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dem-obscure-imagines · 7 months

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You're So Timeless | Vol. 1

Steve Rogers x Reader

Fandom: MCU

Summary: In 1943, Steve Rogers was visited by his soulmate. He fell hard. Problem is, she was from the future and didn’t stick around for long. Now, in the twenty-first century, he finally found her again, except this version of her hasn’t met him yet and won’t know he’s her soulmate for another year.

Note: So this is a combination of my other two Steve Rogers soulmate AU fics, but lengthened and fleshed out into a full fic. I was literally possessed to write this. I have no other explanation. I really like how it came out. I gave this one chapter headings (I am also going to post it to Ao3) and yes some are Taylor Swift titles. Sorry about that. It takes place roughly around the time Civil War would, but we have managed to avoid the war this time around. I also moved some other characters up the timeline because I think they’re neat and I said so. Without further ado, please enjoy my new Magnum Opus.

Also Tumblr made me split it into two parts. Part 2 linked HERE and also at the end of the post.

Warnings: Canon-typical violence/injuries, soulmate au, tons of mutual pining, kind of a slowburn but in reverse. Light angst, but a happy ending.

Word Count: 38.7k total (I am not sorry)

Reader Is: Enhanced (forcefields), 24 years old, female

The End

Time.

It was a fickle thing. In the blink of an eye, a year had passed. A mere twelve months earlier, you had been living a different life. The only life you had been responsible for was your own. And your plants, but…they never seemed to last that long under your care. Now, everything was different.

It was the day before your birthday. Your twenty-fifth birthday, which, in the world you lived in, meant that tomorrow, a name would appear on your wrist, the name of your soulmate. It had been stressing you out all day, the weight of tomorrow and everything it meant.

It was late, and you were exhausted from a day of overthinking. The longer you stayed up, the longer you delayed the inevitable reveal, and thinking about it too much made you nervous, so you just decided to get to sleep sooner than later.

It was once you were just about to climb into bed that there was a knock at your door.

“It’s open!” You called. The door opened slowly, revealing Steve, who was leaning in your doorway, arms crossed, that pensive look in his blue eyes. “Oh, hey.”

“Hi.” He chuckled. He seemed nervous, although you weren’t sure why.

“Everything alright, Steve?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. I actually came in here to check on you. Wanda said you were…quiet.”

“Yeah, you could say that.” You hugged your arms around your frame and bit your lip, looking up at the super soldier standing in front of you. “Just…I don’t know. I’ve been looking forward to tomorrow for my entire life, but…now that it’s here, I’m so scared.”

“Hey, come here.” He said, pulling you to him, strong arms wrapped around you, as if he could protect you from the future itself.

“I don’t know what to do…”

“(Y/N), whoever they are, they are incredibly, incredibly lucky. You don’t need to worry about anything. It’ll all work out. It always does.” He said it like he was certain. Like somehow he knew what would happen in the morning when suddenly your life was turned on its head and you had to venture out to find your other half.

Since you’d met him, Steve wore a leather band around his wrist, covering his soulmate’s name. You’d figured he must have met them in the forties and…maybe they hadn’t made it long enough to see him come out of the ice. But you didn’t ask about it. You never dared to put that question into words. He’d been through enough heartbreak already.

“What if they don’t like me…?”

He scoffed, holding you tighter. “That’s impossible. They’re going to love you. So much. I promise.”

“And…and we’ll still be f-friends?”

Steve pulled away, looking down at you, a hand very carefully touching your cheek. “Of course we will still be friends. Nothing is ever going to change that. I promise.”

You nodded, a tear slipping down your cheek. “Good. Thank you, Steve. For everything.”

He gently wiped the tear away, the pad of his thumb warm. Once he was sure you were okay, he let go, looking at you with that knowing sparkle in his eye once more. He took a little extra time to look at the shirt you were wearing, the Star Wars tee you’d had since high school. “See you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow.” You agreed.

“And happy birthday, (Y/N).”

We’ll Meet Again

“Ma’am? Are you alright? Ma’am?” The voice sounded far away. You were pretty sure you were still dreaming. You opened your eyes slowly and immediately became aware of the pounding pain in your head.

“Ow, oh my God.” You reached up and felt there, but it didn’t feel like you were bleeding or anything.

“Ma’am?”

You froze for a second, slowly looking up at the figure standing above you, confusion written all over his familiar features. It took you a long moment to put the pieces together. You were on a porch somewhere in what appeared to be New York, but it was…different. A lot different than the parts of the city you knew. Alright, it had to be a dream.

You looked up at the man standing above you and did a double-take. But no, it was him. It was a tiny, frail version of Steve. Your eyebrows furrowed and you sat up slowly, staring at him for a long moment before whispering, “Steve?”

His mouth opened and then shut again and he made a face of confusion, like he was trying to place where he knew you from, but he didn’t know you yet, and wouldn’t know you for several more years, to say the least. “Do I know you?”

“It’s complicated.” You exhaled. “Can we go inside? You’re going to need to sit down for this.”

Dumbfounded, Steve nodded and you stood up from the porch, only to find that he was at your eye level when you did. Weird. He led you into the small apartment and you looked around. It was quaint. There was an easel in the corner of the room and…Bucky Barnes sitting on the couch? You stared at him for a good, long moment, a shiver running down your spine.

“Who’s the dame?” He read your shirt. “What is Star…Wars…?”

“About to find that out myself.” He chuckled, leading you into the living room. “Buck, could you give us a minute?”

“I’ll be in the kitchen.” Bucky got up and walked to the other half of their tiny two-bedroom.

You sat down on the couch and so did he. The silence was thick. You thought for several moments. You weren’t quite sure how you had ended up in the 1940s. You looked down at your hands and it was then that your gaze finally landed on the writing on your wrist. And then everything made sense.

“What’s the date today?”

“It’s July 4th, why?”

“July 4th…” You whispered. “What, 1943?”

You could see the wheels turning behind his eyes before he replied, “Yes ma’am.”

“Well, happy birthday, first of all. And second of all…” You held up your wrist so he could read it. Steve’s eyes went wide and he stared at the three words written neatly on your skin in his own handwriting.

Steven Grant Rogers.

“You’re my…” He looked at you for a long time, his eyes wide. He hastily undid the cuff around his wrist and held it out to you, your own name written there. He ran a finger across the letters, as if to prove they were really there.

“I’m your soulmate.” You said certainly.

It hit you like a truck, then. The weird look on your Steve’s face, the way he was so certain that everything would work out. It was because he had already lived through this. And that meant that in all the time he’d known you, he’d been hiding his mark not because his soulmate had died, but instead because you were his soulmate and you didn’t know it yet.

Your entire year of friendship, of memories, of roadtrips and missions and movie marathons…he had known the whole time. And that look in his eyes wasn’t just his protective side coming out. It was love. It had been love the whole time.

Oh.

Steve exhaled a long, shaking breath, really taking you in. Once again, he had a million stars in his eyes. He let out a whispered, “Wow,” as tears began to form.

You came back down to earth. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” He chuckled, sniffling as a tear ran down his cheek. “I’ve just, I’ve got a lot of…health problems, so I wasn’t sure if I’d ever…meet you. And you’re here and you’re great and I just…I’m sorry.”

That brought tears to your eyes. “Oh, Steve…” You pulled him into your arms and he didn’t hesitate to surrender to your embrace, his arms wrapping tight around you and holding you close, head nestled into the crook of your neck. “Just breathe. It’s okay. I’m right here. I’ve got you.”

Always.

He took your advice, doing his best to avoid an asthma attack on what was shaping up to be the best day of his life. Once he finally caught his breath, he pulled away to look at your face again. “I have to ask…How did you know?”

“I don’t know if you can tell from these clothes,” you motioned down to the t-shirt and sweatpants you were wearing, “but I’m not from around here, exactly.”

“I kind of thought so, but I didn’t want to be rude.” He smiled softly. “Um, where are you from, then?”

“I’m from the future. Like…a while from now. It’s hard to explain why or how, and I’m not really sure how I got here, to be honest, but I’m glad I am.” You sighed, thumb grazing his cheek, wiping away his tears. He crooned at your touch. “I don’t know how long we have before I have to go back.”

“Am I there? Where you’re from?”

“You are. It’s complicated. We’re really good friends and…when I get back, I’m sure we’ll probably be even more than that.” You smiled, shaking your head. “I can’t believe I didn’t put the pieces together sooner.”

“(Y/N)?” Steve asked, trying out your name for the first time.

“Yeah?”

“Let me take you out today, show you a good time here before you have to go back.” He took your hand and carefully laced his fingers through your own, testing the weight of it, the feel of it.

You smiled. “I’d like that.”

“Not to eavesdrop, lovebirds — congratulations, by the way — but if you’re going to take her out, we’re going to need to find her some clothes that aren’t so…‘not from around here.’” Bucky leaned in the doorway.

“Yeah, I thought the same thing.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll call one of my girls and we’ll get her squared away. Sit tight.”

“Thanks, Bucky.” You said, chuckling when his eyes widened after you addressed him by name. “I know you, too. From the, uh, future.”

“Weird…” Bucky decided.

“Long story?” Steve asked, studying the look on your face.

“Very.” You agreed. After staring at him for another long moment, you pulled him back into your arms again, exhaling a long breath before whispering, “Steve, I’m so glad it’s you…”

***

“Wow.” You stared at yourself in the mirror, studying the way Bucky’s, ahem, lady friend, had curled your hair, done your makeup. You did a little twirl and relished in the way the skirt of your dress twirled. It was navy blue, short ruffled sleeves with a flared skirt and buttons down the front. “I think it suits me.”

“I agree. Blue is a good color on you.” Steve was sitting in a chair at the edge of the room, absolutely enamored as he watched you. “Although, I’m sure they’re all good colors on you, doll.”

You felt the heat rise to your cheeks. “Thanks.”

“I mean it.” He stood up and walked to you, slipping one of his hands into each of yours and staring into your eyes, looking at the way you looked standing next to him in his reflection. His soulmate. The kind of girl people write poems about. “You look great.”

“I don’t look out of place?”

“No one is gonna think you’re a time traveler. Well, unless you tell them.” Bucky said. “Maybe don’t do that anymore.”

“Yeah, I wasn’t planning on it.” You chuckled and gave Steve’s hands a squeeze. “Where to first, soulmate?”

His cheeks reddened as soon as you said the word. “Well, I was thinking we could go to my favorite little diner down the street to grab something for lunch, and then maybe we could take a walk through the park, catch a movie, and then go out for drinks tonight?”

“What, you aren’t gonna take her dancing?” Bucky teased, ruffling Steve’s hair under a large hand. “Show the girl a good time?”

“I would if I didn’t have two left feet.” Steve chuckled, a sheepish smile on his face. He looked at you, waiting for some kind of response. “How does that sound?”

“It sounds like a great time, Steve.”

He smiled. “Good.”

The two of you left the apartment not long after that, and walked side by side towards the diner. Your hands were swinging in the space between you and your hand brushed Steve’s once, twice, a third time, and then you slipped your hand into his, intertwining your fingers.

You caught him smile out of the corner of your eye. “Is this okay?”

“Yeah, of course it’s okay.” He grinned and chuckled to himself. “You can hold my hand as much as you want, doll.”

When the two of you finally got to the diner, a little bell rang over your heads and you got seated at a booth by the window. The two of you ordered drinks and you skimmed the menu while you waited.

“So, tell me about yourself.” You said, resting your chin against your fist and looking over at Steve. You studied the way his blue, blue eyes flicked up to your own and the blush that covered his cheeks shortly thereafter.

“You probably know a lot of it already.” He chuckled. “Unless we don’t talk a lot?”

“We talk quite a bit, but I still want to know about this you. Here and now.”

“I like art. Drawing and painting and stuff.” He said. “I haven’t had time to do much lately, but I’d like to get back into it.”

“See, that I didn’t know.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I didn’t know you were into art.”

“I could, uh, show you sometime.” He offered.

“I’d like that.” You smiled. “What else?”

“I like to read. I like going to Dodgers games with Bucky. One time he took me to Coney Island. I don’t like rollercoasters, but I liked playing the games. He wasted three whole dollars trying to win a teddy bear for a redhead named Dot.”

“Three whole dollars…” You chuckled. “Well you don’t have to worry about the rollercoasters too much, I can’t go upside down without throwing up.”

“That makes two of us. Enough about me, tell me about you.” Steve nudged, his hand slowly moving towards yours. “How do we know each other? When did we meet?”

“We’re…coworkers, I guess you could say. We met about a year back and now we live in the same building? I’m sorry for being so vague, I just—”

“Don’t want to give it away, yeah, I get it.” He nodded, understandingly.

“You took me under your wing as soon as I moved in and really made me feel welcome. You’re the one that brought me onto the team, actually.” You took a sip of your drink. “We’ve been through a lot together already, and I’m sure it’s just the tip of the iceberg.”

“Mmm…” Steve nodded. “I know I just met you, but I’m really glad you and I are close. Well, will be close.” He paused before chuckling and shaking his head. “There’s still some little voice in the back of my head telling me all of this is just some amazing dream.”

“That doesn’t even begin to cover it.” You chuckled, tucking a piece of curled hair back behind your ear. “I’ve…I’ve had a crush on you forever, Steve. I can’t believe this is happening.”

He stared at you, almost dumbfounded. “O-on me?”

“Yeah.” You agreed. You’d forgotten, you supposed, that Steve had had this phase, the self-depreciation, the insecurity. Your Steve, when complimented, was shy, sure, but you knew he understood what people were talking about. This Steve didn’t see it that way. Not yet. But it would be your job to use your one day with him to change that, to make your soulmate see that he was worthy of love, even self-love. “Yeah, of course on you, Steve. I can’t believe I get to have you.”

His cheeks reddened and he finally took the leap, taking your hand across the table, thumb grazing your knuckles with care. His blue eyes sparkled. “Funny. I was gonna say the same thing about you.”

***

Once the two of you were finished up at the diner, you took a walk through the park. It was gorgeous out, a bright, sunny, warm summer afternoon. Several couples were strolling down the paths, hand in hand, and you were one of them, your hand held tight in Steve’s, his thumb gently stroking the back of yours.

You went to the theater and caught a movie together. Luckily enough, they were showing the Wizard of Oz. Your current situation had you feeling like Dorothy in more ways than one. The movie had only come out four years earlier, which was definitely strange. Not to mention the fact that the tickets were only twenty-five cents, the popcorn a mere ten cents.

And then, once the movie was over and the sun was setting, you went to a bar, where Steve ordered each of you a drink. You took a sip of yours, something sweet, and smiled at him across the table.

“So, how’s your day been, birthday boy?” You asked coyly.

“The best I’ve had so far,” he replied, his eyes sparkling. The sparkle faded, however, when his expression grew somber. He hesitated, but then asked, “Okay, I have to know…How long do I have to wait to see you again?”

You exhaled a long sigh, biting your lip. If you told him the truth, he might ask questions you couldn’t tell him the answers to. And besides, the real answer would require some math. You didn’t know the specifics.

“I’ll be honest, Steve, it’s…it’s a pretty long time.” You thought for a long moment before continuing, “I…I can’t really tell you why. It’s all really complicated, and if I tell you too much, it might not happen the way it’s supposed to.”

“Oh…” Steve nodded and took a sip of his drink. Once he set down the glass, he reached across the table and took your hand. “Well, however long it is,” he looked straight into your eyes and a chill ran down your spine, “It’ll be worth it. Every second. I promise.”

You could have cried. “I hope so.”

“There you two are! I was wondering which bar you’d wandered into!” Bucky was, apparently, already slightly intoxicated as he approached you and Steve with a date of his own. “How was your day on the town, lovebirds?”

“Spectacular.” You replied. “I wish there was more time to soak it in.”

