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pedrito-friskito · 1 year ago

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Happy Sleepover lovely Kay!!

You know how I love me some Steve Rogers, I’d love to request him with the prompt…

“You have any idea how much I hated seeing someone else touch you.”

Please and thank you!

🌹

ericca!!! thanks for such a fun request ☺️ the inspo jumped out of me on this one (but my apologies for taking so long to get it posted!) and out came a sequel/follow-up to walking the wire!!

would def recommend reading that before you read this (if you haven’t already 😉)

tell me your troubles - steve rogers x fem!super soldier reader (phoenix)

word count: 3k

warnings: lil more than canon-typical violence (i like netflix marvel more than disney marvel these days can u tell), lowkey possessive!steve, heavy make outs, shower sex, oral (f receiving), unprotected p-in-v (they’re supersoldiers ok but wrap it before you tap it) - also russian translations from google so if it’s not right I’M SORRY

Nat gives the order to fall back, and it goes against every fibre of Steve’s being to obey.

They have you. They have his girl.

It’s Nat’s op. She’s in charge, and he knows this isn’t her fault, that she’s not to blame for the fact that you’re not by his side right now, that you’re instead being hauled into the back of a large van, too-thick cuffs banding your arms behind your back. He’s having flashbacks to Berlin, to Bucky in a cage. They put a hood over your head, and you manage to catch his eye before your face disappears from view.

Go.

His every instinct is screaming at him to go after you, doubly so when the van starts to drive away. But there are bombs planted between you and him, obstructing his path. One wrong step, and no amount of super-soldier serum could save him from being blasted apart. And then where would that leave him?

Where would that leave you?

“I want a plan,” he spits as soon as they’re back at the makeshift base they’ve been calling home the last few months. It’s no Stark Tower, but there’s running water and a bed he’s shared with you most nights, a haphazard sign scrawled on the door — Cap & Phoenix. Bucky drew a little cartoon shield and a flame to go along with it.

He sees Nat bristle as he barks his order, but when her sharp gaze flicks to him, something in him softens. He tends to forget, that she cares for you on a similar level to his own affection. Not the same type granted, but the Widow holds you close to her heart, and despite Steve’s own confirmation that Nat’s not to blame for your kidnapping, he can see in her face that she doesn’t think the same.

“You didn’t do this, Nat,” he says, following her into the large office they’ve used to map out missions. Bucky and Sam make themselves scarce, disappearing from the corner of Steve’s vision. “We all knew there was a risk.”

“She was right there,” Nat replies, shaking her head, sinking into a crouch in front of the table, surveying the map you’d all reviewed before leaving. “She was right there, and I let them grab her.”

“We couldn’t have known they’d have the capability, the means to—”

“This is my fault, Steve.”

“It’s not,” he reiterates, hand clenched into a fist, knuckles pressed to the table. “I know it, Phoenix knows it. But letting it get the better of you isn’t going to bring her back. You think you made a mistake, then fix it. We find her.” He plants his other fist. “No matter the cost.”

Nat arches one perfect brow, and he can already see the wheels turning behind her eyes. “Sir, yes, sir.”

Tracking you down is the easy part; recovering you proves to be a touch more complicated.

Natasha’s plan is airtight this time, outright refusing to split the team, the four of them moving through the building silently. They have each other’s backs, and soon enough, they’ll have you. But it’s a maze from the moment they step in. The map they have is accurate, but it’s more heavily guarded than they’re anticipating. Nat and Bucky both put men down with acute precision — assassin precision — and Steve finds himself lagging behind Sam, his knuckles aching from the sheer number of punches he’s delivered.

Part of him feels naked without the shield. He gave it up for a reason, before he had you. It’s something he’s talked through over and over, you sprawled on his chest, chin propped on the back of your hand, watching him talk as he stares at the ceiling.

Talk to me, drevniy. Tell me your troubles.

