Reality…? I’m still confused,” you say, and it’s the understatement of the century. The sporadic, barely-adequate telekinetic abilities you’d possessed since childhood weren’t really telekinesis at all?

“Within limits, you have the ability to alter reality. For example, it would be simple enough for you to change an apple into an orange, or freeze the water in a glass. It follows that you are able to take something damaged and repair it again. And if the damage is an injury, you could heal it. Of course, Hank was quite badly injured, so undoing the damage required tremendous exertion on your part.”

Your head is spinning as you try to process all of this. You can change things, transform them, fix them.

Your gaze drifts to Professor Xavier’s wheelchair.

If you can heal people, then maybe…

But when you look up, the professor is shaking his head.

“As I said, there are limits even to powers like yours.”

“But if I tried,” you say, “Maybe I could-”

“No.” The professor’s tone is firm. “You’ve been unconscious for days, and that was from healing recent injuries. Something new is more easily altered than something old. And an old wound… It’d only do you harm to try. I can’t allow you to do that, even for my own sake.”

The confused elation you’d been feeling starts to flag. You’ve been so used to feeling useless that it’s easy to slip back into that familiar territory. It startles you when Professor Xavier lays his hand on yours.

“Someday, you may be able to accomplish that and more,” he says, and laughs gently. “I’ve just told you that you have the power to reshape the world, and the first though that comes to your mind isn’t a way to use it for gain or entertainment. Your first impulse is to use it to help someone. I’m touched. Truly, I am. Thank you for thinking of me.”

There’s a deeper warmth in his voice as he says this, and you cannot doubt that he’s speaking from the heart. He’d know – he must’ve known, somehow – what you were when you came to him, offering to take on any job that needed doing just for a chance to learn. On some level, you’d always assumed he hired you out of pity.

But things are becoming clearer now – why he’d accepted you, why he hadn’t told you what you were, why he’d let you find your own way.

You’ve known the professor long enough to understand that his decisions are motivated by kindness. He had no choice in gaining immense powers at a young age, himself. Jean was just the same. You couldn’t fault him for wanting to spare someone else that burden.

The professor must be following your train of thought, because he nods slightly.

“I always had faith that your path would lead you here,” he says, “And that whatever the circumstance, you would come into your own out of an earnest desire to help others. That’s exactly what you did. I’m proud of you.”

Your hand closes around the professor’s for a brief, fervent instant.

“Thank you,” you say.

The sincerity of this validation warms your heart. You blink rapidly, trying to keep yourself from actually tearing up, when –

“Awww…”

You’re startled by the sound of another voice in the room. You look sharply over to see Peter sitting in the corner, his feet kicked up on a table.

“Peter!” you gasp, “How long have you been there?”

He shrugs. “The whole time. You just never looked over this way. And it seemed like you two were having a moment, so I didn’t wanna interrupt. Good morning, by the way.”

“Good… morning,” you say, haltingly, suddenly realizing that you have no idea what time it is.

Peter grins and pushes himself to his feet, walking over to stand at your bedside. The professor watches him with a smile.

“Peter’s hardly left this whole time,” he says.

“Not true,” says Peter. “I went out to try and help keep up on your groundskeeper stuff. Don’t, uh… Don’t look too impressed. I don’t actually know what’s a weed and what’s not, so I might’ve pulled up a bunch of your flowers. Sorry.”

Oh god, you can just picture the state the gardens must be in. You’re going to have a lot of work to undo whatever happened out there. But the mental image of Peter speed-weeding the entire estate is too amusing not to smile at.

“It’s the thought that counts,” you say.

“Tell that to the geraniums,” says the professor, shaking his head wryly. “Well, I’d better go tell Hank that you’re finally awake. I’m sure he’ll want to thank you in person. I’ll be back.”

The professor could’ve easily just called for Hank telepathically. You get the feeling he’s being polite and trying to give you and Peter a moment alone.

You start to sit up, and wow, apparently that’s a bad idea, because the room is no spinning. You close your eyes, reaching out as if to steady yourself against thin air. In an instant, Peter’s sitting on the edge of the bed, gently holding onto your arms.