“New York sure is something, huh?” Bucky’s date asked, giggling innocently. If only she knew the half of it.

“Yeah, you could say that.” You laughed and tucked a piece of hair behind your ear.

“You guys wanna sit with us?” Steve asked.

“If you don’t mind too much, punk.” Bucky grinned.

Steve got up and switched sides of the booth so he was sitting next to you instead of across from you. You slid your hand into his, intertwining your fingers. He smiled, chuckling softly to himself as he gave your hand a squeeze.

“Did you give the lady her dance, Rogers?” Bucky asked, smirking.

“Not yet.” Steve chuckled. “We’ll see. The asthma makes it a bit difficult sometimes.”

“Never seems to stop you from getting into fights.” Bucky muttered, causing Steve’s cheeks to flush.

“Just wait until the band plays something slow,” Bucky’s date pointed out.

“There you go!” Bucky raised his glass to his lips. “Great idea, Maggie.”

“Glad to be of service.”

And so, the four of you chatted until the band started to play something sweet and slow. Steve looked at you for approval and you nodded. He led you out onto the floor with the other couples.

Steve blushed, flustered, and he looked at you before saying, “I don’t know how to do this.”

“It’s easy.” You promised, guiding one of his hands to your waist and holding the other. “That’s it. And then we just move to the music. You can twirl me around if you feel so inclined.”

“Alright.” He chuckled, swaying in time with you. “Hey, uh, (Y/N), I need you to know…I had a really, really great time today. You’re everything I’ve ever wanted in a soulmate and I’m so excited to spend the rest of my life with you someday, however far away that someday is.”

“I’m glad I met your expectations.” You smiled, tugging him a bit closer.

“No, you exceeded them. You’re better than anything I could have imagined. I’m so lucky.” He paused, and his expression fell a little. “I know I’m a lot. I have a lot of problems and they might complicate things sometimes, but…”

“Steve, you’re perfect.” You shook your head and leaned forward, resting your forehead against his. “The universe gave you to me for a reason and I’m so, so glad it did. You’re amazing. I can’t think of anyone better to spend the rest of my life with.”

He was quiet for a moment before whispering, “Can I please kiss you, doll?”

You leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips, the music swelling around you as you guided his hands to your waist, cupping his cheeks to hold him close to you. When the moment had passed, you rested your nose against his, meeting his eyes and inhaling his scent, committing this version of him to memory before he was reduced to just that, a memory.

“Steve Rogers, I am so sorry you will not hear me say these words until after I go back tomorrow, but I love you. I have loved you for a very long time. And I know I will love you for the rest of my life.”

You spent the rest of the night together. Twirling across the dancefloor, talking, soaking each other in. But when you reached the front porch of the townhouse, Steve looked back down the steps to find you’d disappeared, leaving him with nothing but the memory of your lips, your laugh, your smile.

“You gonna be alright?” Bucky asked, a hand on his shoulder.

“I don’t know.” He replied, words swallowed up by the sounds of the night. “Just give me a minute, pal.”

Bucky nodded, solemn. “Take all the time you need.”

The Beginning

Steve remembered the day you’d met—for the second time, though he didn’t realize it right away—like it was tattooed on his brain. It was a few years after he’d come out of the ice and he had taken Tony’s advice to get out more, which had led him to the local mall.

It had been an uneventful day. He strolled around the perimeter, taking in the storefronts, studying the fashion, browsing the menu of a pretzel place, reading the posters on the exterior of the movie theater, the things that were coming out in the coming months. Nothing interested him in particular. He didn’t really care for war movies.

After a few quiet hours, his peaceful walk was interrupted by screams, people running away at top speed, which, of course, caused him to spring into action, assessing the situation. He ran towards the source of the chaos, scanning, scanning, until his eyes landed on the attacker, a guy with a flamethrower, aimed at a teenage theater employee. Steve hurdled over a trash can, moving people out of the way, directing them to safety and trying to put himself between himself and the mallgoers, but before he could, you did, hands out in front of you and what seemed to be an invisible shield poised there, redirecting the flames and protecting the movie theater employee that had nearly been caught in the crossfire.

A quick flick of your wrist knocked the attacker’s gun out of his hands and it slid across the floor to Steve’s feet. He chucked it into the fountain without a second thought, where it fizzled pathetically. The guy lunged at you with heavy metal gauntlets, and you dodged the first swing but caught the second in the face, falling backwards. When you landed, however ungracefully, you sent a blast of energy at the guy, knocking him over a plant and sprawling onto the tile floor.

While the guy was on the ground, Steve tackled him, wrenching the gauntlets off of his hands and chucking them away, too. Soon, the police arrived, apprehending the guy while mall security comforted the distressed mall patrons, ushering them to safety and medical attention.

You sat on a bench after, breathing heavy, a cut on your forehead. Steve walked over, interested in this superpowered rescuer, someone who wasn’t yet on the Avengers’ radar, but would most definitely be on the news the next day if the sheer amount of phone footage recorded was any indication.

“Are you alright, ma’am?” He asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I’m just glad everyone is okay.” You told him, meeting his eyes.

He finally got a good look at you and froze, looking bewildered. A deer in headlights. “You’re…”

There you are, doll. I’ve been looking everywhere for you.

It was you. Of course it was you. Since the moment he’d been unfrozen, he’d been looking for you. His soulmate. The girl from the future that popped in on his twenty-fifth birthday, turned his whole life on its head, and then left without warning, hours after their first kiss. Back when he was five-foot-nothing with asthma and more medical conditions than he could even remember.

Back before he was anything.

And you’d loved him anyway. You’d given him the day of a lifetime and hope for not only a future, but for love. That someone could love him for him despite it all.

“I know.” You knew? “I…I don’t know what it is or…why I can do it. I’ve been like this since college.”

Your powers, you meant. You thought he was talking about your powers and not your name, which was burning a hole into his wrist beneath the thick leather band keeping it hidden.

“Right. Well, it’s…” He sighed, gathering his words, hiding the elation and pain behind a warm smile. “It’s a good thing you were here. I don’t have my shield on me.”

“Mine is built in.” You chuckled.

“You, uh…have a cut. On your forehead.”

“Oh, do I?” You reached up and found it with your fingers and they came away a bit bloody. “Shit.”

“Come on.” He offered you his hand and you took it, letting him lead you over to the counter of the theater. “Hi, do you have a first aid kit we could borrow?”

“Yeah, of course.” The girl at the counter said, rushing to grab it.

Steve patched you up with gentle hands, off in a corner on your own, in the room the theater used for birthday parties. Staring up at him, you finally realized the obvious. This was Captain America. And he was using a careful finger to spread a triple antibiotic ointment on your cut.

Play it cool, (Y/N).

“Do you do this often? The hero thing?” Steve asked, trying to sound somewhat indifferent. He couldn’t be, though. Not entirely. Not when it came to you.

“No.” You shrugged. “Haven’t had much opportunity, thankfully. I mean…I’d like to, I just didn’t know how to…get into it, I guess. Any email I sent to Stark or S.H.I.E.L.D. or whatever would end up on a slush pile.”

“Well, I’ve got some connections. If you’re seriously considering it. I can’t say I recommend it, but…Obviously you’ve got that protective instinct and you seem to work well under pressure.”

“I don’t know about that. My heart is about to leap out of my chest.” You admitted, laughing as he carefully laid a Bandaid over the cut, closing the kit.

“That makes two of us.”

“Well, if you think I’m really cut out for it…I’d love to help.”

***

It was three days later that Nick Fury got in touch with you. You thought it was a scam call at first, but no one else would possibly have the info about you that he did. That was S.H.I.E.L.D. for you, you supposed.

You packed up your apartment, your boxes of books, your old journals, your clothes and makeup, your life, and hopped in the jet that was waiting for you at the meeting place. Inside was a pilot with flaming red hair, Natasha Romanoff. The Black Widow. It was hard not to get a little starstruck.

She helped you load your things into the jet, let you settle into the copilot seat, and then you took off, soaring away from your old life and towards your new one, the mysterious, magnificent facility tucked into upstate New York, that iconic A emblazoned on the front of the building.

“Steve said you’re telekinetic. That’s cool.” She complimented with a smirk.

“Yeah, I’ve got force-field stuff. I don’t know what else, exactly.”

“Oh, we’ll figure all that out. Banner already has a list of tests he wants to run. Nothing too intense. I made him promise not to give you the lab rat treatment too soon.”

“Reassuring.” You chuckled.

“Wanda’s been decorating your room all day. It’s not often we get new blood.”

“I appreciate it. I can’t wait to meet everyone.”

“They can’t wait to meet you.”

The jet landed a little under an hour later and Natasha helped you haul boxes towards the front door, where Steve was waiting. It was like time slowed, that look in his eyes, glistening little stars.

“Come on, Rogers, these boxes aren’t going to move themselves.” Nat waved him over, snapping both of you out of your trance.

“Right, right.” He jogged over. “Is there anything heavy?”

“That one.” You pointed. “It’s got my candles in it.”

“On it.”

You grabbed a few tote bags, slinging your computer bag over your shoulder. A few others came out to help, Clint and Wanda namely, the latter of whom used her shimmering red powers to speed the process along. Were you any more confident in your own powers, you would do the same, but you hadn’t had much opportunity to use them yet, and you didn’t want to drop anything fragile on your first day.

You started unpacking the essentials, your smart speaker, your laptop, some books and your favorite candle. You put some clothes in the dresser, hung some up in the large sliding closet in the wall. Upon further examination, you had your own bathroom, too, which was nice. There was a wall tapestry with sunflowers on it, and several little knickknacks. Wanda’s loving touch.

Someone cleared their throat and you turned to find Steve there, arms crossed, leaning in the doorway.

“Hi there, um, just checking in. Figured you might want a tour when you got settled in. No rush, of course.”

“I would love a tour. I can already tell I’m gonna get lost in this place.”

He grinned. “Not on my watch. Come on. I’ll show you around.”

Steve walked with you through the office spaces, the computer labs, Bruce’s lab, Tony’s. Tony was in the city, but Bruce was home and introduced himself with a dad joke about the Hulk and a warm handshake. You saw the training facility, a giant room with floor to ceiling windows, a wall of mirrors, practice dummies, landing mats, and plenty of sparring weapons. There was, separately, a fully furnished gym, and then the basics, a large, modern kitchen, living areas and lounges, study spaces, a library, a party room with a bar, and a very fancy coffee machine.

You could see yourself making a home here.

Steve walked you back to the hallway where all the bedrooms were. “If you need anything or have any questions, my room is just down the hall on the left. Wanda is next door. Dinner is at six.”

“Six o’clock it is. Thank you, Cap.”

“You can call me Steve.”

“Steve.” You nodded, slowly accepting the fact that you were now on a first name basis with Captain America. “And you can call me (Y/N).”

“Nice to meet you, (Y/N).” He said, some twinge of nostalgia at the end of his words. You turned back into your room to get some more unpacking done and Steve walked back down the hall, taking a deep breath and looking up at the ceiling, doing his best to hold in his tears.

…Ready For It?

You spent the first few days in your room for the most part, unpacking but also hiding, if you were honest. You met Vision. He seemed nice. He also had the ability to phase through walls, apparently. Still no sign of Thor, but you weren’t holding your breath. You were sure he was a busy guy.

Sam Wilson introduced himself with the same offer everyone else had so far, to let them know if you needed anything. You appreciated it.

And then, finally, there was Tony, whose dry humor came across immediately. He sized you up, drilling questions about where you went to college, what you majored in, what your top three movies from the 1980s were. You were pretty sure he liked you, but you didn’t think he trusted you. And that was okay. You knew that was something you’d have to earn around there.

“No soulmark yet, kid?” He asked, eyeing up your bare wrist.

“Not yet.” You confirmed.

“That makes you what, twenty-three? Twenty-four?”

“Twenty-four. As of last month, actually.”

“Okay.” He nodded. “Well that’s exciting. I’m sure you’re counting down the days.”

“More or less.” You chuckled, catching Steve watching you out of the corner of your eye. He did that a lot, you noticed.

Before Tony could come up with some witty comeback, the lights flashed red, accompanied by a loud siren.

“Vis? What’s going on?” Tony asked as Vision walked into the room, his sophisticated sweater melting into the uniform you’d seen on the news, red and green with a golden cape.

“There seems to be a stir at the local fairgrounds. Tremors and gunshots. Hostages.”

“Alright, let’s go pay them a visit then.” Tony pressed a button on his watch and transformed into Iron Man in front of your very eyes. “You can stay here or come with us. Up to you. But suit up fast. We’re out in five.”

You stood there for a moment, waiting for the shock to wear off, but the sirens definitely weren’t helping.

“Stick with me.” Steve instructed, voice calm, confident.

“Okay.” You nodded, following after him, towards the hangar where they kept the jets.

Natasha was standing at a locker, pulling her catsuit on with impressive speed, Clint beside her, loading a quiver with arrows, checking his bow.

“Nat, can you get her ready?”

“Baby’s first mission?” She asked, impressed.

You nodded, waiting for orders.

“Well, it should be an easy one, from the sound of it. Here, put this on. We’ll get you your own gear in the next few weeks.”

She chucked you an extra suit and you did your best to shimmy into it. Surprisingly, you could actually move in it. There were holsters, but you weren’t gun trained, so you figured it was best to leave that to the professionals. Instead, you followed the others onto the jet, hoping your forcefields and blossoming battle instincts would be enough to protect you out there.

***

The fair had devolved quickly into madness. There was fire, screaming, running, and gunshots. You flinched at the onslaught of it, but followed the others out anyway, listening to the voice in your earpiece, Steve’s voice, as he issued orders. You were put on civilian evacuation with Sam while the others engaged with the attackers. Six of them.

You did your job diligently, ushering people to a safe distance while law enforcement arrived. Until one of the attackers engaged with you, however, mistaking you for a civilian. Something snapped. In an instant your flight instinct vanished, replaced with the need to fight. He punched at you and you countered, sweeping a leg under him and then using a forcefield to knock him into the cornfield.

One of them launched a bazooka at Tony while he wasn’t looking, and without a thought, you trapped the explosive in a bubble, forcing it into the air where it exploded harmlessly, away from everyone.

And when the dust settled, the rest of the team turned to look at you, sharing looks with each other.

“Thanks for the save, kid. I owe you one.” Tony complimented, clapping you on the back on his way into the jet. “Let’s get something to eat. I’m starving.”

Your heart raced with the adrenaline of battle, the feeling of a job well done. Steve gave you a thumbs-up, a proud grin. His risk had paid off. You weren’t a total failure.

“You doin’ okay?” He asked, slinging his shield onto his back.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” You replied, letting the energy fizzle back into your palms.

He watched with interest at the faint crackles of blue that made up your powers. “You did good out there.”

You felt your cheeks flush. “Thanks, I—"

“Alright new girl, were are we stopping for food?” Natasha asked, slinging an arm around your shoulders.

“I get to pick?” You asked with a laugh.

“And don’t be afraid to pick something fancy. It’s Tony’s treat.” Clint added, walking with the rest of you onto the jet. You strapped in while the others tried their darndest to influence your pick, bickering like siblings. Like your family.

Yeah, you could get used to this.

Waypoint

Your training started shortly after that first mission. Bruce took all your vitals, measured them before, during, and after use of your powers. He recorded said powers with every device known to man until he had your ability down to a science. He had a hunch they were of cosmic origin, but you had no idea when you could have possible come in contact with something like that.

Next came a uniform. At the moment, it was a dark indigo color, something similar to navy blue, but leaning a bit more purple. The chest area was left blank, Tony claiming he’d add a symbol once his graphic design team came up with something. He did add some accents up the arms and down the legs, thin, light blue lines that matched the color of your powers.