That last night, before the mission went awry, it was the same. He’d talked himself in circles, until his voice went hoarse and he was losing himself to the soft press of your body against his, and then all he really wanted to lose himself in you instead, so he did.

You held him close after and murmured something in Russian he couldn’t quite make out. He lifted his head to ask you what the words meant, but you kissed him before he could get the question out, and you’d drifted off to sleep a few minutes later. He didn’t have the heart to wake you.

Damn the shield, he thinks now, trying not to flinch when Bucky pulls the trigger on his gun, more men dropping to the floor. Damn it all.

They round a corner, and Steve nearly crashes into Nat’s stalled figure.

“Hello, Captain.”

You’re strapped to a chair. Restrained nearly the exact same way that Bucky was back in Berlin. Only him, the man Steve had watched cart you away, he’s got his hand knotted in the back of your hair, your head yanked back, your throat bared, a large knife pressed against it. It could be steel, but Steve would bet good money it’s vibranium.

Steve darts forward, but Nat throw her hand out, stopping him. She tilts her chin imperceptibly, and Steve’s eyes follow the direction, spotting a generator in the far corner. From the corner of his gaze, he sees Bucky catch on, and wordlessly, the plan is formed.

“Let her go,” Steve calls to your captor, and when the man starts laughing, Bucky slinks into the shadows, towards the generator. Nat raises her gun, aiming at the thugs flanking either side of your captor, and Steve’s hands clench into tighter fists.

“I would not do that if I were you, Captain Rogers,” the man taunts, waving a finger in the air. “You have not even heard the bargain I propose, for the return of your sweet Phoenix.”

“I don’t make it a habit of bargaining with kidnappers,” Steve returns, and the man yanks your hair back harder. He can hear your slight whimper from where he stands. “Let her go, and maybe I let you live.” From the corner of his eye, he can see Bucky near the generator, hidden by the shadows — perks of super-soldier sight and stealth.

The man starts laughing. He sees the glint of the knife press against your neck, and a single drop of blood beads along the blade. Nat’s eyes cut to Steve’s, he nods, and Bucky’s metal fist connects with the generator, sparks flying as the room is plunged into darkness.

It comes in flashes. Bullets spark through the air as Nat takes down the two thugs who have started running for them. Bucky shoots forward, yanking the metal away from where it’s restraining your arms and pulls you out of the chair. Steve disarms your captor, the knife now streaked with your blood, but before he can do anything else, you grab it from him, whipping it over your shoulder. The blade buries itself in your captor’s chest, and the man drops instantly.

Steve reaches for you, hauling you into his arms, and you cling to him as you all turn tail, heading out of the building. It’s not until you reach the Quinjet that Steve finally feels relief, but remembers the blood and takes you to the back of the jet while Nat and Bucky prepare for takeoff.

“Let me see,” he murmurs, and wordlessly, you push your hair away, baring your neck to him. The scratch is barely visible, already just the remnant of a scar, but Steve knows it won’t go away, not completely. He wipes the blood gingerly from your skin, his movements gentle even though he knows he can��t hurt you, not truly.

His brow furrows as he looks the rest of you over. There are no other obvious injuries, or evidence of them. Your clothing is tattered, dirt and grime smeared on your skin, and there’s a brightness in your eyes that he hasn’t seen in a long time — not since they pulled you out of that lab.

“I’m fine, drevniy,” you say, grabbing his wrist when his attention falls back to your neck, to the tiny scar now there. “It will take much more than a scratch like that to take me from you.”

Steve bristles at the mere thought. He feels like a live wire suddenly, exposed, vulnerable. You tug on his hand, pulling his palm until it rests over your heart, until he can feel the rapid beat if it against his skin. You lean up, fitting your lips to his pulse, a soft kiss to his throat. His whole body feels tight as a bowstring, and while the feeling of you has soothed it some, he can’t shake it.

“Steve,” you call, your voice low, almost cajoling. Suddenly, he feels guilty. You’re the one who was kidnapped; he should be comforting you, not the other way around. The corner of your mouth lifts. “Tell me your troubles.”