“Whoa, take it easy,” he says. “I got you.”

You take a moment to breathe, and the dizziness slowly fades. “It’s okay. Just headrush.”

When you open your eyes, Peter’s still watching you intently. Never fully letting go, he moves his hands to hold yours.

“How are you feeling?” he asks.

“Alright, actually. Just… tired. Not in a bad way.”

You smile, hoping it’ll reassure him, and it seems to work. Peter leans in to kiss you.

“Who’s exceptional and important and incredible now?” He grins brightly as he tosses your own words back at you.

“That’s not- You don’t- Um…”

He laughs as you trip over your tongue completely. You’d always felt a little inadequate in the face of compliments, and that’s a lot of them to accept all at once.

Peter rolls his eyes. “Alright, fine. Bite-sized compliments from now on. Got it. But you are all of that. I always knew you were.”

Though his tone is teasing, the look in his eyes is entirely sincere. And, to your surprise, you believe him. There’s not an insincere bone in his body; you know that for a fact. So, it stands to reason that his feelings about you must be just as genuine.

The rush of that feeling – the confidence in Peter, and in yourself – puts on you cloud nine, almost literally. You have to focus to keep yourself from actually levitating everything in the room.

“I can’t believe I’m just figuring all this out now,” you say. “I mean, I’m thirty, for crying out loud.”

“And I lived in my mom’s basement until I was twenty-seven. What’s your point?” says Peter, shrugging. “Just ‘cause it took us a little longer to figure things out – we both still got there in the end. Late-bloomer solidarity, am I right?”

“Late-bloomer solidarity,” you repeat, grinning back at him. “Wait, do you think this means I’m gonna be an official X-Man now?”

Peter’s face lights up. “Hell yeah, you are! I’m officially calling dibs on having you as a partner. Hey, have you thought about what your codename’s gonna be?”

Your brows furrow in a look of confusion that Peter seems to find amusing. You actually hadn’t thought about it at all. You never thought you’d get this far, really.

“I wouldn’t know where to start,” you say.

“Yeah, you’ve got a lot going for you. You’re a jack of all trades, a wild card. Oh!” Peter snaps his fingers excitedly. “Wild Card. That’s a good one. You don’t have to pick right now, but… I’m just sayin’- if you don’t pick your own, somebody’s gonna pick one for you.”

You grin. “That’s true. I mean, look at you. You’re fast, you’re full of sass, and you love sugar. In another life, you might’ve been The Amazing Hummingbird.”

The look of disgust on Peter’s face is priceless. “That’s tragic, and I’m offended.”

You can’t help but giggle.

“I like Quicksilver,” you say. “I think it suits you.”

You run your fingers through Peter’s hair, and he seems to melt. He turns his head to kiss the palm of your hand.

“You don’t know how glad I am that you’re back,” he says. “I didn’t realize just how boring this place can get without you.”

In spite of Peter’s frank expression, you can’t quite believe that. As a fairly reserved gardener, you know you’re not exactly the life of the party.

“Without me?” You laugh. “Be serious.”

Peter snorts. “Right, right. Baby steps. I forgot.”

By chance, your gaze drifts to the far side of the room, where Peter had been sitting before. You just now notice that there’s a cot set up over there, and it’s clearly been slept in. He really had stayed down here for the past three days, hadn’t he? It gives you kind of a warm fuzzy feeling that he’d wanted to stay close to you.

When you look back at Peter, you see that he’s frowning slightly.

“Y’know, you had me worried for a minute there, back at the docks. I mean, the professor explained that you just exhausted yourself because you never changed anything that big before, but…” Peter blows out a breath, shaking his head. “It really looked like you pulled some sorta equivalent exchange healing thing, and I thought, like, what if this is it? I guess what I’m trying to say is – there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you.”

Before you can ask what he means, Peter leans in and kisses you.

“I love you,” he says.

You wonder if this is how Peter feels when he uses his powers – like being the only person truly awake while the rest of the world is frozen in time. In spite of yourself, you feel the gravity in the room loosen its hold just a little, and everything’s floating gently an inch off the ground.