Natasha and Clint gave you a few crash courses on weapons and your aim left a bit to be desired, but your hand-eye coordination wasn’t bad. Sam put you on a modified military workout regimen to get in shape, get your stamina up with the rest of the team.

You practiced making forcefields, seeing how big you could make them, how small, how much force they could endure before they broke. Natasha shot some bullets at them, and your fields caught them, allowing you to kill their momentum and drop them harmlessly to the ground. They could withstand some electricity, but not Wanda’s powers. And they held against Steve’s superstrength, but not for long. Still, a few hits from a supersoldier was more than most could endure, so it would buy you some time in the field.

Eventually, you moved on from just forcefields and started learning to move objects. It turned out, you were not limited to bubbles. You could create platforms underneath things. This evolved into creating platforms underneath people, that they could jump on, or ride on top of while you moved them.

You practiced using them for transport too, but it was harder standing on them while controlling them, especially if you tried to jump from platform to platform. It was a bit like patting your head and rubbing your tummy, and it would take a lot of practice.

There weren’t many missions, and the ones that popped up, you didn’t get sent on. They were high level things, and while your powers were improving, and very quickly, Bruce was always quick to reassure you, you weren’t ready for covert ops yet, especially ones that had been months in the making.

Every time Steve got sent off, he left with that sad little half-smile of his, the one where he pressed his lips together, eyes glittering like a lake under moonlight. He’d give you some words of comfort, usually dealing with how short the mission was supposed to be. It didn’t often make you feel better.

Bruce stayed behind with you, most times. More like all of the times. Code Greens, as they were called, were seldom necessary, and besides, as they had learned with Wanda back during the Ultron days, Bruce could be a liability if someone else got in his head. But it was nice not being completely alone in the big empty facility.

“He always looks so sad when he leaves.” You noted, sipping from a mug of warm tea. Steve had left only moments before, the last member of the team that was shipping out.

Bruce thought about it for a moment. “Does he?”

“Oh. I don’t know. Maybe I don’t know him that well.” You shrugged, the sounds of Animal Crossing resonating from the TV.

“You know, he has, lately. He didn’t used to.” Bruce noted.

“Weird.”

“Uh-huh.” He replied absentmindedly. “So explain to me this game?”

“Okay, so you move to this island and have to spend all your money paying off debt to this raccoon…”

It was in another training session that there was a malfunction. A shock grenade went off dangerously close to Sam. Before you could even process what you were doing, your hand shot out, a bright, pulsating star crackling in front of him, another, second star on the other side of the room. Steve assessed the situation and used the shield to knock Sam into the star, neutralizing the grenade right after. There was a bright flash and Sam appeared on the other side of the room, tumbling out of the second star.

You froze, curling your fingers and closing both of them. There was a slight pinch in your shoulder, near the base of your neck. The others all stared.

“Wait, what was that?” Bruce asked over the intercom.

“You did that?” Steve asked, motioning to Sam as he walked over.

“I think so.”

“What was that?”

Natasha asked, looking you up and down. Sam stared at you like you’d sprouted a third eye.

“I don’t know.”

“Do it again.” Bruce insisted. “Hang on, I’m coming in there.”

The door from the observation room opened and Bruce joined the rest of you in the circle that was steadily forming, all of them watching you, waiting.

“I don’t know, it was just like…” You focused on that feeling again, the desperation to get Sam the hell away from that grenade, and as though you were punching a hole through reality, it opened in the center of the circle, an eight-pointed star, bobbing and ebbing and flowing, made of the light blue energy you were so familiar with.

Carefully, you opened another one, ten feet in the air above the first. Clint shrugged and chucked a tennis ball into it. Sure enough, it popped up to the second one, before falling down through the first one again. This continued until eventually you closed the bottom one, letting the tennis ball bounce harmlessly across the floor.

“Well shit.”

“Waypoints.” Bruce said, deep in thought. “Teleportation. This…this opens up a lot of doors.”

“Yeah, no kidding.” Steve murmured.

“Hey, that’s kind of cool. Waypoint.” Clint said, drawing attention to it. “What do you think?”

“What, like as a codename?” You asked, weighing it as an option.

“I like it.” Sam grinned. “Waypoint.”

“Waypoint.” You repeated, trying it out. Hi, I’m Waypoint. I’m an Avenger.

It sounded silly, but it was getting more official by the day. There was, of course, only one way to make it official official, and that was with one of Tony Stark’s famed parties…

Wonderstruck

You let out a sigh, staring at your reflection in the mirror. It was the night of the big party. Your first, as an Avenger, and the official induction of what Tony was deeming the second class of Earth’s Mightiest Heroes, Sam: the Falcon, Wanda: the Scarlet Witch, Vision, and You: Waypoint.

He’d gotten you a dress to wear, one that matched your uniform. It was long, sleek, that navy blue/indigo color. It glittered like stars and moved like a dream. And in the middle of it, poised at the base of the sweetheart neckline, was the eight-pointed star that Tony had turned into your symbol.

Your hair and makeup were done, and all that was left was the zipper.

Someone knocked on the door.

“It’s open!” You called, expecting Natasha or Wanda. Instead, it was Steve, who, when he saw you were unzipped, pulled the door almost all the way closed and shielded his eyes with his hand.

“Sorry! I’ll leave—”

“Wait, actually, could you help me zip this up? I can’t reach.”

Steve nodded, slowly lowering his hand and entering the room. He closed the door behind him to give you some privacy. He was dressed in a sharp black suit with a blue tie. His lapel pin looked like a tiny version of his shield.

“Wow…” He murmured, taking you in. “You look great, (Y/N).”

“You think so? I’m not sure blue is really my color…”

He scoffed. “It most certainly is.” He swept the hair off of your shoulder, meeting your eyes in the reflection in the mirror as he gently pulled the zipper higher until it was secure in place. “In more ways than one.”

“Yeah, guess so.” You agreed, nervous energy crackling around your fingers, blue as ever. You dispelled it, snapping out of it.

Steve looked at the two of you in the mirror for a long time before turning towards the door again. Halfway there, though, he turned back around, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a flat velvet box. “This is, um…for you.”

“Oh! Thank you.” You reached for it, heart racing. Inside was a necklace, its pendant a silver star with eight points. In the center, an aquamarine gem. You gasped, looking at it. It was beautiful, delicate. “Steve, this is beautiful. Thank you so much.”

“It’s the least I could do.” He said, offering his hand. “May I?”

“Please.” You said, handing him the necklace and moving your hair out of the way. He did the clasp behind your neck. It settled between your collarbones.

“There. Now it’s official.” He whispered.

“Almost.”

“Almost.” Steve agreed, offering you his elbow. “Right this way.”

You looped your arm through his, letting him lead you out into the initial murmurs of the party. What Natasha dubbed the “extended family” had shown up. Rhodey, Maria Hill, Nick Fury, Happy Hogan, Pepper Potts, and, of course, Thor.

He was a sight, that was for sure. He towered over everyone else at 6’5”, arms the size of tree trunks. It was a bit intimidating to say the very least.

“Rogers!” Thor bellowed.

“Thor! I didn’t think you were coming.”

He grinned. “I never miss a feast.” His eyes fell on you. “And you must be this new team member Banner spoke of.”

“I’m (Y/N). It’s nice to finally meet you.”

“The honor is mine.”

“Here.” Natasha handed you a champagne flute. She eyed up your necklace. “That’s cute.”

“Steve gave it to me.”

She quirked an eyebrow and looked up at the supersoldier, who still had your arm. “Steve has good taste.”

“Steve had help.” He admitted, smiling sheepishly.

“I’d get you one too, Rogers, but Thor has the strong stuff.” Natasha said, patting his other arm while you took a sip of the champagne. It was sweet, tangy. “God’s favorite boy scout has trouble getting drunk.”

“My tolerance is too good.”

“I think we just need to get you a Four Loko. Or two.”

“A what?” Steve asked.

“It’s like four drinks in one can. They’re insane. I tried in college, but tapped out halfway through.”

He considered it for a moment, letting out a laugh. “See, that just might work.”

Tony wandered around the lounge, greeting everyone. He looked you up and down. “You look beautiful, Portal Girl.”

You internally chuckled. The others had advised you not to feed his ego when he used his nicknames. “Thank you, Tony.”

“And you’re also here, Rogers.”

“Tony.” Steve nodded.

“You her date tonight?” He asked, motioning to your joint arms.

“Oh. Yeah, I suppose I am.” Steve agreed, not budging. Neither were you.

“Well, I hope you’ve taken some dance lessons since last time, Rogers. I’m sure (Y/N) wouldn’t want to have her feet walked all over.”

Steve chuckled and rolled his eyes as Tony moved onto his next targets. Sam emerged, looking very sharp in a red suit. Even Vision had dressed up for the occasion, Wanda beside him wearing an elegant red dress. The two of them talked and laughed on the other side of the room and you smiled. You could tell when you moved in that he cared about her.

You wondered if robots could have soulmates, too. If any android had a soul, surely it was Vision. Maybe you’d ask him about it sometime.

Once all of the expected guests were accounted for, Tony did the briefest ceremony in the history of ceremonies, introducing you all to the few members of the press he had allowed to come. You spent the beginning of the evening shaking hands, networking, and then once the strangers left, the real party started.

Nat switched you to something a lot stronger to champagne, and she was running the bar, so it was easy to get refills. Clint and Thor were arm wrestling on one of the tables which was…hilarious, admittedly.

Steve found you after a few hours apart. “Hey, will you be my partner?”

“Sure, for what?”

He laughed, loosening up quite a bit with Thor’s Asgardian mead in his system. “Sam and Bruce are trying to teach me how to play Beer Ball or something.”

“Beer Pong?”

“That one, yeah.” He nodded. “Winners play Clint and Nat.”

“That checks out.” You chuckled. “Yeah, I’m game. I haven’t played since college, though.”

“I haven’t played ever so I’m sure you’re a step ahead of me anyway.”

“We’ll see about that. Your physics skills are pretty good, what with the shield and all.” You complimented, earning that charming smile of his. “We might just give them a run for their money.”

“Enough flirting, kids, get over here.” Bruce grinned as he finished lining up the cups.

“You know how to play Beer Pong?” You asked, plucking a ping pong ball off of the table and fiddling with it.

“Kid, I have seven PhDs. I have played my share of Beer Pong.” Bruce admitted.

You couldn’t help but smile at that. It was nice to see the Avengers loosen up like this, have a good time together, really truly bond.

You gave Steve the basic rundown of the rules: no elbows past the edge of the table, balls back, stoplight, island, and that if you let Sam and Bruce get too many cups, you and Steve would get “schwaisted” as the kids said, or, at the very least, you would. Steve would probably be fine.

“Ladies first.” Sam said, giving you the second ping pong ball, one of which, you handed to Steve.

“You’re gonna regret that.” You said, rubbing the ball between your hands before perfectly bouncing it into the cup at the front of the pyramid. “Your turn, Steve.”

“Don’t mind if I do.” He said, sinking the ball into the same cup. “I believe that’s three cups, gentlemen.”

Sam’s jaw dropped. He shared a look with Bruce. “Maybe this was a bad idea.”

“You’re telling me.” Bruce chuckled, retrieving the ping pong ball and rolling it back. He started drinking the contents of the first cup, leaving the other two to Sam. “Alright, do your worst.”

Needless to say, you wiped the floor with the other two. Barely even gave them a chance. Which is why it was only fair that Clint and Natasha kicked the absolute shit out of the two of you.

You struggled to down your third cup, which is why when you reached for the fourth, Steve shook his head and took it from you, only offering a wink when you opened your mouth to protest.

“Hey! Steve, it’s supposed to be five each.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, she already finished hers.” Steve shrugged, chugging another like it was water. “Right, (Y/N)?”

“Yeah absolutely. What he said.” You shrugged.

You helped clean up the mess a bit after the game was over, rounding up empty cups, wiping down the table, and then washing your hands as Tony switched the music to something upbeat, dancing music.

“Come on, let’s dance.” Steve urged, clearly toeing the line between tipsy and drunk. He reached out for your hand and you couldn’t resist. You didn’t even try.

You let him lead you out to the middle of the room, where Wanda and Vision were already dancing together and looking adorable doing it.

“I thought you couldn’t dance.” You laughed as he spun you around to the music.

“I’m a quick learner.” He whispered, mouth against your ear.

You swore your entire body flushed red, but you let your feet lead you through the dance. Steve took both of your hands, swinging you out and then back in, spinning you around. You blamed the alcohol on what happened next. Your heel caught on the fabric of your dress and you fell over the back of one of the couches, tugging Steve down with you.

He laughed, using an arm to push himself off of you, hovering, eyes soft. “Sorry.”

“It’s my fault. You’ve got me falling for you, Rogers.” You murmured, gazing up at him through your eyelashes.

You said it as a joke, a quip, but there was some truth in it. More than some. It had been a magical, magical night. And if it weren’t for the leather cuff on his wrist, you could see yourself spending the rest of your life with him.

Steve closed his eyes, smiling and sitting up, helping you upright again. “I’ll go get us some water.”

You sighed and sat back against the couch, heart hammering in your chest.

Natasha perched on the armrest, looking down at you. “What was that?”

“Not sure. I think I fumbled the bag. If…if there even was a bag I guess.” You chuckled, shrugging.

“No, there is something there. I can see it.” Natasha said, thinking as she nursed a glass of wine. “Hmmm…”

Steve stood in the kitchen, getting two glasses of filtered water from the fridge. He exhaled a deep sigh, leaning against it. He replayed the moment in his head over and over. The look in your eyes, the way your necklace glimmered in the light, the sound of your voice, the flush of your cheeks. You were catching feelings for him, that much was clear. He wasn’t sure if it was a good thing or a bad thing.

Steve Rogers, I am so sorry you will not hear me say these words until after I go back tomorrow, but I love you. I have loved you for a very long time. And I know I will love you for the rest of my life.

Maybe it was a good thing, he reasoned, thinking back on his first night with you all those years ago. But you still couldn’t know why. Not yet.

It was going to kill him to keep it a secret for ten more months.

Timeless

Sherbert rays of the sunrise lit the training room, filling it with a warm orange glow. You were sitting on the floor, stretching your legs while you listened to music. That was another thing on the growing list of skills that had improved during your stint as an Avenger: your flexibility.

Suddenly, Steve was standing over you, saying something you couldn’t hear due to the noise cancelling headphones over your ears.

You slid one off, looking up at him. “Good morning.”

“Morning. You’re here early.”

“Couldn’t sleep.” You shrugged, reaching for your other leg.

“Sorry to hear that. Wanna talk about it?”

“Oh, it’s nothing. I think I drank too much caffeine before bed last night. Learned my lesson. No caffeine after six.”

“That’s a good rule. Mind if I stretch with you?” He asked.

“I don’t mind.” You tossed your headphones onto your workout bag and connected your phone to the Bluetooth speakers, putting on some music you could both listen to.

“I recognize her. This girl’s voice.”

“Taylor Swift.”

“Ah. Yes, her. I keep hearing about her.”

“That doesn’t surprise me.” You laughed. “Have you liked any of her songs so far?”

“I don’t know if I could name one for you, to be honest.” He listened to the song that was playing. “This one’s not bad, though.”

“I’ll send you some recommendations. There are some I think you’d really vibe with.”

He smiled. “I’d really like that.”

The others came in not long after, did their warm-ups, and then Steve briefed everyone on the plan for their training session, one in which everyone would swap weapons, practice using each other’s things in case they ever had to in battle if one of their teammates got disarmed.

You started with Clint. He showed you the absolute basics of archery, how to pull back the bow, how to notch an arrow, how to aim, taking into account distance. You fired a few arrows into a target and did okay, you supposed, but you would need some practice if you wanted to actually get good at it. Years of it, realistically.

