#steve cannot cook :(((( | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hairmetal666 · 5 months

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Steve who goes on a Bake Off type show after Robin, Dustin, and Max set him up as a contestant. He doesn't want to, doesn't think baking or cooking should be stressful, but he's been wallowing since his knee surgery took him out of work and basketball, since his divorce.

His first day on set, he's totally gobsmacked by the sexy host with all the tattoos and long, curly hair. Just, cannot take his eyes off the guy, blushing and stammering whenever he comes around to do interviews, obviously can't stop starring.

After the first day, where he manages to stay comfortably in the middle of the pack, he calls Robin to complain about what a mess he becomes around this gorgeous dude.

Her response is to cackle and say, "Steve! How do you not know who Eddie Munson is? Oh my god, you're a disaster."

Turns out, Eddie Munson is the lead singer of Dustin's favorite band, Corroded Coffin, and also pretty well-known for his dnd YouTube channel. He's been a host on the show for years, only Steve doesn't really pay attention when the others watch it and didn't know.

Eddie, for his part, is losing his mind. He'd known about the beautiful contestant for this season, former college basketball superstar turned coach, having a hell of a shitty year after dislocating his kneecap in a charity game. Eddie--foolishly, it turns out--thought he wouldn't be as attractive in person. He also expected Steve to be terrible and egotistical, a jock through and through.

So, when Steve Harrington walks into the tent in a short-sleeved polo and obviously ironed jeans and is still drop-dead gorgeous, he's fucking flabbergasted. And then Steve has the audacity to be nice? Kind and thoughtful and running to help other bakers when he still has work to do himself? He also blushes so pretty, high across his nose and cheeks, and god does hewant to be the reason Steve blushes like that.

Eddie is beside himself.

Leading up to the second week, Steve schools himself into being calm around Eddie. He can't afford to lose his cool like that every time the host is around. Except, this week Eddie flirts with him shamelessly. Winks at him, leans into space, calls him "m'lord" with this deeply resonant voice that makes Steve want to drop to his knees. Steve doesn't mean to, not really, but he flirts right back, feeding Eddie tidbits of his bakes and looking for any excuse to touch him.

Steve does well for the first half of episodes. He never wins the technical or star baker, but he's regularly within the top contestants. On episode five, though, something is off. He's distracted, forgetful, doesn't leave enough time for his custard to set in the signature. Eddie asks if he's okay, but Steve shrugs and smiles, says "off my game today."

But then, in the technical, he curdles his buttercream more than once, and his genoise sponge burns. Eddie watches as Steve folds his arms above his head and disappears from view. He doesn't hesitate, he sprints from his interview, falling to his knees in front of the contestant.

"Stevie, sweetheart, what's going on?"

"I get migraines," Steve whispers. Trails of wet streak down his cheeks. "I've felt one coming all morning, been trying to stave it off but--"

"Okay, okay," Eddie shakes out his hands. "You can sit out this challenge, yeah? Or take this weekend off. It happens. You'll come back next week--"

"I don't want to stop." More tears fall from his eyes.

"What do you need?"

Steve shakes his head, wry little smile pulling at his lips. "Time to breathe."

Eddie glances up, eyes catching on the camera crew hovering in front of them. He throws both middle fingers up and says, in the most reasonable and even tone, "fuck!" Everyone in the tent looks at him, but he doesn't stop. "Shit!" "Bitch!" Motherfucker!" He goes on and on, saying the filthiest series of things he can think of. The camera crew steps away, another contestant brings Steve a glass of water, and Eddie sits with him.

The other host announces that there are thirty minutes remaining in the challenge.

"Well. That's that, then," Steve says. He stands, patting the naked skin of Eddie's knee where it shows through the rip in his jeans as he goes.

"Wait, what do you mean?"

"Out of time, no cake, no buttercream."

Eddie hops to his feet. "You're going to let that stop you?"

"Well." Steve laughs. "Can't serve this." He gestures to his discarded bowls of frosting, his burnt cake.

"You have time to make another buttercream."

Steve raises an eyebrow. "Sure, but not the cake."

"Cut the burnt off. Cover it in the buttercream. Easy peasy."

"Okay..." Steve stares at his station. "Okay, that could work. It won't be pretty, but--"

Eddie, knowing he's no longer needed, steps away, and Steve gets to work.

Steve tells Robin all about it and, as soon as he gets home from the taping and she's immediately like, "Eddie Munson, huh?"

He shoots her a look. "It's nothing."

"Yeah, him leaping over a table to check on you is surely nothing."

"Robin," he warns.

"What?"

"Eddie would never want a guy like me."

She laughs but quickly grows sober. "Steve. Of course he would. He likes you."

"It's nothing, really." He walks towards the kitchen. "What do you want for dinner?"

Eddie experiences the same harassment from his band members and their manager.

"You're gonna ask Harrington out, right?" Gareth asks.

"That would be a little bit of a professional conflict of interest," he deadpans. He doesn't look up from his guitar.

A puffed Cheeto smacks him square in the forehead. "Hey!" He shrieks.

"He means once the season is done, Edward," Chrissy says.

He wipes the cheese dust from his forehead. "Not a good enough reason to call me Edward. Anyway, I'm pretty sure he's straight."

Jeff guffaws. "C'mon, dude. No way. He's so into you he might as well have a neon sign."

"He divorced a woman."

"That doesn't mean anything, and you know it," Chrissy says.

Eddie rolls his eyes. "I may be considering asking him out. Maybe."

Everyone cheers. More Cheetos hit him in the face.

---

To Steve's great surprise, he makes it to the finals. Not just makes it, he gets a star baker, gets first in the semi-final technical. He's baking in the final and might have a fucking chance.

It's with great surprise, once it's all said and done, that he hears his name announced as the winner. He doesn't have much time to process it, because Eddie is striding towards him. He's not carrying the cake stand trophy or flowers, it's just Eddie.

Eddie who stops in front of him, eyes shining. Eddie who leans in and whispers, "I knew you could do it, baby, I'm so proud of you." Eddie who twines his fingers through Steve's hair, pulling him into a soft, sweet kiss.

The internet explodes as the season airs. Everyone is obsessed with Steve and Eddie. They have fics on ao3, a dedicated tumblr community, edits, playlists, gif sets, a ship name all dedicated to them. The fandom grows after episode 5 airs. Not all the footage makes it, thanks to Eddie, but they still witness him tenderly taking care of Steve and directing the cameras away. Fans start scouring their social medias, looking for any hint of their relationship status; even beg them in comments and DMs to reveal if it was just a showmance.

Eddie and Steve, however, are happy in the quiet little world the carved out for themselves after filming. They aren't ready to reveal anything, even hints, whether or not the show would let them.

Then, the final airs and the kiss is revealed to the world. The ending title cards show a picture of Steve with the rest of the season's bakers and the caption, "Steve threw a party for the other bakers..."

The picture then changes to one of he and Eddie, arms wrapped around each other. This caption says: "...at the home he shares with his boyfriend Eddie."

That night, in bed, Steve says, "I'm really glad Robin and the kids made me go on the show. But do you think it's bad that the thing I'm happiest about, way more than winning, is that I met you?"

Eddie places a slow circle of kisses in the dip of Steve's lower back. "Sweetheart, I'd be disappointed if you said anything else. Now, hush, I have a baking champion to congratulate."

#steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #ficlet #fluff #mutual pining #bake off au #tv host eddie munson #bake off contestant steve harrington #i just finished the latest season and had to make it steddie #mel and sue used to do the thing where they cussed and flipped off the cameras so upset bakers couldn't be filmed

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steddieas-shegoes · 5 months

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Mama Munson cannot cook.

She cannot bake.

She can barely make a grilled cheese without burning it.

But Wayne can cook.

He can bake.

He makes grilled cheese with tomatoes and garlic butter.

Eddie is raised with Wayne’s superior cooking and baking skills, and until he’s a teenager and goes to other friend’s houses, thinks that the “men of the family” are responsible for cooking and baking.

Wayne’s gotten aprons, and cooking utensils, and baking pans for Christmas and his birthday as long as Eddie’s lived with him.

Up until he’s too old according to his friends, he helps him in the kitchen.

Mama Munson watches the shift, but her and Wayne agree not to push.

They watch his diet do what most teenage boy diets do: turn to cereal and sandwiches at all hours of the day and night, some pizza sprinkled in when money allows.

Wayne still cooks, but his shifts turn into overtime hours, and then doubles, and he spends most of his time at home sleeping.

Eddie doesn’t seem to care, or at least not visibly.

His lunchbox is never stuffed with any food anyway, his mama isn’t dumb enough to not notice what he’s doing after school two or three days a week.

And then she almost loses him because the town turns upside down, almost literally, and everyone shuns them even more than they already did.

Not Steve Harrington, though.