“I love you, too, Peter,” you say.

The trace of apprehension in Peter’s face melts into a smile.

“Even though I wrecked your geraniums?” he asks, sheepishly.

“I can find more geraniums. There’ll never be another you.”

At that, Peter actually looks bashful. Is he… is he blushing? He absolutely is. Gently, you take his face in your hands, and even as you kiss him, he can’t seem to stop smiling.

#peter maximoff x reader #x men fanfiction #peter maximoff #mostly the result of my mind latching onto the idea of creating a character that’s the antithesis of a jean grey #not meant as a criticism of jean or anything #just... we get quite a few ‘my powers are too strong!’ x men characters #I was intrigued by the thought of a mutant who sucks at being a mutant #a true late bloomer if you will XP #if they existed in canon everyone would mistake them for an ordinary human at first #I also definitely thought out a scenario in which they’d become a villain #but that’s a story for probably never XP #just shouting into the void #peter maximoff fanfiction

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rachaelswrites · 3 years

Text

Nicknames

A/N: I didn’t include all actors/characters but if you want one just send it in and I’ll do it. I’ll start including these in my writing

~~~~~~

Here are some nicknames that each of the reader’s have been given

Sebastian Stan “prinţesă”

-Obviously, its Romanian

-There were a few he tried out with you when you were younger but this one stuck for multiple reasons:

-You were a major daddy’s girl (still are) and you pretty much got anything you wanted. You were almost on the verge of spoiled brat

-It also didn’t help that you had a very huge liking for Disney and it’s princesses

-Those dresses with the matching shoes? You had almost all of them

-He called you that until you grew out of your princess obsession, saving it for certain times

-The first time you ended a long term friendship was the first time he used it in years. He’d either call you by your name or something more generic like “Sweetheart”

-You came home visibly upset and ran right into your dad’s arms

-You’d never been this upset before so he said it, hoping in some way it would calm you down

“It’s alright Prinţesă, I’ve got you”

-When it worked that time, he did it again after your first break up.

-You were more angry than sad this time

-He had to hold you down on the couch so you couldn’t hurt anyone

“Prinţesă, calm down. He’s not worth a criminal record

-He used it on days when you were sick or were feeling down

-Maybe even if you were in trouble

-You and him both thought by the age of sixteen, you would hate the nickname but surprisingly, you liked it even more

Chris Evans “peanut”

-Another case of daddy’s girl

-This one comes from several trips to Red Sox’s games

-Chris wanted to get you into sports when you were young (just to watch, not necessarily to play)

-He took you and Scott to one of the first games of the season and he bought peanuts, in his true American way

-You were seated in between him and Scott

-Both of them were sharing the bag while you had ice cream

-Peanuts were a new food for you and you wanted to try them. You grabbed a handful of them and copied your dad’s movements to crack open the shells

-You ate like twenty in less than a minute

-You loved them so much and that’s how that name happened

-Unlike the others, Chris uses this name pretty regularly

-You didn’t mind how often he used it until he started using it on front of your friends

“Hey peanut, do you guys need anything?”

“Dad! That’s embarrassing”

-Your face went bright red and for the rest of the day, your friends teased you (in a loving, joking way)

-Chris realized his small mistake and was a little more careful about when he used it

-Scott called you it once and you swear, you never saw your dad move so quickly

“She’s my peanut, not yours. Find your own nickname”

-Anytime he posts a picture of you on Twitter/Instagram, he used that name instead of your own

Matthew Gray Gubler “munchkin”

-Three words

-Wizard. Of. Oz.

-You had a very weird obsession with this movie. It’s almost embarrassing looking back at it now

-By the time you were three, you knew all the words (as best as you could) to all the songs

-Matthew was about to lose his mind because he had the songs in his head as well, twenty-four-seven.

-You would talk and talk about how much you wanted to go to Munchkin land and be a Munchkin

-It also didn’t help that at the time, you were probably close to the same height

-Sadly, as you got older, you and your dad learned you didn’t develop his height