Natasha showed you how to use her electric batons, which were fun, but did intimidate you a little. You definitely did not want to end up on the wrong end of those things.

And then, inevitably, you were standing in front of Steve. He offered you his shield, which on its own seemed daunting. You held it for a second, assessing the weight of it. It was noticeably lighter than you thought it would be.

“Woah.”

“Yeah. People always expect it to be heavier.” He said, a hand resting on his hip as he watched you hold it. It looked so right in your hands, he decided. “It’s good for a lot of things, but first…” Carefully, he helped you put your arm through the straps on the back of it, holding it in front of your body in its primary and most famous purpose.

You let out a sigh, shaking your head. “This is so crazy.”

“Is it?”

“Yeah, you have no idea.” You chuckled, waving it around a bit.

“You keep looking at it like it’s Thor’s hammer or something.” He teased.

“Feels like it.”

“Well the good news is, this thing is not password protected by some Asgardian magic words. The bad news is, that means the bad guys can pick it up, too.” Steve said, gently positioning your body in an offensive stance, nudging a foot with his own, switching your arms around. “You can use it to bash somebody head on, or you can angle it a bit to get a more direct blow. It will take the force of most things. I…I actually kind of don’t know the limits. Hasn’t failed me yet. The paint does come off from time to time, though, so don’t worry about that.”

“Okay, wow.” You nodded. “Good to know.”

“I trust you with it.” He said, eyes meeting yours.

You smiled, heart racing. “I’m honored.”

He showed you a few other tricks, and then training wrapped up for the day, everyone grabbing some water, taking a shower, or making plans for lunch. Once you walked off with Wanda, Nat cornered Steve.

“What was that?” She asked, that catlike grin on her face.

“What was what?”

“I saw it, you know, the way you looked at her. I think you’ve got a soft spot.”

“Yeah, well, I did rope her into all this. Can’t say I don’t feel responsible for her.” He dodged expertly, weaving through Natasha’s mental gymnastics with skill and precision, or so he thought.

“Uh-huh sure. Well, she, Wanda, and I are going antiquing this afternoon. You should come. After all, you know quite a bit about vintage valuables.”

He laughed. “Hey!”

She walked off, smiling to herself. Steve thought about it for all of four seconds before he decided he would tag along. He hadn’t been to an antique shop in this century, so he couldn’t imagine the kinds of things they had there now. He might even learn a thing or two.

***

After a quick lunch, Steve did decide to tag along. It wound up being him, Vision, and the girls, which he certainly didn’t mind.

You and Wanda were buzzing with excitement, Natasha looking on and following behind with Steve. Vision lingered, studying everything, picking things up to get a closer look. He had projected a human disguise over himself, something Steve didn’t know he could even do, but it seemed to work. No one had batted an eye at him since they stepped foot in the shop.

“This place is…huge.” Steve said, glancing down the hall of the seemingly endless store.

“Biggest one in the state.” You chimed. “It’s the whole city block.”

“There’s a basement, too. And a second floor.” Natasha informed him, patting his arm. “This is gonna be an all day kinda thing.”

“Oh undoubtedly.” He said, setting down the teacup in his hands, a petite, floral thing.

You sifted through a box of records, picking up the soundtrack of the Muppets Movie.

“Is that a frog?”

“This is Kermit thee Frog, show some respect.” You laughed, putting the record in your basket.

“Kermit?” Steve asked again, seeming genuine.

“Oh I forgot you missed the Muppets, oh my god.”

“Yeah, that doesn’t sound familiar.”

“We need to fix that as soon as possible.” You told him. “Can’t have you missing out on cultural icons like Gonzo and Miss Piggy.”

“Okay now you’re making things up.” He chuckled, shuffling through the records as well. You showed him a few good ones and he added them to his basket, saying something about how he’s been meaning to use his new record player.

Wanda browsed some vintage rings, picking out a few, and Natasha rifled through a rack of vintage dresses, most of them from the forties and fifties from the look of it. Nat held up a navy blue one, silky, with short ruffled sleeves and buttons down the front. Steve froze, looking at it. For a moment, it looked just a little too familiar. Like the dress you had worn that night.

Eventually Nat put the dress back. You hadn’t seen it. You were distracted by a shelf of VHS tapes, looking for the old Barbie movies, whatever those were. Wanda was with you, on the next shelf over, calling out movie names when she found something cool.

Steve wandered off on his own, looking around at the different trinkets and toys, old letterman jackets and jewelry, dishes that may or may not contain lead. Finally, he came upon a little room full of art, paintings and photographs, handmade pottery.

Time stood still.

He stared at the large painting on the wall, oil on canvas. Two star-crossed lovers dancing in a bar in Brooklyn, a little guy with a dream, dancing with the most beautiful girl in the world, twirling in her dark blue dress. His heart raced. He never thought he’d see this painting again.

It had been his last painting before leaving for Camp Lehigh, the last painting he did before his life and body changed forever. He’d used the last of his paints to make it, every color mixed with care to get the exact color of your hair, your eyes, your lips, all from memory.

And it was here in front of him. When he had been presumed dead, it must have been sold off. He didn’t really have anyone left it could go to.

In that moment, he wasn’t Captain America. Standing in his shoes was that little guy from Brooklyn.

“Woah.” You murmured, suddenly right next to him. “It’s beautiful.”

“Yeah, it…it is.” He agreed, looking away from it. He didn’t want you to get too close of a look at it. However, that didn’t stop you from walking forward to inspect it closer.

“‘Soulmates.’ Artist unknown.” You read from the plaque. “Oh, it’s from the 40s. 1943. Does it look familiar?”

“Yeah, actually. Bucky liked that bar.” Steve said, pointing to the details of the interior. “It’s a little place in Brooklyn, called Val’s. Well, it was I guess. I don’t know if it’s still open anymore.”

Your eyes lingered on the woman’s face, on the man’s. You didn’t say anything about how they looked, about the uncanny resemblance to yourself and Steve. Instead, you sighed. “Someday, I want to be that in love with someone.”

He just about cried. But instead, he gathered his words, put a hand on your shoulder, and told you with confidence, “You will be.”

***

Hours later, when you were all shopped out and you’d checked out with your things, Steve stayed at the counter while the rest of you went to the car.

“Hey, um, that painting in the art room. The soulmates in the bar. I’m interested in buying it. Would it be possible to have it held here for a while, though?”

“Oh I’m sure we could arrange something,” said the old man at the counter with a smile and a nod. He started writing out the purchase form.

Steve glanced back towards where it was, that fragment of his soul he didn’t think he’d ever see again. He knew the fact that he’d stumbled upon it was nothing short of fate.

Wildest Dreams

It had been Tony’s idea. Of course it had. It always was, wasn’t it? He’d insisted that all the members of the team who hadn’t yet been exposed to Wanda’s mind manipulation should be, just in case there was a misfire during combat and one of you got caught in the crossfire. It would be important to see how each of you reacted, the kinds of things you saw so you’d be able to snap out of it.

Theoretically, of course.

This left Natasha, Steve, Thor, Bruce, and Tony out, as they’d already had their fun with Wanda’s magic. The rest of you, however, were waiting for your turn.

Wanda felt conflicted about it. She didn’t want to hurt her friends on accident, let alone on purpose, but Tony was insistent, and he had some of the others on his side. Namely, Rhodey, who had been hanging out more and more, and Clint, who’d had his experience with a different kind of mind control shortly before the Battle of New York.

It was part of why he’d volunteered to go first. Once he came to, he gave you a thumbs-up, shaking it off and walking over to Natasha.

“You sure you’re good?” She checked.

“Yeah, I’m fine. No big deal. Who’s next?”

Sam looked at you and the despondent look on your face before volunteering himself to go next. Rhodey went in solidarity, despite being too busy with his government responsibilities to be a full-time member of the team. And then it was your turn. You stood next to Wanda. She offered an apologetic smile before red crackled around her fingertips and it hit you.

For the first few seconds, you were fine. You felt tingly. You blinked a few times and your eyes felt weird. No doubt, your eyes were red, like the others’ turned when they were under the influence of Wanda’s powers.

“Hey, (Y/N), you okay?” Steve asked, voice urgent.

“Think so.” You replied, mouth full of cotton. It felt like that time in college someone had given you an edible that was too strong. The first and last time you’d ever gotten high. Like you were sinking and melting. Your legs buckled and Steve surged forward, catching you before you hit the floor, gently lowering you into a comfortable position. “Hey, you’re pretty strong…” You murmured, head lolling onto his shoulder.

The others all looked at each other. Clint dragged over a bean bag and Steve gently lowered you onto it, adjusting it so you’d be comfortable.

“She’ll be okay, Steve.” Natasha reassured him, the guilt in his eyes palpable, yet still not explained. Not entirely. She had a sneaking suspicion whatever it was had something to do with the name written on his wrist, the name he wouldn’t show anyone. Not her, not Nick Fury, not even Sam.

“Yeah, I know.” He nodded, slowly taking a step back. His eyes didn’t leave you. He had to force himself to look away. “I, um…I have to go…There’s a…” Steve motioned towards the door before leaving the room, while you sat there, catatonic, off in your own little world.

***

“Hey, (Y/N), you okay?” Steve asked, his voice close. “That was a long nap. Forget to set your alarm?”

You opened your eyes and you were laying down on the couch. Steve was standing at the island in the kitchen, cooking something. It smelled good. Really good. He was wearing a button-up, sleeves rolled to his elbows, still wearing his slacks from work. He had music playing from the record player, your vast collection of hits from decades of music, and he was still hooked on 40s jazz. You supposed you couldn’t blame him.

“You cooking?”

“Mmhmm.” He nodded. “Come over here and get a taste.”

You followed, out to the kitchen. He set down his wooden spoon and swiftly intercepted you, pulling you up onto the countertop, kissing you deeply, a hand running through your hair. Your hand came up to frame his cheek. He was growing a bit of a beard these days. You liked it, thought it suited him.

You sighed against his lips and then pulled away to look at him. He grabbed your wrist, pressing a long kiss to your soulmark. Three simple words. Steven Grant Rogers.

“I love you, doll.” His words cut through you, eyes tender and sincere. “Always have.”

But this wasn’t your Steve. And it wasn’t your reality, given away by the slightest tinge of red in his irises.

It wasn’t real. And neither was the glimmering wedding ring around your finger.

***

You blinked awake, the power dispersing from your head, leaving you shockingly sober. And hungry. That familiar sting was back, right between your neck and shoulder. You wondered how long it’d been.

Clint was in the room with you. So was Sam. Natasha was gone. Wanda too, surprisingly. As was Steve.

You got chills even thinking about him, the phantom of the wedding ring still clinging to your finger.

“You alright?” Sam asked, making eye contact with you first.

“Yeah, I’m good. How long…?”

“Three minutes. New record.” Clint said with a grin.

“Oh.” No wonder it had felt so short. Part of you wanted it to last longer.

“We’re sending Rhodey to get some food, if you’re hungry.” Sam said.

“Where from?”

“The golden arches.”

“I could go for some nuggies.” You admitted. “A McFlurry, perchance.”

Clint laughed. “How did I know you would say that?”

In the kitchen, Steve stood, hands on the counter, mug of coffee steaming in front of him, untouched. He stared at the cupboard door.

“That must be one interesting cupboard. You’ve been standing there for like five whole minutes.”

“It’s only been three.” Steve said, glancing at the clock.

“And the fact that you know down to the exact minute is why I’m so intrigued.” Natasha chimed, tilting her head. “What is going on with her? I have never seen you look at anyone like that in the entire time I’ve known you. Is she…what, the kid of an old friend? Grandkid?”

“It’s nothing, Natasha. She’s the newest member of the team, I’m just worried—”

“Steve.” She said, cutting him off, that look in her eye. “If you want to get all defensive about it, fine. Keep your secrets.” She sighed. “But if you need someone, I’m here. Whatever it is, you don’t have to carry it alone.”

Steve let out a long sigh, weighing his options. It was something to the tune of eight months until your birthday. That was still a long time. A lot of time for that secret to slip through the cracks and, potentially, break the timeline. The Butterfly Effect was something he had researched extensively. Your future together was something he wasn’t willing to risk.

No, it was too important that you stay in the dark, even if that meant keeping his friends in the dark, too.

“Thanks. I appreciate it. But I’m fine, really. It’s nothing.”

“Uh-huh.” She nodded unconvinced. “Well, she’s out of it. Clint just texted. She wants twenty chicken nuggets and an Oreo McFlurry.”

The relief was immediate. You were okay. He could only wonder what you had seen in there, and why it had been so quick. The others had been under for upwards of ten minutes. You’d only been down three. “Well good. I’ll let Rhodey know.”

Invisible String

It was late. A few weeks after your tussle with the Scarlet Witch, if you could even call it that. You could tell Wanda felt guilty about the whole thing, but it wasn’t her fault. If anything it was Tony’s. Sure, the exercise had prepared you for a worst case scenario, but it had also dug a very awkward gap between you and Steve. You could barely even look at him without wanting to burst into tears.

He had his soulmate, whoever they were. You really needed to let it go.

You walked down to the kitchen to get a cold drink, but there was already someone sitting at the table. Steve, sitting there, hand resting on his chin, papers spread out in front of him. There was a picture you recognized as Bucky Barnes.

You’d heard whispers of him around the Compound from time to time. Steve’s best friend turned Hydra assassin, brainwashed for decades and now, rogue, out there somewhere. Sam always seemed to be looking for the guy. Natasha and Clint, too. And there had never been any sign of him. Well, until now, it seemed.

On the TV, Star Wars was playing. Empire Strikes Back. Steve looked up at it every so often.

“Star Wars?” You asked.

He chuckled and nodded. “Yeah.”

“Your first time?”

“No. They were the first things I watched when I was out of the ice. I like them a lot. The hope, the Force, the Jedi stuff, the music.” He shrugged. “They’re good.”

“Who’s your favorite?”

Steve smiled, sheepish. “Han Solo.”

“And here I thought you’d say Luke Skywalker.”

“He’s great, too. You like Star Wars?”

“Yeah, I used to be obsessed with them in high school. Haven’t seen them in a while, though. I’m something of a Leia girl myself.”

“That makes a lot of sense.”

“Does it?”

“Oh yeah.” He nodded. “You’ve got that spark.”

“What order did you watch them in?”

“Nat made me watch the originals first.” He confessed. “I like the prequels, though. Well, two of the prequels. Phantom Menace is…”

“Oh yeah. You’re not alone in that.” You laughed softly. “You know, I never really pegged you as a sci-fi nerd.”

“Yeah, well, someone I really care about seemed to like them a whole lot, so I knew I had to check them out.” He shrugged. “What are you doing up so late?”

“Getting a drink. What are you doing up so late?”

He looked down at the papers and then back up at you. “Oh. Yeah, this is just…Trying to get some stuff figured out.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” You offered.

He thought about it for a long moment, letting out a little sigh before nodding. That was the only reassurance you needed before grabbing a can of soda from the fridge and plopping down into the seat next to him.

“They found him. Clint and Natasha. They think he’s hiding out in Kentucky somewhere.” Steve said. He shook his head. “He saved my life a few years ago. After all the brainwashing, he still pulled me out of the water. I don’t know how much of him is still him, but…”

“But it’s worth a try.” You reasoned. “Obviously he’s been through a lot, but he must be pretty strong to have made it through everything.”

“I don’t know when I’m going. They haven’t narrowed it down all the way. And Tony doesn’t want me to even go at all.”

“Tony is full of shit.”

He laughed. “Yeah…”

“If you want to go, you should go. And if you need me, I’m there. You shouldn’t have to do it alone.”

He met your eyes with a sobering gaze. “You mean it?”