He groans, and the tether on his restraint snaps. Both his hands move to your face, cupping your cheeks in his palms. He hears your quick intake of breath right before his mouth covers yours, and you sigh into him, your body relaxing almost completely in his grip.

“You have no idea,” you murmur, and the purr in your voice makes his tac pants grow tight, “how much I missed your touch.”

“Baby,” he nearly growls, pushing you back against the metal wall of the jet. You’re tucked in the corner now, out of sight of Nat and Bucky, and Steve’s plan forms quicker than Nat’s rescue had. “I need you right now.”

Your breath hitches high, the noise catching in your throat, and Steve’s hands drop from your face to your waist, tugging your hips until they’re flush with his. “Right now?” you ask, a teasing smile on your face. “Buck’s hearing is as good as yours is, Steve. You want him hearing you take what’s yours? Want him to know what I sound like?”

The reminder tugs his restraint back into place. Something deep in his chest, something feral and wild, growls in response. Mine. He lifts you until you’re high enough to wrap your legs around his hips and his fingers press into your sides, feeling the rush of your blood beneath your skin, the heat of it.

He kisses you until the jet touches down again.

As soon as the ramp lowers, he hauls you over his shoulder and stalks down it, his boots clanging against the metal. He barely hears Nat’s low chuckle behind him and grinds his teeth when you palms settle on the small of his back, fingers tapping random patterns against his skin.

Once you’re inside, he heads straight for the bathroom you’ve been sharing. You barely get a word out as he turns the water on, nearly as hot as it’ll go, just like you like it. When he turns back, you’re naked, and more relief blankets him when he sees you’re untouched, unscarred.

“You’re wearing too many clothes, Captain,” you grin, and Steve backs you against the wall, desperate to feel your bare skin against his. You bite your lip as his palms skim up your ribs, but he feels your hands on his belt, unhooking it with ease. But then the light in your eyes changes, and as his belt thunks to the floor, your hand roves up his chest, two fingers tucked under his chin, tilting his face to yours. “I knew you’d come for me.”

Something in his chest cracks. “Of course I did. I…”

He’d barely let himself feel it, when he saw you there, strapped to that chair, that man’s hands on you, the knife at your throat. The…intensity, the way he instantly knew he would do whatever was necessary to get you back. If Nat hadn’t pulled his focus, pointed out the more sensible path, he can only guess what might have happened, what mess he might have left behind.

Your palm, light against his cheek, pulls him out of his head. “Hey, come back to me,” you call, your voice so soft, so sincere, it pushes away the violence in his head, the guilt that threatens to brew over things he hasn’t even done. “I’m here, krasivyy. Alive. Intact. Yours.” You get closer, your nose brushing his, lips grazing his when you speak. “Only yours.”

“Mine,” he repeats, like the word might bring him back down to earth. His hands grip your hips, lifting you with ease, growling when he feels your legs wrap around his waist. “Watching him touch you, you have no idea how I…” He bites off the sentence with a groan as you grind against him, your bare core leaving a wet patch on the spot just above his waist. Keeping you in place with his hips, he rips the shirt off, tossing it away as he pushes at his pants, barely getting them down his legs before his cock is springing free. The head taps between your legs and it makes you squirm.

“I’m yours, drevniy,” you say, and the nickname once made him bristle, but now it just lights a fire in his chest. “Only yours. No one else gets to touch.” You lean up, pulling yourself against his chest, nosing at his neck, scraping your teeth at his earlobe. “Just you.”

Steve growls again, holding you against him with one arm, wrenching the shower door open with the other. You hiss when the water hits you, but the sound drags out into a low moan as he positions you beneath the spray, steam filling the stall, smudging your outlines.

He lets his hands roam, massaging your limbs, cleaning the dirt from your skin. You hum along with his movements, your head tipping back between your shoulders when he works your chest, wiping away the dried blood and grime. Then he walks you back, pushing you against the tiles. You gasp when your back touches them, the porcelain so much colder than the water, but Steve’s made up his mind.