He shows up every day after his volunteer shift with a grocery bag or two of fresh produce and jars and boxes and gets busy cooking. Nothing is ever that lavish, but there’s always a pop of flavors coming through even in the most simple dish.

She pretends she doesn’t see the way Eddie’s eyes widen after the first bite of whatever dish Steve’s made, reminiscent of when Wayne used to be able to cook for them almost every night. She pretends not to see the way Steve watches, waits for Eddie to show he likes it, relaxing into his chair and taking his own bite only after Eddie takes a second one.

She looks at Wayne, who’s pretending the same thing, but not hiding it well behind a knowing smirk.

Eddie starts spending more time in the kitchen with Steve, helping cut up vegetables and stirring as they talk, like he did with Wayne when he was younger.

Wayne goes back to work, but Steve always has a lunch packed for him with the leftovers so he doesn’t feel completely left out, blushes when Wayne hugs him on his way out the door. Eddie watches with a fond smile, and Mama Munson doesn’t say anything even though she should.

She’s seen what happens to boys who like straight boys firsthand, can’t be completely certain Steve’s a safe bet yet, even with the looks he throws and the care he gives. She thinks maybe he’s just a nice kid who loves his people.

But she wakes up one morning to whispering in the kitchen, and she knows Wayne isn’t home yet from his shift, so it has to be Eddie and someone else.

She sneaks out of her bedroom to see Eddie sitting on the counter, sweatpants on without a shirt, and Steve standing between his legs, cupping his face in his hands.

She’s certain that Steve left last night after she went to bed, she heard the front door open and close. But she looks closer and sees Steve’s wearing one of Eddie’s band shirts and the Christmas flannel pants Eddie got last year in his stocking.

So Steve didn’t leave, maybe wouldn’t leave ever if she was reading their faces right.

She decided not to interrupt them, sneaking back into her room and getting ready for work.

There’d be plenty of time for her to question Eddie about it, about Steve, about his feelings and if he was happy.

When she did finally go out to the kitchen, Steve was frying bacon and flipping an omelet in a pan while Eddie was sipping on a cup of coffee.

She kissed the top of Eddie’s head, then pulled Steve down to her level so she could kiss the top of his.

“Guess it’s about time we try your breakfast since you’ve been spoilin’ us with dinner for so long.”

Steve and Eddie’s matching red faces told her everything she needed to know.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #wayne munson #mama Munson #headcanon #cooking for people is a love language and I will die on that hill

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plagg-wants-cheese · 2 years

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#Steve's love language being acts of service makes so much sense #+#The fact that he knows how to cook because... Absent parents #=#Steve feeding everyone because he loves them and that is such Latina mom behavior I cannot express how much I love this headcanon

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munariplans · 1 year

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is there someone else? | n. romanoff

synopsis: you and natasha have been going through a rough patch lately. wanda comes in and shows you everything natasha is unable to offer.

natasha romanoff x reader | slight wanda maximoff x reader

word count: 4.9k words

read part 2 here and part 3 here

warnings: angst, almost(?) cheating, discussions on pregnancy and treatments

masterlist

“nat, you have to be patient!”

“i am patient!” the woman before you screamed, red hair almost matching the redness on her features, as she gripped the edge of the table in your shared bedroom. “i have been patient; for days, weeks, months, i have been patient! but this is not working; whatever tony and bruce have been cooking in that lab, is not working!”

“these things take time; natasha, you cannot—”

“—no, not for me,” again, your wife cut you off; hot tears brimming in her eyes now, “not for me. It’s not a timing issue, it’s my body’s issue. the reverse hysterectomy doesn’t work, and the IVF won’t work either.”

this time, you knew better. reaching out towards her, you ignored her flailing arms half in protest, half in desperation, to push you away. you embraced natasha with all that you had; holding on to her as if it would piece her broken pieces back together. and it was precisely then that she broke down; her body physically melting against your own and her sobs filling the atmosphere of the quiet, bleak room. the room that had once been the sanctuary for the both of you; late night rendezvouses against the knowledge of the other avengers, patch-up sessions where natasha would trust you over any medic to see her scars and wounds and not judge, it was even the safest place for natasha to run into after particularly hard missions.

The place still looked all the same, with the addition of Natasha’s belongings now taking up eighty-percent of your space (in what was essentially a room for one, but the both of you had been reluctant on upgrading to a bigger room in the compound with the memories made in your room). But the feeling was not the same.

You held her tighter. “It’s only our fourth round, so what if it doesn’t work? We can always try again.”

“What if I’m tired?” She asked, voice too small, too fragile. “What if it doesn’t work again? What if it’s just a me problem? I can’t have children, I can’t give you a baby, and I never will.”

“Don’t say that, don’t say things like that.” Were the only comforting words you could offer, a little tired, a little irritated, at her repetition of insecurities being voiced after each IVF round the both of you went through.

You led her to your shared bed, and when Natasha tried to reach out for you in the night, she felt you shift closer to the edge of the bed, and away from her.

–

Common side effects of Natasha’s fertility treatments included frequent mood swings, this you knew from Bruce’s multiple warnings before. He had taken special care to explain it to you, and had even advised you to seek help from Clint if necessary. You remembered brushing him off with, “I think I can handle my wife’s emotions just fine.”

If only you knew what you were getting yourself into, you chided yourself now, staring at the back of Natasha’s head, sighing. A little pissy and agitated would be a fine understatement.

You were the assigned leader for the mission; you had thought it was natural that everyone followed your instructions and heed your warnings. Not for Natasha.

She had taken a path that was more direct to the enemy’s line of fire, and considering her complete disregard for her own safety, and the fact that it was right around the time that she could be pregnant from a previous round of treatments, it was very clear from your point of view that she was putting herself in imminent danger, and that you had to step in.

You remembered Steve asking why Natasha was so far off from her tracker, and it was the moment everything clicked. You knew your wife. You knew precisely why she had taken off her tracker.

“Nat, fall back.” You spoke into your comms, knowing full well she had heard you. There was no response.

“Natasha. ”

Two enemies had thrown themselves at you, and in the time taken to take them down, Natasha still had not responded.

You were about to call her for the third time when her comms crackled to you. “Kinda—busy—here.”

Behind her was the sound of gunfire. Screams, cries, the occasional thunk of metal hitting against bones. You thought it was natural that you freaked.

“Natasha, I am this mission’s leader. I am ordering you to fall back, I repeat, fall back!”

“No! I can get the chip faster this way, I’m right in their comms room!”

“Agent Romanoff, this is not a request. If you don’t fall back now, I am reporting you to Fury for insubordination of a direct order.”

She had turned her comms off. The whole team practically heard you scream through their comms, “Fuck!”

Steve was kind enough to cover for your spot, while you ran headfirst into the comms room to extract Natasha. And although her being swarmed and outnumbered by a large margin of enemies was something you expected, it could not compare to the horror that spread through your system at the sight of her pinned down, gasping for air as an enemy tried to wrestle her for the gun she was holding.

He was gone in the next second, as Natasha rolled over to catch her breath. She cursed under her breath, preparing for the onslaught of another one tumbling towards her, but when it was you that filled her vision, helping her stand and leaning her onto your body, she wasn’t so sure if it was any better.

“I—told you—” Natasha tried to say, but you cut her off.

“—You disobeyed a direct order, Nat. You could’ve gotten killed.”

–

Though, back in the quinjet, it felt as if the roles were completely reversed. Natasha was berating you in plain view of everyone else, while you could only sit back, and accept the harshest words that were coming out of your wife’s mouth.

“Do you not trust me? How many missions have we been on together, and how many have I parted to take care of things on my own? How many missions have I gotten injured, or killed? I am not some fragile, brittle object, you know! I am—”

“—Romanoff, I think she gets your point,” Tony tried to cut in, but the glare shot his way was enough to make him shut his mouth faster than he had opened it.

“—I am capable, and you know I was, of extracting the chip myself! We could’ve avoided so many casualties! And now, look where we are, no chip, building destroyed, and civilians dead. All because you wouldn’t trust me to be able to take care of myself.” Natasha jabbed her finger to your shoulder roughly, as if to only rub in your humiliation deeper.

But you only sighed, and stood up. A resigned look on your face, you called Peter forward, and as he approached the table nervously, eyes darting between you and Natasha, she spotted it. Spider-Man pulled the chip out of his suit, and handed it to you.

You showed it off to her, and the rest of the team, and shook your head. “We would’ve gotten the chip regardless. You didn’t have to put yourself in unnecessary danger, and you didn’t have to undermine my leadership.”

You retreated back to the darkness of the quinjet, hearing Natasha sigh irritatedly and march right up to the front again.

–

Halfway on the trip back home, Natasha finally made the decision of risking seeing you to get herself some water, seeing as the supply was all the way at the back of the jet. She had unbuckled her seatbelt, ordered Peter to step in for her, and made the short, but agitating journey to where you were.

