#they were always better than the avengers lmao | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

viperbarnes · 2 years

Text

No Strings Attached

Ex!Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: “Every time you’ve called me, I’ve come,” Steve says, voice thick with hurt, and you clench your teeth. “Every. Time.”

Warnings: smut! language, hurt, exes to lovers <3

Notes: this is one of my fave oneshots i've ever written tbh. i really love the trope of people breaking up, because of xyz issue, and then the person with xyz issue actively works to resolve or change it, but with no expectation of reuniting, just because they want to be a better person. so ye, that's basically this whole fic lmao

Words: 15,849

You make a sort of doe-eyed blank expression as you listen, that makes your building’s security guard duck his head a little lower into your line of sight and wave his hand.

“Ma’am?” You blink suddenly, snapping out of your spiralling thoughts and focus back on the man’s face.

“Huh?”

He smiles sympathetically and repeats himself.

“I asked if you had anybody who might come stay with you tonight? Super said he can’t get a hold of anybody who can change your lock…” You sigh and look around him at your door, it’s lock busted and breaking through the wood of the door.

You’d arrived home to find it like that, although the cops the security guy had insisted on calling said that it looked like no thief actually made it inside, probably got spooked. Seeing as none of your stuff was stolen or out of place, you’d have said they were right.

You run a hand over your hair and sigh.

“Uhm. Yeah. Yeah I do.” You nod your head, not actually coming up with a name off the top of your head, but you’re sure you’ll think of someone once you have a moment to breathe. The security guard nods.

“Do you want me to wait until they get here?” You smile and shake your head.

“Oh, no, no… it’s fine! I’ll be okay until then!” You assure him. You know he got paid for every hour he spent on the door, and not for any he didn’t.

He checks with you twice more before he leaves, and you shut your busted door behind him, slipping your side table in front of it in the meantime before you fumble through your bag for your phone.

You stare at your home screen for a solid two minutes, mind going over the people you’d feel comfortable calling, who you’d actually feel safe having stay with you overnight, and for the life of you, you can only come up with one name.

Unfortunately, this name belonged to your ex.

It wasn’t as if you and Steve Rogers hadn’t broken up amicably, or at least, you hadn’t ended badly, but for a moment you debate with yourself on if you really need to call anyone at all. You think about sleeping, knowing your apartment door was basically open.

You bring up his contact.

The first thing you see is a list of past calls and texts, the date signalling that the last time you’d called him had been almost seven months ago, and for a moment your eyes linger on that.

Seven months? It hardly felt like it, really.

You and Steve had met through work. You worked in the forensics at Avengers Tower, and so you’d occasionally see each other when the team had lab work to be done. It had been a slow progression for him to ask you out, and when he had, the two of you dated successfully for an entire year. Things were always slow with Steve, due in part to his schedule making it hard to really get anything done. If he wasn’t on a mission, he was resting from a mission, and the times you did go out or see one another were a lot less than you would have liked.

It’s why you broke up.

Steve was a great guy, the best you’d ever dated, but his work was his first true love and honestly? You required more attention than he could give. You weren’t needy exactly, but when you made a plan, you tended to expect to follow through. Steve’s last minute missions, or his cancelling and rescheduling was understandable in his line of work, and if had only been every so often, you’d have been just fine.

But it wasn’t, and you weren’t.

And so… you’d broken up. You’d explained to him that while you really liked him, you just didn’t mesh well together. He’d been understandably upset, but had told you he got it. You’d parted on good terms, with only a residual sadness lingering behind. Even now, you felt a small jolt of angst at even seeing his name written. Really, Steve was your perfect guy, and if he’d ever been around, you might’ve been able to experience more of that perfection.

You shake your thoughts aside and tap the call button, bringing the phone to your ear and waiting as the dial tone rings out. You can’t help but chew your lip as you wait, anxiety beginning to well up.

What if he didn’t answer?

What if he was on a mission?

What if he saw your name, and then didn’t answe—

“Hello?” You nearly gasp at hearing his voice, seven months suddenly feeling longer than before and you swallow thickly to remember why you were even calling in the first place.

“Steve… hey, it’s uh, me…”

“Yeah, I… I have caller ID on this phone.”

“Finally switch from the flip, huh?” You can’t help but shoot back, smile covering your features when you hear his warm chuckle on the other side.

“Yeah, it was time to change things up… Is everything okay?” Maybe he can hear it in your voice, or maybe he’s just that confused as to why you’re randomly calling him at ten on a Tuesday night, but you hear a note of concern in his reply that makes you want to curl up into a ball.

“Um… not really, no… I got home a little while ago and someone had tried breaking into my place—”

“—What? Are you okay? Did they take anything?!” You chuckle awkwardly at his immediate worry.

“Yeah, no— I mean, yes I’m okay, no they didn’t take anything.” You assert, and can practically see him letting out a breath.

“Uhm… I do have a favour to ask though, and I wouldn’t call if I had anybody else, but—”

“—Of course, whatever it is, just let me know.” You let out a shaky sigh and swallow again.

“The lock on my door is busted, and my super can’t get anybody in to fix it until tomorrow… I just… really don’t want to sleep here alone, with a broken door…” On the other side of the line you can hear keys clinking, and feel your tummy flop in dangerous ways.

“I’m coming out now. You want me to stay on the line?” You could fall to your knees and praise every god in existence for the special kind of beautiful Steve Rogers was.

“No, I’m okay, I just don’t wanna be alone later…” You cringe a little at how that might sound like a proposition, but Steve only hums.

“‘Course. I’ll see you in ten.”

When you hang up, you stare down at your phone for a few seconds.

And then you promptly drop it, head whipping around your messy living-kitchen space and quickly get to work tidying it to a presentable degree.

—-

Steve arrives almost exactly ten minutes later, the light knocking on your door followed by his voice.

“Hey, it’s just me!” He says, and you hurry to slide your end table out of the way, your door pretty much swinging open by itself.

For a moment you can only stare at him, dark blue jeans, white t-shirt, brown leather jacket. He’d grown his beard out since you saw him last, thick and golden and groomed just right to hit you in the lady parts. He seems fixated on you as well, though recovers far more gracefully, eyes dipping to look at your splintered door and he whistles.

“When you said it was busted, you meant it huh?” He asks, and you laugh, a little awkwardly, pulling the door wider as you usher him inside.

“Yeah… cops said they must have gotten scared off before they got inside. None of my stuff is missing or moved.” You explain, closing the door behind him, and when he sees you move for the table, steps forward to help you, looking at your makeshift barricade up and down for a moment when you’re done.

“Good. That’s good.” You look up at him again as silence falls upon your apartment, and find he’s already looking back at you. Realising you hadn’t even changed from work yet, and you’d cried a little bit after discovering the break-in, you attempt to smooth your hair down and wipe any potential makeup from under your eyes.

“Jesus, I must look like a mess.” You sort-of apologise, trying to play it off with a chortle, but Steve shakes his head, smiling kindly.

“Not at all.” Is all he says, and you hate the fact the completely non-committal sentence makes your belly flop again.

“Oh, uh, can I get you anything? Coffee, tea? I think I have a six pack in the fridge…?” You gesture to your kitchen, but move for your fridge anyway, Steve shoving his hands in his pockets as he follows, shrugging his shoulders. You find the beer behind your salad, and pull it out.

“Well, I’m having one.” You tease, setting the pack on the counter as you attempt to pull a bottle from the plastic rings. Maybe you’re just too exhausted, maybe this particular plastic was just stronger than you, but it doesn’t budge and Steve steps forward, hands already out.

“Let me…” He offers, even as you let him take your chosen bottle from you, tearing it out as if it were nothing. It likely wasn’t, for him, and you swallow, the room feeling warmer suddenly.

“Thanks. Help yourself.” You nod to the pack, a little thankful he takes one too, placing the rest back in your fridge.

“I uhm, I might go shower and change, I haven’t even thought about that yet…” You gesture down at yourself again, and Steve nods.

“Whatever you need.” He tells you, and then points to your couch.

“Mind if I watch the game?” You frown, but nod anyway.

“Who’s playin’?” You both move over into your living room, and you quickly find and toss him your remote.

“Mets vs Giants.” He says, and you ‘ah’, watching for a moment as he flicks to the right channel, your eyes finding the score and you wince, turning back to him.

“Hope you don’t have any bets on your boys.” You say, faux-sympathy dripping from your voice. Steve gives you an unimpressed eyebrow, pointing at you.

“We’ll come back.”

“If it makes you feel better.” You tack on, but burst into a laugh as he rolls his eyes, making himself comfortable on your couch. You note with mild amusement he takes the same spot he would always take up, before you’d broken up. Apparently one of your couch cushions was just comfier than the rest.

You leave him there to go get cleaned up at last, and relish in the hot water as you do little more than just stand under it for ten minutes. Despite your stress from the past few hours, you feel oddly light, Steve’s sudden reappearance back in your life, in your apartment making you feel a little woozy, but only in a good way.

You try to tell yourself that it was only because your breakup had been so amicable, if he were any of your other ex’s you wouldn’t be feeling the way you do…

You dry off and dress quickly, throwing your hair up before stepping back out into the living room. Crossing your arms over your chest in some subconscious way of shutting yourself off to how damn good he looked, you take a seat on the opposite end of the couch, grabbing your beer again and tipping it back.

“Cops get the security footage from the hall?” He asks, one hand around the neck of the bottle he rests on his thigh, the other thrown over the back of the couch toward you, almost invitingly. You blink for a moment as you process his question and hum.

“Yeah. But it’ll probably get written off if the guy didn’t, you know, look straight into the camera or something. You know how they are.” Steve tears his eyes from the TV and looks at you with a frown.

“You get a case number? I’ll follow up tomorrow, make sure they—” Before you can really stop yourself, you cut him off.

“—Steve you don’t have to do that.” The blond shuts his mouth, and you can practically hear the words unspoken.

‘Because you aren’t my boyfriend’. For a moment you can both only stare, until Steve nods and looks away, his brow smoothing out as he relaxes, but the tick in his jaw tells a different story.

“Well, let me know if you need to…” You can’t help but smile a little, behind the rim of your beer, and you take another sip before turning back to the game.

The Mets make a comeback and you finish the night cursing under your breath. You weren’t a Giants fan by any means, but you made a habit of rooting for anybody going against the Mets.

Steve helps you pack away the light snacks and empty beer bottles, all the while wearing a smug grin, and you can’t even stay too annoyed. Smug and playful was always a good look on him.

As you put away the last of the rubbish, you yawn a little and check the time.

“I might head to bed… I’ll get you some pillows and stuff…” You announce, and ignore when he looks up at you in favour of making for the linen closet. You do however grab the pillow from your bed that you know he used to favour, and lay it all out on the couch. When you look up again, Steve is pulling his jacket from his shoulders, and laying it over the back of the opposite couch.

“Uhm, if you need to leave, could you just wake me up?” You ask, stepping back, and Steve frowns deeply, cocking his head.

“Leave? Why would I need to leave?”

“I don’t know… if you’re needed, I guess…” You shrug, shifting awkwardly and for a few seconds Steve’s face filters through a few emotions. Confusion, concern, offence, and then some sort of resignation.

“I— you know if you really needed me, I wouldn’t leave… right?” He asks, and you feel something stir in your chest. It isn’t exactly positive like all the other feelings you’d been having tonight, more like a sting of annoyance, of hurt and you purse your lips, shrugging again and looking to the side.

“I don’t know. You’re important, I’m sure people would need you a lot more than me.” You don’t mean to sound so passive aggressive, but you can’t help it.

He’d never made a point of making sure he’d be around before, the fact you even caught him on an off night is surprising to you. Steve’s brow dips and he opens his mouth, but you cut him off once again, pointing to the kitchen.

“Feel free to take whatever you want from the fridge, I’ll make sure not to sleep in too much… goodnight, Steve.”

You turn on your heel and don’t wait for a reply, shutting your bedroom door behind you. You know he can still hear whatever you do perfectly, so you don’t let out a sigh, or groan at your own fat-headedness, instead you switch off all your lights and settle under your covers.

In seven months you hadn’t felt out of place once in your room, but now, with Steve sleeping in the next room, your bed suddenly feels all too big.

—-

Strangely, despite your pass-agg comments, after that night you and Steve actually begin speaking again. At first it was just his texted check ups, making sure your door got fixed, making sure you were alright, making sure the cops did their jobs… it was sort of nice actually, to be friends with Steve again. He’d even shown his face down in forensics. You know his lack of attendance, Nat, Sam or Bucky showing up in his place, hadn’t been coincidental post your breakup, but the first day he shows up to deliver evidence for testing, you almost sigh at how much you’d missed seeing his face down there.

You actually think you become closer than you had been before, platonically that is. Steve doesn’t seem to make any moves toward rekindling your romance, and honestly? You were just fine with that. Steve was a great guy, but you couldn’t deal with his schedule… even if he did seem to be around more these days.

You don’t ask. You don’t even really think about it, instead chalking it up to good timing and coincidence.

You were wrong though.

Steve clinks the top of his glass with Sam’s as the man passes him his refilled drink, and the three men, including Bucky, settle back down around their seats on the Tower’s balcony.

“So, hey, can I ask you something?” Sam clears his throat some, and Steve cocks his head, gesturing for him to go ahead.

“You and Doc… are you guys like… getting back together, or…?” The blond squints, his face scrunching up a little as he looks off, sighing some.

“We’re just friends.”

“Yeah, but I mean, you went from not talking at all to hanging out again.” Bucky chimes in, and Steve shrugs, eyes finding his shoes.

“I don’t think she’s interested anymore. If friendship is all she wants, it’s what I’ll give.” Sam and Bucky make eye contact, sharing a frown between them and Sam leans forward slightly.

“Sure, but man, you changed up your whole shit for her… You don’t even wanna try again?” Steve sighs and finally looks back up at them.

“It wasn’t necessarily for her… but she was right. How am I supposed to foster any sort of relationship if I don’t make time for it? What we do is important, but I have to be able to prioritise other things. It’s not fair on anybody in my life.”

Bucky hums. He for one was glad Steve had taken a slight step back from the Avengers. Not only did it mean Sam and Rhodey were given more chances to lead, but it had upped the pressure on everyone slightly, in a good way. Previously Bucky would have felt anxious going on a solo mission with another member who wasn’t Steve or Sam, but now he regularly went on ops with Wanda, his bonds with other members growing immensely.

He clears his throat and reaches out to squeeze Steve’s shoulder some.

“I know how you felt about her, but I think you did the right thing.” Steve gives the dark-haired man a long look and a soft smile, ducking his head.

“What was that thing your Ma used to say?” He asks, and Bucky frowns a moment, before his face lights up again in recognition.

“‘Some folk only bless your life so you can learn from them’.” He says, and Steve hums, raising his glass.

“I’ll drink to that.”

—-

It’s late, you should really be asleep by now, but you’ve been lying awake for hours now. Springtime in New York made the night air warmer than you were used to, and the slightly hot feeling of your body was not helping.

You growl in annoyance and switch your vibrator off, tossing it lightly into the open drawer of your bedside table. Between your thighs your clit still throbs slightly, but you hadn’t been able to make yourself cum in the almost two hours you’d been trying, and your hand was going numb from all the vibrations.

You were damn near desperate. You needed to be fucked, good and proper and thoroughly. With only a moment's hesitation, you reach for your phone and tap out a text.

You up?

Steve: Is everything alright?

It’s fine. Come over?

There’s a minute or so where you see the three dots appear as Steve begins typing, before they disappear, and then reappear, only to disappear once more. You almost smile to yourself. He was unsure.

Come over, pleeeaaaseeee?

Steve: … Are you alright?

You huff this time, and purse your lips. You could be forward here and now, giving him an out, or you could wait till he arrived, which might be far less convenient for your pride if he rejected you.

I need you… please…

This time Steve doesn’t type and then retype his messages, instead you’re forced to stare at your read receipt for a full two minutes before a reply comes back, your body lighting on fire the second you process the four little words.

Steve: Be there in ten.

Anticipation builds in you like a storm, and you quickly straighten your sheets, spritz some perfume, fix your hair a little, and pull on a gown, all in time for the knock on your door. The sound is curt and tense and you swallow thickly as you hurry to answer it, sliding your locks back before swinging it open.

Steve stands once again in dark jeans, this time with a dark grey sweater on. His hair was slightly damp still, messy, and you figure he must have just gotten out of his the shower when you’d texted. His eyes find you quickly, a little wide, a little confused, and with all the desperation from the past two hours fueling you, you pounce on him.

You’re lucky he’s as stable and strong as he is, you throw yourself bodily at him, arms wrapping instantly around his neck, your lips pressing to his own hungrily and he returns in kind, one hand steadying you around your middle, the other tangling up into your hair at the back of your head. You almost mewl at the way his hand clutches at your scalp, and you let him walk you back inside, his foot kicking your door closed behind you.

You keep moving, until your back hits your kitchen bench, and you take the moment to pull open your gown, letting it fall to the floor as your hands move for his own sweatshirt. The fabric is quickly discarded, and you’re a little surprised to hear Steve’s groan at your skin on skin contact, his hands beginning to roam more adventurously now. You weren’t keen on messing around for too long, and you make quick work of his belt, letting him kick his shoes off before he shucks the jeans down himself, stepping out of them, all without pulling his lips from yours.

You sigh into his mouth as he captures your tongue with his own, bearing down on you intently, his hands holding you tightly against his own body like he was trying to pull you into himself. You let a hand drop from his face to the hardness against your abdomen and allow yourself to relish in the soft gasps Steve lets out when you pump your fist over him several times, before increasing your pressure, making him all out moan.

His lips fall away from yours, instead he trails sloppy kisses along your cheek and down your neck, pausing to adjust, widening his legs some. With your mouth free, you find the time to speak.

“This… this is just sex, alright? It’s not… it’s just sex…” You tell him, feeling how for a moment he pauses, and you dread it for a second when he pulls away a little to look down at you. His expression is unreadable, but he’s nodding soon, and you breathe out in relief.

“Gotcha.” Is all he says, and you’re forced to release his length as a moment later you’re hoisted up. Your legs wrap around him, even as you’re set on your countertop, and his mouth moves back to yours. It’s your turn to gasp when his hand drops between your thighs, fingers immediately dipping into the dampness at your core, a touch you’d been craving for too long.

“You really needed it that bad, you had to call me?” His voice is low, and you shiver. Steve’s bedroom talk was always amazing, and now, for some reason, the fact you weren’t even together makes it better. It felt dirtier, more obscene, and you nod, panting as he pulls his lips away from yours, his eyes falling to watch his hand slide from your folds.