“Yeah, of course.” You agreed. “When, uh, when I was in the eighth grade, my class took a trip down to DC. There’s a Captain America exhibit in the Air and Space Museum, it had just opened. We learned about you and Bucky. How close you were, what happened. There are videos of me just crying uncontrollably there, learning about it. They had to take me outside, get me some water. I couldn’t go back in. I don’t even know why. Something about it…”

“About me?” Steve whispered.

“That’s embarrassing. I shouldn’t have told you that.” You chuckled, shaking your head.

“It’s not embarrassing. It’s sweet.” Steve said, reaching for your hand on the table. You let him take it, fingers curling.

“So when you found me that day, I guess I always knew it would lead to something like this. A stroke of fate, or something.” You admitted. “Some part of me knew that you would mean something to me someday. I guess I never thought we would be friends.”

“How old were you?”

“God, this would have been like ten years ago at this point. I was like fourteen or something. I was twenty-one when they found you in the ice. It was all over the news my sophomore year of college, kind of right when I was figuring my powers out, actually. And then everything was all over the news and I…went into hiding more or less, hoping it wouldn’t be me on the TV next.”

“Until the mall?”

“Yeah. But I couldn’t just…let it happen, you know? It was like some part of me knew that I had these powers for a reason, and that if I didn’t stop it, who would? I didn’t know you were there, obviously, but, I think even if I had, I still would have jumped in.”

He smiled softly, eyes earnest. He gave your hand a squeeze. “Well I’m really glad you did, for the record. I think we’re all a little better off because of it.”

There was a moment of quiet. “Steve?”

“Yeah?”

“How old are you?”

“Oh, um…I’m ninety-eight.”

You chuckled. “No, like how old are you really?”

Steve took a breath. No one ever asked him that. No one really cared about that. No one except you, it seemed. “I’m not sure. I’d have to do some math. I think I’m twenty-eight maybe. Twenty-nine.”

“Thought so.” You smiled. “Well, Steve, whenever you get it figured out, say the word and I’ll suit up. We’ll bring him home.”

Out of the Woods

The next mission you were sent on wasn’t to bring back Bucky. Not yet. Instead, you were on the team that got deployed into a rainforest to break up a rogue Hydra base. It was warm, almost too warm for your uniform, but you were grateful for the coverage, especially when they started shooting.

You ran down the makeshift path, evading enemies and throwing up forcefields to stop them in their tracks. Thor was in town, so he was zipping around through the trees with his hammer, the force of it bringing some down every once in a while.

“On your six.” Steve reported through the comms. You dodged out of the way and sure enough, a Hydra agent tumbled ahead, tripped by a small field you cast at his feet. A few of Natasha’s bullets took care of that.

“Thanks.” You replied.

“Don’t mention it. I could actually use some backup. I’m in the building. There’s more of them than I thought there would be.”

“I’m on my way.” You reported, changing directions and sprinting towards the building housing the Hydra base. What they were doing here, you had no clue, but Bruce theorized it had something to do with a meteor that had landed out that way a few months prior. They were probably harvesting whatever materials had been inside it.

You kicked down the door. Steve had six guys on him, two of which he disposed of quickly. You made a portal beneath one guy, sending him falling down a flight of stairs with the second portal you opened.

The other three guys went down quickly enough, only for a guy in a giant mech armor to come crashing through the interior wall. He shot and Steve jumped in front of you, taking a hit to the neck. A tiny syringe filled with shimmering purple liquid.

“Fuck! Steve!” You ran to him, but that didn’t take care of the large problem looming behind you. Seeing red, you made another portal at the feet of the robot, opened it in the ceiling, and cut it off as it was halfway through, destroying it in a flash of sparks and shredded metal. It shut down, giving you time to get to Steve.

He was sitting against the wall, head slumped to the side. You took the syringe out of his neck, tucking it into a pouch on your belt for testing. If this thing was poison, you’d need Bruce to start whipping up an antidote as soon as possible.

“Steve, hey, stay with me.” You touched his face, trying to wake him.

At your touch, he blinked a few times, drowsy. He gave you a crooked smile. “Heyyy, there you are.”

“Come on, we’ve gotta get you back to the jet.” You told him, pulling him to his feet, but he slumped in your arms like dead weight. You had been working out since you’d been recruited, but he was still heavy. “You’ve gotta work with me, big guy.”

“They used to call me little guy.” He murmured, sounding drunk. “Back in Brooklyn.”

“I’m sure they did.” You slung his arm around your shoulders and started hauling ass out of the building. A few agents shot at you, trying to hit you while you were distracted with carrying Steve to safety, but they forgot you were the one Avenger whose specialty was defense.

You lit a forcefield in your left hand, using its faint blue light to guide the two of you through the dim hallways. It slowed all the bullets to a stop, causing them to drop to the floor harmlessly. There was something kind of poetic about it, you supposed. Steve was so famous for that shield of his, but now you were the shield, protecting him.

“Did you guys find anything in there?” Clint asked.

“The good news is, we cleared most of it out. Bad news is, Steve got shot with something. I’m bringing him back to the ship now. I don’t know what it was but he’s acting really drunk.”

“Tranq darts seem to have that effect on him, yeah.” Bruce explained. “Bring him back here and I’ll make sure it wasn’t laced with something else.”

“On it.”

You lugged Steve along, stopping to rest and readjust against a wall for a second.

“Thank you for takin’ care of me even when I don’t feel so good.” He said, leaning his full weight against you.

“Of course, Steve. I’ve got ya.” You pulled his arm around your shoulders again. “You would do the same for any of us.”

He smiled, face impossibly close to yours. “Oh, I’d do anything for you, (Y/N).”

You knew it was probably just the drugs talking but you’d be lying if you said it didn’t do something to you when he said it anyway.

Once you were outside, you opened a waypoint in front of the two of you, the second portal in front of the jet, and then stepped through, closing it behind you. Bruce opened the door and helped you haul Steve inside, onto the cot of the makeshift mobile infirmary.

You handed Bruce the empty vial.

“Thank you for remembering. Thor always breaks these and then I have to do bloodwork to figure out what was in them.” He chuckled.

“He’s very smash first, ask questions later.”

“No wonder he and Hulk get along so well.” Bruce joked. “Alright, get back out there. I’ll make sure he’s alright.”

“Thank you.”

“Be careful out there.” Steve advised, eyes half-lidded. “They have guns.”

“I’ll be extra careful, alright? I promise.” You met his eyes and he smiled immediately. Once you were sure he was okay, you stepped out of the jet again, getting back to help the others.

***

When you got back, you were nursing a bullet wound. They’d gotten you in the arm. It wasn’t too bad, though, the bleeding had almost stopped. Natasha went straight for the med kit when you two stepped foot on the jet, motioning you over to the stool.

Steve was there, still on the cot. He stared as Nat started cleaning your wound. “Wait, you got hurt?”

“I’m okay. It’s not that bad.”

He nodded and reached for your hand. “I’m really glad you’re alright, doll. Had me worried sick.”

Doll. You replayed the word in your mind. Steve had called you a lot of things in the past few months, but never once had he used that somewhat outdated term of endearment. You liked it, though.

You met Natasha’s eyes and she smirked while the supersoldier held your hand.

Sam walked in next, eyeing up the scene unfolding in front of him. “Woah, what’d I miss? Feels like I missed several chapters.”

“Steve is drunk.” Clint explained, counting his remaining arrows.

“Tranq dart. He’s fine. Just needs to ride it out for a few hours. He should be back to normal by the time we get home.” Bruce explained as he put away his tablet.

“You feeling alright, buddy?” Sam walked over and put a hand on Steve’s other arm. “You’re holding (Y/N)’s hand kinda tight there.”

“Huh?” Steve asked, directing his eyes to your joint hands. He let go. “Oh. Sorry.”

“It’s okay, Steve.” You reassured him.

The others trickled in slowly until everyone was accounted for, the base destroyed, the Hydra operatives in SHIELD custody for questioning. Fury and his team would handle it from there. You couldn’t help but play the mission over and over in your head.

Never had you used a waypoint to split something in half. But something had clicked in you when Steve was hurt. You’d never felt like that before, like part of your soul itself was being ripped out. He meant more to you than you cared to admit, especially when your fate was tied elsewhere.

Still, your new ability needed training. It was a dangerous skill to have, and if you didn’t hone it properly, you could end up doing some serious damage on accident.

Come Find Me in the Future

It was the night before you and a select group of the team were heading out to find and recover Bucky. Clint had finally gotten a hit on him. But if he had, that meant others could be after him, too. People that wanted him back. Badly.

You were nervous about it for that reason. You weren’t sure why the rest of you hadn’t already left, to be honest. You didn’t want to race with Hydra. It wasn’t one you were sure you’d win.

To stave off the feeling of dread, you had commandeered the living room TV and popped in Howl’s Moving Castle. You were nursing a mug of chamomile tea in your hands, playing games on your Switch.

You were near the end of the movie, at the part where Sophie was whisked to the past, when Steve walked into the room, in his pajamas, a tank top and a pair of plaid pants.

“Hey, Steve.”

“Hey. You’re up late. Big mission tomorrow.”

“Yeah, it’s almost over.” You told him. “Drinking my sleepy tea as we speak.”

“Sleepy tea?”

“Chamomile mint. It’s good. There’s some over by the Keurig if you want any.”

“Thanks.” He smiled, walking over. “What’s this?”

“Howl’s Moving Castle. One of my favorites.” You told him.

“What’s it about?”

“That is a complicated question.” You laughed. “I’d have to start it over, I think.”

“Another time, maybe.” He chuckled, crossing his arms.

Steve watched as Sophie got sucked back through the wormhole to the present.

She called out “I know how to help you now! Find me in the future!”

He perked up. “Wait, she…there’s time travel?”

“Yeah, she gets pulled into the past for a bit and tells him to find her and then years later, the first words he says to her are ‘There you are, sweetheart. I’ve been looking everywhere for you.’ It’s really sweet.”

“They’re soulmates?”

“They are.” You nodded.

“Does that happen? Often?” Steve asked, hung up on it. “In real life?”

“I don’t think so. I’ve never heard of that happening before.” You shook your head. “I don’t think anyone would believe it, even if it did. Happens a lot in fiction, though.”

“Oh. Cool.” Steve nodded. He met your eyes and then looked down at his lap, tongue flitting across his pink lips. “I, uh, wanted to apologize.”

You furrowed your eyebrows. “For what?”

“The mission last week. I, uh…I said some things and, uh…I just, I’d hate to make you uncomfortable. I’m sorry if I did.”

“You didn’t.” You assured him. “No apology necessary. You were drugged. I probably would have said worse, to be honest.”

He smiled. “Okay. Cool. Thanks. And thank you for agreeing to come tomorrow. We could really use the help.”

“Of course. I’ve got your back, always.” You told him, earning another one of those earnest, lovesick smiles. “Anywho, I finished that playlist for you. The Taylor Swift one. I can make you a more general one with different songs, but…figured that was a decent starting place.”

“Great, yeah, thank you.” He nodded, looking at his phone as it pinged with the notification you had sent it to him. “I’ll give it a listen.”

“Let me know what you think.”

“Oh I will.” He chuckled to himself. “Really, thank you. I appreciate it. And um, have a good night. See you tomorrow.”

“Bright and early.” You saluted.

He nodded before repeating, “Bright and early.”

Bygones

Bright and early was an understatement. The sun was barely peeking over the horizon when your alarm went off. You groaned, rolled over and silenced your screaming phone, forcing yourself to sit up so you didn’t drift back off.

Today was too important for that.

Instead, you got up, brushed your hair, and went out to the kitchen, where Vision had whipped up a full breakfast for everyone going out. It was you, Steve, Nat, Wanda, and Sam. A small team, but enough firepower to bring him back without overwhelming and/or scaring him off.

“Morning.” Steve said, eyes landing on you the moment you walked into the room.

“Morning.”

“Coffee?” He offered, pushing a cup of your favorite iced coffee over to you. You couldn’t lie, you were impressed.

“Thanks.” You grinned, taking a long sip to kickstart your morning. You loaded a plate up with eggs, sausage, bacon, and toast, plus a little side of hashbrowns, thanking Vision thoroughly.

“It is my pleasure, (Y/N). As someone who does not require sleep, it would be rude of me to let you all starve so early in the day.”

“(Y/N), you got him listening to Taylor Swift?” Sam asked, eyes drilling into you.

You laughed. “Uh, yeah. What about it? She’s a cultural icon, do you want him left out of the loop?”

“Hey, I’m not complaining.” Steve shrugged, sipping on his coffee.

“Of course you’re not.” Natasha chuckled, words warbled by her own cup. You noticed the way her lips pursed. If you weren’t mistaken, you’d say she was nervous. About what, you couldn’t tell. She seldom got nervous. Or at least, she seldom let it show. But it was definitely there.

Wanda was the last into the kitchen, already fully put together. She gave the chef her thanks with a warm smile and sparkling eyes. You couldn’t help but smile. Those two, beyond a shadow of a doubt, were absolutely made for each other. You wondered what her wrist would have to say about it when the time came.

Once everyone had eaten, those who weren’t suited up got ready, locked and loaded for a tense mission. You’d have Clint on the coms here, doing recon from a drone. The rest of you loaded up onto the jet, strapping in.

Nat and Sam hopped into the cockpit. Wanda sat next to you, Steve across the aisle, his eyes meeting yours every so often.

“It’ll be alright.” You said, trying to dispel his nerves.

He nodded, but didn’t reply, just giving a short nod and staring at the holographic map on the wall as you approached closer and closer. You could see that little guy from Brooklyn peeking through the eyes of the supersoldier sitting across from you, nervous about his best friend.

You unbuckled just before you landed, walking across the jet to strap on your weapons. The others did the same, arming themselves. Nat was going to keep the jet warm for a speedy exit, the look in her eyes still unreadable. The rest of you got ready for war.

It was an abandoned warehouse, large garage door, broken windows, slanted roof with a hole in it. Definitely not the most secure of places. According to Clint’s drone, Bucky was in the back room.

“Waypoint, I need you out here ready to get us a quick escape.”

“Got it.” You nodded, positioning yourself within eyeshot of the warehouse and the jet so you could make a portal either way.

“Wanda, Sam, you’re with me.” Steve instructed, taking a minute to breathe, to think. “He’s gonna be ready to run. We have to talk him out of it.”

“Uh, Cap. Might wanna work a little faster. There’s another plane incoming. About three minutes out.”

“Alright.” Steve nodded, taking off his helmet and slinging his shield onto his back. He led the other two into the building.

For a heartwrenching two minutes, you didn’t hear anything. And then you heard a plane. And then gunshots.

“(Y/N), now!” Steve instructed.

You did as you were told, opening the waypoint in the warehouse, another just outside. Nat had picked the jet up off of the ground, firing at the one Hydra had brought. She took another shot, damaging the wing and causing it to go down.

“Shit, wait—!”

There was a flash of light and you expected it to be Steve that came through first. Maybe Bucky, even. Instead, it was a grenade. And a split second later, it exploded, knocking you unconscious.

***

Steve stood over you, horrified. Thanks to your suit, the damage didn’t seem too bad. But you had blood and soot caked on your face, the ends of your hair singed.

It was his fault. He had told you to open the Waypoint, only for a Hydra agent to toss a grenade right through it.

He all but collapsed to his knees, collecting you in his arms. Bucky was on the jet already, Sam, too. Only he and Wanda were outside with you.

“(Y/N), come on. Open those eyes for me.” He pleaded, voice soft, eyes aching with tears. “Hey, come on. Please…”

“We should get her back to the jet.” Wanda goaded softly, a hand on Steve’s arm.

“Yeah.” Steve nodded, a tear slipping down his cheek. He scooped you off of the ground, an arm beneath your legs, the other around your back. Your arms hung down, limp. Your head rested heavily against his shoulder, eyes closed.