But you were not near your designated seat near the supplies, or anywhere where she thought you would be, as she unscrewed the water bottle and discretely scanned the jet for you. I’m not worried for her, I’m glad she’s not in my line of sight, is all.

But what she saw next, as she was walking past another part of the jet, made her stop in her tracks. You were next to Wanda in the makeshift medical bay, your suit unzipped and tied around your waist, fireproofs lifted up to reveal a huge wound that Wanda was tending to.

You seethed as the Scarlet Witch tried to draw back the bleeding with her magic, grabbing her hand and chanting, “Gentle, gentle, please.”

Fuck. Natasha couldn’t believe she missed out on the fact that you were injured. She had thought your gait looked a little strange when you were escorting her to safety earlier; and there was blood in her hands as she let go of you, but she had chalked it up to being an enemy’s. You had sat through her beration, her humiliation, and had said nothing to her of your injury.

Your eyes were shut, as Wanda navigated the stab wound, but her own eyes then drifted up, catching Natasha’s. The Scarlet Witch didn’t budge, looking up at Natasha almost in defiance, mostly in resentment.

A weird feeling settled within the woman, but she shut the curtain to the medical bay, and returned to her seat.

–

Natasha watched yours and Wanda’s friendship begin to bloom. It seemed as if the Avenger had found a solace within your company, as she naturally gravitated towards you in most social settings; team dinners, Tony’s outlandish parties, even during team meetings and discussions. In those moments, Natasha held your arm against hers closer, putting extra effort to drape her body as close to yours as possible as a warning. If you noticed (you did), you didn’t say anything to her, merely welcoming her into your open arms and letting her find comfort at the same time.

However, no matter how much Natasha wanted to keep you close and all to herself, her own hormones got the best of her on her worst days. More IVF sessions had passed with little to no success, brimming and breaking hope simultaneously, and Natasha was finding it harder and harder to sit through you merely reassuring her that it takes time. On her worst nights, she would find even your mere presence in the room an abhorrent sight, instead shunning you out into the common areas or mentioning that she wanted to sleep alone tonight.

Natasha never missed the heartbreak, or desperation, in your face. Perhaps you had been too nonchalant towards her mood swings, perhaps you had paid too little attention to her needs, or perhaps, and you hated yourself for thinking about it, Natasha was slowly growing out of love for you. You never missed the mixed emotions on hers, as you so often grabbed your pillows and headed out to sleep on the couch.

–

One particular night, where a stupid argument about paperwork that you had syphoned off to Natasha, preventing her from going out into the field had ensued, and finished, it ended once again with her yelling at you to get out of the room and sleep somewhere else for the night. The both of you were certain, by that point, that the whole compound could hear all of the words exchanged and screams torn. But Natasha was headstrong, you never were, and you gave in, as always.

Left with nothing but the bitter taste of Natasha accusing you of underestimating her, and the fact that your relationship was on such a thin thread that was affecting the morale of the whole team as well, you exited the room.

But when Natasha tossed, and turned, and tossed again that night, the absence of your body beside hers and only the coolness of the sheets on her skin, the guilt began to settle in. As it always did. She could have been more thoughtful, should have considered your own workload, should have cared more about your feelings too.

With tears hot in her eyes and a resolution to apologise, she left the room, still in her nightgown, to search for you in the common area. When she did find you, however, you were hunched over said paperwork that you had thought to pass off to her, the stack that she screamed would prevent her from going on her mission the next day. You had wanted to ensure that she could still go, eventually.

She called out your name, but when you turned, all the apologies that she had wanted to spill, the invite to return back to your room, were silenced; for Wanda’s own head had popped up beside yours, evident that she had been laying on your lap and accompanying you at work.

She realises that Wanda is there for you in all the ways she never was these days. She realises the outlet for you to share about your day, your frustrations and worries, was not her now. No, of course it wasn’t her, why would it be her? Not when she picks a fight for every little concern you voice out, not when she dismisses your every attempt to talk to her now. A scarier feeling began to form; Natasha realises that Wanda may be your home now, not her.

“Yes, Nat?” You said, your face devoid of any emotion.

She could have screamed, could have cried, could have threatened Wanda with death and tore her away from you right away. She could even have accused you of doing something you promised you would never do to her when you got together; but she didn’t. Natasha wanted to trust you, and she didn’t want her own insecurities to get the best of her, and the worst of you, again.

Instead, all she did was nod towards Wanda, swallowing a huge lump in her throat. “N-Nothing. Come back to our room when you’re done with that. The bed’s too cold.”

–

It was in the way Wanda voluntarily paired herself up with you for missions. The way you could conveniently shove her out of the way of raining bullets, putting yourself in the line of fire for her without a second thought.

The way you were the first person Wanda looks for at the end of said missions. The way you allow Wanda to ease her worries by laying her head against your shoulder afterwards.

The way Wanda hugs you just a little too tight, too long, right after the team worries of your cut-off comms from a particularly hard mission.

Natasha hates herself for noticing all of it.

–

Tony called out your name to the common area one night, despite you and Natasha agreeing to have an early night-in for a round of doctor’s visits the next day. She was a little annoyed at you for being so ready to heed his request, but followed you anyway, hoping it would be quick.

“As you can see,” Tony spread his arms, gesturing around the room to the other Avengers, “Your best friend isn’t around. She’s been gone from us for exactly two nights in a row now, and we want to know why.”

His game show host-style of speaking ticked you off, but you swallowed it down in favour of everyone else around, and smiled politely at him. He continued, “Rogers says it’s her time of the month, which, might be true, is totally boring and not helpful to this discussion at all. Danvers says she’s probably just sick of our shit, which, might also be true, but is being a Debby Downer and I do not stand for it. With the amount of vomiting Vision hears from his room, he says it’s because I gave her food poisoning when I tried to cook dinner on Monday, which is the least likely option there is, so I’m disregarding it. What do you say, huh?”

“She told me she has a stomach flu.”

This time, Thor chuckled from the corner of the room. Grinning, he sneaked in with, “Classic pregnancy symptoms, I say. Natasha’s been the one trying for a child, but have you accidentally knocked the wrong woman up, kid?”

He didn’t need your furious glare and Natasha’s choked sob behind you to know he had voiced out every insecurity of hers so perfectly, as the Black Widow practically stormed straight back to your room, with you hot on her heels, trying desperately to call out her name.

–

“It was just a joke, Nat, and he knew it! You and I know it!”

“Was it really?” Natasha’s eyes were red and raw, throat hoarse from screaming, “Was it really a joke to you? Or have you really gone and fucked her and gotten her pregnant?!”

“That’s impossible and you know it!” You retorted, taking one step closer. Natasha took one step back. Your hands had raised, trying to reach out for her to see reason, but seeing her retreat only sent a knife straight to your heart, and you threw them up in the air, giving up. “Nat, I—I—Wanda’s a friend. That is all she is, all she will ever be. I don’t understand why—”

“—Do your friends touch you like I do? Do your friends get to lie their head on your shoulder, hug you goodbye and welcome home after every mission, be the outlet for your frustrations and worries, your celebrations and joy? Do your friends matter more than I do?” She cut you off, shoving you against the wall this time.

You took the opportunity to grab her wrists, tilting your head so you were directly at her eye level. “Natasha.”

She refused to meet your eyes. “Natasha. Look at me.”

She shook her head, refusing to give in, refusing to let you see the insecurity, heartbreak, and jealousy in her green eyes, now dull and wearier than the emerald they once were. “Fuck you.”

“Natasha, what is going on with us?” You asked sincerely then, begging her to see reason, to see you. “We fight everyday, we barely spend any time together, and you don’t even bother trying to listen to me. To help me help you see reason. You hate me on most days, you despise what I am, what I do, and I don’t know how to fix this. Have I become so broken, so unlovable, that you cannot even stand to be in the same room as me anymore?”

Natasha slowly lifted her gaze, blinking away the tears. “You don’t seem to mind.”

“Because I don’t want to ruin whatever we have left!” You shouted, exasperated. “I don’t want to lose whatever shred of love my wife has left for me, I don’t want to make things worse, and I don’t want to make you feel worse. Tell me, is it the baby? Is us trying for a baby too much for you, Nat? Is this not something you want anymore? Because ever since we’ve started trying—”

“—It’s not the baby, it’s me,” Natasha freed her wrists from you, turning away. “It’s me, and my inability to be a wife, a proper wife, to you. Fuck, I can’t even give you one thing every married couple wishes for, a fucking child, and now you have to run off to an actual woman who can. I’m a fucking failure, that’s what I am.”

“Nat, not every couple wants—not every couple needs—a child. I’m perfectly happy with—”

“—Are you really? Are you really perfectly happy with the way things are? Do you not wish for more, something I can’t give? Someone who can understand you, love you, better than I can?”