You swallow, leaning back on the counter as he becomes more purposeful, two fingers prodding at your entrance, his thumb gravitating to your clit, already overstimulated. When he pushes his two fingers inside you, you let your head fall back and your eyes close, widening your legs even more to give him room to work as he begins slowly pumping back and forth.

“F-fuck…” You breathe, toes scrunching as his fingers move a little faster, curling them slightly to run along your g spot and you feel your legs start to quiver already. He seems to anticipate your squirming though, and uses his free hand to hold one leg, the other he keeps open with his own thigh, moving quicker now. A slower moment lets him insert another finger, and soon you’re clutching around his neck again, needing something tangible to hold on to as he strokes you to finish.

“Steve! Steve, fuck, don’t— please don’t— ah!” You try to catch your breath before you even lose it, but you only swallow down more air as you cum, your hips shaking involuntarily against his hand as he continues to ride you through it, thumb never letting up over your clit until your head lolls back once more.

You’re about to speak, praise him perhaps, when his fingers pull away, taking your hips instead and any words you have are punched out of you with the feel of his hands drawing you onto his cock. You scramble for a hold again, gasping and moaning at the same time as you wrap your arms tightly around his neck.

“Holy fuck…!” You whimper, Steve already curling his hips up and into you, all the while lifting you from the counter itself to bounce you against his standing lap.

He liked this, you remember, liked being able to hold you up all on his own, control the pace, control his movement and yours.

“That okay?” His lips move against your cheek and you nod vehemently, a hand carding through the back of his hair.

“Yes! Fuck, fuck, I need it!” You squeeze your eyes closed as he really starts setting a pace, and you feel that deep spot inside of you that hadn’t been touched in months begin to light up. Regardless of your relationship issues, Steve had always been good in bed, his body fitting into your perfectly, his desire matching up with yours similarly so.

“Yeah? You need it, baby? … shit, I’ll give it to you, sweetheart.” His voice is like molten honey, running over you warm and sticky sweet, and you can’t help it, you pout a little, nodding at his words.

“Please… please!” You whine. You know how much he loved to feel needed, in and out of the bedroom, but that didn’t mean your mewling was all for show. You’d finished once, yes, but you were so pent up you were still rearing to go and Steve’s cock pounding into you hurriedly was only spurring you on. You needed release and he was going to give it to you. Your mind always went a little hazy, a little blank when he’d have you like this, you’d do practically anything he asked, and he knew it.

“Come on, sweetheart, one more, wanna feel you squeeze me…” You whine again with his added words, his lips nipping your ear and you nod, face falling into the crook of his neck as he continues to pant and puff with effort. Your sounds start becoming shorter, more gasped and as he slows to level you with long, deep strokes, your orgasm rolls over you, gentler than the last, though powerful still, amplified by the feel of your cunt actually clutching, gripping onto something as your muscles tense and flutter.

Steve groans, keeps up the longer, slower strokes until you begin to relax again, and with little warning, pulls out. He presses his cock against your inner thigh, but pumps with one hand until he’s sighing airily, thick hot streams of cum streaking over your thigh and abdomen as you watch.

For some reason, all you can think about for a few seconds is how he’d never come on you before. Always inside you, condom or raw, and the change in behaviour confuses you for a moment, but you don’t intend on asking.

You both pant heavily, still partially leant against one another as you catch your breath, and you feel a slight awkwardness settle over you. Would things be weird now? Would he expect more from this? For a moment you have to admit it was nice being back in his arms, nice to pretend he was yours, but reality sets in and you cool off.

Even if he was still your boyfriend, he would never really be ‘yours’. Not while he shouldered so much of the world’s responsibilities.

Steve settles you back on the lip of the counter, and you jump slightly at how cool it feels against your bare skin. As you finally make eye contact, a pit opens in your gut. Steve after sex was always a sight to behold, his hair hanging in his face, his cheeks flushed red and his lips swollen and parted… it makes your stomach lurch in longing, and you quickly clear your throat, gently pushing him back so you can stand.

Finding your robe on the floor, you quickly pull it on despite the sweat covering your skin, and look back toward Steve, though you avoid his eye contact.

“Uhm, do you want to wash up before you go?” You know if sounds a bit harsh, but you’d made it clear to him before you’d properly gotten started that this was just sex. You couldn't bring yourself to expect anything more from him, and risk another broken heart.

Steve blinks, and you see a brief moment of hurt flash across his features before they harden somewhat, and he straightens, tucking himself back into his pants gingerly and collecting his sweatshirt.

“It’s alright, I… I’ll clean up at home.” He says, and you have to cross your arms over your chest at the tight feeling that begins constricting you.

“Okay.” Steve hesitates, looks at you a moment too long before he nods to the door.

“I’ll get out of here.” He says, sounding far more casual than he had a moment ago, as if nothing at all had just transpired between you, and you latch onto that ease, making it easier for you to play along too.

“No worries…” You trail him to the doorway, holding it open behind him as he steps through and turns around. His mouth is open, poised to say something but for some unknown reason you decide to cut him off, a hand shooting out to land on his arm, and you squeeze just a little.

“Thank you, Steve.” You want to cringe at the sound of thanking somebody after sex, but really, it was more about the fact for the second time in a row he actually came when you’d needed him… even if the second was a far more rival affair…

Steve blinks at you slowly from under his long lashes, in that dreamy way he does when he’s thinking something sweet or mushy, and again your insides twist. He only ducks his head further and swallows, a small smile pulling at his lips, far too innocent for the acts you’d just committed barely inside your doorway.

“Of course, uh, anytime…” You snort a little bit, rolling your eyes, but he gives you a final little wave before you shut your door behind him.

You’re left staring at your living room and kitchen counter, eyes fixated on the spot you’d been hauled up against just minutes ago. Your mind immediately begins the playback and you groan, remembering the mess still on your thighs and between them, suddenly more bothersome and uncomfortable than it had been previous, and you retreat to your shower, questioning yourself on if sleeping with your ex, who you’d only just begun talking to again, was a good idea.

—-

You walk in on Steve almost kissing someone.

It’s one of Tony’s parties, the big ones, where he invites everyone and absolutely insists everybody comes, even if he’s only on face-name basis with them. It was actually the first gathering you’d been to with the Avengers since you and Steve broke up, certainly the first since you’d started fucking again. It was good to see Sam and Bucky and the others outside of a work environment, and you think from their genuine smiles and the way Sam keeps talking you into one more round of pool, that maybe they missed you too.

You finally manage to duck out from under Sam’s arm, in search of a bottle of water, when you stumble into the private kitchen, where you’d been told the fridge was stocked full. At first your brain lights up.

Steve was in here! You’d hardly spoken to him all night! But then his hand registers, more specifically, the hip his hand is on registers, and your eyes suddenly piece together the scene before you.

A young woman, pretty, you think you know her from HR actually, leans with her back against the counter, her hands both wrapped around Steve’s biceps. One of his arms is around her waist, the other on her hip and they’re both smiling softly, if not shyly, heads so close their lips are barely apart when you accidentally squeak in surprise.

Steve pulls away instantly, even before he’s seen it’s you, and you realise that whoever this woman was to him, it was new. Steve was always a little skittish with PDA with new relationships. You’d seen it with Sharon, before yourself, and then again with your own relationship… and now with this.

“Oh! I—!” You feel your face go warm and you mouth wordlessly for a moment as you point to the fridge. The woman ducks her head in slight embarrassment and awkwardness and you do feel terrible, despite the wave of grief that overcomes you at the fact Steve was actually moving on.

Not that he wasn’t allowed to… you just hadn’t thought he’d do it first.

“Uh, just, water…” You stutter, suddenly feeling rather sick. Steve follows your pointing, even as you begin to move, avoiding his eyes. It shouldn’t be so weird! The situation the two of you had was strictly no strings attached! Steve was allowed to start dating, so were you! Still… that didn’t mean you wanted to walk in on him about to lay it on a woman that wasn’t you.

You rush out of the room with your water before anybody can gain enough sense to actually talk, and you tuck yourself back between Sam and Nat quickly.

You spy Steve and the woman leaving the kitchen a short while later, and though you don’t see even a bit of smudged lipstick or beard burn, your mind starts to whir in anger. But you know it's unjustified, and you curse yourself for being nearly a year out of your relationship, and still jealous. You consider breaking it off with Steve in the coming week, but your mind wanders back to the way he’d tipped his head back in a moan only days before, the thick column of his throat bobbing as he swallowed, his hands bruising on your hips as you rode him hard.

You decide instead that you’ll just act as if you’d never seen anything at all in the kitchen.

—-

Moving on is… hard.

Not necessarily out of some romantic idea that Steve was ‘The One’, in fact you’re more resolved against anything romantic with him now than you were before, more so because you were… picky.

Even if you lower your standards, every guy you seem to give a chance ends up firmly in your ‘no’ pile after a few dates or less. Most of the time it was because your interests didn’t align, you found them boring or you just weren’t attracted to each other, but occasionally one slips through.

Tom, his name was and Tom was nice. He was polite, handsome, you could talk about both shared interests and your jobs (he worked for the city morgue). Tom was good. You were still unsure of anything long term, or anything serious at all for that matter, but for someone to hang out with and occasionally be kissed by, you could do a lot worse than Tom.

He takes you out almost like clockwork every Friday or Saturday night since you’d met (that was four dates so far), you’d get dinner, maybe some drinks, walk around for a bit, and then he’d kiss you goodbye at your door. It was sweet. Tonight though, tonight you aren’t after sweet at all.

A SHIELD agent you know has her birthday, or maybe it’s a joint party? You aren’t sure, all you know is that it’s at a club, you look hot as hell, and if Tom doesn’t put his hands on you later you’ll burst at the seams.

The club is dark and loud, meant for dancing and drinking, not conversation and polite small talk, and the moment the bouncer sees you inside, you grab Tom by the hand and drag him along, a wicked smile thrown over your shoulder. You do the customary rounds, saying hello to people you know, introducing Tom. You even manage to figure out who the birthday girl is, and give her a hug. You’re aware when you lean over the table to do so that your already short skirt rides up further, and you’re aware tom is standing right behind you, watching.

You make sure not to drink much, you had plans for later after all, but you act a little giddier than you are, letting your hand linger on Tom’s thigh, holding on to him more than normal. You coax him out to the dance floor and that's where you get him. Hot bodies writhe to a beat, pressed up against one another, it doesn’t seem as obscene in the dark. You grind your hips back into Tom’s, his hands snaking their way around your hips and you smile, because you know.

In the dim light and through the throng of bodies, a flash of familiar stops you for a moment. Blonde hair, wide shoulders, beard, beer in hand, untouched… You swallow for a second as you make eye contact with Steve. He must have been invited too, must not have had a mission to go on to get out of it either. Before he can lift an eyebrow or do anything at all, you look away, wrapping your arms around Tom’s shoulders, you lean into his ear.

“Let’s get out of here.”

This… this had not been what you’d had in mind.

Your bedroom is lit only by a spare few candles that flicker your shadows against the wall, and you watch them absently for a second longer, before dropping to rest on your elbows, your body moving in the rythmeric back and forth each time Tom’s hips gently buck into yours.

He can’t see your face since he’s got you on your hands and knees, and you’re glad for it, because you’re not sure you could fake it even if you tried. It wasn’t that it didn’t feel good, it was just… you aren’t sure… he touched you like he wasn’t supposed to, and if you’re honest it felt less like he was having sex with you and more like he was just having sex. You could be anyone right now, and he probably wouldn’t care.

Tom pants and moans and then stops, his hips stuttering gently before he pulls out and away from you.

“Bin in the bathroom?” He asks, and you plaster on your best post-sex look, and nod, rolling over in time to see him disappear into your ensuite to dispose of the condom. When he returns, you go about cleaning yourself up.

“That was great.” He chimes, and you offer him a smile. At least somebody had fun, though you note a little bitterly how he hadn’t even asked about you. Maybe Tom wasn’t so nice.

“Yeah!” You enthuse. You already knew he wasn’t going to stay the night, he’d made sure to tell you as much before you’d begun. You pull on a gown and help him dress and gather his things.

At the front door he kisses you chastely, and tells you he’ll call in the morning. Mentally, you cross him off your list, and close your door.

You seeth while you change your sheets, getting angrier and angrier over your situation. You should have known from the start there was no spark with Tom, you shouldn’t have tried to kid yourself! And he should have at least tried to make you cum!

A quick glance at the time tells you it's not too late, and you send off a text, expecting a gentle refusal.

What you don’t expect however, is Steve arriving at your apartment twenty minutes later, angry as all hell, and he all but pushes past you when you’ve opened the door, coming to stand in your living room with his hands on his hips, his brow low and his lips in a thin line.

“Are you serious?” He asks at last, when you’ve stood staring at one another for long enough. He gestures absently, but his hand comes back to his hip.

“Wha—”

“—Don’t.” He says sharply, and you shut your mouth. This was different… you’d never really seen Steve angry before, let alone angry with you… it doesn’t at all help your current situation though, and you swallow, adjusting your stance.

“You know damn well I saw you leave with him earlier! I can smell the sex in the air. You haven’t had enough already tonight?” The words are harsh and hurt lances through you momentarily, before defensiveness takes over and you cross your arms over your chest, lifting your chin a little.

“Excuse me? Who I spend time with and how is none of your business!” Steve scoffs and looks off for a moment, a mirthless smile on his face.

“Right. But you still want me to fuck you after anyway.” The vulgarity is new as well, and it occurs to you in the back of your mind, that he must be really pissed with you.

“If you didn’t want to come, you should have just said no!” You say, your voice sounding a little more shrill and a little more crackly than you want it too. All your bravado aside, Steve was imposing when he was angry, and the fact that anybody yelling at you, let alone him, was enough to make you cry, gives your voice a shake you didn’t ask for. Not to mention that you really hadn’t expected him to show up at all, especially angry.

Steve looks back at you, his fuming expression not exactly subsiding, but it softens some, and he drops one hand from his hip to rub at his brow before he looks back up at you, more exasperated now than anything else.

“Why did you call me?” He sounds tired, but you know an olive branch when you see one, and you snatch it, stepping closer, ducking your head.

“Why do you think…?” You shrug and purse your lips before looking up at him again.

“He was shit. You aren’t.” His shoulders square just a little at your words, and you know it's a bit of a low blow, any guy was likely to be more inclined to having sex with you if you compared him positively incomparison with another man. Steve cocks his head, lids dipping slightly and you know you’ve got him hook, line, and sinker.

“Is that right?” You’re right in front of each other now and you let your hands wind up around his neck, playing demure as he fixes you with a knowingly amused look, his hands landing firmly at your waist.

“Mhmn.” You hum, nodding, shrugging once again.

“He didn’t know how.” You say, pouting as Steve dips his face closer to yours, and again you find yourself pretending that this wasn’t just sex, that these arms where ones you could be wrapped in whenever you wanted.

“Didn’t know how to what?” Steve asks, voice deep and rumbly in his throat, his breath coasting over your lips, and you lean in quick, nipping at his mouth chastley, feeling his hands tighten at your waist.

“Didn’t know how to take care of me.” Magic words, really. Steve is on you in seconds, mouth devouring your own, the warmth of him engulfing and you let yourself sink into the fever.

Perhaps some of that anger still simmers under the surface, because he fucks you hard, his thrusts just a little more pointed, his fingers digging a little deeper into your skin. His teeth nibble at your lower lip making you keen for him with another gasp as his hips snap against yours once again.

He’s covering you completely, chest to chest, his arms rest around your head, caging you in, and you grasp onto him wherever you can, hiking your thighs higher around him as he drives into you quickly.

“You know, if I wanted to make a point,” Steve begins, his voice raspy and puffed slightly, and you peel your eyes open to look at him, his face so close to yours it almost makes you cross-eyed.

“I’d not make you cum either.” He finishes, and you start, a slight wave of panic setting in, and you open your mouth to preemptively beg, but then he’s shifting, a hand sliding between your sweaty bodies, fingers pawing until they find your clit, and you suck in air sharply.

Steve wears a lazy but wicked grin, and he begins swirling his fingers over your bundle of nerves, dropping his face low enough that when he speaks his lips brush over yours.

“But I like watching you cum while I fuck you.” As your breathing shallows, Steve seems to swallow down each short breath, eyes never leaving your face as you quickly feel your release creep up on you, his harsh, deep strokes combined with the rough pads of his fingertips rapidly spinning circles and you’re falling.

Steve uses his body to hold you down, prevent you from shaking or jerking too much as you topple over the edge of release, your pussy clutching onto his cock even as he grunts, continuing to grind into you as you call out his name over and over.

He drops his face to your neck as your senses come back to you, your brain feeling light and your eyesight a little dimmed from the sensations. You know any second now he’ll pull out, jerk himself until he spills on your stomach or thigh like he always seemed to nowadays, but something ticks in your brain, raw and primal and you hook your ankles as best you can behind him, raking your fingernails over his back in marks that will disappear by morning.

“She tighter than me, Steve?” You feel his head start to lift a little, but you gently bite at his earlobe, stopping him.

“Does she feel this good when you’re fucking her?” Something switches then in the atmosphere of the room, he picks up his pace again, and you jump when one hand fists in the back of your head, pulling your neck back and away. Steve glares down at you, though his game is half given away by the grunt he gives a second later.

“Shut up.” He says, though it isn’t half as harsh as you expect, and he rolls his eyes some, dropping his lips down to your exposed throat now and you feel a thrill run through you.

“Does she let you fuck her like this or is it gentle missionary only?” You press on, yelping a little when teeth scrape at your skin warningly, and the hand in your hair tightens, pulling.

“Because you know I’d let you have me any which way… on my knees, under you, over you… fuck,” You pause, panting a little with effort as he fucks you even harder, each word punched out of you.

“Fuck, I’d let you have my ass if you brought the lube…” Triumph colours you as Steve groans, gasping almost, his fist at your scalp a little painful as he curls his hips deep once, twice, three times more before you feel him finish, and he stills.

Your bodies are hot and sticky with sweat against one another, and you can feel him shake a little in his come down as he finally relaxes.

Like always, in the aftermath you’re both silent for a few moments before Steve lifts his head, his chest heavy against your own, and he fixes you with a unconvincingly unamused expression.

“Thought I told you to shut up?” He asks, shifting to hold up more of his own weight, and you pretend to not hear him, cocking your head.

“Towel?” He seems to relent, rolling off of you and sinking into your mattress as you hop up, moving to your bathroom to grab a spare towel.

When you return, you almost falter for a few seconds in the doorway, swallowing thickly. Steve lies on your bed, one arm hooked under his head, naked as anything, looking like he belonged there. Your chest lurches, and your stomach falls to your knees as you force yourself to keep moving, gently tossing the towel at him as you gather your gown once again.

You’ll shower when he’s gone.

“Really that bad, huh?” He asks when he’s drying his hair, his underwear now pulled up around his hips, and you sigh, smiling slightly.