-You were a whopping 5’2 at the age of fifteen

-And the name stuck

-He knew you weren’t super fond of the name but somehow, it always cheered you up

-If you had a tough day at school, he’d sit on the couch and let you vent

“Let it all out Munchkin”

-You secretly did like the name (even though the origins were embarrassing)

-Matthew never let you live down that obsession

-When you were on set and he called you that, everyone asked why.

“Matthew, why do you call her Munchkin?”

“Dad, don’t do it”

“She was obsessed with The Wizard of Oz”

-He also very rarely referred to you as “Y/n” on social media, opting for Munchkin instead

-Trying to get back at him, you tried to come up with some ridiculous name for him

“I’m going to call you dancer. Cause that’s how you broke your knee”

-That one didn’t last long but Munchkin sure did

Tom Holland “bubs or darling”

-Tom gets two because I can’t pick

-Bubs is because you are the baby out of all of the brothers

-It was also because before you could say any brother’s name, you just called them bubs

-Sam, Harry, and Paddy also called you Bubs. They still call you that sometimes so Tom wanted to try something new

-When you were about five or six, he accidentally called you darling

-It wasn’t a typical brother/sister name but it suited you

-You were such a kind person and your favorite movie to watch with Tom was Peter Pan

-And the last name of Wendy was Darling, so he thought it fitted

-When he called you darling, it was mostly after he came home from filming

“I missed you so much Darling”

-You liked the meaning behind your nickname

-Tom used Bubs if you weren’t feeling like yourself

-Whether it was a bad day or if you were sick

“Take some medicine Bubs” or “Bubs, tell me what’s going on”

-He hated the others calling him Tommy but for you, he’d let you do it anytime you wanted

-Literally, you were the only person he let you call him Tommy

-But he was the only person who could call you Darling

Bucky Barnes “doll”

-Classic

-This one is pretty self explanatory

-It was common during your childhood but once you were in the 21st century, Bucky couldn’t part with it

-It reminded him of the past (in a good way) and he always wanted to relive those memories

-You were eight when HYDRA took him and then you

-The name reminded him of when you were little, and it reminded you too

-While Bucky was in Wakanda, he’d send you letters once he woke up

“Hey Doll, I miss you so much. Hopefully we can see each other soon”

-You kept them all with you

-And when The Snap happened, you’d read those letters back to yourself everyday

“The sunset was really pretty today Doll, it reminded me of the ones from when you were little”

-After those five years, that was the first thing he said to you

“I’m glad you’re safe Doll”

-It only took one time for Sam to tease you about it before you threatened to hurt him

“You make fun of it one more time and I swear it’ll be the last”

-Sam didn’t really understand why that name meant so much to you

-Bucky had to explain it to him

-It was really one of the only things you had left of your childhood

-And it was the one thing you could hold onto for the rest of your life

Ransom Drysdale “princess”

-Again, I think this one is self explanatory and obvious

-You’re spoiled, no doubt about it

-The name actually came from Meg

-She was a few years older than you and she was so used to being the only girl in the family

-And now she had to deal with you

-The reason she called you that was pretty stupid in the first place but as an eight year old, it didn’t matter to her

-You had spilled your drink on her by accident and onto her new shoes

-She went red in the face and started screaming in your face. You burst into tears

-You were only four and Ransom had never raised his voice at you. It was a new experience for you

-All the adults came into the room and walked into the scene of Meg screaming and you crying

-Ransom scooped you up and told Meg off

-Of course Joni took her daughter’s side but no one else did, making her mad

“She never gets in trouble. She’s such a princess”

-After that incident, your dad only used that name just to piss everyone off

-Like there was no need for him to but he just did it

“Princess, come here”

-In general, Ransom liked to show you off and the nickname Princess was the best way to do that

-As you got older, he felt weird using it. Meg had finally gotten over herself and everyone accepted the fact that your dad was spoiling you rotten

-You didn’t need a name to show that

-But as you got older, the issues in the family and all the problems started to weigh down on you