You knew where this was going, and you rubbed your forehead in frustration. “What are you getting at, Natasha?”

“Don’t tell me you don’t see the way she looks at you.”

You sighed. “I honestly don’t.”

“Of course you don’t!” Natasha’s voice broke, uttering the next words, “But I do. Because she looks at you the way I look at you. The way I wished you looked at me.”

“Nat, don’t do this. Don’t do this to yourself, and don’t do this to us. I can assure you Wanda is…is…” You trailed off, not believing the incredulity of it all.

“Is what?” Natasha hoped with all of her heart you could finish the sentence. “Is what…? Tell me. Younger? Better? Easier to love, than I am?”

But you could only shake your head once more, furrowing your eyebrows. “You know what, Nat? I give up. I truly give up. If you can’t get over yourself and your own insecurities, even though we are married, even if you knew I only love you, I cannot help you. I need a break…we need a break.”

You didn’t tell her for how long, you didn’t tell her what you were going to do, or what she could do to fix things. You merely brushed past her body folding in on itself in anguish and absolute heartbreak, and packed your things. That night, you had left her all to herself, and she had only felt loneliness like this once.

Suddenly, Natasha was twelve again, all alone in the Red Room to fend for herself. She had lost her parents, she had lost Yelena, and now, she had lost you too.

–

wanda was browsing through the menu, seated in front of you at the hotel balcony, celebrating the end of another successful mission together. it was a few weeks after the incident with natasha, and with no end goal or date in sight of when you were returning to her arms, you had resigned yourself to stick to wanda, much to the scarlet witch’s pleasure, too.

“an aperol spritz or a negroni?” she had asked, but you were busy staring right at her.

wanda’s eyes were blue, wide and ethereal. Her hair was a lighter colour than natasha’s, hands softer as they wrapped around yours, hugs tighter.

natasha was all that you had ever known, and loved. you have been together for so long, you find it hard to believe that what you feel for wanda could ever be real.

she was kind, patient and understanding; wanda never complained, never screamed or raised her voice at you. you remembered when the feeling began; the very night where natasha had practically banished you from your room, and her footsteps came pattering down to the common area where you were. wanda had just returned from a mission with thor and sam, but still insisted on staying up with you. as her head laid on your lap that night, her big, blue eyes staring up at yours, you felt something stir in your stomach; a feeling that you hadn’t felt in a long while with natasha. butterflies anew.

you became concerned, protective, of wanda during missions. always worrying if she had eaten before a gruelling day, taking extra patience in training her for combat practice, you began wondering if you had really looked at her as just a friend all this while. when wanda and natasha both came home with a bullet graze on their arms on one mission, you found yourself worrying for wanda almost as much as you did for your wife.

perhaps that was the moment you knew, and so did natasha.

–

wanda called out your name lovingly, half-laughing as you stared into blank space yet again, dissociating as she stepped out of the shower.

“you still upset that I chose the negroni?” she teased, and you rolled your eyes playfully.

getting up to change, you tried hard not to hyper-focus on the beads of water dripping down wanda’s body, as she bent down to find a spare change of fresh clothing. “of course. criminal, that you order everything but an aperol spritz in Italy, of all places.”

you found the t-shirt that she had been looking for, and whistled for her attention. but right as the woman stepped forward to take it off of you, you tugged it under her grip, side-stepping further into the room.

“apologise, for the spritz, for me, and everyone else in italy.”

wanda shot you an incredulous look, before your own serious resolve broke too, and the both of you ended up laughing, nearly tumbling forwards towards each other. somewhere along the line, Wanda decided to take the opportunity to try to take the shirt, but your reflexes kicked in, and right as she reached forwards, you went for her legs; throwing her onto the bed to dodge her attack.

giggling, still, Wanda tried to sit up as you pinned her down. but the woman managed to take one of your own, as she grabbed your hand, and with one swipe, had your wedding band in her left hand, taunting it over you.

“got something of yours, too,” she grinned, handing out her other hand for an exchange, “Now give me my shirt.”

your eyes widened at the sight before you then. wanda, dressed only in a towel that was barely hiding anything from view, the compromising position you were in, the wedding band she had taken off of you at that moment.

heart to heart, yours beating as fast as hers, wanda finally noticed too. slowly, but surely, her red magic came up to envelop the both of you, the warmth in them flowing through your senses, making your head fuzzy and lightheaded.

she leaned up, mouth just inches from yours, hoping, begging, for you to close the distance. her towel had almost fallen off her body then, arms around your neck. if you dared look down, nothing would be hidden from view.

“come on,” she murmured against your lips.

you hesitated, the grip on her waist suddenly disappearing. “i…no.”

wanda pouted, you remembered shaking your head. “i’m married, wanda.”

“please.”

you snatched back your ring this time, throwing the t-shirt onto her body and looking away just as quickly. opening the door to the balcony, you found it hard to catch your breath. “i can’t. i’m sorry.”

–

though, that night, watching her sleeping figure sprawled out on the shared king bed, you took another swig of the gin leftover from the bar, wondering if you had made the right choice.

the opportunity had presented itself, and yet you didn’t take it.

natasha had left a text earlier on your phone, and you cursed when you remembered what date it was. it was almost an asshole move to simply text her back ‘happy anniversary to us’ too, when she had sent a long paragraph apologising for what she had done, and begged you to come back to celebrate your five-year wedding anniversary together.

–

sleeping on the couch, and as far away from wanda as possible, you felt your phone vibrate in the middle of the night.

getting up groggily, you had almost thrown it back to where it was, until another text came in, and another. they were from Natasha.

i have to tell you something. you had texted her back with a question mark, but her only reply had been that she refused to tell you over text, and that you would only know when you got back.

considering the state of your relationship with her, and the way you had practically ruined whatever hope of rekindling her affection for you with the anniversary text, you almost knew what it would be already. she would be taking the first step in ending your relationship, and marriage.

looking back at wanda’s sleeping form then, you selfishly thought again if you should have proceeded with the kiss.

–

natasha was already waiting with the other avengers when your quinjet landed. wanda had gotten off first, looking back at you awkwardly, reaching her hand out to help you disembark, after an injury to your right rib. you smiled at her, but rejected her help.

natasha strode towards you in two cool, calculated steps. you offered her a half-smile, but her face was determined, and hopeful. her arms were around your waist in the next second, and for the first time in the last year or so, the black widow tipped you over, pressing her lips against yours in the most passionate, loving kiss. In front of everyone, in front of fury, in front of wanda, natasha claimed you as hers.

“what—” before you could finish your question, she was already dragging you to your shared room, leaving you even more confused than before. perhaps it was a goodbye kiss, perhaps natasha had felt the need to claim you one last time before parting ways, perhaps she had simply missed you over the time you were gone. the last one seemed most impossible.

“sit.” she had gestured, forcing you on the bed. “close your eyes.”

you groaned, the injury on your ribs resurfacing. “nat, i’m really tired, the mission was a success but my side is—”

“please,” natasha begged this time, “please.”

you relented, and closed your eyes anyway, hoping whatever this was, would be over soon and that you could have a full night of uninterrupted sleep for once.

natasha rummaged for something in her bag, and opened your palm up. three small, plastic sticks were placed in them, leaving you more confused than ever.

“open your eyes.”

your heart sunk into the depths of your stomach when you saw what they were. time came to a standstill, the glaringly obvious image before you the prophecy for your past, present and future. three pregnancy tests, all positive.

you finally looked back up at natasha, her eyes brimming with tears of joy and hope. her arms encircled your neck again then, tears fresh on your shoulder.

“i’m pregnant,” she murmured into your skin, as if it would solve everything. as if it was the answer to all of your problems together.

a/n: who's side are you on?

#natasha romanoff x reader #wanda maximoff x reader #black widow x reader #scarlet witch x reader #natasha romanoff #wanda maximoff #black widow #scarlet witch #marvel cinematic universe

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hornedqueenofhell · 11 months

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There's an abuela who lives at the trailer park who primarily speaks Spanish. She adores the children around, often helps watch over them and cooks meals that she's always willing to share. And for some reason that Eddie cannot figure out she hates him. He's good at Spanish, has had others tell him that his pronunciation is great, so he's not sure what he's done wrong. And then Steve sees her.

Apparently she was his nanny when he was 8 and once she sees him she runs right to him and they hug each other with tears streaming down their faces. Steve speaks to her in rapid fire Spanish that sounds a little strange to Eddie's ears. It's sharper, like it's cutting some of the conjugations short and confuses the hell out of him.

He can tell they're talking about him because they keep looking his way and laughing which makes Eddie pout. "Why are you guys being so mean to me? Also what are you saying? I know Spanish and what you're saying sounds different."