“Honestly… I think I’m pretty forgiving, but he didn’t even try. I’m the one who had to suggest we change positions even!” It’s easy to fall into this routine with Steve, especially after you’ve both been satiated, but it’s not really a dynamic that exists anywhere else at any other time.

At work you were friendly but professional, around friends you were polite but never seemed to stray too close (neither of you wanted a particular redhead in your business), and you made a point of not hanging out outside of that. You were already sleeping together, that was more than enough. Anything more would just make you hope, and hope would only let you down.

Steve was still Steve. He was still the guy everyone turned to in a crisis, he was still the man on the ground nine times out of ten. You broke up for a reason, and you needed to keep that in mind.

Steve shoots you a wince and scrunches his nose as he pulls his shirt over his shoulders and pops his head through the hole.

“I’m sorry for… yelling.” He says after he’s pulled on his pants, and you frown, looking away.

“Don’t be… I probably shouldn’t have called you.” You say, missing the dip in his brows when you don’t look away from one of your flickering candles. Steve purses his lips as he threads his belt through his pants, but shrugs.

“You should just tell him, if you like him”

“Nah… I don’t think there’s much there for me anyway. I don’t know.” You wave him off and stand as he pulls on his jacket. This part was always the most awkward.

“Whatever you want.” He readies his keys and you move with him to the door. You always felt like you were missing something in your goodbye’s, but a hug or a kiss or a thank you was the exact last thing you wanted to do.

Keep it casual.

Steve pauses at your door, his expression unreadable and you fold your arms over your chest, flashing him an easy smile.

“Drive safe, Steve.”

“Goodnight. Sleep well.”

—-

“Wait, what?” You turn in your seat to look at your coworker Lucy, who nods, and finishes her mouthful of yoghurt.

“Yeah, right! Two in the morning and I’m getting calls to analyse samples as if I’m at the off—”

“—No, I meant…” You trail off, mind whirring, trying to think over the details you knew already.

“I didn’t know they’d gone on a mission…” You finish with instead, sitting back in your chair.

It wasn’t like you knew the Avengers schedule off my heart, or that it was your job to know everytime they left the tower. It made sense as to why Steve hadn’t been talkative the past few days though… Still, he’d confirmed that your ‘meeting’ was still happening this afternoon, even though you’d just gotten word that the team was landing in two hours.

Lucy chitters on until your half-day ends, at which point you quickly pack up your things and make your way to the elevator. You consider calling in to the upper floors, the residential ones, to speak with the man himself, but you decide against it. It wasn’t like you were a regular up there, it would be weird and raise questions, not to mention that given his recent return from a mission, he was likely in debriefings or writing up his reports.

You pull out your phone instead and send off a quick text.

‘Just heard you got in from an assignment… Do you want to reschedule this afternoon? I know you’re probably tired as hell…?’

Steve doesn’t reply right away, and honestly you don’t expect him too. You make it all the way home before your phone buzzes, and you find yourself staring for several minutes at the words on the screen.

S: ‘I’m happy to come over, if you’re still free. I’m totally fine.’

You send him a quick confirmation, but can’t help but chew on your lip. Part of you wonders why he’d bother. You know he was lying about being fine, super soldier or not, everybody liked their downtime after an extremely stressful few days, and coming to your ex-girlfriend’s house for a hookup wasn’t exactly that… then again, maybe he really needed his itch scratched. Who were you to judge?

You’d finished your day at two, which was nice, and you do a quick clean up of your apartment before Steve was set to arrive at four. You shower and change and throw a little bit of makeup on, finishing just as your doorbell rings.

When you open the door, you can see right away that he’d been lying about being fine. Maybe nobody else would notice, but you had spent a considerable amount of time around Steve, and you could pick out his undereye bags straight away. To anybody else he’d look completely normal, but his shoulders slump just so, his smile just a little too tight.

“Hey.” He greets as you step aside, letting him kiss your cheek as he enters. You don’t know when that became a thing, but it was something you’d seen him do with a few of his female friends, so you let it slip, knowing it wasn’t just you.

“Hey…” You shoot back, suspicion slightly etched on your words. Steve immediately rolls his eyes, shaking his head as he hangs his jacket on the back of your couch.

“I’m fine.” He tells you pointedly and you decide that you can’t be bothered arguing. It was his choice to come, if he didn’t really want to, then he’d have to deal with that like a big boy.

Casual conversation ensues, he asks about your week, you tell him the hot goss in the forensics lab, and then somehow from that very enticing subject, you end up on your bed, Steve hovering just over you, lips pressed hotly against your own. Despite yourself, not all your hook ups with Steve were hot and heavy and quick. You missed making out with someone, the build up of it all, and even though you told yourself it was dangerous territory, you went there anyway.

Steve’s hands trail slowly up your body, feeling you over your clothes, and then under. You get rid of his shirt fairly quickly, his shoes kicked off already, and not for the first time, you just relish in being held, the fantasy that this was real, and you weren’t casually sleeping with your ex-boyfriend. Steve plants his knee between your legs when you scratch at the back of his head, a groan following shortly after as his fingers work to find the bottom of your shirt and get it up. You part for only seconds when he pulls it over your head, throwing it to the edge of the bed. You hadn’t bothered putting a bra on, leaving you already exposed. Steve may be Captain America, a symbol of a nation and whatever else, but he was still a man, and the second he can, he’s got his lips pressed to the skin of your neck and rapidly descending, hands groping appreciatively at your breasts.

His mouth leaves hot kisses down your throat, over your chest, and you’re so ready to feel his lips take over from where his thumb brushes over your nipple when the doorbell rings.

You both pause a moment, Steve lifting his head and you groan, scrunching up your face as the bell is joined by rapid knocking. Steve smiles, cheeks a little pink, and shifts off of you, already reaching for the nearest shirt. It’s his, but you don’t think he’ll mind much as you slip it over your head and shoot him an apologetic glance as he makes himself comfortable on your pillows, placing an arm behind his head.

“Sorry, just… give me a moment…”

“It’s fine.” Steve waves off your apologies as you jog from the room to your front door.

It’s a package you have to sign for, but the courier brings up the wrong electronic form, and you’re forced to wait impatiently as his slow device loads the correct one instead. You’re trying to remain polite, trying not to tap your foot or your fingers, but by the time you’re closing your door again, you don’t even stop to look at what the package is, chucking it onto your couch and all but racing back to your bedroom.

“Just a courier, but while I’m up, do you want a be—” You cut yourself off, coming to a stop in your doorway, eyes landing on the sight laid out before you. Steve lays against your decorative cushions, shirtless, his arm no longer behind his head, instead now he’s curled on his side, another pillow stuffed between his arms where he squeezes it, eyes shut tight, mouth slightly ajar.

Your heart skips several beats, the urge to squeal at how adorable he looks only overruled by the odd stirring in your stomach at how much you missed seeing him in your bed. And then that thought is cancelled out by your guilt.

For Steve to actually fall asleep unintended, he must have been exhausted. You really should have insisted on rescheduling…

He stirs a little, humming softly and adjusting his hold on the pillow he was cuddling and you start. You should wake him up and send him home. You weren’t dating, you were only tentatively friends. You were just sleeping together, nothing else.

But you don’t.

Instead, you move to your laptop in the living room. You had stuff you could stand to get done. It wasn’t that big of a deal.

You end up logging back into your work server and ticking off several tasks on your to-do list, losing track of time in the process. It isn’t until nearly seven when you notice, at which point you send a glance back to your bedroom doorway, before pulling up your local pizza places’ online ordering site.

Steve wakes not too long after, his footsteps purposefully loud, and you turn again to look at him as he exits your room, scratching his head and looking for all the world like an embarrassed child.

“For someone who wasn’t at all tired and was totally fine, you sure did take a midafternoon nap.” You tease and he gives you a thin, apologetic smile.

“I’m sorry… I—”

“—It’s fine, Steve. Besides, I ended up clearing off my schedule for the week, so that’s nice.”

He still looks bashful, even as he takes a seat opposite you at the table.

“Do you want me to head out?” He asks, and you wave him off, standing up to move to your fridge.

“Nah. Unless you want to. But I ordered pizza a little while ago. Figured you’d be hungry. Beer?”

Steve blinks and you see him processing his choices, but he eventually nods, and you pull two bottles, cracking them open and handing one to him as you take your seat again.

“Beer and pizza isn’t exactly how I’d expected tonight to go, but you know, it’s up there.” You shrug, and Steve chuckles, shaking his head.

“I’m never going to live this down, am I?” He asks.

“I’m just saying, I’ve had some interesting sex in my time, but I’ve never actually had a guy fall asleep on me before…” You both laugh, and trade jabs until your food arrives.

Steve offers to get it, which you don’t protest, grabbing some plates and moving your drinks to the couch instead. You realise, when you take a look back at him handing some cash to the delivery guy, that you’re still wearing his shirt, and groan internally.

You change quickly, pulling on your own clothes, and chucking Steve back his own when you return to the living room. He’s sat in ‘his’ seat once again, and he only lifts an eyebrow at you when he catches his shirt, before pulling it on. You don’t even pretend to not stare at the way his body stretches and moves when he does, and he doesn’t pretend not to notice.

“You know, I was gonna ask for it back when I woke up.” He tells you as you both start grabbing slices to put on your plates.

“Oh?”

Steve ums, and settles back in his seat as you search for something to play on the tv.

“But I kinda miss seeing you in my clothes.” He says, and you pause.

You fight the urge to look at him, and even though your heart beats loudly in your ears at his confession, you try to go on as if what he’d said was totally normal.

“Um, have you ever seen this one?” You point to the screen, displaying the rundown of a show you’d heard some of your coworkers talking about, and Stev shakes his head.

“Clint talks about it, but I haven’t had the time.” He shrugs and you press play.

Eventually, you find yourself relaxing again, one of you occasionally piping up to chat some shit about how unrealistic or contrived the show was, and eating your fill (and then some) of pizza. It’s weirdly casual, in a way you truly haven’t felt around Steve in a long time, but just like when you’re doing far less casual things together, it’s easy to just pretend for a while.

You fall asleep on your couch sometime after midnight, and in the morning wake up in your bed, your living room devoid of beer bottles and pizza boxes, all the remains plated and covered in your fridge. You want to be angry at yourself for allowing your interactions with Steve to go beyond the physical, but you can’t.

For the rest of your day there’s a lightness in your steps and a softness to your thoughts, as you permit yourself this one, silly, selfishness.

—-

One pizza and netflix night turns into two, and then somehow your hookups with Steve become less about sex and more about the company. You still sleep together, of course, but more often than not, you’ll find yourselves too tired for anything. Steve sits on your bed and borrows your laptop to type up reports, and you beside him, a friendly distance away, scrolling through your phone or finishing the latest book you’d started.

You don’t think about it.

But it’s nice.

Natasha and Bucky stop by your lab on a friday night and subsequently invite you to join the rest of the group for drinks that evening. You don’t even feel hesitant to accept, and you don’t think about that either.

You can’t be bothered going home to change and then come back, so you head right up when you clock off. The team is already in good form, lounging around a set of coffee tables on the upper level, several empty bottles already littering the space. The huge glass sliding doors that lead to the balcony have been pulled wide open, and Sam and Clint stand at the grill, trying to out-fry each other.

“You look nice.” Steve tells you, greeting you with a casual half-hug. He foregoes the kiss on the cheek this time, and you don’t think about it.

“Really?” You ask, genuinely amused.

“I came straight from work and I feel like I’ve been sweating in this dress all day.”

Steve grins and shrugs.

“You look nice.” He repeats, eyes not leaving you until Nat calls your attention away.

“Geez Rogers, she’s been here for five seconds and you haven’t offered her a drink?!” The redhead teases from behind the nearby bar, and you laugh, playfully shoving Steve in the arm.

“Yeah, where are you manners?!”

Steve holds up his hands in defeat, still smiling, and you move with him to the bar.

“Don’t you worry. I’ll take care of you.” Natasha winks, and you wave a hand, letting her mix you some concoction you don’t catch the contents of.

“I may regret this in the morning but; I trust you.”

Nat only laughs again as Steve reaches over the bar to grab himself another beer, and you watch, unconcerned with who could be watching you. When your drink is made, you clink glasses, and move to where the others all sit. His hand grazes your lower back as you walk, but you don’t think about it.

Night falls and food is served. More drinks and more laughs, and when you’ve returned to the bar to fetch a couple more martinis for the fellas now crowding around the pool table, one Sam Wilson slides against your side.

“Good to see you make it tonight.” He nods, his signature grin spread across his face. You chuckle and shrug.

“I really needed to take a load off.”

Sam nods and looks over his shoulder as several cheers erupt from the ongoing game, before he’s staring back at you once again.

“You and Steve back on or…?” The question doesn’t totally shock you, but you still give a friendly scoff, and shake your head.

“No… Definitely not.”

Sam’s brow furrows and he cocks his head.

“We’re just friends again. That’s it. Steve’s a great guy, but…” You trail off, and shake your head once more. Sam shifts to face you and lifts an eyebrow.

“You guys aren’t subtle, you know that right? And I know you ain’t calling him to come fix your sink every other night.”

Your face grows warm and you roll your eyes.

“So what? Doesn’t mean we’re together. We just know each other. It’s comfortable.” You shrug and Sam hums in a disbelieving way.

“Look, Steve is… Steve. He’ll always be more tied to his work than anything, or any one else, and that’s fine. I just know I can't expect more from him than… this.”

Sam watches you for a moment, eyes searching your face until he looks away, nodding his head, relenting.

“Whatever you say. I’m just saying maybe you should give it another go… with the three of us now rotating leadership, things might be different.”

You frown at that, as Nat finishes with the drinks you’d asked her for, and cock your head.

“What do you mean ‘the three of you on rotation’?”

Sam sideyes you.

“Steve stepped down as our sole guy, like, a year ago now. Rhodey, he, and I take turns. We got a week each on rotation.”

You blink at the information, and wonder why Steve had never mentioned it before.

Him stepping down as the Avenger’s go-to leader was… a pretty big deal. Actually, you’re kind of shocked by it. Steve had always been, as long as you’d known him, unable to walk away from a fight. If a situation was going down, he had to be there, at the front taking charge. It was literally the reason you’d broken up. He didn’t know how to take a break, and in his life, you’d always be second, maybe even third priority.

Sm nicks one of the drinks in front of you, and you half-heartedly scold him for it as you attempt to carry the other three back to the pool table, Steve putting his cue to the side and stepping up to help you when he notices.

Sam’s words continue to spin around your brain as you settle back in to watch. It isn’t until Bucky elbows you gently in the side that you realise you were being spoken to, and you blink around.

“We were saying that we forgot to set a prize for the game.” Sam re-explains, and you hum.

“I said maybe you’d give the winner a kiss.” Bucky adds, his face clearly joking, but in that ‘only joking if you are’ way.

You scoff and roll your eyes.

“Jesus, what is it? 1955?”

Bucky shrugs and sips at his drink. He’d always been a flirty drunk, not that he was drunk-drunk, but his serum seemed to affect him in slightly different ways to Steve. If he really tried, he could get a pretty decent buzz.

“And besides, I doubt Steve would see that as much of a prize, and last I checked, he was wiping the floor with you chumps.” You wave a hand and Sam cackles. Steve lifts an eyebrow at you, catching your eye.

“Don’t be so sure, sweetheart, a prize is a prize.”

You hardly hear his words, it's his expression that draws you in, makes you forget about the company around you. The air feels hot all of a sudden and you really wished you could drag him off. You shrug.

“Well maybe I’ll give you something else if you win.”

If the others pick up on anything other than friendly banter, they thankfully choose not to mention it, simply laughing and moving back to the game. Steve’s cheeks tint a little pink, but he throws you a wink when he takes his next turn, and you have to laugh, shaking your head at the absurdity.

Steve holds the lead for two rounds, but Bucky, fuelled by Nat’s martinis, makes a comeback, and as the final scores are tallied, he leans in, tapping his cheek expectantly. It’s all in good fun, and you roll your eyes for the hundredth time, but make good in your promise of a prize and instead grip him gently by the chin and plant a quick kiss to his lips. Bucky lifts his drink in achievement, and you playfully shove him away.

“I’m sure Freud would have something to say about that.” Steve says teasingly, plopping down beside you, and you scoff.

“Nobody listens to Freud, and you and Bucky aren’t actually family.” You almost add that you and he aren’t actually dating either, but you stop short. Steve throws you a grin and relents.

“You finish that book yet?” He asks, referring to the Freud book in question that you’d been halfway through the last time he’d been over.

You shake your head.

“No. And I don’t think I will. I can put up with a lot of batshit crazy things, but I draw the line at him.”

Steve laughs, and takes a swig of his beer. A thought occurs to you then, and you turn to face him, squinting.

“Did you lose on purpose?”

“What?”

“The game. Did you lose on purpose?”

Steve blinks sheepishly at you in the same way he did when he was formulating some kind of believable lie, and you roll your eyes, smacking his arm.

“You’re so full of shit!” You laugh, watching him shrug and shift awkwardly.

“I didn’t want you to feel awkward.”

You sideye him with another huff of laughter.

“I mean I offered, in front of our friends, mind you, to give you a blowjob if you won… how awkward did you think I felt?” You watch Steve’s cheeks light up again, and he shakes his head, rolling his eyes at you this time.

“Was that what you meant?” He asks, as a sort of recovery, but you can see he’s still a little flustered. You chuckle, and lean into him, resting your hand on his upper thigh and squeezing just slightly.

“Maybe next time.” You wink, and watch his expression shift, his eyes flickering down to your lips briefly, and you just know he’s imagining what would be happening right now if you weren’t surrounded by at least ten other people.

Again, you feel the urge to drag him away, but you keep your cool, leaning away from him and removing your hand as Tony and Rhodey make their way over to the couches.

As the night wanes on, Steve’s arm ends up over the back of your seat.

You don’t think about it.

—-

“Are you sure you don’t have anything better to be doing?” You ask, a little exasperatedly.

It wasn’t that you weren’t thankful, but Steve was too good to know when to say ‘no’. Not that you’d even asked him, he’d offered and then showed up at your door bright and early anyway, regardless of your non-committal answer.

He just shrugs and shoves his hands in his pockets.

“Day off.” He tells you. You squint. You know now thanks to Sam that he wasn’t lying, but it still makes you squirm a little.

“Well, whatever. Don’t come complaining to me about splinters.” You snark, moving ahead to inspect the branches of the next pine tree along.

Steve pouts.

“But you know those tweezers are too small for my fingers…”

“Oh, what a hard life, Steven! You never get sick and are basically invincible… except for those damn pesky tweezers!”

Steve nudges you in the side, as you laugh.

