under a spell

Smacking Someone with a Frying Pan

When the headlights flash into the living room for a brief second, they wake you enough for you to bolt up from the sofa in a still half asleep kind of trance and frantically look around. You weren't expecting guests, your mom would have told you, heck she would have turned into the Clean Queen and had you cleaning the entire house from top to bottom, just like she had done when Pietro and Wanda...you falter a little, stumbling over the coffee table; wincing when you catch your little toe. You hadn't heard a thing from them at all - not that you were expecting to...they hardly needed to fill you in with their whereabouts. Your dad however, called you as often as he could but he had no idea when he would come back home to you all. Yeah, it had been a tense couple of weeks.

What time is it?

You begin to wildly hunt for your phone, throwing couch cushions around in sheer desperation until you finally find it, squished down in between the arm and the seat cushion. When you clicked it on, the sudden light nearly blinds you and you have to shine it elsewhere to let your eyes adjust.

It's 3:07 in the morning.

You live in the middle of nowhere and your dad always comes home in one of SHILED'S flying contraptions, not a car. And 9 times out of 10, he always calls before hand. When you can only just hear the sounds of doors being shut, you instantly go into a defensive mode; running at full speed straight into the kitchen where you nearly skid straight into the counter as you frenziedly look around the darkness for a weapon.

"Oh God, oh God, oh God." You whimper as your hands slide all over the counter tops. Of course your Mom decided tonight was the night she'd actually tidy the kitchen.

The wooden steps outside your front door groans and you grab the nearest thing to you – a handle to what you can only assume, is a frying pan and hide behind the wall separating the kitchen from the lounge with a plan forming in your head. It was more of a pep talk than anything.

Right, Y/N. You're gonna smack the crap out of anyone who gets too close to you. Then run upstairs and wake up Mom –

The front door slowly opens. You swear you could hear your heartbeat thudding away in your ears as footsteps – quite a lot of footsteps actually – begin to quietly make their way inside your home. You suddenly became very angry. How dare these people, these total strangers, come breaking into your house! If they went anywhere near your siblings, you would actually consider killing them and you squeeze the frying pans handle tightly at the thought.

These assholes weren't going to know what hit them.

"Nice place you have he –"

You instinctively swing out with your weapon out when the voice sounds way too close to you for your liking, aiming high, and when the dull clang sounds that is followed by a grunt of pain, you're actually impressed that you managed to hit your target on the first try.

"What the fu –"

"Get out of my house!" You scream as you hit him again, this time hearing his body collapse to the floor just as the lights flicker on. You hastily drop the frying pan and cover your mouth in shock as you register the faces dotted around the room. Everyone looks dishevelled. Tired. But when your eyes meet Wanda's, a smile lights up her face. You're tempted to run to her and tackle her into a huge hug but someone clears his throat.

"Hey kiddo."

"Dad!" You yell as you jump over the man groaning on the ground and leap into his open arms. He kisses your head repeatedly and squeezes you tight as you fight to hold back the tears. "You're back!"

"I'm back, baby. I'll always come home to you guys." His voice wavers and you instantly worry. What the heck happened? He kisses your forehead. "Hey, Scott, you okay?"