By the time Steve walked up the ramp, Nat already had the infirmary cot down, ready to go. Bucky watched, eyes intense. He looked up when Steve approached, eyes falling on you. They widened when he got a look at you.

“Woah, is that…?”

“Yeah.” Steve nodded. “It is.”

Natasha helped him get you situated in the cot, wrapping the cuff around your arm that would measure your vitals. With everyone accounted for, Sam closed the door, lifting the jet into the air.

“I’ve got Banner on the line.” Natasha told him.

“Good.” Steve’s eyes didn’t leave you for a second, watching as the breaths entered and left your lungs. “Tell him to get the infirmary ready for her.”

“Already on it, Cap. She’ll be okay. Her vitals look…well they look good, all things considered.” Bruce relayed. “Just get back here as fast as you can.”

***

As soon as the jet landed, Steve unhooked you from the vitals monitor and collected you in his arms, carrying you to the gurney Bruce had ready, walking with him as he wheeled you towards the infirmary. Bruce insisted he needed some time and sent Steve away, taking a piece of his heart with him.

Vision checked over Bucky, giving him the okay almost immediately before going to help Bruce in the infirmary.

Steve sat at the table, Bucky sitting down to join him. The others gave them a minute alone.

“Hey, pal.” Steve exhaled, trying to force a smile. “Glad you’re here.”

“Me too.” He agreed. “Thanks for coming to get me.”

“Of course.” Steve nodded. “I’m with you—”

“Til the end of the line.” Bucky smiled, eyes soft. His irises flicked towards the infirmary and back. “You wanna talk about it?”

Steve let out a sigh, the wall finally coming down and more tears slipping down his cheeks. “It’s my fault, it’s all my fault. She’s—”

“She’s gonna be fine. I promise you.” Bucky’s hand grabbed onto Steve’s wrist, the covered one. The one with her name etched onto it. “She has to be. Has she…does she know yet?”

“No one does. Just me. And you.” Steve confessed. He wiped his thumb under his eye. “So you’re right. She has to pull through.”

Steve held onto that spark of hope for the coming hours. He showed Bucky to the room that had been prepared for him, but Sam offered to give him a tour of the place, knowing their friend was in a fragile mental state.

Eventually, Vision found him and told him he could enter the infirmary. Bruce had finished treating you. When Steve walked in and saw you, still unconscious, laying on that bed, he choked on more sobs. The bruising on your face was pretty severe. You were hooked up to several monitors, an IV. Supposedly, your injuries were not too extreme, but you had a cracked rib and would need time to heal before you could do any missions or training.

Hours later, Nat found Steve in there, wringing his hands, tears in his eyes. He fiddled with the cuff around his wrist. The playlist you’d made for him played softly from a speaker in the corner of the room. Timeless. As if he wasn’t already crying enough.

“She’s gonna be okay, Steve. Bruce thinks she might wake up soon.” Nat comforted, sitting in the chair next to him. She put a hand on his shoulder, confused by her friend’s sudden mood. Members of the team had been injured before and sure, he checked on them, but he never reacted like this.

“I know, I just…” He shook his head. “I’m worried about her is all. It’s…kinda my fault this happened.”

Nat pressed her lips together, tilting her head. “This seems like a little more than that. You wanna tell me what’s really going on?”

He wanted to hold onto his secret. He did. But he was feeling fragile, vulnerable. It couldn’t hurt to have just one more person on his side. “I can, just…not here.” Steve nodded, leading her out of the room, out of your earshot, if you could even hear him while you were out, but still in sight thanks to the soundproof windows.

Nat’s hands settled on her hips, waiting for an answer. Instead, Steve took the cuff off of his wrist and held it out to her, letting her read the letters that had been etched there for the better part of a century.

Her jaw dropped. She stammered, arms crossing. She met his eyes and when she saw the sadness there, the guilt and longing, her expression softened.

“I should have told her. A long time ago, I should have told her but I can’t. In six months, on her twenty-fifth, she’s going back in time to 1943 to meet me on mine. And it…didn’t seem like she knew until she was already there.”

“So you’ve just been holding it in this whole time?” Natasha asked. “You’ve been in love with her…”

“Since the forties, yeah.” Steve nodded. “My great lost love, as Tony likes to call her when he rags on the band I wear.”

“Does he know?”

“No. Just you. And Bucky.” Steve amended. “He was there when she…”

“Right. Weird.” Natasha let out a long sigh, looking through the window. Her fingers reached for her own cuff. She hesitated, but pulled it off, holding her soulmark out to him. “Fair is fair.”

Steve stared at the letters for a long time, realization slowly filling his eyes. The name on her wrist was none other than James Buchannan Barnes. “Oh my God.”

“I didn’t know how to tell you until all the dust settled, but it just settled, so…” She shrugged, putting the cuff back on. “I’ll figure out how to tell him, too, if he doesn’t know already.”

“Buck’s mark was grayed out back then. We thought…well, we didn’t know what it meant.” Steve said, shaking his head. It was the reason Bucky had dated around so much back then. He’d figured if he just found someone else, his mark would change and he wouldn’t have to be alone. Never could he have guessed what it actually meant, that his soulmate wouldn’t be born for another forty or so years. “And then he lost his arm…”

“Yeah, that part I did know.” She smirked. “Well, I’ll keep an eye on her. Let you know if she says anything you need to hear.”

“She probably thinks my soulmate is dead, too. Everyone else does.”

“Ironic.”

“No kidding.” Steve sighed, gazing longingly through the window.

“We’ll get you through it, Steve. You’ve waited seventy years. Six months is nothing.”

“Yeah. I’m gonna sit with her for a while. I don’t want her to wake up alone.”

He slinked back into the infirmary and sat in the chair beside your bed, watching your steady breaths and listening to the beeping of the heart monitor. Natasha watched him through the window, feeling lighter and heavier at the same time. Nevertheless, she was glad they had talked. At least now, they could be there for each other.

Vol. 2 Here

Tags: @cap-lu20

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers soulmate au #steve rogers imagine #captain america x reader #captain america imagine #marvel #mcu #avengers

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writeroutoftime · 1 year

Text

you found me

(neither gifs are my own)

pairing: mcu!peter parker x reader

summary: as the multiverse is in peril, peter promises he will find you after strange's spell is cast. but how can peter remind you of who you are and what you mean to him?

warnings: angst but then fluff!

words: 1.4k

a/n: so, I just rewatched no way home and had this idea, which was so much fun to write! also, I just couldn't help but imagine the whole "I will always find you" line from the show once upon a time. that was my middle/early high school obsession lol. anyways, enjoy and please let me know what you think!

oOoOo

The wind whipped around him, and the adrenaline pumped through his system at rapid speed. Peter knew he had only minutes, but he couldn't help but take in the sight of Ned, MJ and - most importantly - you one last time.

"Listen, you're all about to forget who I am." Peter spoke. "Strange agreed to cast this spell to end all of this."

"What? No!" Ned and MJ shouted as you simply stared at Peter with tears in your eyes.

If the entire multiverse wasn't on the line, Peter would have broken at the look you gave him. But this was for the people he loved, for you. He had to make this sacrifice to keep everyone safe.

"But you'll find us." you finally spoke up, voice shaky yet confident. "You're going to find me, and then we'll figure it out. Together."

Peter couldn't help but smile. Even with all that had happened, you still had immense faith in him. He swore to himself he would find the three of you and make it all right again.

"Yes, I'll find you." he vowed, taking you in his arms. "I got you to fall for me once, I can do it again." he chuckled, pressing his forehead against yours one last time.

You revealed in the gesture, unbothered by how selfish you were being with Peter's time. After a few moments, you pulled back and quickly worked to unclasp the necklace that sat against your neck.

Hurriedly, you passed the item into Peter's hand and shut his fingers around it. "I know you will. And then you can give me this." you told him, cupping his face and savoring one last kiss.

Peter was the first to pull away, committing the last smile you would give him as more than a stranger to memory. This would not be the last time he held you in his arms. It couldn't be.

oOoOo

Days morphed into weeks, and weeks into months. Peter was well and truly on his own in New York like he never existed in the first place. That first week he holed up in his new apartment, mourning the loss of his life - of you.

But when the self-pity subsided, Peter marched down the busy streets and checked all your frequent spots until he finally found you one day. The sun framed your figure like a spotlight, and Peter felt as though the breath had been stolen from him. It was like falling in love all over again.

Your melodic laughter rang out of the coffee shop, face scrunched up over a joke MJ shared with you and Ned. The scene tugged at his heart, and suddenly, fear washed over Peter. He looked down to his hands and gripped your necklace even tighter.

It had been a present he gifted you on your first birthday the two of you celebrated as a couple. It was a small, dainty necklace he had laughed at when he first saw it. You had found out early on that Peter Parker was Spiderman, and so the silver spider quickly became a prized possession for you. Often times it was slipped underneath your clothing to tamp down any suspicion, but it was always on you, claiming it was a good luck charm for the both of you.

Looking down at his closed fist and back up to you, Peter was suddenly seized with fear. What if you never remembered him? Or worse, what if you remembered him and didn't want to be with him anymore?

He watched you for a few more moments and saw how carefree you looked. Could he really subject you to all the chaos and danger his life entailed all over again? He vowed he would find you and make you remember, but he had also promised himself to also protect you. Maybe this was how that happened.

Without another glance, Peter turned on his heel and dashed out the door. Clueless to the fact that you caught a fleeting glimpse of him as he ran away, curious and left with an empty feel afterwards.

Over the next three weeks, Peter continued to see you from afar at the coffee shop you frequented. Each time, he ached to be near you, but held back from approaching. He just had to know you were okay, remind himself that he was making the right choice.

What Peter hadn't taken into account was the chance that you would notice - and be interested in - him. It was during the fourth week that you finally approached Peter's table as he poured over his study materials, looking down at him rather nervously.

"Hi." you began softly. "I'm sorry to bother you, but I've seen you around here recently. You look so familiar. Have we met?"

Here it was, he thought as his heart beat rapidly. Peter's chance to explain everything and make you remember him. But as he opened his mouth, it seemed his mind had a different plan.

"N-no. I don't think so." he said. Your shoulders sagged at his words, sparking something within Peter. Even now, he never wanted to be the source of your disappointment. "But, uh, I'm Peter. Peter Parker." he introduced.

You offered a dazzling smile, sticking your hand out. "Hi, Peter, it's nice to meet you. I'm y/n." you introduced, taking the seat across from him.

oOoOo

Peter swore he fell for your twice as hard this time around. The two of you talked for hours that first day at the coffee house. Of course, he feigned innocence and pretended not to know the answers to all the questions he asked. But, regardless, it felt so wonderful to be near and to talk to you again.

It became a regular occurrence for the two of you to meet at the coffee shop, but your exchanges quickly expanded outside of the shop's walls. Each time he saw you, Peter tried to gauge if there was any spark to demonstrate you remembered him and your lives together, but each time he was disappointed. Never in you. In himself over the entire situation.

Soon enough, Peter had invited you over to his apartment when the weather derailed your plans of a stroll around the park. You happily accepted, wanting to know more about the man who had quickly become such an important part of your life. He led you into the studio apartment and left you to explore for a minute while he ran to grab a glass of water in the kitchen.

Glancing around Peter's apartment, you noticed how little decoration or personalization there was. No pictures on his dresser or posters on the walls, only a few post-it notes scattered here and there. The one thing that did catch your eye, however, was a flash of a silver necklace that laid delicately on the dresser.

Peter hardly seemed like the jewelry type and so you stepped forward to inspect it further. Slowly, you reached out your hand and threaded the cool metal chain between your fingers, the pendant hanging in the air. A small laugh left your lips as you noticed the necklace was of spider silhouette.

There was something that struck you about the necklace. It was so familiar, almost as if it were out of a dream. Somewhere deep inside, there was an urge to put on the necklace, but before you could, you heard Peter's footsteps behind you.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Peter." you apologized, quickly setting the necklace back where you found it. "I shouldn't have been snooping, I just couldn't help myself."

Peter stared at you, eyes wide and his mouth slightly open. "I-I, no, it's okay." he stuttered out, swallowing harshly. "Uh, it belongs to a real important person in my life." he added, lamely gesturing to the necklace.

"It's beautiful." you admitted, still unsure if Peter was angry or not.

To your surprise, Peter reached around you to pick the necklace back up. He glanced down at the jewelry, before holding it up and gestured to you. Without hesitation, you nodded and turned so that your back faced Peter.

He stepped up behind you and immediately you could feel his warm breath fan against your neck as your breath hitched. He lifted the necklace and let the chain and pendant fall against your skin before he clasped it shut. You reached down and held the spider pendant in your hand, gasping as another rush of recognition ran through you.

Turning around, you looked at Peter who snapped out of his trance zoned in on the necklace. His eyes met yours and there was something behind them you could almost put your finger on. Both of you took a step closer to each other and Peter reached out to gently cup your cheek.

"Just, trust me." he whispered, leaning towards you to mold his lips against yours.

Your eyes fluttered shut, instantly, and you leaned into Peter's chest and the warmth of his chapped lips. Your hands threaded in his hair at the nape of your neck, sighing into the kiss.

Slowly pulling away, your eyes remained closed for just a moment longer. Then, as if suddenly breathing in new life, you gasped loudly and opened your eyes. "Peter." you whispered, gripping tightly to his shirt. "You found me."

Peter made no attempt to stop the tears that fell down his cheeks as he held you close to him, pressing soft, quick kisses all over your face. "I will always find you."

#peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #mcu!peter x reader #spiderman x reader #spiderman imagine #marvel imagine #rita writes

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holeandnirvana · 2 months

Text

List of shifting-related stuff that happened to me bc I'm trying to be motivating

These are like symptom-thingy things that happened during or after attempts (did not include most symptoms I got during attempts) Also ignore that this is stuff over the course of 4 years with different scripts and different DR's

When I felt somebody tap my shoulder and just kind of knew it was Cedric

When I turned around and saw Harry for a split second

When I smelt the green house and just knew it was the greenhouse that happened several times but there was a 2 year gap between the first and second time

When I imagined someone stroking my arm to comfort me and then actually felt it

When I opened my eyes and saw my DR-room for a split second

The times I felt like I was floating above me/out of my body

I swear to god I was cooking once and George Weasley was just casually standing in my kitchen and I could see him in the corner of my eye

I smelt a lot of my DR people, sometimes one person several times (I only smelt most people once) I don't know why this sounds so creepy

One time I gained slight lucidity in a dream and just decided I wanted to wake up (because I was about to get eaten by a tiger in my garden)

The damn feathers

Gaining memories from my MCU DR

Successfully channeling Layla Williams (I asked her for a specific sign within a specific time frame and she sent it, she's my best friend in my Sky High DR)

One time I am damn sure I shifted to an altered version of my CR because I didn't have bags under my eyes anymore and my plant that's supposed to grow slowly doubled in size overnight (a couple times after that it seemed to have shrunk again but idk where I even am now)

I heard a song on the radio I am sure I never heard before but then I knew the chorus as if I remembered it? Figured I know that song in my DR 🤷

I can't put my finger on what it is (which is weird but I guess I have amnesia now or something) but there's something my mom always used to say/ask me and hasn't done in a long while for no specific reason?

I LITERALLY MANIFESTED TODAY THAT A BOOK I HAD LEFT IN MY LOCKER (I'm only going back to school once this school year to turn in my books) IS JUST HERE AT HOME AND IT IS

One time before I even knew of shifting I almost did it? Like I just focused really hard on where I wanted to be and lay still and I could feel myself sort of sinking into that place as I fell asleep but I freaked out last minute and ended up only dreaming of that place

A day or two ago I channeled the universe with music and then during and after I consecutively saw 01:01, 02:02, 03:03, 04:04 and 05:05

Anyway I'm out of here by Sunday 🤷

Happy shifting!