“Don’t let the bad guys know about that.” You side-eye him and he gives you his best puppy-dog eyes.

“You’re the only one who knows my secret.” He says, with over-the-top sincerity.

“I trust you.” He adds a moment later, and you snort.

“Well, that sounds like a ‘you’ problem.”

You continue to sass and snark at each other as you walk down the rows and rows of trees, not even really looking at the pines, until you realise that an hour is probably too long to spend tree-shopping, and pick out the nearest half decent one.

Steve carries it to his car, as he’d offered to do in the first place, and you strap it up tight before getting in.

The conversation flows easy and light on the drive back, and when Steve’s phone rings, you switch instead to staring out the window at all the Christmas lights and decorations the city had put up in preparation.

“Hello? Oh, yes…?” You can only hear Steve’s side of the conversation, not blessed with super-hearing like he was, but you turn your head, intrigued when he seems to falter.

“Today? Well I… in twenty minutes? Oh, um…” He looks over at you, a frown pulling at his brows.

“If you need to stop somewhere…” You whisper, waving a hand to confirm you were okay with the detour, and he shoots you a tight smile, before setting his eyes back on the road.

“I can do that, no problem. Okay. Thank you. Bye.”

“What was that about?” You ask immediately, curious now that you were seemingly being dragged along.

“I had to get a suit altered— for Tony’s christmas party on the weekend…” He begins and you ‘ah’. Tony had declared all attendees go all-out. No jeans were allowed, it was supposed to be a strictly formal event.

“But the owner of the store just realised my appointment clashed with her flight out of the city this afternoon.”

“So we’re going to pick it up?”

“Yeah.”

You hum, and nod, fiddling with the radio now as you drive past the turn off for your place. Steve had promised to help you carry your tree inside, and given the time, it would probably take too long for him to make his appointment if he took you home first. You didn’t mind though.

The tailor he’d chosen wasn’t some fancy, high end retail store, but you never expected it would be. Instead, Steve holds open the door to a small, mom-and-pop type shop, with dark wooden interiors that just screamed old-school class. You enter and promptly take a seat in the showroom as Steve is whisked away to try on his suit for a final inspection.

You’re staring mindlessly at your phone when he steps back in, a little awkward, clearly asking what you think.

“Well, well, well Rogers… So you do clean up nicely after all!” You tease, standing and moving closer as he rolls his eyes at you and faces the mirror. You watch him smooth down the suit jacket, looking a little self-conscious if you’re being honest, but then his eyes find yours again in the mirror.

“You’re going, right?”

You nod, shrugging your shoulders a bit.

“I think Tony would have my head if I made up an excuse… and I kinda like christmas parties… dressing up, mistletoe and all that.” You wave a hand, and Steve turns back around to face you.

“Come with me.” He says, breathily, like he’d been holding the words in for so long he just couldn’t keep them anymore. You freeze, staring up at his hopeful expression, feeling for all the world like your veins had suddenly turned to ice.

“What?” You can’t help but ask, and the blond shifts on his feet, lifting his chin a little more confidently this time.

“Come with me. To the party.”

You aren’t sure how you hear him so clearly when your heart beat thunder loudly in your ears, and suddenly, the walls in the room begin to close in on you. You shake your head with a frown and take a step back from him.

“W-what? No, Steve, I…”

Steve straightens a little, his brow furrowing now and you struggle to speak, panic rising in your chest.

“Steve, we’re— we’re just friends. This isn’t— we aren’t dating!” You stress, still shaking your head, and still stepping away from him. Steve ‘s jaw sets a little and he gets that look on his face like when he had something to say, but he knew it would be incendiary.

“Maybe not, but I don’t think we’ve been just friends for a while now, and you know that.” He says instead, voice tight, and you suck in air sharply.

You knew this was a mistake.

You knew doing anything outside of your agreed-upon interactions was dangerous, and yet, like an idiot, you’d gone there anyway.

“Steve— I am—” You lower your voice somewhat, remembering where you are, and hold out a hand.

“This, what we’re doing now, this is fine. Nobody gets hurt, it’s fun and—”

“—Who's getting hurt exactly?” Steve cuts you off, and you barely refrain from yelling at him.

“Me! I am not going to sit around, waiting for you to find the time to see me! I’m not doing that again. I’m not playing second fiddle to your job!” You explode, immediately pulling back at the flash of grief that lances across Steve’s face.

You look away from him and rub at your temple.

“Every time you’ve called me, I’ve come.” Steve says, voice thick with hurt, and you clench your teeth.

“Every. Time.” He repeats, and you finally bring yourself to look at him.

“I am sorry that the lines got blurred. But I am not—” You stutter a little, choking on your words, but you clear your throat.

“I cannot do this again.”

And you leave.

You run away, because it was less scary than whatever Steve wanted from you. Less scary than opening yourself up and getting hurt like before.

And you were an idiot for it.

You hate yourself for crying when you get home, sans christmas tree now, and a big part of you is glad Steve doesn’t follow you, or try to call. A bigger part of you cries that he doesn’t, and at the fact that despite trying to keep things casual, keep him at arm's length, you’d gone and gotten all tangled up anyway.

It was a mistake.

You knew from the start, but you can’t even revel in your own self pity for too long, because soon enough you’re coming to your goddamn senses.

You were a complete and total bitch.

Steve had hurt you, yes, and maybe springing a date on you like that wasn’t the best way, but even you aren’t dumb enough to not notice his change. He had hurt you, and then he’d changed. He’d taken a step away from leading, to be more present, to be more around, and he was right, he had come every time you’d needed him, for whatever reason. He’d kept your scheduled meetings, even when he was dead tired and really could have called them off.

He’d done everything you could have asked for.

And you hadn’t even asked for it.

—-

Your nerves nearly consume you when you step through the doorway and into the open space of the residential floors. Tony had gone just as nuts with the decorating as you’d imagined. Not a single corner of the room looked like Christmas hadn’t thrown up all over it. Yet, even your love of this time of year couldn’t trump the anxiety that rolls back over you as you look around the room.

You’re actually glad that you can’t spot him right away. It lets you relax, greet other people, ease into the nerves you feel. Besides, if your little meltdown had sent him back into the arms of whatever-her-name-was, you might just be sick.

The jig is up however, when Sam Wilson slings an arm around your shoulder, bright smile betrayed only by the knowing glance he gives you.

“Didn’t think I’d end up seeing you tonight.” he says casually, leading you toward the bar, and you shrug as best you can.

“I’ve got to grovel at some time. Christmas party seemed dramatic and cinematic enough.”

Sam gives you a sympathetic look and squeezes your arm.

“He isn’t upset with you.”

“He should be.” You say, shaking your head and dropping your gaze.

Sam sighs and removes his arm from you so that he can signal the bartender.

“He’s upset with himself.”

You roll your eyes.

“Of course he is. Cause he’s so damned good.” You kick the bar lightly in frustration, and sink a little more into self-hatred. Sam slides a shot of clear liquor toward you.

“Courage.” He says, tipping his own back seconds later, and you relent, plastering on a tight smile before pouring the contents of the glass down your throat.

It burns, and fills your nose with the distinct taste of vodka, and you scrunch up your face, Sam laughing at you when you put your glasses back.

“I’d like less courage next time.” You tell him, and he shrugs.

“I doubt you’ll be saying that in five seconds.” His eyes skip over your shoulder and you frown.

“Wait, why?” A quick glance behind you makes you panic, wide eyes finding a grinning Sam once again, who is already slinking off.

“Sam!”

It’s useless though, he’s gone in seconds, and quickly you become very aware of the man who’d come to stand a small distance away from you at the bar. Biting the bullet, you swallow thickly, and turn to look at him.

Steve looks much like he had the last time you’d seen him, which really only makes your stomach churn more in memory of the way you’d acted.

“Hey…” You greet, worried perhaps he might ignore you, even though you know damn well he could hear you over the crowd. But he doesn’t, eyes swivelling to find your like it was what he’d been waiting for. He gives you a conservative smile and nod.

“Hey.”

The one word alone, filled with so much simple sadness makes the damn break, and before you even realise what you’re doing, you’ve stepped right beside him, hands wringing in front of you.

“Steve, I am so sorry. What I said— I was just— I was a bitch.” You finish lamely, but he only looks down at you, slightly bewildered, as if he really hadn’t expected you to say anything about what had happened.

He turns in to face you, feeding off of your distressed body-language, one hand coming up to touch your arm, and he looks around concerned for a moment before back at you.

“You wanna go somewhere else…?” He asks, and again, you wallow in self-hatred at the way that he so quickly seemed ready to defend your clear anxiety. You swallow, and nod, letting him lead you away from the bar.

He guides you through familiar rooms just as decked out and just as full with people, until you reach a small, quiet staircase, one you know leads up to the private floors.

You’re well aware of how long it had been since you’d last stood in his apartment, and it only spurs your nerves on more. Maybe you should have waited… maybe the christmas party wasn’t the ideal time…

“As far as I’m concerned, you have nothing to apologise for.” Steve says, which only makes you scoff, rounding on him where he stands.

“Steve, you’ve got to be kidding!”

He only shrugs, sad eyes turning down and you sigh.

“Everything I said was… I shouldn’t have said it. You were right. Things haven’t exactly been ‘casual-hookups-no-strings-attached’ for a long time.” You fiddle with the hem of your sleeve and shuffle on your feet.

“I… I like what we had. Just… hanging out. You’re… you’re so easy to be with, and I like that, Steve. I never feel like we’re on different pages, you always get me, you’re great in bed… I— I like being with you, so much…” You pause and take a shaky breath.

“And I know that you’ve been trying. You’ve… frankly, you’ve changed more than I was even asking for back when—” You cut yourself off and shake your head.

“My point is. I’m sorry. I was a bitch because having you in my life in some way is better than not at all, and if things ended the way they did last time, I wouldn’t be able to even look at you— Am I even making any sense?!” You drag a hand over your hair and sigh. Steve moves toward you, slowly, and you force yourself to look at him.

“Yes.” He says, stopping just in front of you.

“I think.” He adds a moment later and you can’t help but laugh. You shake your head.

“I’m sorry.” You say again, and watch him stare at you, before nodding.

“Thank you. I’m sorry too.” He says, though you can’t even imagine what for right now.

“Is it too late to retroactively accept your invitation to the party?” You joke, and his face breaks into a smile, a light chuckle leaving him.

“I think so… Didn’t get to pick you up or anything…”

You click your fingers in an ‘oh shoot’ gesture, and Steve grabs your hand before you can drop it again. You watch as slowly he brings it to his lips, kissing the backs of your fingers.

Your breathing gets shallower at the action, and you wonder if him bringing you here, to his private rooms, was really a good thing after all. You rescind your earlier thoughts. You’re glad you didn’t wait, you’re glad you decided to do this during the Christmas party.

He pulls you closer in a way that feels only natural, and for the first time in a long time, you don’t have to pretend that any of this is real, you don’t need the fantasy.

Steve kisses you long and sweet, his hands firm and secure where he holds you, a silent promise. You think it feels different to how he normally holds you, but you think it’s probably just in your head. You bite at his lower lip, pulling on it just slightly, and his chest rumbles, his hands moving then, squeezing and pawing at you, feet blindly guiding you, moving towards his bedroom.

Clothes are peeled off and set aside, when you try to move atop of him, he only grabs your wrists, trapping you in place against his mattress, and you don’t even care. Steve was here, with you, in his room, and it was real.

He has you face down, pillow raising your hips slightly, his body draped over yours warm and heavy, sweat slicked and firm. Your thighs are only just parted, enough for him to slip inside you, so close, so deep you think you see stars with each thrust. He moves slow, arms caged around your own, hand splayed out against your throat, lifting your head up and back so he can kiss you as he moves, taste each moan he creates as he creates it.

You feel overwhelmed and utterly saturated in him, picked to pieces and pulled apart, his cock sheathed so deep, his weight bearing down on you, you’re drowning in him.

He kisses the back of your neck and shoulders, resting his forehead against you as he picks up his pace, driving faster and deeper, your desperate words of filth and want muffled into the pillow you hold tightly. You think your nails might’ve ripped a hole in the fabric, but you aren’t sure.

You come together, heady cries filling the air before dissipating into heavy, breathy sighs. He doesn’t leave you, stays right there atop of you, still inside you as you both come down. He kisses along your spine again, sweeps some hair out of the way to reach your neck, and that place behind your ear.

“Am I too heavy?” He asks a moment after, voice muffled in the skin of your shoulder, and you laugh, shaking your head, and peering up at him as best you can. He was atop you, sure, but his arms still held most of his weight, never too rough, always just enough.

“No. I like it.” You say, feeling a little shy. All the times you’d slept together, in a relationship, and out of it, this felt real, like all else before was just practice. Steve shifts his hips a little and you suck in a sharp breath.

“Yeah?” He asks, eyelashes fluttering just slightly. You nod.

“I like when you’re here… like this. And you don’t hold back on me.” He lifts his head a little and raises an eyebrow.

“I don’t think I’ve ever held back on you, when you’ve asked.” He reminds, and you hide your face, laughing into the pillow.

“Well maybe sometimes…” He admits, likely referencing all the times you’d beg him for ‘harder’ and he’d adjust his angle instead, already fucking you as hard as he felt comfortable with.

After a few seconds, he lets up a little to allow you to roll over, though he still hangs over you, chest to chest.

“I never liked leaving after.” He admits, dropping his lips to your cheek.

“I hated going back to my own bed, knowing you wouldn’t be with me in the morning. I don’t think I’ve ever said it but,” He lifts his head again and you stare up at him.

“Waking up with you in the mornings after we’d stayed together, it always felt like a battle to get up and leave. I always thought ‘today I don’t need to run. You can take a break’.”

“But you never did?” You wonder, and see the regret flash over his features.

“I should have. Maybe not all the time, but… I should have.” You purse your lips and try to catch his guilty eyes.

“Steve… I never wanted you to completely overhaul your life. I still don’t want you to do that. That part of you, the part that wants to help people and be there for them, I love that. It’s what fundamentally makes you you.” You push back the hair that hangs on his forehead and sigh, tracing the edges of his face now instead.

“I don’t care if six out of seven days a week you need to get up before me, as long as I have that seventh day…” His face softens from the self-judgement you could see reflected in his features and you smile.

“I just… I don’t know, I want to feel like at least a bit of a priority. I know that’s not always going to be possible, I get that… but…”

“I know. I’m sorry I ever made you feel like you weren’t.”

“And last-minute cancellations should be the exception not the rule!” You joke, and he hangs his head again, but chuckles against the crook of your neck.

“Understood.”

You lay like that for a while, just relishing in one another's presence, feeling your chest’s rise and fall against each other. When he moves next, it’s because his phone buzzes loudly on the bedside table, and you watch him reach blindly out to grab it.

You play with the hair on his arm as he checks the message, the amused sigh he gives off a second later heavy against your chest.

“It’s Buck,” He tells you.

“Says the fellas are getting ready for a round at the pool table…” He trails off as another message comes through, and this time you see him roll his eyes, and chuck his phone to the side.

“He wants to know if you’re going to kiss the winner again.” Steve’s voice is amused still as he finally crawls off of you, and helps you up. You both know you can’t, and shouldn’t stay locked up here all night.

“Well, I tell you what, Rogers, you don’t go easy on Barnes again, and I’ll give you what I promised last time.”

For a moment Steve just frowns in confusion, but as it slowly dawns on him, a challenging, determined glint fills his eyes.

“Better start keeping score then, sweetheart.”

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x yn #steve rogers/you #steve rogers/yn #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers smut

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ecoamerica · 24 days

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rxmqnova · 5 months

Note

Can you write something where Wanda’s daughter teases her for wearing a “grandma sweater”? <33

(This is inspired by the paparazzi pics I saw of Lizzie where she was wearing a grandma-looking sweater lmao)

Grandma sweater

Y/N: 15 years old ——————————————————

NO ONE'S POV It's another one of the cold days at the end of November. The Avengers are all somewhere around the compound.

Tony and Bruce are in the lab as usual while the rest of the boys are either at the gym or watching a movie in the living room.

Y/N and Natasha are in Natasha's room, playing some board games and just talking. And Wanda as one of the very few Avengers who can actually cook in this building, is cooking dinner for everybody right now.

"You know you don't have to let me win every time, right? I'm not a child to make a scene if I loose" Y/N asks with a raised eyebrow after winning another round of the current game her and Natasha are playing.

"I know and I didn't let you this time" Natasha playfully raises an eyebrow back, making the younger girl chuckle.

Y/N and Natasha have always had a great relationship. Ever since Y/N was just a little girl, Natasha's been her favorite person right after her mom of course.

"I think your mom might be done cooking by now. Let's go to check it up" Natasha smiles, standing up from the bed the two have been sitting on and holding her hand out for her favorite niece.

Y/N smiles, accepting Natasha's hand and walking to the kitchen with her. The girl isn't as any other teenager, she absolutely loves cuddles and kisses her mom or Natasha are giving her at every opportunity they can.

"Hey, mom. Are you-" Y/N's question fades away when she notices the sweater her mom is currently wearing.

It's a brown grandma looking sweater with 4 knobs. Y/N loves her mom more than anything, but Wanda's clothing style is sometimes a mystery for the teenage girl.

"Mom, what in the world are you wearing?" Y/N asks, trying to hold her laugh.

Wanda furrows her brows in confusion, looking down at her sweater and then back at her daughter.

"I only just bought this sweater a few days ago. I think it looks good. Why? Is anything wrong with it?" Wanda asks, still confused by her daughter's previous question.

"Well, nothing's wrong with it if you're over 60" Y/N teases, still trying to hold up her laugh while Natasha better walks away from that conversation.

"What? It's great. I've seen a lot of people wearing similar ones" Wanda shakes her head turning around to turn off the stove. "Were the people younger than 60?"

"Oh my… it looks good. Nat, tell her it looks great" Wanda sighs, looking at Natasha who better nods.

"Yeah. It looks great!" Natasha confirms as she's learnt over the years it's better to agree with the witch.

"See"

"Mhm" Y/N teasingly nods, trying hard not to laugh and better walks over to Natasha and sits down next to her. Wanda shakes her head and starts taking out plates to prepare dinner for her daughter.

The dinner goes on, Y/N keeps trying not to laugh at Wanda's grandma looking sweater which makes Wanda roll her eyes every time she locks eyes with her daughter.

As nearly every Friday evening the Avengers are spending some time together. It's a movie night tonight, so after dinner everyone meets up in the living room to watch a movie. Y/N catches place between her mom and Natasha, so she could cuddle them.

"You know, mom… If you want to be a grandma already, all you have to do is ask. I can try harder to find a boyfriend or girlfriend who'd agree to start a family with me" Y/N teases on which Wanda immediately nudges her daughter's shoulder playfully.