-There was so much drama that happened at family dinners, you were completely drained and exhausted once you got home

-Ransom could tell something was up so he reached into his bag of good parenting skills (which he definitely had, which shocked everyone) and called you Princess for the first time in ten years

“Princess, please tell me what’s wrong”

-For some reason, that one name made everything better for you

-Ransom noticed the small improvement in your mood so he kept calling you that on the daily

“How was school today Princess?”

-And in front of the family again

“Princess, it’s time to go”

-This name was literally just used to show the other Thrombey’s that you and your dad were better than them

-Of course though, you didn’t need a nickname to see that

Spencer Reid “squirt”

-Another name based on an obsession

-But this one can be blamed on Garcia

-While Spencer was on a case one time, she was in charge of watching you

-To keep you entertained while at the BAU, she put on Finding Nemo

-That was a mistake

-From that point on, you had a weird fascination with sea turtles, because of Squirt

-Once Spencer got back, you would not shut up about turtles

“Daddy, look what I just read”

-He was glad you found something you were interested in. He sort of hoped you would find something closer to a more “normal” topic but he would never stop you from learning

-Spencer wasn’t sure how the name fell onto you but once it did, he didn’t stop using it

-He generally used it in the apartment with just you and him

“Squirt, can you pick your toys up for me?” or as you were older “Squirt, can you grab those books for me?”

-He used it a lot when you felt stressed and you weren’t telling him

-So whenever he called you that, you knew you might as well tell him

“Tell me what’s going on Squirt”

-It was such a small gesture but it really did help you

-He tried to explain why it probably made you feel better but you weren’t too interested in the science behind it

-The only time he used it in front of the team is when he got back from a case

-You always met him at the BAU (he made sure you were there to greet him)

-You would stand in front of the elevator and wait for the doors to open

-And when they did, you ran into his arms and he wrapped them around your body

“I missed you Squirt”

-The team absolutely adored that nickname but knew to never call you that, unless they wanted an angry Reid on their hands

Emily Prentiss “love”

-To me, Emily just has European vibes and so does this nickname

-Probably because Emily grew up in Europe, she developed this habit of calling you Love

-The parents of her friends growing up used that name

-She sort of just picked up on it, starting when she first held you in the hospital

“Hi Love, I’m your momma”

-It’s such a simple but meaningful name to her

-You were truly the one person she loved the most (even her mom and even Sergio)

-Speaking of, once she brought Sergio home you started calling him that as well

-You were only four and didn’t understand the concept but Emily didn’t stop you

“Hi Wove”

-Emily never used this in front of people unless something was wrong

-As you got older, it was used more as a reassurance for you

-Her “death” was really hard on you and every case, she would check in

-Lots of the time, the phone calls were short and around the other members of the team

“Hi Love, I miss you. The team says hi”

“I miss you too momma”

-Very rarely would she use it in normal, everyday conversation

-If you were visiting the office, sometimes it would slip out

“Hey Love, are you doing your homework?”

-In front of the team, she used names like “baby” or “honey”

-Love was strictly reserved for just you and her

Jennifer Jareau “bug”

-First thing to know

-If anyone besides JJ called you Bug, even Will, she would literally rip their heads off

-This name was super personal to her and she didn’t want the meaning to be ruined

-You had taken after her love and fascination with butterflies

-Except you hadn’t learned the word butterfly so you just called them bugs, hence the nickname

-JJ only called you two things “Y/n” and “Bug”

-Nothing else

-At one point, Will was convinced that she might’ve forgotten your first name because she called you Bug so much

“JJ, she has a first name you know”

“I know, I think Bug fits her better”

-She did attempt to get your name changed, but to be fair, she was drunk when that happened

-She didn’t care that as you got older, the name was a little embarrassing, especially around your friends

“I’ll pick you up at seven Bug”

“Mom! Really? In front of my friends?”