He starts at your lips. Kisses you rough, bites at you bottom lip, pushes his tongue past your teeth to tangle with yours. When your hands move to grip his hair, wet strands wrapped around his knuckles, he groans into your mouth, drags his lips along your jaw, down your throat.

He bends slightly, tracing your collarbones with his tongue. Your hands don’t leave his hair, only gripping tighter as he moves down, nose dragging along your sternum. But then he pauses, cheats left, scraping the scruff of his jaw along the curve of your breast. You breathe out his name when he closes his lips around your nipple, giving you just the edge of his teeth, pinching the other between his knuckles lightly before rolling it between his fingers.

“Steve.”

He grins against you, sure you can feel it as he pulls back, satisfied only when he sees your nipple is peaked, tight from his attention. Then he does it all over again on the right, only stopping when you tug at his hair, a panting mess as you look down at him, your eyes heavy-lidded with lust.

“What are you…” you start to ask, but the words drop off into a moan when he drops to his knees, using his shoulder to wedge your legs wide, leaning in to bite the inside of your thigh.

“Appreciating what’s mine,” he replies, tongue soothing the spot he bit. “Too much?”

You shake your head, rolling it against the tile, a blissed-out smile on your face. Fuck, he missed you. Can’t imagine his life without you. “Never,” you reply, meeting his gaze again. “Prityazhatel'nyy padezh.”

Steve’s brow lifts, and he puts his face against your thigh again, dragging his tongue up toward the heat between your legs. “Translate, please.”

“Possessive.” You moan the word, one hand staying in his hair while the other reaches up to squeeze at your breast. “Fuck, I should have gotten myself kidnapped a long time ago.”

The thought makes him see red, and you squeal as he grabs both your thighs, throwing them over his shoulders and diving straight between your legs.

“Steve!”

He eats your pussy like he’s never done before. Nips and sucks and licks until your thighs are quaking around his ears, until your cries bounce off the tile walls. You’re an oasis in a desert, his first meal after being starved for days. You’re everything.

You’re his.

He doesn’t stop until you cum, your hand an iron vice against his scalp, tugging so hard it gives him just that little twinge of pain, and he’s reminded how evenly matched you are. He takes everything you have to give, drinks down every drop until you’re pushing at him, overstimulated, body lax in his grip. He works his way back up to standing, worshipping you on the way up the same as he had on the way down. Your chest heaves against his as he pushes his body against yours, caging you in against the wall, keeping you safe.

“Tell me something,” he asks, and you nod, the movement lazy, your hands dragging up and down his ribs as he straightens, reaches up to brush a wet strand of hair from your face.

“Mm?”

Steve leans in, nosing at the curve of your jaw before pressing a soft kiss to your throat. “How do you say I love you in Russian?”

Your whole body jolts as the words fall past his lips, and he chuckles into your skin, pulling you even closer, wrapping his body around yours. Your head tips back, eyes trained on the ceiling, but you hold him just as close. “You’re going soft, drevniy.”

“Only for you,” he replies, nipping at your throat. “Yours, remember?”

Your quiet laugh seems to echo around the shower until you speak again. “Ya tebya lyublyu.” You say, and Steve gives his best repetition, earning himself another chuckle from you. After his second try, your eyes lower, and he sees the wetness in them. “I love you, too.”

#my fics #tell me your troubles #sleepover sundae #steve rogers #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers smutt #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #marvel fic #nomad steve rogers #captain america x phoenix

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rei-ismyname · 6 days ago

Text

Avengers Vs X-Men and the demonisation of Cyclops

Part 1

Avengers Vs X-Men, or AvX, was a Summer crossover event in 2012. The title is pretty self explanatory, but there's a lot more to it than that. It was a bookend of sorts of the Extinction era and a coda for Wanda (and her terrible characterisation) calling back to House of M, narratively undoing the Decimation and exploring Hope's role as the Mutant Messiah.