"Y/N, don't you dare. The sweater is completely normal, I don't know what's gotten into you" Wanda sighs.

"I'm sorry, it just really looks like something only old people would wear" Y/N laughs out.

"If you won't stop, I will buy you a sweater like this and force you to wear it to school" Wanda glares at her daughter, Y/N's laugh immediately fading away at how serious Wanda is.

"You wouldn't" Y/N gives her mom a serious look, but by Wanda's look she can tell her mom is deadly serious. "Fine, I'll stop" The girl mumbles, making Wanda chuckle.

"Come here, you cheeky" She opens her arms for her daughter on which Y/N can't help but smile and cuddle up to her mom. "Is the sweater really that bad?" Wanda asks after a while.

"It's not THAT bad, it just looks like something old people would wear. But you look good in it. Just please don't wear it when you'll be picking me up from school" Y/N says on which Wanda chuckles and kisses her daughter's forehead. "I love you, mama"

"I love you too, my cheeky little monkey"

----------------------

Wasn't sure how to end this🤷‍♀️

Wanda Maximoff masterlist

Masterlist

#wanda maximoff #scarlet witch #wanda maximoff x daughter!reader #wanda maximoff fanfiction #fanfiction #natasha romanoff #black widow #wanda x y/n #wanda x you #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #natasha x y/n #natasha x you #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you

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ynscrazylife · 8 months

Note

if you still do avengers reqs, what would the avengers and y/n talk about in the avengers resident groupchat? y/n!stark x peter 🙏🙏

The Avengers Groupchat Would Include . . .

Let’s start off with who’s in this groupchat: you (obviously), Peter, Tony, Natasha, Bruce, Steve, Clint, Wanda, Sam, Thor, Scott, Vision & Carol (Rocket was in the chat but he got kicked out, Ayo’s in there but she doesn’t chat much, Nebula would be there but she doesn’t get how to use a phone, Rhodey has better things to do than be in there)

Let’s be honest, Carol did not see the sense in her being there because there’s not gonna be WiFi throughout the galaxy.

“LTE, Carol!” — You, probably

Thor also didn’t really get it because there’s not WiFi on Asgard, but he’s too kind to say no

Naming the groupchat was hell. Every second, someone would change it (usually either you, Peter, or Sam) until Tony put his foot down and programmed FRIDAY to make it so no one could change it from “Avengers”

Natasha’s usually the one who sends reminders about training

Steve will send reminders about meetings

Lots of pictures of each other are sent, mostly when they don’t know photos are being taken of them

The conversations range from someone asking what people want from the grocery store (Scott goes on grocery runs) to fierce debates over who’s the better fighter (It’s Nat, no one can beat her in sparring)

Tony will ask you and Peter if your homework is done (which you both annoyed, then Natasha yells at you)

It’s best to silence the notifications because they’re too, too much

Regular FaceTimes are a thing even though you’re usually all in the same tower

“Thor, your video cuts out when you go over Heimdall’s bridge.”

Wanda and Vision usually ask if they can double date with anyone (ends up being Scott and Hope or you and Peter)

Peter will send cute pictures of you that the Avengers ADORE. He’s tickling you? He’s recording a video. You fell asleep? He’s taking a picture.

“Peter, you’re not tickling her right. You have to get her knees.” — Tony

“DAD, STOP!”

Clint’s kids love to take his phone to chat with the Avengers

And they LOVE chatting with them

“Auntie Nat, when are you visiting!” “Soon!!”

Sam and Peter both send lots of memes

“I don’t get it.” — Steve

Bruce doesn’t talk much but you know who’s a great texter? THE HULK

Hulk is the king of keyboard smashes

“RERRRHDHDHSJSJS”

“Someone get Nat to do the lullaby.”

Hulk has smashed Bruce’s phone on multiple occasions tho

“Should I invent armor for Bruce’s phone?” — Tony

Yelena will steal Nat’s phone to troll the chat

Clint sends updates on his farm

Pepper will confiscate Tony’s phone when he needs to work so she’ll end up chatting

Everyone loves chatting to Pepper

Tony managed to get wifi on Carol’s ship so she’ll send updates from space

Thor tries to text, it doesn’t go great

When badgered by Natasha, Ayo will text

Nebula has occasionally hopped onto the group chat when Peter Q helps her

The group chat was SO ACTIVE when you and Peter went to prom

They were spamming the entire time, asking for pictures and updates and telling ya’ll not to drink

If anyone’s sitting out of a mission (usually you and Peter), they’ll text in the group chat to annoy those who are on the mission

“WE ARE DEEP UNDERCOVER SHUT THE FUCK UP” - Natasha

Getting Nat to swear in the group chat isn’t rare but it is dangerous

ALSO TEXTING STYLES

Vision, Ayo, and Steve text with perfect grammar, short and to the point (Steve has a tendency to go on tangents, though).

Tony’s style switches constantly depending on his mood

Natasha, Sam, Wanda, you, and Peter text with abbreviations and lowercase sometimes

Carol usually sends photos, not many texts. She’ll occasionally send an lol or lmao.

Scott is always cheerful. He uses lots of smiley faces.

Tony will put an ironic amount of obnoxious emojis.

Clint’s tired and his texting reflects that. As short as possible usually.

There’s always something chaotic going on

But there’s also some of the funniest moments

Typos? SAM WILL HARP ON YOU

So will Natasha

The Avengers are a family and they love each other so much, it’s definitely represented in the groupchat

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mysterycitrus · 3 months

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peter parker getting adopted by bruce (broke)

peter parker getting adopted into the titans (woke)

aside from making more sense geographically (bc I always wondered why there would be a portal sending peter to gotham when new york still exists in the DCU) the titans would overall be better for him to team up with, peter would respect them way more than bruce lmao and they’d be way more open to helping him return home

i agree!! the titans tower is the place 2 be. i know im like a Roy Person™ but i think he and peter would get along like… really really well. partially because peter’s always had a chip on his shoulder about being taken seriously because of his age and reputation and that’s something roy is uniquely able to relate to, but also cause roy is just generally really good with younger heroes? idk

i think there could be a fun interaction where peter gets to see that other young people with great power took on responsibility to protect the world, regardless of personal circumstance. esp cause like we have the champions and young avengers and stuff now, but peter was decidedly on his own for most of his run as a teenager. to my knowledge, his peers were adults. seeing an organised group who continue to mentor and raise younger heroes would be really interesting from his perspective!

roy is an obvious choice, but i think both karen and vic would also be good characters for him to meet — karen for bugs, and vic for the experience of being transformed into something different. i do think dick’s pushed as the dc spiderman just to make him more like…. quilt and less dynamic, but there are a lot of parallels to their origins (both encounter the killer who murderers their loved ones before the fact, but ultimately cannot do anything to stop it)

i also think the idea that bruce would want to adopt peter in the first place is a massive exaggeration of how trigger happy bruce is about adopting children lmao. additionally, like, would peter want to kick back with a buncha yuppies in jersey? nay. let him stay in new york and hang out with lian and maybe kick slade off a roof

#teen titans #spiderman #peter parker #dc comics #the ask and the answer

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symphonic-scream · 3 months

Text

I've got more P5 as P3 in honour of P3R and the fact that I'm learning more about P3 than what I gathered from PQ so sjdbdj

World Akira wakes up some nights to these angry blonde children who tell him the world is ending but he's special?? Also someone about the moon but they're fighting and yelling and he's tired

(at the end of the post there will be a tldr with all the arcana listed lmao)

I've changed my mind on something. Akane Hasegawa isn't Justice, she's Hanged Man. Wondering why her dad doesn't spend time with her and shit. Why he isn't trying harder to avenge her mom

That leaves an open spot on the team. A young character, who fights, and maybe is good with a gun? My new idea is SEES member Shinya Oda. I think this would work better than Akane in any sense

I haven't chosen a distinct role for Hifumi yet. Maybe Fortune? Instead of Art Club it's Board Games club and it's chess and shogi?

Now let's talk more about our SEES members

Member 0, the Empress Arcana, Makoto Niijima. She's been able to summon her persona since the big accident, the one that put her guardian, her older sister, into a coma. Makoto visits Sae at the hospital a lot, and she's lived in the Iwatodai dorms ever since. She was alone there for a long time, until members 1 and 2 joined her, when they all started middle school

Makoto appears put together to the younger members. She's got her sick ass motorcycle persona, and guides them through Tartarus at the start. Under her help even Ryuji does okay on his exams

But, it's mostly a ruse. She's trying to live "normally" to ensure she has a future but, part of her believes there won't be a future. She's stubborn in her escapism, and it's what led to a falling out between her and member 2. She's still a scared little girl deep down. Luckily, she's got a bond stronger than blood with member 1, though they don't show it around their Juniors. They remain focused on the fight, and seek the other for comfort and physical distraction afterwards

Member 1, the Star Arcana, Haru Okumura. She lost her mother young, due to her father's high status, in some, incident she doesn't talk about much. Even Makoto barely knows about it, and they're as close as can be, soul mates practically. Haru was involved, was there, and her father doesn't talk to or visit her much since she's come to the dorms

Haru needs to be strong, so those around her are safe. When first starting out, Makoto and member 2 had to take hits for her, and she'd cry after, while learning to tend their wounds from Sojiro or Takuto. Now, she's turned that old fear into a drive to slash and hack through every shadow, so her "family" is always safe

When she breaks her rib during that April Full Moon, she's so pissed she's sidelined. She spends the downtime picking through colleges with Makoto, softly talking about their next year. Haru does it for Makoto's sake. When she's high on pain meds in the hospital, she texts Member 2 for the first time in two years. They start meeting up, and Haru tries to convince 2 to come back

Member 2, the Moon Arcana, Ken Amada. He used to smile more, the girls say. Before. He's always been a quiet soul, Sojiro claims. He was the realist, the mature one of the three, always focused on the truth; the world will end, and only they can stop it

That's what his fight with Makoto was about. The middle of their second year, after they've been friends for 6 or so years, he punches her. His grades were low, he was skipping school to train, and she accused him of throwing away his life for the cause. He thinks planning for the future is stupid, when they might not have one. He didn't mean to hit her. She didn't mean to give him that ultimatum.

Ken misses the girls so much. He's got no one else but them. When he comes back, he's putting on a lighter attitude. Joking around with Makoto and Haru, after agreeing with Haru to at least pick a college with them. They're closer to being kids during that time then they ever were, now that the burden is shared a little. But Ken, he still knows there's little chance in their dreams coming true

Okay I went a little too off on them the rest will be shorter

Member 3, the World Arcana, Akira Kurusu. He's the fucking protagonist??

Member 4, the Lovers Arcana, Ann Takamaki.

Member 5, the Temperance Arcana, Yusuke Kitagawa.

Member 6, the Magician Arcana, Ryuji Sakamoto.

Member 7, the High Priestess Arcana, Futaba Sakura.

Member 8, the Aeon Arcana, Goro Akechi.

Member 9, the Strength Arcana, Morgana.

Member 10, the Justice Arcana, Shinya Oda.

I won't list the SEES arcana again but here's some others that aren't shown here!

Kasumi Yoshizawa, aka Maya, is the Hermit

Sumire Yoshizawa is the Chariot

Hifumi Togo is the Fortune

Caroline and Justice are Death

Devil is the same.

Yuuki Mishima is the Emperor

Munehisa Iwai is the Tower

Uh. The Sun. Maybe, Tae Takemi? I haven't done this social link ever in P3 so I'll iron it out later on

Shiho is around, she appears in a lot of the Chariot and Lovers ranks, as well as Emperor

Anyways. I do have more but most is on the senior trio I apologize

#makoto niijima #haru okumura #okujima #p5 as p3 au #ken amada

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crazycookiecrumbles · 2 years

Text

Ugh, Men

Masterlist

A/N: This is just a bit of a mess with some OG6-ish sort of shit added in. TBH IDK why i’m even still writing lmao

Pairings/Characters: Jennifer Walters x Platonic! Reader; Avengers x Reader (Platonic —for now? IDFK)

Warnings: fluffy crack, attorney bashing; Tony being delinquent on his level one tony stark bullshit

Summary: Jennifer’s in town on a little vacation to visit Bruce, which happens to be a perfect time to invite you so she can catch up with her best friend.

Jennifer’s head flew back as she laughed, her hands flailing in front of her while you were shaking your head, pinching the bridge of your nose as the memory of what had happened replayed itself in your mind.

“And this is why I hate attorneys,” you told your best friend while she continued to laugh.

“Oh, come on. We’re not all that bad, right?” She asked you with a straight face before you both started to snort and laugh. You both took a shot together and took a few seconds to yourselves before she nodded and moved her hand, gesturing for you to continue. “Okay. So, you told the guy to restate his appearance for the record, right?”

“First, I laughed at him because I couldn’t believe he had the audacity to speak that fast,” you explained.

“Ah, so that’s how you ended up with Mr. Slow-Mo.”

“Who does that?” You scoffed. “Honestly, that man is too old and too seasoned to be treating the court reporter with that much vinegar. They know how it works! Slowly and clearly for the record or it’s not getting taken down. Ugh, I wanted to punch him so badly in his smug little face after he started to say his name in slow motion. Does he think he’s funny? He’s not. Dickhead. Ugh.”

“Well, it’s over now, and you’ve got a funny story to tell. Plus, you didn’t punch him, so that makes you even doubly better than him,” Jennifer pointed out.

“You know? I think you’re doubly right,” you replied and raised another shot glass.

Beaming, she grab another shot. You two toasted each other and downed your shots.

You and Jennifer had a long history together. You’d met each other while you were still working as a freelance court reporter. You were new, unseasoned, and had yet to be comfortable putting most of these older, stubborn, arrogant attorneys in their places in order to make your job easier.

You’d met one day when you were growing particularly more and more frustrated with the plaintiff’s attorney. Having told him to stop interrupting and to slow down so many times, your hands were shaking and you yourself weren’t sure if you were going to cry or scream or both. Jennifer had asked to go off the record, and you couldn’t lie, you had wished she stayed on the record just to take down the verbal undressing she gave this man.

After the transcripts were done and there was no longer risk of any conflict, you two were having drinks together and sharing experiences. The rest? Well, safe to say, it was history.

Now, the two of you were sitting comfortably in Avengers tower. Jennifer was in town visiting her cousin and she was happy to visit you as well after you had moved to New York for a job in the courts rather than freelance any longer.

“You wanted to beat that guy for making a joke? Tough crowd. You sure you just didn’t need some chocolate that day?” Tony asked as he came around the bar to make himself a drink.

You and Jennifer went silent as you both stared at him. From a few feet away, Bruce sighed and grabbed a seat for himself to prepare for what was to come. Natasha rolled her eyes and muttered that she wasn’t going to be saving Tony this time around. Clint, comedically as always, immediately turned off the music that was playing so he could really enjoy this. Thor was mumbling that he was confused, as assault seemed like a fine answer to such arrogance, while Steve muttered that he might be seeing that happen right that moment.

“Some chocolate, really? That’s your response, a PMS joke?” You snapped at Tony who blinked.

“I have some right now, actually, since it sounds like you need —“

“It’s the audacity to hire a court reporter for a service and then to blatantly disrespect them while they’re there to do a job they were hired to do,” Jennifer jumped in. “It’s having the nerve to continue on doing whatever it is they were doing, after the reporter tells them exactly what to do and what not to do! Consider the rage you feel when that SHIELD agency that I totally don’t know about at all contracts you to do something and then does everything they can just to make your life harder .It’s annoying, it’s frustrating, it’s —“

“Please, doesn’t happen. I do what I want,” Tony replied as he sipped his drink.

“It’s a waste, Jennifer. He doesn’t understand because he’s a white man with money and his brain is so far up his ass he feels nothing but pride, even for the stupidest things, 24/7,” you sighed.

“See? She gets it,” Tony beamed and raised his glass like it was a toast.

“Tony is useless and untrainable in these regards, ladies,” Natasha said as she walked over to the table. “I’m afraid he only remotely pretends to understand the female plight when Pepper is involved.”

“Hey? I’m plenty female-friendly! I love women,” Tony argued.

“You literally just stood there for about five minutes and showed how unfriendly you are,” Clint pointed out from across the room. “You didn’t even need to say anything, Tony. All you had to do was shut up and listen.”

“Exactly! You don’t have to feel the need to chime in on every single thing, Stark. All you have to do is sit down, shut up, smile, and look pretty while the women take care of business,” Jennifer told him, taking his drink from his hands and chugging it herself.

Tony blinked several times as he watched her, “Dare I say, Banner, your cousin is a little hostile with men. I am a victim here.”

Jennifer rolled her eyes and looked to Natasha, “Let me know when you want to file a lawsuit against him.I’ll make it happen.”

“Thank you, Jen. Far more useful than Bruce,” Natasha teased.

“Hey!” Bruce whined from his seat, hands going up in the air. “I did absolutely nothing wrong!”

“I mean, you totally could’ve told Tony to shut up instead of sitting down to watch the show, Bruce, allyship,” Clint said as he grabbed a slice of pizza.

Now Tony and Bruce both glared at Clint. They shared a look with one another before nodding. Tony began to throw ice cubes at Clint while Bruce announced he was going to go and break all of his arrows. Clint shouted in protest, ducking the ice and grabbing his pizza as he ran to go make sure his arrows went untouched.

Thor’s brow furrowed as he looked around at everyone, “Are we not going to punish these men, or what?”

You blinked as you raised your hand, “Actually, I’d totally go and — “

“I think you just need another drink,” Jennifer snorted as she poured another shot for you.

Natasha leaned in to whisper in your ear, “Let me know if you want to get some revenge on that attorney.”

“Natasha,” Steve said in a warning tone as he looked at her.

Natasha rolled her eyes and stood up straight, “Oh, golly, sorry grandpa. Didn’t realize you were the parent in charge tonight.”

Steve sighed heavily as he stared up at the ceiling and shook his head.

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thenerdnextdoorxo · 1 year

Note

Can I request a fic where the reader is tony's younger sister who seems to have no fears and is kinda. female version of vicky's attitude and demeanor. but one day a spider is spotted in the kitchen while everyone is there and she screams and jumps into tony's arms and the team teases her bc she's scared of a spider but not anything else

Lmao I can relate

You lived in the tower, but you weren't an avenger. You helped them with their missions, since you had excellent skills with programming and you knew how to assemble and disassemble a device in the first time even if you haven't seen the device before. Even Tony asks you for help in somethings.

Since you were around the tower a lot, the avengers got to befriend you. You were always there on their movie nights and when they were holding a party. They really enjoyed your presence, even if had the same personality as Tony, you had this charm that pulled everyone to you.