#reality shifting #anti shifters dni #shifters #shiftblr #shifting realities #shifting motivation #shifting blog #shifting community

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railingsofsorrow · 5 months

Text

Epilogue

[peter parker x reader]

summary: harry finds your behaviour slightly suspicious & there's an evening spent between friends.

pairing: p.parker x f!reader; slightly harry osborn x f!reader; mj x felicia hardy.

w.c: 3.3K

warnings/content: jealousy; injuries (mentioned); protective harry osborn; language; migraines (mentioned); clumsy but committed peter parker (yes, he learnt from his mistakes. finally); discussion about the multiverse theory; angst but there's more fluff this time sadly; minor character's death (mentioned).

A/N: this fic has come to an end :( it was fun writing this. my first experience in writing a short spiderman fic, it was so hard to come up with a good ending and it probably still not perfect but I feel like it's a good enough one. I hope you like it too and that you'll come back to read more of my spiderman stuff, cause there will definitely be more! good reading, people <3

navi

masterpost

series masterlist

mcu masterlist

[1] [1.2] [2] [3] [4]

“So they're just gone?”

You turn your neck to glare at your friend. Ever since you mentioned your migraines to him one day and he saw one of your episodes once or twice — a little bit more than that — he hasn't stopped bugging you about it. He wanted you to go to the doctors to get checked out. Until, well. Until the migraines miraculously vanished. Your head never bothered you anymore and you're even sleeping better, given the lack of dark circles around your eyes.

Harry wasn’t having it.

First and foremost, he did not believe continuous migraines were cured just like that. Overnight. Because how come he saw you incapable of watching a lecture one day and you're perfectly fine on the other?

Either you are popping some pills or someone magically healed you.

He didn't like any of the options.

He was still worried, okay? Harry cares. He may not be loud with it, but it's you, so he cares. And he cares a lot. You should know better than to just outright lie to him.

“Yes. Why does it matter? I'm fine, shouldn't you be happy I'm no longer whining on your shoulder?”

“You're not taking drugs, are you?”

A surprised laugh echoed around the room and he almost felt his body melt at the sight of your curled up frame from how much you were laughing.

“It amazes me,” you said between chuckles. “that you'd think I'd pull that off.” Not without him knowing, at least. You and Harry are side by side for almost the entire day.

“I don't doubt you.”

“You're losing faith in me.”

“I never had it.” He huffs out a laugh when you throw a pillow at his face, hitting him right on his nose. He fell on his bed with a groan, you moved his homework out of the way before he could mess it up by laying on top of it.

“Just... tell me if it gets to that point again, okay?

You look at him, contemplating something that he can't figure out. With the way you avoid his eyes as you answer, he knows you decided to say something else instead of that first thought. “I will. But it won't.” He found the conviction in your voice strange. You can't know if it will ever get that bad again. Just as the migraines miraculously left, they might come back.

He didn’t question it further.

You went back to your homework, sharing some insights on his as he does with yours. It didn’t last long until your phone started blaring beneath the pillow you're perched on, the sound being slightly muffled by the fabric.

You feel Harry's teasing before he can sputter out a sentence.

“Shut up.” You hissed, picking up the call without looking at the caller ID.

“One Direction. Really?”

“Hello.” You pointedly turn away from his smirky face. You have to take the phone away from your ear due to some loud police sirens that come from the line.

“Hi, hello!” The distinctive voice of Peter Parker replies. Yelling. That was the only way you would be able to hear him anyway. “There's been a thing and I— Shit!”

You concluded the phone is thrown away because his voice suddenly sounds very far.

You offered Harry a lousy excuse to step out into the hallway, frowning at the other voices and the police sirens you could hear.

“Peter, you—”

“I'm back!” Again, you take the phone away from your ear with a sigh. “Sorry, I was— I was busy.” You gathered that fact by the way he sounded breathless.

“Are you running?”

“No!” The noise proceeded to quieten down and you raise an eyebrow at his blatant lie. “Sorry, was I loud? Feels like I was being loud. Sorry.” A door is closing and he's groaning at the end of the line. Instead of finding it funny, you start to get worried, picturing a dislocated shoulder or maybe a deep gash on his arm like last time.

You and Peter made an agreement. When you agreed to be friends again — part of that starting over bullshit that was your idea — you and him worked on filling each other out on both of your lives. Just catching up as good friends do. Less than a month later you were patching up his wounds as if you never had stopped doing that in the first place. Sometimes, you'd even think you were back where you started as if it was all back to the start of your story in Queens. Midtown. Making plans with Ned and Peter for the weekends. Sitting with MJ at lunch as much as she claimed she hated company. . .

There was a pull at your chest every time you remembered it wasn't like this. You weren't back at that time. You couldn't go back. You only had the now and it had to be enough. It was enough.

“Peter, are you hurt?” But you still felt the same agony whenever the idea of Peter being hurt came across your mind. An unsettling fear settling up in your core.

“No.” he shuffled around, clearing his throat. His voice was back for you to hear it clearly. “I'm fine. Just a bank robbery downtown and I—” he paused to let out a heavy sigh. “I'm sorry I'm late, I'll be there in a second, okay?”

You blink, confused. “What? Late for what, Peter?”

“Hanging out?” He said followed by a tinge of uncertainty. “Uh, you said that after class—”

Your brows shot up in recognition. “Oh! Yeah, that's—” Then you checked the time on your phone. You were supposed to meet after class to hang out around 5 p.m. It was still 3 in the afternoon. “Peter,” you held in a chuckle. “That's like, two hours away. You're not late.”

There's silence on his end and you start laughing.

“Oh,” he mumbled, letting out a breath of relief. “That's— That's good. I was thinking that I was like really really late and—”

“You're good, webs.” You softly reassured him. Peter has been working really hard to make sure he doesn't mess up with you again. That included arriving early at places. “Are you at home?”

“Yeah, I just got here.”

“Mhm. And you're not hurt at all?”

“Just a few scratches,” Peter answered with hesitancy. You smiled triumphantly. Not because you're happy he's hurt but because you knew you were right. “I'm fine, alright? You don't have to come.”

“Okay.” You said, stepping back into your dorm room, catching Harry eying your frame from your bed curiously. “No broken limbs though, right?”

Peter's scoff put a smile on your lips. “Have some faith in me. I can handle a robbery.”

The joke Spiderman can handle a robbery but Peter Parker is still clumsy almost slips out but, thankfully, you remember you're not alone.

“Sure. I'll see you later.”

“Hey,” he called your name before you could hang up so you waited for him to speak. “Do you— are you going— how are you— I mean...”

“Peter, breathe.”

You didn’t notice Harry's eye-roll, too busy cracking up at Peter's stuttering mess.

“Okay. Alright. Are you going by yourself? Cause I can pick you up and we can go, you know, so you don't have to go alone?” He clarified, a strain in his voice as if he's been choking up to say that.

“Oh. Harry and I are going to head out together, actually. He's here.”

You patiently waited for his response. “Of course. Yeah. Okay. I'll see you later then. You and— and Harry. And everyone else.”

“Yeah.” You sat down on the bed, biting the inside of your cheek. A weird feeling of guilt in in your chest. “See you later, then. Bye.”

You don't know why you feel guilty about turning him down. All of you would meet in the same place anyway so it's not like you weren't gonna see him, right? It's just a matter of logistics.

“Was that your boyfriend?”

You gave Harry a blank stare as you threw your phone to the side to go back to your assignment. One of his eyebrows arched up in defiance, he played your game of not looking away for a few minutes before you got sick of it.

“I wonder if the reason you're bothered by Peter is because you secretly have a crush on him.”

He looks away first and your lips spread into a satisfied smirk.

“Parker's not my type.” Harry uttered, leaning over your lap to mark a question that you had gotten wrong. His curls tickling your chin. “And this is wrong. It's not fifteen, it's fifty.” He decided to add for good measure, stepping out of your personal space. “I'm not bothered by him.”

You hummed quietly, erasing the previous calculation to redo the math.

“Who is your type anyway?” You asked, trying to cut through the tension. Every time you mention Peter, Harry's mood shifted. He got too quiet. He just didn’t like him for some reason you couldn't yet figure out. Peter and he haven't met before, that much you know. You claim you'll be out of this, because it's none of your business, some people just don't like each other, it happens. But you're curious and if the opportunity to find out the X of the equation comes, you won't run from it.

“You'll never know.” His mumble is so low that you wouldn't have heard it if you weren't sitting so close to each other. He steals the pen you were using, earning a frown from you. “I like this one better.”

“Buy one for you then,” you complained, not moving to get the pen back from him. You take the one he was using instead, eager to finish the assignment so you can have the rest of the afternoon free with your friends.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

[Pete]: (Picture attached)

[Pete]: Do you want this back?

When you opened the text message, your breath hitched. The image Peter had sent you showed the red scarf, the one you never let go of. You hadn't seen it in a while, ever since... Ever since you paid him a visit that night. The night you were set on burning the scarf along with that collection of pictures you found in your room.

You've been to Peter's place countless times after that, though. You wondered why he never mentioned anything.

[You]: Keep it.

You sighed, conflicted with that short answer. You weren't being rude, you didn't meant to be. But you didn't need the scarf anymore. Not when you have him back in your life. You realized the scarf represented everything the two of you lived and everything you didn't.

You didn't want it back. You weren't ready.

Not now, at least. You hoped he wouldn't be hurt by it.

[You]: Maybe one day you can give it back to me.

Satisfied with your reply, you slipped your phone into your pocket, standing up to help Harry carry five smoothies toward your table. Ned and MJ were on their way, as for Peter, you figured it was the same. His apartment wasn't that far from where you were.

“I know a loser when I see one.”

“Hello, MJ.” You greeted after taking the first sip of your smoothie. You offer her hers and she bumps your hip, sitting beside you in the booth as a greeting. “Where's Ned?” You asked, frowning now that you didn't see the boy arriving along with her. They were always together.

She shrugged, leaning back. “He said he would be ten minutes late. He was gonna get Peter so they could go to this store nearby his place before coming here.”

You didn't take long to acknowledge which store she was talking about. An eye roll later, you crack out a smile in amusement.

“The Star Wars one?”

She nodded and the three of you quickly entered a conversation about a movie that was airing on the local theatre. Ned and Peter arrived in the middle of your discussion, a few bags in their hands that earned your curiosity.

“Did you buy the whole store?” You joked, the edge of your lips curling up as Peter sat down in front of you, placing two little bags on the corner of his seat.

Peter raised an eyebrow at you, amusement all over his features. “Did I?”

“Looks like it.”

“Oh, this is—!” Ned exclaimed, taking a sip of his smoothie. Harry held back a laugh at the boy's blissed-out state. “You got it right.” He then pointed at Harry accusingly. “I love you.”

Harry shrugged, “I know.”

“The one time I got your order wrong—” MJ begins.

“You never get the right one.” Ned deadpanned, interrupting MJ's speech. The girl kicked his chin under the table and Ned proceeded to kick hers back. Just before the childish fight could escalate, you pull both of their ears and hear whining asking you to stop.

Peter and Harry were chucking and you have to backtrack because Harry wasn't glaring at Peter for the first time. Is this progress?

After a mindless walk to the nearest park, all of you silently decided to stick around for a while longer, basking in what was left of the sunset and the hues of orange, pink and blue that mixed together to form the purple sky of the evening.

You teased MJ at her inability to stop texting her girlfriend while in an evening among friends and she flipped you off immediately, blushing. She's been seeing Felicia Hardy for two months and from what you could see, it was becoming rather serious, even though MJ still cannot admit it. You know your best friend and her hidden smiles and secret joy because of a new person she's interested in.

“No, no, no. You don't get it. It's like different universes in one— Actually, no. Multiple universes that are currently happening right now. You could be you, but you're, I don't know, a villain in this other universe, while here, you're just Harry.”

Both of your and Peter's neck snapped as you turned towards the conversation between Harry and Ned.

Harry carried a crease between his brows, confusion twisting the corner of his lips.

“So I'm me... but different?”

Ned nodded vehemently. He'd always get excited whenever the topic of multiverse was brought up.

You, on the other hand, were tense and you did not have to look at Peter to know his reaction as well.

“I'm sure in every reality you're an entitled filthy rich bastard the same way. Don't worry.” MJ’s comment was enough you breathe again. Peter’s awkward laugh at your side.

Harry rolls his eyes, “and I'm sure you're sarcastic and bitchy about anything and anyone, Jones.”

You throw your head back to stare up at the sky.

“Children.” You mocked. Peter attempted to hide his laugh but he was not successful. You found it endearing how his cheeks slowly turned pink. It reminded you of when you were kids, he'd turn into a tomato every time he tried to hold in his laugh. “Behave.”

They initiated a bickering about she started it and he started it and Ned made a comment to side with Harry to add fire to the flames.

Sometimes you thought they could remember and then reality crashed down the moment for what it truly was. It could be good and bad at the same time. Bittersweet might be the right term to name the feeling. Of course you miss everything that was, but what currently is is also good, in a way. You have your people, despite the losses, you have him back and it's all that you could ask for.

“Peter.”

He gives you a sheepish smile, looking down at his shoes as he buried his hand in his jacket.

“Did you like it?”

You close the small box carefully. “How could I not? It's beautiful. I loved it.” You said, then punched his shoulder playfully. He pretends it hurts, but you know it doesn't. “Don't spend that much money on me, Parker.”

Peter shrugged, playing the nonchalant part. “I'll do what I want, actually.”

“You're such an annoying little shit, aren't you?”

He shrugged again, this time he's got a cocky grin and a little smug attitude you recognized from when he got an answer right and you got one wrong in an assignment. It's a glimpse of the carefree nature of Peter Parker. He's a little bit proud at times, but still clumsy around people, shy between strangers, and wears his heart on his sleeve for the people he truly cares about.

“You love it.”

“Help me,” you asked him when everyone stopped by the fountain on your way back to university. You had your back to him and he finally understood what he was supposed to do when he saw your fingers holding the two parts of the necklace behind your neck. He stepped forward, taking both parts from your hands and freezing once your fingers met. Your skin was cold. You shivered as he clasped the necklace, adjusting with a shaky sigh. His throat moved under his hard gulp. “Thank you.” You turned around with the little rose gold maple leaf pendant around your neck.

Peter blinked at you in a daze. The streetlight illuminated your figure as you moved your hair away from your shoulders so it wasn't curling around the necklace anymore.

You're beautiful. So beautiful.

As soon as he saw the maple leaf pendant, you came into his mind. It reminded him of the Fall, your favorite season, which, of course, led him to you. Funny that everything, somehow, lead him to you. He doesn't know what his life would be if it didn't. Nothing would make much sense, honestly. Peter didn't know how the other Peter Parkers handled losing you in their universe. It was such a difficult thought for him to even consider. His initial goal was to protect you and if that meant he had to let you go, then so be it. He would do it. Because you deserved a life without the mess that was his life. You deserved peace and happiness. But that plan backfired when he saw you crossing the street to reach a coffee shop. It was 8pm in the evening and he was on patrol. He had stopped two robberies an hour before so he was getting ready to go home and throw himself into bed, give a rest to his alter ego for the night. Until you showed up, crossing the street so distracted that a car almost hit you. Peter pulled you back in time, a hand on your shoulder to steady you from the scare of the car horn. You had been crying and at the moment Peter's only thought was to comfort you and figure out who had made you feel that way.

“Myself.” You laughed, tearfully. “Sorry. I wasn't paying attention.”

He convinced himself that from that point on he had to watch over you, to simply make sure you wouldn't cross the street without looking both ways again, or trip mad and get a severe head injury. He'd watch you from afar, it couldn't do any harm.