I believe plenty of the dramatis personae played idiot ball hot potato and acted out of character, especially Steve Rogers. However, I'll primarily be looking at the event through a Watsonian lens, except for discussing the setup and aftermath. Scott Summers struggled against many forces during the Phoenix crisis but I propose the narrative was the most powerful force that opposed him.

Logan is describing himself here, ironically. Scott is quite happy with Emma. He talks a good one about 'keeping the kids out of the fighting' but he's perfectly willing to kill Hope and his students fight constantly.

Wolverine and the Schism

To do a proper analysis of AvX and the central conflict, we need to examine the previous instance of the narrative defeating Scott - the Schism. The salient dynamic to carry forward from it was Logan and Scott falling out - or Logan throwing a hypocritical tantrum - depending on your point of view. Whichever you believe, it's undeniable that Logan resented Scott and managed to enlist a lot of people to follow on his campaign of 'anti-Scott.' He left Utopia and restarted the Xavier School, renaming it The Jean Grey School - both creepy and petty, in my opinion. The narrative and Cyclops' team kept all the genocidal threats away from the school, an editorial hand strengthening Logan's argument. Realistically the school should have been destroyed several times over.

My editorialising aside, Scott and Logan's relationship was not in a good place. They'd mostly kept away from each other, but Logan used his Avengers membership to escalate the Phoenix dilemma and poison the well re: the Avengers' approach to Scott. Aside from vague and fragmented warnings from Nova, Logan was The Avengers only source of information on the Phoenix - and he was heavily biased and objectively wrong. The somewhat one-sided rivalry from Schism had turned into outright animosity - telling 'everyone who'd listen ... that he was crazy.'

Phoenix Rising

The X-Men and Avengers both received confirmation of the Phoenix's arrival, though mutants in general had varying degrees of faith that it would come for Hope Summers specifically. As mentioned, Logan positioned himself as an expert despite Rachel Summers, long time Phoenix host, teaching at his school. Scott absolutely had an agenda, but it was reactive and had good reason to believe that the Phoenix had good intentions. Though even if he didn't, he didn't call the Phoenix to Earth. The bird does as it pleases. He certainly could/should have treated Hope like an adult and asked what she wanted, but at the same time she was a 16 year old in his care.

Scott's approach was to prepare Hope as best he could for the trial to come, admittedly quite harshly. He knew there was no getting away from the Phoenix, it's simply too powerful to evade or fight head on. He also should have consulted Rachel, though he corrected that mistake swiftly once things kicked off. Not only was he married to the Phoenix for quite some time but he's aware it's spent a lot of time on earth at least 6 different hosts and the Earth is doing just fine. Importantly, his time-travelling son had been to many futures where Hope was denied the Phoenix and they were ashes, the Earth a desolate wasteland. In futures where she did host the Phoenix, mutants were reignited. His extensive time travelling had yielded very reliable information in the past, his claim that Hope was the Mutant Messiah is not one Scott just took on faith. Cable is an expert in such things AND he raised Hope from birth.

He also had a personal connection to the Phoenix.

The Avengers' strategy was twofold - taking Hope into protective custody while Iron Man 'worked on a science solution' - and sending their most powerful members to go punch the Phoenix before it got to Earth. Operating off Logan's dubious intel, they packed every Avenger they could find onto a Helicarrier and headed for the mutant island proto nation of Utopia. They also didn't really share that apparently the Phoenix is just a fickle cosmic troll now, allegedly just blowing up planets on a whim. Yes, Dark Phoenix ate a star and genocided a planet, but that was after immense psychological trauma and needless escalation. Even then, it was nearly talked down (by Scott) until Charles Xavier butted in and tried to overpower it. Hopefully he's not arrogant enough to try that again (he is.) Since then, many mutants had hosted the Phoenix and they're all doing fine.

The Avengers had nothing but bad intel, whereas the X-Men had empirical evidence and decades of experience dealing with the Phoenix.