-Your brothers for awhile thought your name was Bug, because she really only called you that at home

“Do you need help with your homework Bug?” or “Bug, can you set the table?”

-You didn’t realize the meaning behind the nickname until she explained it to you

-And once you did, the name meant so much more to you

-Will helped you pick out a matching necklace set of two butterflies

-You gave it to her after a case and she cried, knowing exactly what it’s meaning was

“Thank you Bug, I love it”

-She never took that necklace off, ever

Taglist

@ssebstann @peachyprincessss @emmy-writes-sometimes @dudele @kerrswriting @laura-naruto-fan1998 @multifamdomfan12 @aquariuslavenderhoney @rafehogwarts

#x daughter!reader #x teen!reader #x child reader #x sister!reader #sebastian stan #chris evans #mgg #tom holland #bucky barnes #ransom drysdale #spencer reid #emily prentiss #jennifer jareau

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just-dreaming-marvel · 3 years

Text

Out Of Time ~ 119

MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 2,300ish

Summary: More of Y/N’s stay in Wakanda.

Y/N was still in a little state of shock, pacing back in forth in her room. Bucky was here. Bucky was alive and had been getting help. She hadn’t spoke to him since Siberia and that was…. Y/N froze in her place when she realized that it had been nine months. Nine months… She should have had her baby by now. She would have had her baby… her precious baby that she didn’t even know the gender of. She collapsed to the floor on her knees. Tears streamed down her face as she wrapped her arms around herself and cried. She stayed like that into the morning hours.

Bucky wasn’t acting much different. He had paced across his small house so many times, he swore he could feel a mark in the floor. He was nervous. He had imagined so many times how his first meeting with Y/N since Siberia would go, and that definitely wasn’t it. She was still the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, even though he could tell the last nine months had not been easy on her. Bucky felt immediate guilt. Blaming himself for what had happened in Siberia.

In the morning, Bucky went to the palace, wanting to talk to T’Challa. He found the King walking down a hallway.

“Your Majesty,” Bucky called, jogging to catch up.

“Oh, Sargent Barnes,” T’Challa smiled, stopping and turning slightly. “How are—“

“Where you ever going to tell me that Y/N’s staying here?”

“T’Challa sighed. “How did you find out?”

“Last night. I was taking a walk in the fields and so was she.”

“Did she see you?”

“Yes.”

“Did she leave?”

“She told me she wouldn’t. But—“

“But you’re not so sure. Follow me.” T’Challa started heading towards Y/N’s room with Bucky in tow.

“T’Challa, why is she here?”

“Like you and the Captain, she’s a fugitive. I promised Steve that I would look for her, look out for her. I found her staying in South Africa, longer than she usually was in one place.”

“I thought she was with Stark. Hasn’t she been with him this whole time?”

T’Challa sighed. “She was missing for six months before we started noticing her movements. From what I know, Stark has been searching for her since then as well.”

“Six months? Of nothing?”

“Yes.”

“Has she…”

“She hasn’t opened up to me. But Y/N has just gotten here. She needs time.”

“How long is she staying?”

“As long as she likes. Here we are.” The men stopped in front of a large door. T’Challa knocked. “Y/N?” He called. No answer. He tried again. “Y/N? Can I come in?” Nothing.

Bucky physical deflated. “She’s probably gone.”

“You don’t know that… Y/N, I’m coming in.” T’Challa opened the door, looking around the room with Bucky following.

“Y/N!” Bucky exclaimed, noticing her unconscious on the floor. He and T’Challa were quickly at her side. “Y/N.” He gently shook her. Just by her face, they could tell she had been crying, recently. “Come on, doll. Wake up.”

“Hmmm?” Y/N hummed, coming back to consciousness. She blinked her eyes rapidly a few times. “Bucky? T’Challa? What’s going on?”

“You tell us,” T’Challa said. “We walked in to find you on the floor, unconscious.”

“Oh… I must have fallen asleep.”

“Doing what, doll?” Bucky questioned.

“I… uh… thanks for the concern. Both of you.” She pushed herself up to stand. “But I think I’m going to go get ready for the day.”

“Y/N…” Bucky reached out to stop her but she pulled away.

“I’ll see you guys around.”

She quickly disappeared into the bathroom, shutting the door behind her. Bucky sighed.

“Do not get discouraged, Barnes,” T’Challa said, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Like you, she just needs time.”