Something that you had that Tony did not, is that your heart was as tough as a stone. When you and Tony were younger, he would get scared of literally everything, but you, on the other hand, you didn't give a damn. This trait made even Fury ask you to join the avengers since they need someone as fearless as you.

Today, you decided to go to the tower to hang out with the team. When you were there, you saw that most of them were in the living room, the others were at the kitchen. Specifically, Steve and Wanda. They were working together on a dish of their creation.

You went to the kitchen to try and make out what they were cooking since they insisted on it being a surprise. When they went out to grab something, you walked inside and peeked at the pots, you saw something move at the corner of your eye. You looked to the side and saw that it was a spider.

You started screaming.

Knowing you, Tony got scared for you, he knew that you don't scream for nothing. He ran up to the kitchen with a few of his teammates to see what's going on, and that's when they found you pointing at the table.

"Y/N, what happened? we heard you screaming," Exclaimed Tony. "A SPIDER!!!! IT'S A FREAKING SPIDER!!!" You screamed and jumped to Tony's arms. For the first few seconds, everyone was confused as hell. Y/N? screaming over a spider? It didn't make sense.

The moment it dawned on them that you were scared of spiders, they started laughing. "Seriously? a spider? Come on Y/N, you are better than this," Chuckled Bucky while the rest started laughing their heads off.

"We all have things to fear, why is it funny when I'm scared but it's not when its you?!" You asked. "Because it's you. Fearless you screaming at the top of your lungs over a spider," Explained Natasha. "I'm a human being! I have things that I fear and it's normal!" You exclaimed. "True, but still, it's hilarious," Tony said, patting your shoulder. "No it's not!!" You said and everyone gave you a teasing look.

"Okay maybe it is,"

================================================

This is a short and sweet one :) hope you guys have a great day!

My requests are open

<3333

#platonic marvel #marvel x reader #marvel imagine #avengers x reader #wanda marvel #natasha x y/n #tony x reader #steve x reader #bucky x reader #natasha x reader #wanda x reader

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ragnarokhound · 5 months

Note

re: your tags on the jason’s anger post~

hard agree!! i will read reconciliation fics bc like… i do enjoy them getting to be a happy family/group but ultimately, i am firmly in the Jason Todd Was Right camp, &. serious work would need to be done for him to ever actually be part of the family again, bc the actual roots of his issues run DEEP. (and again! he has points!!)

and also same again on like… if i mention the batfamily dynamics in my fics, with the exception of au’s, jason’s relationship with bruce especially is still at least a little strained. he’s a member but also kind of an outsider and maybe he has complicated feelings on that sometimes but ultimately it’s bc his convictions / beliefs run deeper than his need /want of acceptance / belonging.

anyway sorry to dump a rant in your inbox but, i loved your tags & wanted to reply 💞

OUUGHH YES THO!! THANK YOU FOR RANTING, ALWAYS RANT IN MY INBOX STAY IN THIS SPACE WITH ME <333

(I'm about to have a mini-rant of my own, and disclaimer, it's largely informed by my terrible foundation of the UTRH movie + fandom osmosis + the occasional page/panel drop/arguments from other fans skdndndj sO GRAIN OF SALT THE SIZE OF RHODE ISLAND: )

Because yes yes absolutely! It would take serious work on Both sides for Jason to be brought back into the fold. They would both need to want it, and someone would have to be willing to bend on what they are ok with letting slide. Bruce would have to allow Jason his independence and divergence in philosophy; Jason would have to make concessions to Bruce's hard anti-murder stance.

There would have to be compromise, and reparations of some kind. They would have to actually talk and be able to listen. Apologies exchanged (mostly from Bruce because lmao) and a bunch of stuff people with the whole picture could probably tell me better lmao. ALL HARD ASKS

Because yes yes yes!! Jason's convictions and his beliefs ABSOLUTELY run deeper than his desire for acceptance. That's not-so-low-key the biggest obstacle for both him and Bruce in their ever reconciling. It's why Talia was able to manipulate him at all (idk the specifics of that, but details), it's why he hatched a deeply convoluted plan to get back at Bruce and the Joker and fuck over Black Mask in one fell swoop.

He wanted to confront Bruce with the consequences of letting Joker run around even after committing a deeply heinous and personal crime. Show him that taking a more intense and hands on approach and cracking down HARD on the crime families in Gotham would have more immediate results than what Bruce did. And that's not even getting into the Robin stuff yet lol

I don't personally agree per se with Jason's stance on murder and crime fighting lmao - but I also think he has a goddamn point, especially in this universe. In the world of batman, where death can be impermanent and supervillains pull all kinds of heinous, torturous bullshit, Jason has a lot of righteous and justified anger about how Bruce does things, on top of his hurt and betrayal over how both he and his death were treated.

Bruce's stance makes sense to me too, in a 'everyone deserves a second chance' and 'no one is beyond redemption' and 'its a slippery slope' perspective. But at some point you have to wonder about accountability. About what's acceptable. When the Joker is an unrepentant, murderous, sadistic criminal who has demonstrated that he cannot be adequately jailed or rehabilitated, what do you do? Do you ever give up on him? When is enough enough? Is the death penalty ever justifiable?

It's what makes Jason vs Bruce's arguments interesting and tragic to me, because from Jason's perspective, he is seeking retribution for himself as a victim. He is an avenger for victims failed by the system as it stands. And the system fails a lot of people. It needs to change. (And it's something being felt very strongly by a lot of people rn IRL which makes Jason's ideals v sympathetic.)

But from Bruce's perspective, Jason has given up. He has lost hope in the inherent goodness of people. He no longer seeks to find the good in people; he has decided that there exists instead a sharp dichotomy, that there is such thing as a bad person who deserves to die for what they've done, and for being bad. As opposed to seeing deeply injured people who need help, even when you find them repulsive. Rotten work, that.

Bruce sees the end of the path that Jason is on, and it's a bullet that Jason puts in his own brain - because if there are good people and bad people, and bad people deserve to die... won't Jason lump himself in with the bad people eventually? (I am once again standing on my 'Jason Todd wants to die on some level' soapbox)

Anyway, all this to say - there is a sharp divide in Bruce and Jason's methods/beliefs that makes their reconciliation impossible if neither of them is willing to budge. And when they both see budging as a terrible thing to do, a failure to the very people they are dedicating their lives to protecting...well.

It's gonna take a lot of angst and a lot of work.

#slsncjdk #that got longer than i intended #and i didn't even talk about everything i could have #don't get me started on the complicated feelings jason has about robin #both as a role and tim drake's sucession to it #and how that would feed into Jason's resentment of Bruce and the tapestry of failed accountability #because if Jason died as robin but he comes back and fuck all has changed -#theres still a kid running around gotham getting into truly dangerous situations and at risk of the same fucking thing jason died of #still a target for rogues who want to pull one over on batmam and have zero problems with killing and torturing a minor #and those rogues are STILL running around for that matter! so its even LIKELY.#its not the only problem jason has with Bruce upon coming back. but its a pretty big one. because what does that say?#both about jason and about his death. that his death didn't matter? that he's... replaceable? (*JAYTIM TROPE AIRHORNS*)#its an ugly and complicated relationship with ugly complicated problems. which is why its a) easy to misunderstand and b) so compelling #jason todd #dc #dc meta #THANK YOU TAURIA I LOVE HAVING AN EXCUSE TO TALK ABOUT IT #asked and answered #ladytauria

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lotusthewriter · 1 year

Text

Some day, when your head is much lighter

Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe

Rating: T

Relationships: Peter & Tony, Peter & Nebula, Peter & Morgan

Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark, Nebula, Morgan Stark; MINOR - Pepper Potts; MENTIONED - Guardians of the Galaxy (minus Gamora), Happy Hogan, James "Rhodey" Rhodes

Summary: As they all celebrate Tony's return home, Peter feels like an outsider.

Nebula may relate a bit too much to the feeling.

Word count:

AO3

A/N: Heads up that on AO3 the fic is split in two chapters, but here I published the whole story in one post.

I bet a fic like this exists already, but I think Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 3 inspired me, so I ended up writing this thingy. Well, besides my dad treating me like shit as usual, resulting in a clingy and needy author writing paternal affection to soothe their lack of it. And I once again ended up writing 5k of self-indulgent hurt/comfort.

Also kind of a salt fic, mainly because we were robbed of more Nebula and Tony - and better yet, Nebula and Peter. They all deserve happiness!!! They deserve to be friends!!! To be family!!!!

Anyway, the Guardians are buddies with the Ironfam because of Nebula, while the Rogues/Avengers should stay as far away from Tony as possible, lmao.

Please be aware of the trigger warnings listed below.

TRIGGER WARNINGS - past canonical character death, suicidal thoughts/ideation, grief, implied past child abuse and depression.

Hate will be blocked. P/roship DNI.

Parties were never really his thing.

This one is different, though.

After practically two months, Tony Stark, the savior of the universe, is back home with his family.

His real family.

Aunt May couldn’t come due to all the housing issues they’ve been facing since returning from the Snap, so for old times’ sake, Happy went all the way to Peter’s current apartment to take him to the peaceful lake house the Potts-Starks have decided to retire in.

The trip felt… uncomfortable.

Happy of all people tried to get Peter to talk, in the most awkward way imaginable. Eventually, Happy would only shoot him sad glances, not at all grumpy, until Peter quietly asked him to give him some privacy for now (of course, not rudely). The boy didn’t even listen to music while he delved into New York City. Save for new stores and buildings, for the most part it didn’t look so awfully different to the human eye.

But Peter knew better than that. He sees more than the average person did. And that’s a curse.

It certainly is with Peter here, in this party that he should actually care about.

The teen gets to see Tony with the biggest smile on his face, despite the scars and the metal arm he built himself. He gets to see Pepper and Morgan, now relieved that Tony is not trapped in a hospital bed anymore. Even the… Guardians of the Galaxy have come along, like they’ve been Tony’s friends this whole time, despite the events that initially brought them together, and those that separated them as well.

Everyone is fine.

They’re exhausted and hurt, but they’re fine, because for now they celebrate.

Peter, however, has nothing to celebrate. When he should have.

This feels like Liz’s party, but at least back then Peter had Ned with him. At least things were easier. Not better , but easier .

What makes this all worse is that everyone is trying.

Like Happy did in the car, Morgan is constantly taking his hand and grinning at him with her adorable dark eyes, trying to lure him into her antics – she’ll whisper in his ear to beg him to be Spider-Man and grab all the juice pops for her –, and then Pepper immediately finds them and she will reassure Peter he doesn’t have to do anything the little “burglar” says, so Morgan will pretend to be innocent and she’ll run somewhere else. After this, Pepper is sweet and attentive towards Peter, smoothing his brown curls like she’s always done this, like he’s been her child from the moment he was born. While Rhodey likes joking with Tony, the former is incredibly soft and patient with the boy, telling Peter he can always tell everyone to stop smothering him, half-joking, half-meaningfully. Finally, the Star-Lord, who’s apparently also named after Peter, tries to sound like his cool older brother/cousin figure, only for him to end up sounding even more unaware than Uncle Ben, since Quill hasn’t been to Earth in forever. Everyone laughs when Peter accidentally implies that Quill is an old man since he has no idea how smartphones work, for a guy that has a spaceship and everything.

Admittedly, talking to the Guardians of the Galaxy kind of helps Peter get distracted from his haunting thoughts, since he ends up acting like a guide to them, in cultural terms. So you’ll basically find a teenager showing a group of aliens – and animals (as Peter eyes the walking raccoon that does not like being called a raccoon) – random memes. Drax doesn’t get the majority of them, and he demands explanations. Honestly, nobody but Groot gets it, even if all he says is “I am Groot”.

Peter never had a chance to know these guys better, as they all had to face Thanos and save the universe, so… this is nice.

That is, when Morgan steals Peter again – as well as the blue girl with black eyes, Nebula, if he’s not mistaken – to beg him to know when they’re going to play and get the juice pops. Suddenly, all the Guardians tune in and Drax “the Destroyer” is all for doing justice for the “Iron Daughter”, which draws Pepper’s attention, Tony’s and Rhodey’s laughter, and Happy doing his best to not let chaos rule the house, even if he might be secretly laughing as well.

And Peter is just… there .

He has been just there from the very beginning and… there’s nothing left for him to do.

This shouldn’t be upsetting. Peter should be laughing with them. He should be happy that Tony is alive. He should be grateful he’s here with him and everyone else.

But he isn’t.

He can’t keep pretending.

Peter flees the scene when he’s sure no one will notice, so he’s outside by the lake, facing the distant buildings he’s grown up with. The teenager already wonders how in the hell he’s going to leave without asking Happy, because he certainly doesn’t want to cause any more trouble for them. Peter does have his homemade suit with him, since it’s a habit he’ll never grow out of, but again, there aren’t any buildings in this area, and trees aren’t exactly stable enough for web shooting. Not to mention how expensive a cab would be to leave such an isolated place.

In the middle of his overthinking, a presence approaches, somehow undetectable by his enhanced senses at first.

“You’re leaving?”

It’s… truly not the voice you’d expect.

Peter turns around to find Nebula, who observes him with a knowing look… yet not judgmental. She doesn’t look confused by him leaving, either. She just pointed it out.

He opens his mouth but he only makes weird noises instead of words, hiding his cell phone since he’s already been caught, and fidgeting nervously.

“I- I-I dunno,” Peter manages, “I just…”

The arachnid teenager truly has no idea what to say. Every excuse he can come up with only sounds more and more dickish.

Nebula hums.

“Although you smiled the entire time, and were even socializing well with others…” Her eyes are deep like outer space. “All you wanted was to escape.”

Peter bites his lip. Nebula doesn’t sound like she knows the whole truth. Once again, she just observes and wants to confirm her suspicions.

“I-I’m sorry,” he mumbles.

Nebula shakes her head. “You don’t need to apologize for wanting to escape.”

Peter frowns, looking down.

“I-I don’t want to be ungrateful, I know everyone wants me to be here and- and you’re all trying really hard to make me feel comfortable, but…”

The cyborg crosses her arms, yet again, not in a way to make him feel bad.

Peter sighs. “I just feel like I don’t belong.”

His voice sounds wet and broken. Honestly, he’s been wanting to cry the moment he stepped here.

“These past few months have been so hard for me,” the boy opens up, despite Nebula being basically a stranger to him. “I already have to deal with the fact I turned into dust and woke up five years later. I have to get home and realize nothing is the same, I realize how much I’ve lost. People have moved on from me. And yet I have to go to school and be a normal boy like none of the things I mentioned ever happened. A-And then, I almost lost Mr. Stark, and he was isolated in the hospital this entire time… the staff told me I had to be his actual family to visit him.” Peter sniffs, drying his eye with his sleeve. “And even though I know Mr. Stark and Mrs. Potts would do everything to include me in their family, I still… never went after that. It doesn’t make sense, does it? I’m hurt that they didn’t let me see him… but I also didn’t have the heart to tell them I was hurt. Not to mention seeing him in that state… I don’t think I could handle the sight.”

Peter doesn’t look at Nebula at all, though he’s aware she’s listening in silence the whole time. She seems to have stepped closer to him, but they keep a fair distance from each other. He half realizes Nebula seems to have… glitter on her face, probably thanks to Morgan. He would have laughed if he weren’t breaking down.

“Like, even the Guardians are way better at this than me! At being their family!” Peter resumes. “It’s like they’ve been Mr. Stark’s friends since forever, like they weren’t dead for FIVE YEARS or the fact that they barely know him!”

He hates how childish he sounds right now, how needy and spoiled he is for being upset about all of this; especially after just admitting that he never bothered to tell Mr. Stark what he wants.

Peter dries his tears because he doesn’t want them to be seen, to be discovered, even if Nebula looks like the best person to keep secrets.

“S-See? The problem isn’t them, it’s me,” he says, angry. “They want me to matter, but it’s pointless. I’m not worth anything, ‘cause I can’t do anything right.”

He only remains cleaning his face meaninglessly with his shirt while Nebula is quiet, maybe shocked or sympathetic, he doesn’t really know. Peter also makes sure nobody else is watching them, which thankfully seems to be the case.

Either way, the boy dries the water and snot until his eyes shut up… besides Nebula finally saying something for once.

“... you are not the problem.”

Peter frowns. “What?”

“You’re not the problem,” Nebula repeats patiently.

“Why?” He’s too distraught to apologize for the slight lashing out.

Nebula, however, is unfazed by the reaction.

“I… never had anything,” she starts. “Thanos stripped everything away from me. And when he killed half of the universe… somehow I managed to have less than nothing. But then… I had Tony.” Nebula is the one looking away, staring at the lake. “We were the only survivors.”

Peter watches her not shed a single tear.

“It only lasted a few days, but they felt so long. We were out of food and gas. Even still, he made sure to look after me. We even played games together. He… praised me. Tony barely knew me and yet… he liked me,” Nebula contemplates. “And he was going to die. I knew I couldn’t do anything… but I did what I could.”

She pauses.

“After we were saved, I thought he’d be better off without me. I knew he had a family,” Nebula admits. “But whenever I was available, I’d find myself getting repairs and updates the most carefully I have ever witnessed. I’d find myself drinking… hot chocolate. And sometimes babysitting Morgan. So… I ended up being part of his family, I guess.” She shrugs affectionately, a shy smile even surfacing there. “I never thought I’d be part of a family. The Guardians didn’t convince me otherwise, not at first. It was Tony’s.” She stops again. “It might not look like it, but to this day, I still believe I don’t deserve to be here. I don’t deserve to be taken care of. I don’t deserve Tony loving me the way my father never did.” Now her voice is the one which breaks.

Peter watches her this whole time, without breaking down again. Nebula seems to be tough, but at the same time she’s being very vulnerable right now. She ends up letting out a deep sigh.

“What I mean is… you have every right to feel hurt or alone, or out of place. That does not make you a bad person. That is not your fault,” Nebula reassures him. “And most importantly, you deserve help for that. You deserve love.”

Peter looks at her with his well-known puppy eyes, like Tony would call them.

He wants to say something – he should, but not sure what it’d be.

The blue cyborg stands awkwardly next to him, probably feeling the same way, especially after the two of them opened up so deeply like that. Nebula likely believes that she might have not helped much, hence why she’s going back to the house without a lot of certainty (or she’s really not the best at socializing, given she’s, you know. An alien).

When she’s about to leave, Peter finally lets out:

“Hey, Nebula?”

She merely turns around.

“Th… Thank you,” Peter smiles, “for looking after Mr. Stark.”

Nebula’s expression manages to soften even more. If she weren’t a cyborg, Peter is almost sure her cheeks would be red.

She nods, not saying anything. She doesn’t have to for Peter’s grin to widen.

Now, he’s rather unsure what to do. Maybe he’ll stick out here for a while, throw rocks to the lake with his super strength and see how far they can go. He doesn’t get to decide with Morgan coming back… only she’s on Tony’s lap.