We need to take Hope

Member of the Illuminati's finest diplomacy

Neither man does a great job communicating here, but the onus is on Cap to explain why he's coming to take your granddaughter based on advice from the Stabbing Guy. He presents no plan (they don't have one) and ignores the suggestion that his expert is not an expert. Scott and co were preparing for what has historically been an internal mutant matter when an army arrives on their doorstep telling them how it's going to be. After a failure to reach any sort of middle ground (not that Cap was offering any) Scott responded to Cap's refusal to leave by blasting him non-lethally.

I wasn't asking

All other X-Men are being oddly timid here. Nice title drop, Spider-Man.

'Wants us to look like bullies' says Tony AKA the military industrial complex and founder of the Illuminati. The Avengers get their mandate from the United States and answer to the President and SHIELD, but generally act as they please. Their sense of righteousness is a constant throughout this event and they absolutely act like bullies from start to finish.

Magneto launched Colossus at the Helicarrier (that thing launching at least 12 jets with ~30 powerful superhumans on it) to deny them a force multiplier and press their initiative, though once all Avengers deployed the best they could do was hold the line while Hope was kept safe. The Avengers wanted Hope and the X-Men were determined to protect her.

Remember, dipshit? Stabbing the Phoenix isn't effective. You should know this.

Showing he'd learnt nothing from Jean Grey, any other Phoenix experiences, House of M, decades of knowing Rachel Summers, etc - and in a stunning act of hypocrisy - Logan snuck away from the fight to kill Hope. She manifested Phoenix powers (way before it reached Earth) and burnt him to a crisp. Spooked by the situation and guilty people were fighting over her, Hope fled and successfully sent everyone on a wild goose chase trying to find her.

While both teams were scrambling and pummeling each other, Hope found Logan and proposed a bipartisan plan - they'd travel to the moon and Hope would accept the Phoenix. If she could handle it, great. If not, she'd willingly let Logan kill her. The agreement was to keep the others out of it - she wanted agency over her life and didn't want brawling superhumans ruining her zen. Logan betrayed her and told the Avengers, of course.

Iron Man's genius science solution

The X-Men and Avengers arrived and really ruined the mood. Logan was straight up trying to kill Scott. Just as Hope was about to host the Phoenix, Tony fucking Stark displayed the Avengers' complete lack of Phoenix experience and his own personal arrogance by activating that Transformers-looking thing up there. Everyone held their breath while he shot it with a big gun and something unexpected happened.

Out of Hope

Unsurprisingly this unexpected happening was an utter disaster, splitting the Phoenix into five pieces that ended up in Piotr, Emma Frost, Namor, Ilyana, Scott (or P.E.N.I.S if you're puerile like me.) The Phoenix Five were born against their consent and now The Avengers had 5 problems to deal with instead of one. In terms of culpability it's important to recognise that none of the P5 planned for this or wanted it - The Avengers and especially Tony bullied their way into this situation. Unfortunately, The Phoenix is kinda like the mafia - once you're in you can't leave, so the P5 are stuck with the results of the Avengers' non-plan. In fact, everyone is stuck with the fruit of their arrogance and The Avengers especially do not like the bitter taste. As they're still making demands of them, the X-Men regroup to process what happened. They eventually reach consensus on how to proceed, and the Avengers antagonise them every step of the way. They're convinced that this means the Earth is doomed, and blame the P5 and especially Scott for being there when Tony tried to kill a cosmic fundamental force of creation.

Sure, they're talking like lunatics, kinda. Maybe like people unexpectedly possessed by a godlike being? Completely ignoring who caused this and forgetting how possession works, Cap doubles down on 'we're right and you're wrong.' The P5 are villains now, you can tell because they want to take Hope to help her 🙄.

In part 2, The Phoenix Five explore benevolent uses of cosmic power and the Avengers keep acting like paranoid control freaks. The whole world has to decide how they feel about that, and opinions are mixed.