Steve asks her a question and she howls with laughter before responding, and now Steve's giggling too. "Mrs. Fernandez is from Spain Eddie. It's a different dialect than the Hispanic Spanish we're taught in school. Most people from Spain find Hispanic Spanish ...ridiculous I guess is a word for it. She doesn't hate you, just thinks you're silly."

He pats his boyfriend on the back and helps him with his pronunciation while Mrs. Fernandez dotes on Steve and still laughs at Eddie but now at least they are having a conversation.

(is this totally based on the Spanish coworkers I had at my internship who taught me Spain Spanish to the point I struggle with Hispanic Spanish, maybe)

#stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #steve x eddie #Steve Harrington is smart #Eddie Munson speaks Spanish

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holylulusworld · 5 months

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Indecent Proposal (9.2)

Summary: Your boyfriend wants to be part of their empire. You are the pawn he’s willing to sacrifice.

Pairing: Mobster!Stucky x fem!Reader

Warnings: tension, sexy mobsters, fluff, talk about sex, making out, voyeurism, established Stucky, mentions of a foot job

Indecent Proposal (9)

Indecent Proposal masterlist

“Our pretty angel is still asleep Stevie,” Bucky smirks while watching his husband stare at you. “What are your plans for tonight? Do you want to go easy on her or ruin her completely?”

Steve smirks. “I will make her feel so good and fill her up. Our sweet doll will melt in my arms, just like you did when I kissed you for the first time. But we need to go easy on her only for today. She needs a rest, or we will break her.”

Bucky laughs. “Baby, it was you whimpering after I shoved my tongue down your throat and my hand down your pants. You’ve been putty in my arms.”

“I think you remember wrong, Buck!” Steve’s eyes darken and he purses his lips. “You were the one moaning my name first.”

“Because you were so damn good a sucking cock,” Bucky grins. “You still are the best, baby. No one can compare with that dirty mouth of yours.”

“Debatable, babe,” Steve shrugs. “I agree on the fact that I’m the best at sucking your dick.”

“So…breakfast and naughtiness or only breakfast…?” Bucky hopefully looks at his husband.

“Well, you are already needy, and we should let Y/N sleep a little longer,” Steve slaps his husband’s ass. “In the showers, dirty boy. I want you to scrub the naughtiness off your skin.”

“Ha, like hell,” Bucky snickers and runs off, shaking his ass on purpose. “Catch me if you can, Stevie. If you catch me, you can scrub the naughtiness off my back.”

“How do you feel?” Bucky smirks knowingly as you hobble toward the kitchen counter. “What about breakfast? Ready to shovel down all the delicious food we made for you?”

You quirk a brow at Steve. “You made all of this?” While you glance at the food, Steve and Bucky look at each other. “Really?” You grab a plate and a fork.

“Uh-the cook made it,” Steve admits, earning a punch to his biceps from Bucky. “Hey, we don’t lie in our relationship.” Steve points out. “Y/N is part of this relationship too, and we won’t start it with lying to her.”

“Ah, we are playing knight in shiny armor today,” Bucky clicks his tongue. “I can be so good too. I can play houseman and use the vacuum cleaner.”

Steve snorts at his husband’s antics. “Buck, calm down. I only meant that we shouldn’t start our relationship with Y/N with a lie. She already knows that we are no angels.”

“How about we eat that food your cook made,” you step between the men to stop them from fighting. You don’t know yet that this is not a fight, but flirty banter. “It smells great.”

“You heard our girl, she’s hungry.”

“For cock?” Bucky grins. “Right, baby doll. You like a good cock.” He wiggles his eyebrows.

“Yes, I do,” you pat his chest. “But now that my brain is working again, we should talk a little before I eat your husband alive.” You turn around to wrap your arms around Steve’s neck. “Right, pretty man. I’m gonna ride that dick tonight.”

“Uh-huh,” Bucky slaps your ass. “This lady is hungry for you, Stevie. I’m afraid you cannot go easy on her. She wants to eat you alive.”

“First I want to eat pancakes and some eggs,” you snicker. “But I wanna sit in Stevie’s lap this morning. Maybe rub Bucky’s cock with my foot.”

“What?” Bucky choked on the coffee he tried to drink while you turned your attention toward his husband.

You look over your shoulder, smirking. “Don’t you like a good foot job, Bucky? I can make you cum only using my cute toes.”

“She’s a maniac Stevie and I love it!” Bucky is giddy to explore all of your kinks with you and Steve. “She’s a dirty girl too.”

“No sex this morning,” Steve tuts. “Y/N is right. We need to talk about a few things. The sex with both of you is amazing, and watching you is a turn-on. But we wanted to have her in our lives for more than good sex.”

“I wanna sit on your lap while we discuss all the things we forgot to talk about before we started,” you push Steve onto one of the chairs and hop onto his lap. “That’s better.” You grin and press your lips to Steve’s.

“The most important thing is to agree that we never lie to each other. This relationship and having a baby together will only work out if we are all on the same side.” Steve says and points out that they lied to you before.

“We agreed to not kill Scott but-“ Bucky huffs as his husband throws him an angry look. “What?” The brunette shrugs. “You wanted us to be completely honest. In all honesty, I enjoyed getting rid of that piece of shit.”

“You killed Scott,” you hum, and hide your face in Steve’s neck to nibble at his sweet spot. “Good. I think he was talking to the cops. I cannot risk that my men get arrested. How shall I survive without their cocks pounding me at least once per day.”

“What?” Steve and Bucky hiccup in unison.

“What?” You lift your head to smirk at Steve. “I knew that you wouldn’t kill him for me after I asked you to do so. But I knew that you would kill him for yourself because he lied to you. That hurt your ego and pride.” You giggle as Steve looks at you like you grew a second head. “I just had to lean back and act like I didn’t hear about his death already.”

“A match made in hell,” Bucky starts cackling loudly. “Stevie, she’s the one!”

Part 10

Tags in reblog.

#Indecent Proposal (9.2)#steve rogers #bucky barnes #mobster!stucky #stucky x reader #stucky x female reader #female reader #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x reader #polyamory #smut #mafia au

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rinrin-the-shark-teen · 2 years

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I need all of the adults to actually take action of Steve's living conditions from the moment they realize that he has the shittiest parents ever.

After the first round with the upside down Joyce cannot comprehend when Steve tells her not to call his home since there will be no one there. His mom will certainly not take care of him, she barely even calls for important dates. He is always alone, so he will just drive home with all his injuries and make do. Steve quickly understands why neither of the Byers ever goes against her will. She checks all his injuries and makes him a makeshift bedroom in their living room until he is better. She will not take no for an answer. Steve stays for almost a month there and practically has to get a doctor's note saying he is fine now before she lets him go.

Hopper sits him down eventually and makes him explain his living situation. Steve goes in as little details as possible about it, trying to brush it off but Jim is not happy and surely not believing it. He starts building a case at the station if Steve ever needs their help and you know, prepare in case they somehow get worse. Steve will have all the evidence needed to ruin them with proof of child neglect and other much much worse.

Claudia Henderson immediately starts asking for his help as home as an excuse to have him at their place and feed him. "Steve sweetie? Can you come over and help me get the door unstuck? Can you help with the faucet? Do you think we need to repaint?" And then Steve is at their place more and more and coming back home with too much homemade food. He eventually shared it with the Munsons as he cannot eat all of that by himself before it goes bad. She also insists on teaching him how to cook and they eventually fall into a routine.

Wayne Munson immediately brings him under his wing after being Eddie's personal nurse. He asks him to come over to watch games, he calls him son knowing perfectly well the impact it has on Steve if the tears in his eyes are anything to go by. He teaches him how to maintain his car that he loves so much so he doesnt get taken advantage of for being a Harrington. He gets him his own mug to add to the collection and drinks his coffee in silence pretty much every morning with Wayne while Eddie is still snoozing in his room.

Karen Wheeler starts making 3 sets of lunches. She sends him his lunch with Mike, which kills Mike's soul every day. "First Nancy, then my mom and now Eddie? What is it with you Steve?"

Steve by S4 has a whole routine for his week. - Sundays cooking with the Hendersons. They cook together and Steve and Claudia exchange new recipes and try new ones every week. - Mondays are spent at his own place and Hopper comes by after the end of his shift and they just watch TV and chat about their day with a beer in their hands. - Tuesdays is family dinner at the Byers. Steve always brings desert (that he learned from Claudia) even tho Joyce tells him that only his presence is needed. They usually catch up while doing the dishes. - Wednesdays he has a late shift at Family Video with Robin but he always takes time to chat with her parents before they get on their way. - Thursdays is DnD night, so he brings the little gremlins home. Not without a quick chat with their mothers tho. - Fridays and Saturdays are usually nights spent with Eddie, and by proxy with Wayne as well. They have dinner and if Wayne is still up for it they watch a movie. Most of the time he is asleep halfway, but they dont mind. Wayne brings a homey feeling to the place, his soft snores a background noise to their night.