~~~

When Y/N exited the bathroom, she was relieved to see that both T’Challa and Bucky were gone. She did notice that there was some food and a small note on the small table near the door. She walked over, slowly picking up the note.

Y/N - I’m sorry that you found out about me being here the way you did. I understand if you don’t want to be near me. Just know that I will wait however long it takes for you to be ready to talk to me. Cause I understand. I’m going through things too and need time. I’ll be here though, whenever you need. - Bucky

Y/N sighed as she set the note back down. He was clearly trying to get better, to heal from what had happened. Why was it so hard for her to do so? She decided that she needed to go clear her head again, so she headed outside. Y/N wandered around the kingdom, through the streets and market, until eventually, she found herself back at the spot she had run into Bucky the night before. Looking around, she tried to see if there was anyway she could tell where he had come from, or where he had been going.

Y/N turned around, observing her surroundings. She stopped when she noticed a small clay house, not too far away. It was just off the bank of the river with a large tree in front of it. As Y/N slowly moved closer, she noticed a small fenced off area with a few goats. She froze when a man came out of the house, holding some hay, and threw it to the goats. She must’ve been too obvious because Bucky turned, meeting her gaze.

Slowly, Bucky walked over. He stopped far enough away for her to still hear him but wasn’t too close, just incase. Her eyes didn’t stray from his figure.

“How are you?” He asked. He’d been worried since this morning.

“I’m… fine,” she answered. “I’m good.”

“That wasn’t very convincing.”

“Yeah… I definitely think I’ve been better.”

Bucky nodded. “I know the feeling. Do you, uh… do you want to come inside?” He motioned to the house.

“I, um…” She was nervously playing with her fingers as she took a small step back. “I… don’t know…”

“That’s okay. Do you want to stay out here?”

“I don’t know…”

“Okay. What do you want to do?”

“I think… I… I want to apologize…”

He quickly was confused. “Apologize? What do you have to apologize for?”

“For the way Tony acted. He shouldn’t have done what he did.”

“You shouldn’t be apologizing for Tony. Plus… I deserved it. I killed his parents. You should be mad at me too. You were friends with Howard.”

“I’m not mad about that, cause I know that was HYDRA’s doing… I was only ever mad that Steve knew and kept it a secret from us… from me…”

“How— how is Stark?”

“I… I don’t know…. I haven’t seen him since Siberia.”

“Why? I thought you two were a… a couple.”

“Because… he…” Emotion took over her eyes and throat. “He… I…”

“It’s okay.” He stepped forward. “You don’t have to talk about it… you don’t owe me that.”

“I feel like I need to talk about it though… I haven’t really said a whole lot about it since then…”

“Only if you’re ready.”

“I… I don’t know… All I know is that I miss talking to you… I… we used to tell each other everything…”

Bucky nodded. “We did. Why don’t you wait here and I’ll go run and get a blanket for us to sit on. Is that alright?” Y/N nodded in response, not able to met his eyes or open her mouth. “Okay. I’ll be right back.”

He rushed away, back to his house. He quickly grabbed a few blankets and snacks, just in case. When Bucky left his house, he paused as he watched Y/N nervously looking around. He wasn’t used to this side of her. Yes, he had since it before, growing up, but she had always quickly hidden it behind her strength. Bucky laid a blanket down underneath the tree. As he set everything else down, Y/N walked over.

“I thought it would be nice to sit under the tree,” Bucky said as she neared.

Y/N simply nodded. Bucky motioned for her to sit down and she did. She leaned up against the tree, nervously playing with the edge of the blanket with her left hand. Bucky watched, noticing the scaring on her hand.

“Your hand…” he whispered. Y/N looked at him as he studied her hand. “How… what happened?”

“When I fell from the plane,” she answered quietly. “I was holding onto the Tesseract. A power source. It burned my skin.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” She shook her head slightly. “It’s not as bad as not having a left hand.”

“True.” He let out a small chuckle. He looked over where his arm was suppose to be. “Shuri’s made me two new arms. I just… I don’t want it yet. Even though it’s not the arm HYDRA gave me, it reminds me of all the things I’ve done.”

“It wasn’t you. HYDRA did those things.”

“That’s what Steve said.”

“Have you…. Do you know where he is?”