“Petey! Aunt Nebula!” The little girl smiles. “Where were you? You should’ve seen Mr. Drax falling asleep in just three seconds! Without any bedtime story!”

“Mantis had to stop the big guy before he ripped our fridge apart,” Tony explains, smirking.

“Are you okay, Petey-pie?” Morgan asks, worried.

“O-Oh.” Great, that question. Why is he so obvious? “Yeah, yeah. Sorry, Morgan.”

“It’s okay. Daddy says everyone needs some good cry every now and then. And at least you weren’t alone!”

“Yeah,” Peter sniffs as he briefly smiles at Nebula.

He feels too embarrassed to look at Tony back, knowing the older man is staring at him with those big concerned eyes of his.

Due to the heavy silence, Nebula suddenly walks to Tony to talk to Morgan, her low voice softening and even sounding playful. Just vaguely.

“What do you say we prank Drax while he’s asleep?” Nebula suggests. “We could put some glitter on his face, too.”

Morgan gasps, excited. “Yeah! He’s a Guardian of the Galaxy, so he needs to shine reeeeally bright!”

“That’s right,” Nebula smiles, picking the girl up.

“Are you coming, Petey?” Morgan wonders.

Before the boy can even open his mouth, Tony speaks for him.

“We’ll be right back at you, Morguna,” he winks at her. She returns the gesture, so Morgan hugs Nebula, who seems completely alright with the affection. When Peter first met her, he never thought the cyborg would be so sweet with children.

Only for the teen to realize, he’s alone with Tony. Perhaps the first time in so long. They feel like strangers even if Tony tries not to leave that impression.

The last time they were together… Tony was dying in front of him, and all Peter wanted was to hold onto him, because he couldn’t handle losing someone else. It had felt like losing Uncle Ben all over again, and Peter wanted to push everyone else away to save Tony, to cry and mourn, and beg him to stay, to not leave him.

Peter can only understand how Nebula must have felt when she also thought she’d lose the only person that ever made her feel loved.

Tony is back.

Then why isn’t Peter happy?

“Pete?”

He can’t even look at Tony.

Peter is so ungrateful.

“Hey, buddy… you don’t need to hide your tears from me,” the man says softly. “You don’t have to be fine for my sake, or anyone’s sake.”

Peter knows that, and it only makes him want to cry harder.

When Tony approaches him, while still not directly touching him, Peter smells wood, which is… quite new for him. That and a shampoo that screams “Dad” shampoo. However, he smells the same oil and coffee that brings Peter back to their lab days. It brings him back to the nights the boy stayed over at the Compound, watching movies with his mentor, accidentally falling asleep on the hero’s shoulder, and not realizing it until he was wrapped up in a blanket and too tired and comfortable to move. It reminds Peter of when Tony put a hand behind his neck, his fingers running through the former’s curls, as the teen was being crushed by the weight of his grief, the weight of bullying and loneliness. It reminds Peter of when he felt loved despite the entire world telling him otherwise.

Everything has changed so much now, but in the end… Peter can still find some of the old smell of home.

He’s… home.

It doesn’t look like it, at all.

But he’s home.

And he loses it.

Unlike in the battlefield, Peter rushes to Tony’s arms before anything bad happens to separate them again. Before anything and anyone can take Tony away from him.

“I’m sorry!” Peter sobs, “I’m sorry, I missed you, I thought you’d–!”

“Hey, hey, hey… it’s alright, Peter.” Tony just soothes his back up and down. “I’m not going anywhere, I promise.”

Peter weeps, “I’m sorry.”

“Shhh… you have nothing to apologize for. Nothing, do you hear me?”

Tony sounds so incredibly patient that it only has Peter cry more in his shoulder, at this point too out of it to apologize for wetting Tony’s dad-looking sweater. Peter just buries himself in his mentor’s shoulder, wanting to be wrapped up in his home again, to feel like he belongs somewhere again. He’s missed this so damn much…

“I missed you,” Peter whispers, voice high like a child’s. “So much…”

Tony laughs wetly, squeezing the teenager in his arms, and kissing his head many times. “I missed you too, kiddo. You have no idea.”

His right arm is a little more solid than the rest of his body, but it’s still the same arms that have always loved Peter. The arachnid isn’t hugging the armor this time. They’re not fighting an evil overlord. They’re home again.

Tony just calms him down and never once complains about how long it takes. He’s willing to stay forever if Peter needs it. Truly, he doesn’t know what he did to deserve… a father like Tony Stark.

Although he’s grateful, the black hole in him aches again, absorbing his joy. That’s how his life feels most of the time.

“I’m sorry,” Peter repeats.

“Peter…” Tony sounds pained.

“N-No, I mean it. You were all doing everything to welcome me, and I just… didn’t say anything. I just left.”

Tony just looks heartbroken, his flesh and mechanical arms wiping some of Peter’s tears for him.

“I thought…” Peter gulps. “I thought of leaving without anyone knowing. I didn’t feel right staying in there. Ever since I came back, nothing has felt right, but it feels like I’m expected to live like I didn’t literally die . A-And even though you’re trying to help me feel less alone… I still feel alone. And that’s not your fault.”

His mentor looks like he’s about to hug Peter the same way he did when they reunited, only for the boy to say more.

“I-I guess I’ve always felt like this, but… I still felt like I had something, before this all happened. But now, I don’t have anything and I feel like everyone has lived on well without me. You might try to include me, but… I can see it. I see how you guys interact. How… better you are without me.” He sniffs grossly. “The Guardians were gone for five years too, but they’re having so much fun, celebrating your return. I know I should be, too. I-I’m so relieved you’re back home, Mr. Stark,” Peter insists. “B-But I don’t feel like… I’m home. It’s like I lost it. Forever.”

The boy lowers his head, staring at the dirt, the ground reminding him of his own demise. He’s stepping on it like… he belongs there.

“I-I f-feel like… like…” Peter cries, scared of Tony’s reaction, “like maybe I shouldn’t have come back.” He feels so much like a little kid. And it makes sense, doesn’t it? Peter didn’t grow up with Tony. He’s stuck in a teenage body when he should be a young adult. “M-Maybe I… I should have just stayed dead.”

With the way Tony’s hands stop gently touching Peter’s face, the latter is sobbing furiously again.

Maybe now, he should leave.

Leave and never return.

Peter never wanted to admit these thoughts to anyone, because they just make him realize how much of a horrible person he is.

When his instinct tells him to run and hide, and never – ever – return, Tony’s left hand stops him, grabbing his arm firmly but not to the point of hurting it. If anything, it seems to shake silently.

“M-Mr. Stark, l-let me go,” he begs.

“You’re not better off dead.”

Tony is quiet and gentle, yet he appears to be close to breaking down, too.

“I-It doesn’t feel like it,” Peter bites.

“I know.”

The way Tony speaks… the way he’s rubbing Peter’s arm…

The boy wants to reject it, but he can’t.

“Let me help you, Peter,” Tony quietly pleads.

“Nobody can help me.”

“That’s not true.”

“Then why hasn’t it gotten better? Why do I keep losing everyone and- and everything? Why does life just get worse every time I think it’s going to get better?”

“Because it sucks. I know it does.”

Tony is behaving a lot like Nebula right now. They both speak from experience. Only here, Tony doesn’t explain where it comes from. Maybe because, right now, it’s not the focus.

“I’m…” Peter lowers the defenses. “I’m so tired, Tony.”

“I know, Pete.”

Like this, Tony is hugging him again.

“You can rest now,” he promises.

Peter cries once again, and it only hurts even more. Yet somehow, the crying is less desperate and loud. It’s more… here , if that makes sense.

He knows more than anyone that this is not enough for the black hole inside him. Nothing is enough for the black hole.

Still… Tony is able to quiet it down.

With just this one hug.

So, Peter just holds onto it.

It's true, then. That sometimes, a hug is really all you need to know that things will be alright.

They don't even notice the time pass until the Guardians come to say goodbye, though they almost retreat in respect, seeing that Peter and Tony were having a moment. Peter is the one who reassures them it’s alright. Each of the Guardians comforts the teenager in some way. Quill even suggests they should cruise in space some of these days, whenever he feels like escaping Earth. Obviously, with the glare Tony gives him, Quill ensures that Peter will have all the resources needed, including some great taste in music, or so he says. Either way, it… doesn’t actually sound like a bad idea.

Nebula promises she’ll keep visiting as well, or at least make video calls in case she’s stuck out there. She also tells Peter to keep in touch with her whenever he needs. He smiles and raises a hand for her to shake. She returns both gestures, and hopes he gets to feel better soon.

Rhodey and Happy still stick around the lake house while the spaceship flies away, mostly so they help Pepper clean the house. Peter would’ve helped, but Morgan takes his hand to show him his room. Not her room, but… his . Tony sighs dramatically that she ruined the surprise, but he joins the duo to what appears to be an untouched bedroom.

Morgan tells him to close his eyes and not peek.

“I have enhanced senses, Morgan,” Peter gently reminds her.

“Then turn them off!”

The boy giggles. “Okay, okay.” He even covers his eyes with his free hand.

Obviously, he can’t turn his senses off, but he keeps it up for her.

The room smells… very clean.

“O-kay, you can look!” Morgan instructs him.

When he sees…

He gasps.

Besides the exact same Star Wars posters he had at the Compound – and some new –, there are hand-made drawings of Spider-Man shooting webs. They’re all signed with Morgan’s name, and some appear to include Nebula’s as well. There are a couple colored lightbulbs, red, blue, and yellow gold, hanging in the ceiling, and then… Peter notices a few pictures by the other wall, most of which feature Peter and Tony in the lab, or whenever Pepper or Rhodey were able to capture them sharing a sweet moment.

But what really has Peter laugh and almost cry again is a photo of a small Peter Parker in the Stark Expo, Uncle Ben picking him up and laughing like his nephew was his whole world. The little boy, his true identity hidden behind an Iron Man mask, is pointing his toy repulsor at May, who took the picture while she also laughed like an angel.

“What do you think, kiddo?” Tony asks.

Peter laughs more, quietly. “I-It’s… It’s perfect.”

“I’m gonna design my own suits for you!” Morgan states rather determinedly.

“Oh, I would love that, Mo,” Peter squeezes her in a half hug, making her giggle. Meanwhile, Tony is looking at his kids with the proudest gaze he’s ever given someone.

Tony eventually leaves to help Pepper and the others, allowing Peter and Morgan to interact more properly. She shows him the books, comics and graphic novels she helped her father pick for Peter. Some of them were also hand-made stories about Spider-Man and his adventures, including his antics with Iron Man. As Morgan reads them to Peter (she sits on a chair next to his bed), the latter is very much invested. He knew that Tony probably told Morgan those stories, since they were all specific and familiar to Peter. Her comics bring the biggest smile to his face.

It feels like the day will never end, in the good way, when Pepper arrives (only she doesn’t interrupt them just yet, also looking like she probably took a picture of them like this, since she has her phone in her hand) to tell them it’s Morgan’s bedtime. Tony is next to his wife with curious eyes while the woman asks Peter if he’s going to stay overnight, as Happy is ready to leave and take him home if he wants.

As he lies in his bed, Peter… shakes his head.

“I’m already home.”

Tony looks like he’s about to cry at any moment, while Pepper and Morgan smile affectionately.

“You can come home whenever you want or need, okay?” Pepper touches his hair softly again.

“Okay.”

“Now, say good night to Peter, sweetie,” she tells her daughter.

“Wait! Can I kiss Petey good night?”

“Sure you can, Mo,” Peter smiles.

Thus, Pepper helps Morgan reach his forehead, her little lips touching it like it’s precious. Peter returns the affection with a smooch on her cheek.

“Nighty-night, Petey-pie,” Morgan says.

“Good night, honey,” Pepper kisses his head next.

“G’night.”

As the two leave, Tony comes in, silently, wearing a… Mandalorian hoodie. Mainly one where he’s protecting Grogu, if Peter is not mistaken. Tony doesn’t come to kiss him good night just yet.

“She read you the stories of Petey-pie?” He teases.

Peter snorts. “She’s the only one allowed to call me that.”

“You don’t have much of a choice here.”

They don’t really engage in further with the snark competition, not as Peter holds the blanket as if someone is going to take it away from him.

“Y-You’re not going to bed?” Peter asks.

“Yeah… but I still felt like my kid needed me. Guess you’re not the only one with Peter Tingles in the family.”

Peter rolls his eyes affectionately. Even then, Tony always sounds so… certain when it comes to the boy.

“This… might sound stupid, I dunno,” Peter gulps, “but… I d-don’t wanna wake up and… lose this, y’know?”

He expects Tony to reassure him that Peter won’t lose anything… only to come across the most tragic expression in the universe.

“... me neither,” the man whispers, likely something not even Pepper and Morgan know.

Peter doesn’t know what to say… other than shyly scooting over to the side.

Tony smiles sadly.

Once again, they haven’t cuddled in forever, and Peter forgot how good it felt.

“I missed my clingy spider-son,” Tony sighs in relief.

“Like you’re not clingy yourself.”

“Remind me again who’s the one being literally stuck right now?”

“Hmmmph,” Peter grumpily replies. Tony’s laugh feels contagious.

The former hesitantly touches the latter’s metal arm, then his brown eyes find Tony’s hairless right side, burnt skin now dark red, somewhat dead. Peter wonders if it hurts.

Tony, as usual, notices.

“Hey, you’re the one who needs attention here, bud,” he reminds him softly.

Peter looks away. “It’s different.”

“And it’s still valid.”

“Y-Yeah, but…”

Peter shakes his head.

“Sorry.”

“It’s fine, kid.”

“No, it’s not, I keep–”

“You keep being your best self, that’s what. And I’m very proud of you, Peter.”

The teen has lost count of how many times he’s wanted to cry today. He has cried since coming back, but never like this – maybe because Peter wasn’t even allowed to cry, or he didn’t feel like he was allowed to.

Peter clutches the older man’s hoodie, afraid of what just came to mind.

“What?” Tony questions.

The boy shrinks.

“W-When… When you…” Peter swallows. “When you snapped your fingers… d-did you want to die?”

Tony doesn’t tense at the question. If anything, he… relaxes?

“No. I didn’t want to lose Morgan, or Pepper… I didn’t want to lose you again. When I saw you crying for me… damn, kid. I felt like throwing Thanos far away to the other side of the galaxy, just to tell you I wasn’t going anywhere,” he replies, not sounding snarky in the slightest. “But there were many moments where I should’ve died. Moments where I thought… dying was the only option.”

Peter contemplates.

“What made you… not die, then?” He wonders.

Tony hums. “I never actually wanted to die.”

Something in the boy aches while hearing that.

“I was taught to believe my life was worth nothing. Even when I became Iron Man… they all told me I had to die to make peace,” Tony continues. “I still thought that when I was in the hospital. But every time I saw Morgan and Pepper, and Rhodey and Happy… every time I remembered Nebula was there for me in my darkest moment, and every time I remembered you were finally here and we could be together again… it gave me more strength than anything. It made me realize… that was the whole point. That’s the point of living. You get to live with people you love. You live to become someone you love, too.”

Peter remembers when Tony took away his suit, the way he was more disappointed than angry.

“That’s not a road that ends, nor is it an easy one. Mine began late in my life, but it’s worth every single mile.” Tony cups Peter’s face so they look at one another. “I’m sorry yours have been this bad, kiddo. I promise I’ll do what I can to help make it easier for you. I hope you get the breaks and support you need. Please, remember that you can count on us, for anything, even when it doesn’t feel like it.”

The moment Peter sniffs, Tony is cradling him like in those nights the boy had nightmares and needed to be comforted. Peter can only cling back with everything he has.

“I’m sorry,” he says either way.

“It’s okay, buddy,” Tony never gets angry. “One day, you’ll see that you don’t need to apologize for being you. One day, the emptiness will be easier, and calmer.”

At this point, Peter knows better than to get his hopes up.

But then…

Tony kisses his forehead and adds, “We’ll be here to help you see that day.”

And just those mere words seem to take away the tensions and calm the hungry, angry black hole in him.

Peter knows it’s just going to bite him back and make him question everything. But right now? He wants to believe Tony. Because it’s Tony Stark, because he’s a genius and a hero, and…

“... I love you, Tony,” Peter mumbles, muffled by the Mandalorian hoodie.

Somehow, the hero manages to hold him even closer.

“Love you too, kiddo.”

And just like before, Tony’s cuddles are the only way to make Peter sleep.

#peter parker #tony stark #irondad #morgan stark #ironfam #nebula #mcu nebula #death tw #suicide tw #suicidal thoughts tw #depression tw #grief tw #abuse mention tw #long post #fanfiction #hurt/comfort

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f1-stuff · 1 year

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Mal I can’t believe you like stony I trusted you sigh…

anon....why you not like stony? 🥺 ((are you a stucky shipper?)) jkjk...unless...?

If you actually wanna know tho...

...it's simply the most compelling, contrasting, fraught, potential-filled relationship ever written/depicted (i wish i was exaggerating).

I'm ngl, I typed this whole thing and then it got deleted. So I might not be able to fully do this a second time smh. But here we go.

Whenever i was bored/in the depths of my stony/marvel obsession, I would make a list in my head of all the reasons Steve and Tony were perfect for one another in case anyone disagreed with me. I don't think I can remember all the reasons, but I'm gonna do my best (this mostly addresses their MCU depictions, since that's what I know best):

Their personalities are so complementary- steve is the more heart-on-his-sleeve, honest, dependable, disciplined, noble, street-smart, but also a bit naive, idealist and tony is the cynical, issues-with-authority, arrogant, sarcastic, hard-outer-shell, booksmart, realist. They're sooo different from one another, but at their core, they both want to make the world a better place and they both place more importance on others' lives over their own, altho their motivations come from diff places. It's hard for them to see that at first though bc they're both so stubborn and judge one another on superficial things. But when they do recognize it, they have so much respect for one another.

The age difference.............is hot! And here's why: you can make a case that either of them is actually older than the other... (iykyk) Tony has been awake & aging longer, but Steve was born in the 40s so... who really knows!?

Height difference.

Sexual experience difference (tony -> playboy, steve -> virgin??)

The banter. The Banter!!!

They both have daddy issues. Shared trauma, but also separate traumas that they can help each other through

And along with the daddy thing is the fact that Steve knew Tony's father?? And that Howard helped create/provide Steve's iconic shield? It factors into the daddy issues and the assumptions they make about one another bc Steve expects Tony to be like Howard and Tony resents Steve for the way Howard idolized Steve/Cap.

Steve's shield is vibranium and Tony's arc reactor is powered by vibranium. Idk, that shit is just poetic.