So then the Harrington's come back after everything and they throw Steve out of the house for being a disappointment and achieving nothing in life. They will not just let him live rent free while he wastes away being nobody in this dead town. He is nothing but a shame to their name.

Imagine their absolute surprise when see 4 adults basically fighting in their frontyard over who will adopt Steve. Claudia is begging Steve to choose her and that way him and Dustin can finally be actual brothers. He would have his own room and they could decorate it together and they would always be just a few meters away. Then Joyce is saying that she basically adopted him since 83 and he IS family already. Putting on paper would just be the last step to it. Hopper is saying that he has been taking care of him since the first "disaster" unlike his own parents. He doesnt insist much since they all live together with Joyce now, so she can do the fighting for him.

And then Steve turns to Wayne, waiting for his arguments to be his official son now, but Wayne just casually shrugs and looks at the others. Steve lets go of a small "oh", his heart breaking a little even tho there are literal adults fighting for him right now, he foolishly expected the same from him. and when Wayne notices this, he is very quick to correct him. "Steve, don't get this wrong son. I am not fighting with them because it would be unfair. They are trying their best to make you one of them, but I have an advantage. You will be a Munson sooner or later, no matter who adopts you. My boy will make an honest man out of you, I raised him right after all" and he squeezes his shoulder. Steve just stares at him, face bright red while his eyes begin to water.

#steve harrington #stranger things #steddie #eddie munson #joyce byers #jim hooper #claudia henderson #wayne munson #this got horribly out of control #i had a whole fic planned as you can tell #maybe someday i will actually write it #the sinclairs are also involved in this in the end to get steve justice #should i write this? would anyone read it?

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rainylana · 1 year

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Boyfriend Eddie headcanons

a/n: these are all sfw!

• random make outs all day every day. at the beginning of the relationship there would be periods where you would sit and just make out for hours, regardless if you were with friends or not. steve and dustin would do everything in their power to get you to stop. it rarely ever worked.

• you braid each other’s hair:) after playing with his for so long he eventually wanted to learn how to do yours. he got pretty good after awhile.

• in the early stages he tried to cook for you on date night. poor boy cannot cook without a microwave. it never turned out very good and always wound up just ordering a pizza with his loose change.

• ties your shoes for you. imagine he gives your foot a little squeeze when he’s done AUGH.

• copy’s all your homework lmfao. feels bad about it at first but eventually doesn’t care lol.

• is very good at reading your body. it’s like a road map to him. he’s got it memorized. when you’re having a bad day, he usually doesn’t know what to do. it strikes him at odds.

• however he does try to cheer you up with little things. holding your hand. kissing your cheek. little signs of touch that tell you he’s there when you’re ready to talk.

• the first time he saw you crying he was ready to rip someone in two at the thought of someone hurting you.

• he teaches you how to fish. he’s definitely and outdoorsman. shows you how to tell the difference between animal tracks.

• you play a lot of board games because you’re not that into dnd. (i’m sorry)

• he shares all of his food with you. every little bite. it makes steve and robin sick.

• he’s actually a fan of slow dancing and romancing. he likes to dim the lights and play soft rock to dance to in the middle of the night, nipping at your neck and giving you little kisses.

#lana’s shit post #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #stranger things #stranger things season four #joseph quinn #eddie munson imagines #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson headcanons

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arlana-likes-to-write · 5 months

Note

Hey first of all, thank you for your writing! I enjoy reading your work a lot. I wanted to request an addition to the older sister! Reader AU where the avengers manage to catch a person who used to be a high ranking officer in the red room and has a lot of intel. They specifically requests to see reader. And reader goes in and the person is smug and taunts r about everything she did under dreykov and what dreykov did to r. (Hints to a lot of sexual assult trauma, if you dont mind) and r has gotten used to the taunts, having bward plenty during her red room days. Carol though who was outside in the interrogation room with r’s sisters is livid. She is very protective of r and so she comes inside the room angry. But as the person keeps taunting and saying demeaning stuff about r u still remain unaffected but carol cannot take it. I mean thats the idea I had, you could do whatever u want with it! Thanks again. And sorry for the longg request

Mine to Protect

Family is More Than Blood Masterlist

There things in this story that be triggering of people, please advise the warnings!

Warnings: heavy description of past sexual experiences (usage of handcuffs, voyeurisms, power dynamic, ) implied sexual assault (uses it to taunt the Reader and Carol), original male character uses pet names from the reader, gross dirty talk, past trauma mentioned, self harm, death of an original character, mention of killing, Carol is hella pissed this this and protective.

Relationships: Carol x Reader, Yelena x Natasha x Reader (Platonic), Avengers x reader (platonic)

Word Count: 3.0k

All of your life, you’ve known pain. The pain was physical suffering\ or discomfort. It caused great trouble, and it could be mental or physical. Pain in the Red Room was negative. It was mystery hands that held you down and took whatever they wanted from you. Hours spent at training, at the ballet bar, or forced to kill your fellow Widows because of an order given. You hated pain and all the negative thoughts that came with it.

However, your life changed. It wasn’t contained by the Red Room. You had room to grow, dream, and create the person Dreykov tried to destroy. Now, pain wasn’t always negative. There was pain that morphed into pleasure when Carol bit down on your neck and soothed it with her tongue; a warmth would fill your belly. Sometimes, you went a little too hard as you trained against Steve and felt each punch from the super soldier, but your laughter bounced off the walls. Other times, you brunt your hand when cooking with Wanda or lose an arm wrestling match with Maria. All that pain was good, a reminder that you were free.

You sat outside. The brisk New York fall air filled your lungs. There was an ache in your fingers as you played the guitar. It would take time for callouses to form on your fingers. You heard the door open and close, but it didn’t stop you from humming to the song you were playing. It was Steve, Tony, and Maria. Oh boy. Stopping, you put the guitar beside you and gave the trio your attention. “Why do I smell trouble?” You asked.

“It’s not me,” Tony said, sniffing under his arm. “I showered.” You rolled your eyes at the billionaire.

“Does the name Andrei Lebedev?” You kept your face neutral, but your stomach dropped. That name would forever be in your nightmares.

“Yes, he was part of Dreykov’s second ring. He disappeared when the Red Room fell. He’s been on Melina’s list, but we haven’t been able to locate and deal with him,” you explained.

“Deal with him?” Steve questioned. “So would kill him if you found him?” You huffed in frustration.

“Don’t act all high and mighty, Rogers. These men have power even with the Red Room gone; they are better off dead.” With a vacant spot, there was a fight to be at the top. You and some of the other freed Widows were working on eliminating them before they could gain momentum. You looked at Maria. “What’s going on?” She handed you a file.

“Lebedev was found in New Asgard,” you opened it and saw a mug shot. The man was 6 feet, 5 inches tall. He had striking blue eyes. Unlike the last time you saw him, his dark brown was longer instead of neatly combed. However, a faint beard outlining his jaw gave you the idea that he was going somewhere safe to shave. “He was looking for asylum, but Val thought he was acting odd and brought him in for questioning.”

“Once they learned who he was, Fury had him transferred to us for questioning,” Tony added. You handed back the file.

“What does this have to do with me?” You had a feeling you knew where this was going.

“He won’t talk to anyone, not me, Maria, or Natasha,” Steve said. “He’s asking for you.” Fuck. Of course, he fucking was. God dammit. Why was Wanda away on a mission?

“What do we want from him?” You asked. Killing him would be the easiest solution.

“Fury wants whatever information we can get from him before sending him to the RAFT,” Maria explained. “Will you talk to him?” You sighed, stood up, and grabbed the guitar.

“Let’s get this over with.”

Sometimes you used pain to punish yourself. Your time at the tower was perfect. Self-inflected pain was the best tool you used to remind yourself of the past. Of the blood you shed and the countless lives ended by your hand.

On the other hand, pain helped ground you. A pinch of the skin on your thigh, biting down on your lip, or fingernails digging into your palm. Anything to help you stay present, preventing your mind from slipping away.

You stared at the door that separated you from him, nails digging into your palm. Your sisters and Carol will be watching. There was no fighting them on that. Sighing, you opened the door. “My malen’kiy pauk (little spider),” it had been a long time since you’ve heard someone call you that name. You closed the door. Immediately, pulling the chair away from the table to sit down. “I’ve missed you so much,” he continued. “But our last meeting was a little different,” he moved his handcuffed hands onto the table. The clash of metal echoed in the quiet room. “If I remember correctly, you were the one handcuffed. No matter to me,” he leaned forward. “I do love a change in a power dynamic.”