“No. We’ve had some small phone conversations here and there, so that I know he’s alive. But we haven’t seen each other since I went back under.”

“I haven’t seen him since Siberia…. Is he… is the team with him?”

“Sam, Natasha, and Wanda are. Clint and Scott took a deal for their families.”

“Good for them.” She nodded, looking off in the distance.

The two sat in silence, simply letting themselves try and enjoy each others company. Bucky watched Y/N as she took in the area around her. He could tell she was trying not to look at him, for whatever reason. But he was okay with that as long as she wasn’t running.

This went on for weeks. Each day, Y/N would find her way to Bucky’s small house, never entering, and they would sit under the tree. Sometimes they would talk, about the old times mostly and the new inventions Bucky was still getting used to. But other times, they sat in silence. And that was perfectly okay.

~~~

Y/N had been in Wakanda for a little over 5 weeks. She had spent the day at Bucky’s once again, enjoying her time there. She was tired, so falling asleep wasn’t hard for her. It would be staying asleep that would be hard.

She had seen the scene before her, before. People screaming, dust or ash floating around. A Stone covered gauntlet snapping its fingers. Y/N snapped up in bed, panting and sweating. Her mind replaying the scene over and over. She trembled as she threw her legs over the side of the bed and tried to stand. Taking a few unsteady steps, she eventually fell to the ground.

Moving her hands to push herself up, she realized that the ground was dirt. Y/N’s head snapped up to look around. She quickly noticed that she was in front of Bucky’s house. A portal must’ve accidentally opened as she fell. Y/N picked herself up off the ground, debating on whether or not to go back to the palace. Honestly, she really didn’t want to be left alone. But she didn’t want to put Bucky in an awkward position.

Taking a deep breath, Y/N slowly made her way to Bucky’s doorway. There was no real door, just a curtain, so there was no place for her to knock. As quietly as she could, she slipped through the curtain. It surprised her to see a modern kitchen designed to look like it fit in with the clay house. There was a small table near it. Looking the other way, she noticed two other doorways. Taking a brave step, she went over to on of them, peeking through the curtain. It was Bucky’s room. He was seemingly asleep on his bed. Not wanting to wake him, she backed up. As she did, Y/N accidentally pulled on the curtain, causing the rings holding it to the pole to make a sound.

“Who’s there?” Bucky’s voice called out. Y/N froze. “I know someone’s out there.”

Y/N waited a few long seconds before swallowing and answering, “It’s me…” She opened up the curtain to see Bucky sitting up on his bed. “I’m sorry to wake you… I’m just going to leave.”

“No!” He quickly stood up. “Don’t. Is everything okay?”

“I… I’m fine. It’s silly.” She turned to walk away but Bucky quickly halted her with a hand to her arm.

“I’m sure it’s not silly if it brought you here.”

“I… I had a nightmare. But I don’t want to intrude, so I’ll just—“

“You’re staying.” Bucky grabbed Y/N’s hand. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Y/N shook her head. “Not really. I want to try to go back to sleep.”

“Okay. You can take the bed.”

“I don’t want to push you out of your bed.”

“It’s fine. I can take the flo—“

“Sleep with me.” It was quiet for a couple awkward seconds. “Not like that! Just… I don’t want to push you from your bed. I’ll stay on my side and you stay on yours.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure.”

With a nod, Bucky led Y/N back into his bedroom. He pulled back the blankets and they both slipped into the bed. They both awkwardly laid there, staying on their sides while staring at the ceiling. Eventually though, the warmth radiating off of Bucky’s body, lulled Y/N to sleep, with Bucky slowly following.

next chapter >

NOTES: from now on the taglist when be added by a reblog. I will reblog it using my second account, @just-dreaming-marvel-2. Just so that my main page doesn’t get too cluttered.

If you want to be added to the tag list, please dm me or send in an ask.

#the avengers x reader #avengers x reader #bucky barnes x reader #t'challa x reader #marvel imagine #marvel imagines #avengers imagine #bucky barnes imagine #Bucky Barnes #the winter soldier #the winter soldier x reader

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