"Big man in a suit of armor. Take that off, what are you?" "Genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist." "I know guys with none of that worth ten of you... The only thing you really fight for is yourself. You're not the guy to make the sacrifice play - to lay down on a wire and let the other guy crawl over you." "I think I would just cut the wire." "Always a way out. You know you may not be a threat, but you better stop pretending to be a hero." "A hero? Like you? You're a laboratory experiment, Rogers. Everything special about you came out of a bottle."

(^NO ONE riles steve or tony up more, and what is that if not sexual tension, i mean...??)

Their nickname game is so strong - Tony is always nicknaming Cap, which is a sign of affection from him (Rhodey, Pep, Happy). Also in the 616 universe, I think they called each other Winghead and Shellhead which ?!?! so cute.

There's a literal universe of comics where steve and a female version of tony/iron man are in love and get married...

"Mr. Rogers, I almost forgot - that suit did nothing for your ass."

Stony has some of the best fan fiction i've EVER read. I want some of those fics inscribed on my tombstone actually (not sorry)

Aaaaand I'm losing steam (especially after typing this a second time lmao). But all of this to say, I used to be a stucky shipper (as evidenced by my ao3 works), but then The Avengers (2012) came out and changed everything for me. There's just something about stony - the equal potential for them to destroy one another/complete one another - that is just... 🤌🏻 There's passion there.

Superhusbands!!! 😍

#WELL!#this could possibly be considered a *rant* but all my stony feels flooded back in #i was seriously immersed in marvel before i got into hockey and then f1 lmao #honestly this has me questioning Your judgment anon...#jk but also not #anon #ask #not f1 #stony

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dankovskaya · 2 years

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@theunstablejester Posting instead of replying cause I can sense I'm not gonna have enough room LOL but I don't actually have an "ew marvel" thing tbh even though I act like it for fun sometimes. The first comics I read for like at least half a year were all marvel and it was honestly marvel movies (mostly the xmen ones 😭 but also mc* up to the winter soldier movie) that convinced me to start reading comics in the first place (first comic I ever bought was the winter solider storyline LOL). It's just that when I finally started reading DC I instantly liked it all way more for whatever reason and latched on like crazy and never looked back. Plus I was predisposed to DC anyway from watching teen titans and Batman & Robin and playing Lego batman all the time 😁

So now having delved so deep into DC and knowing how much of an ordeal it is to get basic familiarity with a whole comics universe like that I just feel too lazy to repeat the process for Marvel and I don't remember most of what I originally read so. Yeah.

Also on just a basic "aesthetic" level I like the general look of dc better than marvel (sweeping statement I know but Marvel tends to look more. Childish I guess. In my opinion 😭 And whenever I see like a big Team Drawing of the avengers or something its just...ugly. It's the only word I can use. I think DC characters tend to have better designs but maybe I'm just biased.) and Marvel villains................... they're just so corny I can't get around it 💀 which is a problem. NOT that DC doesn't have its fair share but I'm certain marvel is worse in that regard. And not even just the villains like the fuck would I look like reading a FANTASTIC FOUR comic 😭😭😭😭😭 See now I'm just being a hater. But yeah. I like the X-men even if i dont read shit abt them lmao. Mostly it just seems like too much work (esp when I still feel like I'm drowning in DC i need to read) but I'm always theoretically open to reading Marvel assuming it's something I can read as a standalone story or reasonably lengthed series and not a 8000 issue run or smth 😁

#tl;dr is that im just not familiar enough with the universe overall and I lack motivation to fix that

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ynscrazylife · 1 year

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Jessss can I pls request a sort of angst fic but like one of the ‘how the avengers would react to...” lists with it being R being like a young avenger but like they get affected by some kinda chemical or weapon or something on a mission and is really sick and no one knows how they can help them bc it’s like alien tech or something that did it? I just think it’d hit a spot in my heart rn and there’s never anyone better to ask than youuuuuu bc you literally know the character’s so well everything always hits lmao

Sick Days

Summary: The Avengers get worried after you get mysteriously sick from alien tech.

Author: You said a fic but you also said a “How the Avengers would react to” list so I wasn’t sure what to write, so I went with a fic. If this is not what you wanted, please let me know!

Request to be on a taglist (or multiple) here! (Taglists are at the end of the fic)

Main Masterlist | MCU Masterlist

PSA: Do NOT copy, steal, translate, plagiarize, republish, etc any of my works on Tumblr or any other platform. Also, do NOT claim any of my works as your own. All of these works are either requests I’ve gotten that people have wanted me to write or original ideas I’ve had for works. If you happen to take inspiration from anything I’ve written and want to write something inspired by that, please a) ask me firstand b) IF I say yes, credit me as inspo in your post by tagging me and link whatever work of mine that inspired you. Thanks.

Being an Inhuman has never really been a problem for you before. It gave you some pretty cool powers and allowed you to join the Avengers team during the five year blip. S.W.O.R.D. had gotten word of when you accidentally activated your powers and, since they were still dealing with half of their agency being dusted, asked Natasha Romanoff if she could take the lead on this one and check it out. She found you, a young teenager at the time, frightened and confused. After realizing that you were an Inhuman, with Captain Marvel’s help, she explained to you what happened. It turned out - you had nowhere else to go, so Natasha ended up taking you in. She had a soft spot for you.

Long story short, once you got a little bit older, Natasha began training you in combat and allowed you to join the team. Once the blip was over and everyone returned, you met the others and were officially declared an Avenger. Despite being the only not-fully-human-person on the team (Thor had gone to the Guardians), you fit in perfectly. Everything was going smoothly.

That was . . . Until patrol one day. Where things took a turn.

“Hey, Y/N?”

You had been patrolling the streets of New York City for a little while now when the voice of Natasha chirped in your ear. Excited, you said, “Hey! Can I finish patrol early? There’s nothing really going on.” As much as you loved patrol, wintertime was nearing and you couldn’t exactly wear a coat with your suit, so you were getting rather cold.

Instead of a positive answer like you had hoped, Natasha chuckled. “Not just yet, kid. We actually just got a tip off from the NYPD. A break-in was reported at a nearby storage unit and none of their patrol cars are close. You’re actually the closest to the situation, it’s only two blocks away. Think you can check it out?” She asked.

Your desire for warmth was overshadowed by your curiosity and more-pressing desire to actually do something. “Who would break into a storage unit?” You asked, confused.

“That’s what you’re about to figure out. It’s two blocks to the east,” Natasha said.

“Alright. I’ll see you afterwards, then,” you replied.

With that, you turned to your right and began walking. Unfortunately, being Inhuman did not grant you super-speed powers. Instead, you had light powers.

You got there in no time. On the outside, everything looked fine. If you were just walking down the street and passing by (which a couple of people were), you wouldn’t have thought anything of it. But you were no ordinary civilian. You managed to sneak inside and used your light powers to make yourself invisible. It was a large floor, with lots of storage units, but it was also quiet, so you took your time inspecting each and everyone.

Reaching the other side of the floor, you were about to report that it must have been a false alarm or something as you couldn’t find anything, when you rounded the corner only to spot a masked man lurking around an open storage unit. Spotting the broken lock on the floor, you knew that this had to be your guy.

Still invisible, you quietly sneaked up beside him, preparing yourself to show yourself and give the guy a chance to surrender, but wanting to stop him from being able to escape, too. Just as you inched close so you were right behind him, the man suddenly turned around and blasted you with the weapon he was holding.

This took you completely by surprise - there was no way for him to have known that you were there! You were flung into the air and hit the wall of another storage unit, before falling to the floor. “Hey!” You yelled as your invisibility disappeared and you struggled to sit up. The wind had been knocked out of you and your head was throbbing, but if there was anything to know about you, it was that you were relentless.

The guy broke off into a run, leaving the rest of the storage unit behind. You stumbled to your feet, trying to follow him, when a combined wave of dizziness and nausea pushed you against the wall. Your vision swarmed and your arms wrapped around your stomach, as you suddenly felt horrible. More sick than you had ever been in your life.

Whatever that guy had blasted you with - it had done something. Something bad.

As much as you tried to fight it, your body sank until you were curled up on the ground. Beads of sweat laced your forehead but you shivered at the same time. You had just the amount of strength to be able to press on your comms. “I need help,” you said, but it came out as a croak. “The guy surprised me. Blasted me with something. Please-”

You weren’t able to get anything else out as you fainted, your body succumbing to the attack of exhaustion, pain, and sickness.

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When Natasha heard your plea, the feeling of panic crashed into her. “Y/N?” She said when you stopped talking, already typing away at her computer to track your location. When she only heard static, she pursed her lips, frustrated. “Y/N, c’mon!”

“What’s going on?” Clint asked, poking his head into the living room as he had been walking by.

After finding your location and reading your stats provided by your suit, Natasha glanced up at Clint. Despite the hardened, blank look on her face, Clint could tell she was worried by the way she pinched her eyebrows and the frown tugging her lips down. He patiently waited for her to answer, his face growing solemn and more serious.

“Something happened to Y/N on patrol. You need to gather the team. I’m going to go get them,” Natasha said, rising from her seat and going to leave without another word.

As she passed him, Clint gently grabbed her arm. “I’m sure no matter what happened, the kid will be okay,” he said, wanting to provide some comfort. He shared her worry - heck, everyone would, they all adored you - but was able to be more calm about it. A skill he had developed as a dad to four children.

Natasha forced a smile. “I hope so,” she said, and gave her best friend’s hand a small squeeze before leaving to suit up. She couldn’t afford to waste any time.

When she left, Clint had F.R.I.D.A.Y call the team down to the living room. It took a couple minutes, as they were all in various parts of the building, but eventually everyone was gathered. Clint refused to tell anyone the purpose of this impromptu meeting until everyone was there, which was a little frustrating for people.

(People as in Tony)

“Will you just tell us already, Legolas?!” The billionaire exclaimed, as he and the others stood watching Clint pace back and forth, occasionally checking his phone in case Natasha had texted any update.

Finally, seeing Wanda and Vision walk in, who were the last to arrive, the archer explained. Shooting Tony a glare, he said, “Something happened to Y/N on patrol,” he repeated the words Natasha told him. “We’re not sure what, but Nat’s going to find out.”

Everyone’s faces softened. “Something happened? Like an injury?” Wanda inquired, frowning.

Clint glanced over at Natasha’s computer, which still displayed your stats. “Maybe . . .” he trailed off, his eyes catching something on the screen. “Wait - it looks like they’re sick or something. See? Y/N has a high fever.” The rest crowded around him.

As they all watched the screen, Bruce said, “I’ll go get the medical bay set up. Dr. Cho should still be here,” before briskly exiting the room.

“Y/N displayed no signs of illness this morning. In fact, they seemed to be quite well and excited for patrol,” Vision noted.

“They did say they were blasted with something,” Clint murmured, trying to connect the dots.

His phone’s ringtone interrupted the team and Clint scrambled to answer the call. Seeing that it was Natasha, he put it on speakerphone for everyone to hear.

“Y/N’s sick. It’s bad. They’ve already thrown up on our way back and I’m carrying them,” Natasha rushed out almost as soon as Clint accepted the call. They could all hear her controlled breaths as she was walking as quickly as she could.

“Bruce has gone to get med set up for when you arrive,” Steve said.

Remembering how you sounded on comms, Clint asked, “Is Y/N conscious?”

“They’ve been slipping in and out for now. They were passed out when I found them,” Natasha answered.

The team exchanged looks of worry. “Whatever it is, we’ll figure it out,” Tony tried to answer confidently, but his concern overshadowed his tone a bit.

Minutes later Natasha had burst into the tower, you still in her arms. She made a beeline for medical and the rest of the team were hot on her heels. As Natasha had said, you were definitely awake, but unaware of your surroundings nor the state you were in. You were still sweating and shivering profusely and would occasionally mumble something incomprehensible or let out small whines of pain. It broke everyone’s hearts to see you like this - if not for the pressing danger, they weren’t sure they could stand it.

Once at medical, Natasha gently laid you down on a bed where Dr. Cho quickly got to work. The Avengers were allowed to stay in the room (they surely would have put up a fit if not), but needed to stay back so Dr. Cho could work. They all watched as she hooked you up to monitors and assessed you.

“Y/N’s defiantly gotten very sick quite quickly,” Dr. Cho confirmed as she worked.

“It must be that damn blast,” Natasha muttered. “We need to figure out what that was.”

“I can get the storage unit’s company to send us the security cam footage,” Tony offered, but didn’t wait for a response before dashing out.

“Can someone get some cool compresses? We need to bring their temperature down, it’s dangerously high,” Dr. Cho requested as she set up an IV.

Sam and Wanda immediately complied, rushing to get the compresses. They returned and draped them on your forehead, neck, arms, anywhere they could. Up close, they could see how pale and fragile you really were, eyes half-closed. It was scary.

“I’ve given them an IV with fluids and medicine,” Dr. Cho said, letting out a huff. “That and cool compresses is all we can really do for now except to continue monitoring them.” With a gesture of her hand, the Avengers all flocked around you, drawing up chairs to sit. No one wanted to leave your side. “Let me know if their condition changes.” Dr. Cho smiled sweetly at them before leaving and letting them have some privacy.

No one said anything for a little while, stewing in their concern as they watched you. You had fallen asleep, but it didn’t seem restful, with your pinched eyebrows and scrunched up nose. Wanda continued to dab your forehead with the compass while Steve and Sam would occasionally go to get more.

After some time, you woke up a bit and let out a whine. “What is it, hon?” Wanda asked softly.

“It’s cold . . . Can I have a blanket?” you croaked, voice hoarse. You squirmed a bit, pouting.

“I’m sorry, darling, you can’t. We need to get your fever down,” Natasha explained.

Tears at how awful you felt came to your eyes. You curled up on the bed. “Please . . .” you said.

This shattered everyone. Natasha frowned, gently petting your hair. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered.

You moaned before letting out a few coughs that shook your entire body. Clint went to grab you a glass of water while Steve glanced at the clock. “Shouldn’t the IV and meds have kicked in by now?” He whispered.

Clint helped you drink some small sips of the water while Vision answered, “yes, it should’ve.”

Everyone looked around. “I’ll get Dr. Cho,” Sam decided, keeping his voice low so as to not disturb you.

A couple minutes later, he came back with the doctor in tow. You were still curled up, looking miserable. “Hi, Y/N,” Dr. Cho said. “How are you feeling?” She was pretty sure she knew the answer, but still wanted to ask.

“Hot and cold at the same time . . . My head, throat, and stomach hurts,” you said, voice so small that the others had to strain to understand you.

Dr. Cho nodded and looked over the monitors, frowning. “The meds should have kicked in by now,” she muttered.

Everyone felt defeated and even more worried. What the hell had you been blasted with?!

“Maybe a bath might help? My mom always had us take warm baths when Pietro or I got sick,” Wanda suggested.

The rest nodded. At least it was something. “You feeling up for that?” Natasha cooed, seeing how tired you were.

“I want to try,” you mumbled, trying to sit up.

Natasha and Wanda helped you. They wrapped wrapped one of your arms around them and one of their arms around you, half-carrying, half-leading you to the bathroom. Clint followed behind to be able to open the door.

You leaned against the wall, supported by Natasha, while Wanda started the bath and Clint returned to the rest. The redhead had to keep you from dozing off a few times which worried her a bit about leaving you alone. When the bath was ready, Natasha said, “We’ll check on you every ten minutes or so, okay?”

You nodded, although it was a small nod so as to not aggravate your headache. Wanda and Natasha then left you alone, walking back to the medical bay. When they returned, they saw that Tony had come back, too.

“Did you find anything?” Natasha asked anxiously as she and Wanda resumed their seats.

“There was nothing much the footage could tell us,” Tony admitted, standing in front of the team and Dr. Cho. “We saw Y/N using their powers to make themselves invisible, but it seemed like the guy who attacked them knew that or something because he turned around and blasted them while they were invisible. I’ve talked with S.H.I.E.L.D. about it - Fury says it might have something to do with Y/N being an inhuman.”

This got everyone’s attention. You being an Inhuman had never interfered with anything before, so what was the problem now? “Fury had some of his agents look at the rest of the tech and stuff from the storage unit the guy had been lurking in. Apparently - it’s all tech that belongs to the Kree. It would make sense why it’s effecting Y/N, since the Kree sorta invented the Inhumans. He’s contacting Carol now to see if she might know anything about it,” Tony continued, and then grabbed a chair and sat down while everyone processed this.

“Let’s hope she does,” Bruce said, receiving murmurs of agreement.

They sat around until the ten minute mark hit, when Natasha went to check on you. She returned a couple minutes later, her arm wrapped around you. You looked quite sleepy, and the Avengers would of aw’ed if you weren’t so sick. Your hair was still damp but you were wearing Avengers-themed pajamas.

“They fell asleep in the bath,” Natasha told the team, before helping you get situated back in bed.

Seeing as the sickness wouldn’t be contagious if it was indeed an Inhuman once, a couple of the Avengers gladly cuddled you, wanting to prove some comfort. Really, they all would’ve, if the bed had been big enough. Natasha and Wanda laid down on either side of you and Clint sat at the end of your bed.

Natasha pet your hair while Wanda simply had her arms wrapped around you. Sam was waiting with a glass in his hand in case you got thirsty. When you dozed off for a little bit, Tony couldn’t help but snap a picture. “Sorry, they’re adorable,” he said, not sounding apologetic at all and shrugged.

After waiting with you, Carol drew everyone out of their thoughts by walking in. She was wearing her usual suit, but held a vial in her hands.

Hearing her footsteps roused you and when you could make out the blonde, you smiled. “Carol!” You said, having missed her.

Carol smiled warmly at you. If there was anyone who could break the space captain’s tough exterior, it was you. “Hey, little one,” she greeted. “Long time, no see. I’ve got something for you that will help.” She handed Natasha the vial. “It’s the cure to your sickness. The sickness was invented by the Kree to infect the Inhumans. From what I can gather, the guy was a Kree man who had a device on him that could detect Inhumans - that’s how he knew you were there.”

“Interesting,” Steve mused, as Natasha handed you the vial.

Not caring about how bad it might taste and just wanting to feel better, you gladly drank the entirety of the vial in just a couple gulps.

“It’ll make you quite sleepy, but-” Carol cut herself off as your eyes quickly fluttered shut and you fell into a deep sleep, head falling against Natasha’s shoulders. “They’ll wake up in a few hours feeling better.”

She turned around to grab a chair. “You’re staying?” Sam asked, as they watched her.

“Of course,” Carol said, scoffing as she sat down. She looked at the Avengers. “What, is anyone planning on leaving?”

They all smiled at each other as a series of “no’s” went around. They were more than happy to sit with you and comfort you.

“That’s what I thought,” Carol said proudly, smiling.

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