You crossed your arms against your chest, placed your right leg over your left, and leaned back into the chair. You remembered that day. Andrei Lebedev was part of Dreykov’s second circle or the vtoroy. These men were trusted as handlers and could leave the Red Room on missions or requests from Dreykov or his inner circle. But they were still seen as less than. They aimed to become part of the pervyy, the men closest to Dreykov. Although Dreykov was the face of the Red Room, it was impossible to run it without help. These men had the same amount of power as him; their word was God because you knew Dreykov knew about the order. A majority of the members of the party were killed in the Red Room explosion. The men you were after were part of the vtoroy. If the Red Room remained, Andrei would be part of the pervyy. He was a cable solider, a little hot-headed, but Dreykov would have crushed that spirit into submission. As a mission success, the pervyy granted Andrei’s request: a night with you. It wasn’t the only time you laid underneath this main.

“Being an Avenger looks good on you, kotenok (kitten). It fills you out nicely,” he groaned, licking his lips. “I bet you taste just as sweet. Do you want to be a good girl again? Just for me.” Still, you remained unfazed, face neutral. Men like this loved to talk, to inflate their ego with their sexual conquests. With time, he would reveal everything.

“I think about our time together a lot,” he smiled. “Your moans were music to my ears. They helped me through many lonely nights.” Lonely nights? The phrase stuck out to you for some reason. How many nights was he truly alone? He was freshly shaved and showered; you figured Val wouldn’t give him time alone to do all these things before locking him up. The man disappeared without a trace once the Red Room fell. Not even Melina, with her contacts, could find him. Andrei was bright but needed to be more smart to avoid capture. Who was helping him?

“Come on, baby,” he whined, mimicking a child throwing a tantrum. “Let me hear that voice again. You were very talkative when we last saw each other. I miss it,” his fingers tapped against the table. “Tell me, pretty, can anyone make you cum like I can?”

No one could see how your nails dug into your bicep, nails so sharp you knew it would pierce your skin. Pain. It grounded you, saved you from slipping into memories of that night, and kept your face stoic when all you wanted to do was scream.

As Carol recognized the true strength of her powers, she practiced keeping her emotions in check. Anger was powerful. Her rage could bring down skyscrapers, collapse entire planets, and turn the milky way into chaos if she wasn’t careful. Through her space travels, she witnessed horrible injustices that boiled her blood, ground her teeth, and left her fuming. Still, she kept her anger in check. However, she was struggling. The way this pig spoke to you was disgusting and vile, and you were just taking it. The only time Carol saw you move was when you first entered the room. She wasn’t sure if you were still breathing.

Unlike you, Natasha couldn’t stop pacing. She would get to one side of the viewing room, turn around, and repeat the process. Not even Maria could get her to stop; Carol believed it had to do with Natasha still being upset with her girlfriend. The youngest of the trio was quiet, playing with the ring all three of you shared. A quiet Yelena was never good, in Carol’s opinion. She saw the blonde tense up every time the man said something about her sister. Andrei laughed. “Why don’t you undo these cuffs? We can put on a show one more time before the cart me away. If I remember correctly, zaychonok (bunny), you loved having an audience,” he groaned, eyes rolling in the back of his head. “My little slut. It got you so wet.”

“I’m gonna kill him,” Carol mumbled. All she saw was red. Unlike before, no one was there to protect you; no one was there to tell him to stop. But she was here now. You were hers to protect. She felt her powers itching at the palm of her hands, begging to let loose. It was getting harder to control it, this anger growing inside her. She knew he was still taunting you; maybe she heard Natasha or Maria’s voice, but it was becoming white noise. All of it was pointless besides one singular thought. “I’m gonna fucking kill him.” To her surprise, no one stopped her when she left the room.

The door busting open startled you. The hinges barely had enough strength to keep it upright as your girlfriend entered the interrogation room, eyes glowing. Andrei was pulled to his feet and pinned to the wall by her forearm. You saw her entire body shaky. “Oh, is this the pet’s new master,” he teased. There was a shake in his voice as Carol was cutting off air into his lungs. “Tell me, do you pass her around like her old master, or do you keep her to yourself?”

“If you say one more word,” she hissed. “I will crush your windpipe.” You stood up, barely making a sound, but Andrei saw you.

“Oh, this is your lover, isn’t it?” He laughed, gasping slightly. “I’m jealous,” he taunted. “She is a gem—a queen among women. Tell me,” he whispered. “Can you make her scream like I can?”

“I won’t hesitate to paint this wall red with your blood,” you wanted her to do it so this nightmare could end. But it wasn’t the mission. “You can’t hurt her,” Carol continued, putting more pressure on his neck. The man gasped. “She is mine to protect, and I will kill all of you if I have to to keep her safe.” The man smiled, and for the first time entering this room, a chill went down your spine.

“Oh, you think with her living with Earth’s mightiest heroes, she’ll be safe; you are wrong.” Got him. It only took Carol intervening, but he was ready to talk. Gently, you placed a hand on Carol’s shoulder. Her eyes flickered to you.

“It’s okay,” you forced a smile. “Let him go.” You saw the internal debate happen in her eyes. Soon, she released him and threw him back into the chair.

“Power dynamic,” he said, rubbing his throat. A bruise was already forming. “I guess I was wrong about you two.” You sighed and sat down, this time closer to the table. Carol closed the door but stayed in the room, standing in the corner. Your arms were still crossed, and your nails again found the indent in your arm. “You got yourself an impressive guard dog over there. She needs a lesson in obedience.”

“I don’t own her, and she doesn’t own me,” you said. “Who helped you avoid detection after all this time?” He gasped.

“I’m offended you don’t think I could do it alone.”

“You aren’t smart enough, Lebedev,” you deadpanned. “So give me names, or my guard dog will attack.” His eyes glanced at Carol in the corner, and you saw him gulp in fear. Instead of talking, he leaned forward, faces inches apart, and you could feel his breath on your skin. A sharp pinch of your skin kept you present.

“Answer me this, kotenok (kitten). Do you feel safe here?”

“Is that a threat?” You countered.

“Merely a question,” he said. “Do you feel safe here with your sisters close by, Captain America as an ally, and Tony Stark’s super fancy AI keeping watch?” He slammed his hands down, but the sound didn’t scare you. Your nails dug deeper. “Do you feel safe?” He asked again. “Because Oriel Sergeev wasn’t the only person upset when the Red Room fell from the sky.” Oriel Sergeev? He was the man who created that ‘fun’ room.

“Who is helping you?” You asked again. He shrugged his shoulders and leaned back in the chair.

“I don’t kiss and tell; you should know that. The Red Room provided stability, a balance, and you and those cunts you call sisters broke it,” your jaw clenched. He huffed out a laugh at your reaction. “It’s only a matter of time before bad girls like you get punished.”

You watched Maria and a few other agents lead Andrei to transport. A body collided with you that almost sent you falling to the ground, but Carol’s arm kept you upright. It was Yelena. Her jasmine scent perfume invaded your senses, grounding you further. “Ugh,” you groaned. “I hated that. I hated the way he talked to you.” You chuckled, kissing the top of her head.

“You aren’t the only one,” Natasha said, and you looked past Yelena as the redhead joined the small group. “Carol beat me to it. I was about to go in there and kick his ass.” You heard Carol laugh behind you, kissing the side of your head. “Are you okay?”

“I’m,” you stopped before you lied to them. “No, but I will be,” you sighed, ending the hug with Yelena. “I think I need a shower, then I’ll start feeling better.”

“Do you want me to join you?” Carol asked. You shook your head.

“I just need a moment by myself,” you smiled. “I’ll be okay, I promise.” As you turned to walk back to your room, Yelena grabbed your hand. Spinning you back around and flipping your arm to show everyone the cut on your arm.

“Your bleeding,” she said, and you pulled your arm back.

“It’s nothing, and it will heal by the time I get in the shower,” you saw the unasked questions from all three of them. “I needed to ground myself when I was in there with him. That’s all. I promise I’m okay, and I’ll come to you guys if I need anything.”

A towel was tightly secured around your body as you stepped out of the bathroom. You hated the way his words crawled underneath your skin. No matter how frequently you scrubbed your skin raw, you felt his hands on you. There was a part of you that wanted to track down his escort van and kill him, to watch his blood stain the pavement. Or maybe have Melina take care of it. But you knew if one of the Widows took the job, it would get traced back to you. Still wet from the shower, you sat on your bed and picked up your phone. The number you dialed wasn’t saved in your phone. It was a number you had memorized as Widows kept giving it to you. She answered on the second ring. “My favorite Black Widow,” she said. “What do I owe the pleasure? Have you considered my offer?” You sighed.

“No, Valentina, I’m still not joining your team. I need a favor.” You were speaking as you could hear cars driving by.

“I’m not a charity, darling. Favors will cost you/” You nodded.

“I know, and I’m willing to pay for it,” you stood up and walked into your closet. “I need to put on a hit. His name is Andrei Lebedev. He is currently in SHIELD custody and on his way to the RAFT. I need it done without using any of the Widows you have employed, and not a single agent hurt.” Valentina laughed.

“You are making a lot of demands for someone not in charge,” you dropped the towel and changed into a pair of sweatpants and a tank top.

“I always repay my debts, you know this?” This wasn’t the first time you’ve asked a favor from her. Her contacts ran deeper than Melina’s, and in this world, information was valuable. But you knew she would do it and come back to you when she needed something. The Widows that worked for her always told you what they did. You had enough dirt to bury the director, but it would hurt your fellow Widows.

“This will cost you, but I’ll get it done.”

“Thank you.”

“Aw, don’t go getting soft on me,” you rolled your eyes. “My offer is always on the table for you. That will never expire,” you huffed.

“Bye, Valentina.” You hung up the phone before she could respond. You refused to join her every time she asked, even when she proclaimed how much money you could make with your skill set. You feared it would be impossible to say no to her one day.

Two days passed when Maria announced that Andrei Lebedev was killed; no agents were hurt in the ambush. The agent’s eyes never left yours when she told everyone the news. Maybe it was bad you didn’t care if she believed you or not when you claimed you had no part in his death—effortlessly passing blame to whoever helped him. His death was one you never lost sleep over. Like you told Steve, these men were better off dead.

#family is more than blood au #carol danvers x reader #carol danvers x you #carol danvers x y/n #black widow sisters #yelena belova x natasha romanoff x reader #yelena belova x reader #natasha romanoff x reader

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sad-not-glad · 5 months

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could you do a soft Dom Steve x sub bucky x soft Dom sick reader?

where bucky wakes up all subby and wants his mama. he goes to look for her and cannot find her, he starts to cry but then Steve comes around the corner and tells bucky that mama has the flu and is lying in bed to sleep. Bucky than ask Steve if he can help mama feel better. Steve says yes, they spend the day helping the reader get better.

Hey love!! I’m so sorry it took me a while to get back with you, but it’s finally here! I wrote reader’s illness so it could either be just a bad flu, or a chronic illness since I deal with those and flare ups can be terrible aha. The ending is a little rushed and not my favorite but… I’m too lazy to fix it. Hope you enjoy!!

Soft Dom Steve x Reader x Sub/Little Bucky

Warnings: Bucky is scared of being abandoned, but that doesn’t actually happen. Illness. Other than that, just a whole lot of fluff.

(Part of the Sharing is Caring AU)

Blinking awake, Bucky was met with the comforting space of the shared bedroom. Steve’s sketches were littered on the walls, a couple of your nicknacks spread around. Even his own collection of books, stacked neatly on the shelf in the corner.

He could feel it, already brewing inside. The need to be coddled and cared for. The need to be nothing more than a good boy who pleased his Mama and his Captain. But they weren’t here. The bed was empty, only slightly warm. A whine huffed up from his chest as he rolled over on his back- where were you both? You were supposed to be here, covering your baby boy in kisses and compliments.

Bucky shuffled onto his feet, taking his time collecting comfortable clothes before putting them on. One of Steve’s sweaters you had stolen and been wearing for a week, it smelled like both of you. His softest sweats, the fluffy socks with silly cartoon cats on them. You and he had almost convinced Steve that a cat would be a great addition to the little family you had made together.

All cozied up and surrounded by the scent of his lovers, he stepped out of the bedroom at last. The little apartment area was quiet, which was unusual. If you and Steve were awake first, it usually meant the team had come for breakfast. Meaning lots of noise. So the silence piqued his curiosity, urging him further down the hall. He checked the bathroom, empty. So was the office, and even the little storage closet that you loved so much. (Mostly because it’s where you hide all the good snacks)

You both must be in the kitchen, he thought to himself. He needed his Mama, he needed his Captain, he needed to be a good boy and receive praises from you both. That he was kind and sweet, how proud you were and how much you loved him. Bucky was already thinking of breakfast, he would probably find his Mama and Captain cooking something. Maybe he could help! He was good at mixing things, and stealing the yummy bits when nobody was watching him. He was a renowned fruit thief.

Much to his disappointment though, Bucky found the rest of the house empty. The living room, dining room, kitchen, he walked through them all four times. And the only trace of life he found was a discarded soup can next to the sink. The silence was deafening, but somehow the heartbeat in his ears was louder. It felt like the ground had been pulled from beneath him, falling down a spiral of anxiety.

Were you hurt?

Maybe there was a mission nobody told him about?

Had you two gone out for breakfast without telling him?

Did you leave him?

Was he… alone?

It was as if the walls were caving in, stomach cramping with terror and bile rising in his throat. Bucky hadn’t even realized he was crying until then, but once he did it was like the tears wouldn’t stop. He was gasping for air, vision blurry as he wiped desperately at his eyes. Maybe this was his fault somehow. He was needy and damaged, never a good combination in his own opinion. Wasn’t he doing better though? Clearly not if his Mama and Captain both had left him-

“Bucky?”

He spun around wildly, already reaching out for the voice of his Captain. Bucky was swept up against a firm chest and the cries let loose. Steve was gentle and patient, petting his hair and shushing his tears until the poor man was able to form coherent words again. “Thought…I thought you were gone.”

“Oh, sweetheart.” Steve sighs, pulling back so he could clean the brunette’s face with gentle hands and a soothing voice.

“We would never leave you, and you know that. (Y/N)- Mama is sick, baby. She’s not feeling good today, we were in the guest bedroom so we didn’t disturb you baby boy. M’ so sorry, I should have let you know.”

The guest bedroom, that made sense. He hadn’t even thought to look in there, it was never used for anything. None of you had family to visit, and all your friends also lived within a reasonable distance for daily visits. Bucky looked up at his Captain, eyes still wet with tears, face red and puffy from crying already.

“Mama’s sick? Can I help her be better?” He felt so small, he really just wanted to be useful somehow. Especially if his sweet Mommy wasn’t feeling good. You didn’t get sick often, but when you did it was never pleasant. Bucky had seen it on occasion, the underlying illness in your body flaring up with a vengeance. It left you nauseous, weak, miserable. And he didn’t want his Mama to be miserable.

“Of course baby boy, you want to help make her some tea?” He gives a little nod and is rewarded with his Captain’s charming smile. They take their time making the tea, Steve giving his baby boy extra love for the fright he endured and explaining a little more. You had been throwing up- and Bucky needed his sleep. He had been on too many missions lately. So you insisted on moving to the spare room, hoping he could get some extra rest. Next time he would definitely have to write a note to make sure your sweet boy didn’t worry like this again.

The tea was finished with no spills. Bucky held the mug close to his chest and walked carefully down the hall, his Captain following with a fond chuckle. He was shuffling his cat socks, pausing if the drink shook too much with that cute pout of concentration on his face. Once at the door he stopped, and Steve could see the gears in his boy’s head turning. How was he supposed to open the door? Sure, he could hold the mug with just one hand. But… it was hot, and he was holding it with his sleeves. The mug would slip away before he could open the door, and all his mama’s tea would be on the floor.

His pondering was answered as a large body wrapped around his back. Reaching around the man, Steve turned the knob and gently pushed the door ajar before urging Bucky inside. He knew that seeing your baby boy would immediately help you to feel better.

Bucky peeked through the gap, eyes landing on the mess of sheets and pillows on the bed. There was a small bin at the side, there in case you got sick. Discarded soup and water on the nightstand, curtains pulled tightly together. You hadn’t even noticed him yet, face buried in the sheets and you wrestled with the ache in your bones. His heart pulled together, his poor Mommy. You were clearly miserable.

As quietly and carefully as he could manage while still balancing your tea, Bucky shuffled his way inside. He could hear you groan from your spot on the bed, moving a little faster at the sound until he arrived at your beside.

“Mama…?” There was a shuffle, and you peered out from the sheets. The sight you were greeted with was just…precious. Your sweet Bucky, wrapped up in your favorite sweater to steal from Steve, a mug that smelled nearly diving held carefully in his hands. He was watching you with a nervous smile, presenting the tea for you to drink. “Here you go, made tea so you feel sick no more.”

Heart melting in your chest, you took the mug and gently set it to the side on the nightstand. Bucky was confused, you could see the pout forming as he began to think the worst. But before your baby boy had time to spiral, you lifted the blankets and reached out for him. “Thank you, sweetheart. But right now Mommy just want lovin’ from her best little boy.” The smile that lights his face could heal anything as he slid into the space provided, curling his large body up against your chest. You smoothed back his hair, pressing a kiss to his forehead before fussing with the blankets. Steve stepped up, taking over and tucking the comforter around you both with a fond grin. “How are you feeling?”

“Better, now that I have my baby.”

The blanket shook with a little giggle, you and Steve sharing a small kiss. Sick days were unavoidable sometimes, but they were always easier with both your boys at your side.

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