In reality, that was Peter's way of not letting you go and it had not been fair to either one of you. Especially you, who earned headaches and migraines and insomnia because of memories begging to come back, memories that shouldn't have been removed at all.

Peter disappointed you. He disappointed himself too — and probably Aunt May, who must be shaking her head in disapproval wherever she was watching over him from. He's slowly making peace with himself after everything. He's finally seen that having you close by was better than the heartache of letting you go and trying foolishly to move on. He didn't want to move on from you and if that was selfish. . . that was fine. Peter was never anything besides selfless his entire life. And if you wanted to be in his life, why couldn't he want to be in yours?

He would acknowledge the past and make the best out of the present. As for the future, well, he wasn't concerned, it would probably lead him to you. As always.

#peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker fic #spiderman x reader #spiderman x you #reader insert

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bunisher · 4 months

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frank castle, grief, corruption, choice, and the mess that is the punisher season 2

been having some thoughts, and in my opinion, the worst part about the punisher season 2 is that season 1 ends with this:

“You know as long as I was at war, I didn’t really think about what when it was over. I think that might the hardest part. The silence. The silence when the gunfire ends. How do you live in that? I guess that’s what you try to figure out, huh? That’s what you guys are doin’. You’re working on it. I respect that. I just… um… But when you’re gonna look at yourself, truly look in the mirror, you gotta—yeah, you gotta admit who you are, but not just to yourself, you gotta admit to everybody else. First time in long as I can remember, I don’t have a war to fight. I guess, if I’m gonna be honest, I just… I’m scared.”

….. and then they do absolutely nothing with it in season 2.

no, seriously, they do absolutely nothing with frank castle and his fear of sitting with the fact that he is alone, a widow, a childless father, with a new name and an entire life ahead of him. and i’m going to rant about it.

we leave S1 in group therapy. we pick up across the country, in michigan, in S2. he hooks up with a woman named beth while wearing his wedding ring on a chain next to his heart and getting ridden, playing house with her kid the next morning, and we as an audience are led to believe that frank castle, a man who daredevil rightly clocked a year ago as being unable to grieve, is able to do this with having no little to no difficult feelings. how much time has passed? not even two years. and then, while he is sitting at the bar, he finds another war to fight. as the season progresses he just decides after saying the above that this is who he is and who he has always been. he kills his ex best friend who could’ve helped him prevent everything and ships off the teenage girl he spent an entire season bonding with. he loses his one remaining friend and in the end, we see him tell madani that he’s already busy with his own stuff, and during none of that besides his talk with maria’s headstone does he reflect, despite them being his motivation for everything in S1.

except… he was thinking about after, and how he didn’t know how to have after. he was looking at himself in the mirror and fully admitting his fear to everyone. so what happened? frank was doing everything except trying to sitting in the grief, sit in the shit, and the silence. even him traveling is him doing something to distract himself, an act of avoidance, but it only serves as a plot device so that something else happens to him and he has to react. he’s just in the wrong place at the right time. the role of the punisher is again thrust upon him.

let me explain why i really feel this is due to the inability to write grief and why TPS2’s bad story and writing is a side effect of it. in every “superhero” movie in the mcu, death is simply a motivator for something, and they do it again in punisher season 2 after leaving us with the uncomfortableness that is the reality that vengeance will not solve grief. but instead of sitting with it, we have another death that desensitizes us as the audience once again and is used as a plot device. that’s literally how his and amy’s dynamic is introduced. he just reacts to everything around him, and yeah he could choose to not help, but he doesn’t. and as much as i love some gratuitous violence with punisher, damn would it have been to good to not just having something happening in his vicinity that causes him to react. to instead see the conscious choice of frank actively choosing to use his grief as something to continue his war until that’s all that he is, until it’s not even about his grief anymore.

his family’s death in the comics is framed as a tragedy even that just happens, and frank’s decision is to ignore the process of grieving, not go to the cops, and take matters into his own hands. by the time we meet frank in his first appearance, he isn’t even named. he is only known as punisher. the nmcu changes his origin into something that he has direct ties to, and similar but completely different to the comics, he ultimately, probably, could not have prevented their deaths because he didn’t have power or knowledge. it was him vs not only his former second family of the marines, but also the cia and elected officials such as reyes. yet, frank is the one who feels guilty and responsible, as if he could’ve prevented it, and we see this though his nightmares that people hate. to him, by just existing and his family choosing to love him, he feels he killed them. this is his own issue. he feels guilty for surviving when they did not, and chooses to stay alive in order to seek his revenge. this is the choice that leads him to cross paths with daredevil.

however, the context of the series in punisher season 1 also tries to go against the fact that it is not his fault and say that it actually is his fault, because frank is an unreliable narrator, and despite him being under the impression that what he was doing was completely legal and approved, he was somehow in the wrong and deserved to be punished for what an entire squad of people participated in. he even asked if it was and was lied to. and since he couldn’t have been behind the video because he was who pulled the trigger, the entire season drives into him taking accountability for what he perceives as his fault for his family’s deaths, and then because it wasn’t actually his fault, the government rewards him out of both fear and apology. and then what? we have no clue other than madani quitting and joining the cia with a chip on her shoulder because the report was changed so they could be protected. however, she still chooses to work for this system and uses her power in order to try and recruit frank, which he rejects because he does not want to do the pointing and shooting for someone else under orders like he did in operation cerberus and in war.

this is part of the problem. they don’t go into that and then proceed to refuse to go into grief or talk about who frank is besides that. the fatal flaw i believe mcu makes is that when they go with the idea of corruption, they also then proceed to place the issue onto individual characters. with DD S2&S3, we see that the ones who need to be put in prison are the ones enforcing it and getting away with crimes. schoonover is the blacksmith, reyes tried to kill frank in order to cover up her mistake, fisk uses the law to his advantage by manipulating people and holding leverage, by using his money as power. in TP S1 it is agent orange, who is revealed to be a part of the cia and comes from old money dating back to the first colonies in the usa, and he was funding cerberus with drugs, slipping right under homesec’s nose and when threatened with exposure, attempting to kill everyone to maintain his power. and while this theme of money and corruption is a good one, they fail to acknowledge that other characters like fisk or rawlins exist, and we as an audience have no idea about them simply because they’re not tied to our protagonists. just like reyes or the fbi agents or rawlins are tied to them, they are also characters that existed prior, and there are characters similar to them that exist after with no ties to them, or very loose ones that are still corrupt.

going back further, we see this with roxxon corp in daredevil S1. the old man with cancer who is fighting against the NDA who was being sued by the company because he shared information with his oncologist, and foggy is the one who suggests, “well he broke the contractual agreement.” matt on the other hand states that it isn’t okay, that maybe what the law says isn’t always right, that maybe they’re not fighting for the right side. but again there is this idea that it’s an individual problem instead of a systemic issue, and while they hold up a glaring light to it, ultimately the writers don’t really go into it. matt and foggy leave their old firm and then later matt and elektra fight the hand, killing the leaders, more individual characters.

and they do the same thing in TP, but worse because of how S2 is written as a follow-up. they ignore the corruption and ignore the grief. it would’ve been interesting to see a punisher who chooses to eliminate corruption like what was done to him in his fashion, aka, with a lot of murder. it would’ve been an interesting story for the first episode to show a frank castle who acknowledges his grief, acknowledges the silence, and basically says without saying that he can’t do that, that he’s making the choice to actively seek things out because he can’t handle the silence, because he is terrified of it. this would allow us as an audience get to see the lack of justification to others, that it’s wrong, that he is unleashing a war, but he justifies it because he nothing else to live for, and believes what he is doing is right since nobody else will and he has nothing else to lose. and it is, above all else, his choice to fight a war for innocent people that the law does not help.

we see in daredevil s2 that there are people who he effects (the boy who cries about his dad in the courtroom) and that not only does frank care about the impact he leaves to innocents, he does care about the lives of them as well. we see this TPS2 when he thinks he’s killed children, when he prioritizes saving the teen couple over killing billy at the carousel. these are morals that define what he does and serve as motivation for who his targets are, and they should be important. frank is a character in the comics that only maintains rapport with heroes because he cares about innocent people. he does not kill without reason. that’s how he maintains his status as an antihero. otherwise he wouldn’t be allowed to do what he does, he would be locked away by shield or the avengers or killed.

we see in certain issues that he goes after corrupt cops, politicians, high up enemies that think they’re safe because of money and power. nmcu tries to do this and then ends the series by killing gang members at the end of s2 after a whole story about corruption that couldn’t be solved any other way besides murder that was hidden by the govt. he started off killing the irish gang members and then ended with killing…? yeah. it only to put him back to where he started in s2 of daredevil. that’s right.

in my opinion, it falls flat because the whole thing ignores not only the source material (did y’all know amy is mentally disabled and her dad is a cop in the comics?) but also ignores what they did prior. all in order to lead to an underwhelming ending that could’ve left him in the same place as he was in season 1 if he had chose to keep going with his war. all of this is only part of the reason why the entirety of s2 doesn’t feel the same as s1. and it might be part of the reason frank sometimes hardly even feels like who we meet in that pawn shop in s2 of daredevil at times (ie: many people have pointed out him leaving That Guy in S2 was ooc and them going there was fairly pointless filler). we don’t have any character development or growth, and instead of him choosing to continue his cycle, he is more of a passive character besides his choice to go after people following the inciting incident. things happen and he reacts. he does not have an impact on the city at large or really outside of the people who are tied directly to him, situationally or by others. he does not become the lone wolf that he is foreshadowed to be after leaving micro and his family, he takes in amy for the entirety of the season, accepts curtis’ help despite it being reluctantly, and the only way his downward spiral is viewed is as someone who he has always been. he’s justified in his hunt for billy because it’s personal and frank’s mistake is seen as him leaving him alive, so again there’s this angle of guilt and the inability to grieve, but nothing is done. he unceremoniously kills billy and then everything is wrapped up. amy leaves, curtis leaves, frank is alone, and then he becomes all of the things we are supposed to think of him as off screen just so he can be brought back in DDBA.

so why even end that way in S1? why even have S2? idk. all i know is, i started S2 and stopped. i read up on it and know pretty much everything that happens, but it didn’t interest me then and doesn’t now. i worry a bit for how these topics are going to be written moving forward, and honestly i won’t even get into daredevil’s writing issues with grief, but i expect to see some form of loss in DDBA that’s brushed off either at the very end (like with elektra and father lantom) or at the beginning of the show so that there can be some action. because to prove my point, mcu was originally going to lead the show with foggy being killed off, pretending that karen doesn’t exist, and—what?

so, yeah. frank’s choice? that’s only a title of a song. corruption using money? it only matters in these instances and is not a problem in any other context. the law? the definition of good and moral and works for everyone. justice? will always prevail because everyone is equal under the law despite the amount of times we have seen otherwise. death? oh, it has to mean something and/or be a plot device for the protagonist. grief? doesn’t exist and can’t be shown on screen because it’s too real. i think mcu’s problem with this stuff is glaringly obvious in the storyline of punisher S2 despite the good set up of S1. i think it’s hinted towards in daredevil, not super bad in the defenders, but is pretty obvious if you look at mcu collectively. if you don’t believe me, here’s a video essay on catharsis and grief in regards to nwh that inspired this post. go give it some love if u can. it only has 3k views plus a couple hundred likes, but it is wonderfully made and helped put into words some things i wasn’t able to before.

#honestly i probably could write more but i definitely should not #/rant #frank castle #the punisher s2 #nmcu inspired #comics inspired #mcu inspired #nmcu daredevil #daredevil tv #the punisher #daredevil born again #ddba #ddba spoilers #grief writing #anti mcu #analysis #bun.txt

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cantstoptheimagines · 7 months

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Reminders (Holland!Peter Parker | MCU)

Summary — Odd details of your life begin to merge into memories of the boy who lives next door.

Requested by @tokufan400 — Headcannon for Ned and MJ post NWH: Ned, MJ and the Reader somehow get their memories back of Peter. The Reader then says they are going to kill Peter once they find him before rushing off

Warnings & Other Tags ➳ Angst (amnesia, memory loss, deja vu, etc.); lovers to strangers to lovers again; takes place a few months after the events of No Way Home.

Notes ➳ Word Count is 911, including lyrics. ➳ Reader is gender neutral (they/them). ➳ The lyrics used in this work are from “Lover” by Taylor Swift.

Peter seemed nice enough.

He was a good neighbor, which sometimes seemed difficult to come across in the endless sea of people who lived in New York. The way he had introduced himself by helping you carry in some groceries endeared him to you rather quickly.

He was always inviting you out to lunch. Even if he knew you wouldn’t be available on a particular day, he still wanted to extend the offer. Not to mention, he was the one you could trust to take care of your cat if you had to leave for a few days.

Despite him being kind, however, you’d occasionally catch a flash of sorrow in his eyes whenever he looked at you. It would quickly disappear once he realized you had noticed. Of course, you knew he had lost his aunt only a few months prior to meeting him, so you figured that must have been the reason and didn’t pry into the subject.

Peter, however, always sent feelings of deja vu throughout your mind. You were sure you hadn’t met him before. Maybe you just remembered passing by him on the street? Or meeting his eyes at one of the local bodegas? That must have been it, right?

It wasn’t until things started popping up around your apartment that waves of familiarity began to overwhelm your mind. And it all led back to Peter.

The first discovery was a photo of the two of you, specifically one you didn’t remember taking. It was tucked away in a desk drawer, hiding beneath an old chemistry assignment for who knows how long.

Your eyebrows furrowed at the sight of it. Holding it delicately in your hands, your index finger traced over the image of Peter’s face.

Even though the picture was blurry, as though the two of you were tumbling over while taking it, you could still make out the bright smile on his face. You were pressed against his side with one of his arms wrapped tightly around your shoulders.

While you were looking at the camera with a wide smile, Peter’s eyes were on you. They had a certain twinkle to them that made him appear gentle and soft, much like the Peter you knew now.

Within moments, the photo was framed and placed upon your nightstand. You admired it each night as you fell asleep.

You never brought it up to Peter. Perhaps the photo was a spur of the moment decision that you can’t recall making. With that rationalization set in your mind, you moved on.

Until you found a shirt that wasn’t yours. Digging through one of your drawers, you paused at the sight of it. It was an oversized, white t-shirt with a yellow taxi on the front, along with the words ‘I survived my trip to NYC’.

It was something a tourist would buy. Not you, who had lived in the city your whole life. You were left to wonder where it came from, but couldn’t come up with an answer. For some reason, however, you felt the need to fold it neatly on top of your nightstand, directly next to the photo of you and Peter.

You finally drew a line in the sand when it came to a song. It was one of your favorites, one that you had listened to who knows how many times before. But you had never listened to it around Peter. That you know of, at least.

The two of you stood in your kitchen. Your cat is weaving between Peter’s legs, begging for attention, as he stands by the stove and stirs some pasta. You’re busy chopping up a few vegetables. Music is playing through a wireless speaker that sits on the kitchen table.

You’re quietly listening as Peter tells you about his day. He went to the local bodega to get a sandwich after going for an afternoon run. After that, he had to do a few errands before coming back to his apartment so he could get ready for your weekly dinner-and-movie night.

You offer an occasional hum to let him know you’re paying attention to what he’s saying. As he starts rambling about the movie he brought for the two of you to watch, the song echoing the speaker fades out and changes to a different one.

You blink at the opening rhythm, pausing in the repetitive motion of chopping the vegetables. Instead, your eyes drifted to Peter, who still had his back to you. His voice was slowly fading away as you gazed at him with furrowed eyebrows.

And there’s a dazzling haze, a mysterious way about you, dear... Have I known you twenty seconds or twenty years?

The feeling of his skin against yours in times of uncontrollable love. Receiving a photograph as a gift after a date. His lips against yours beneath the glow of city lights. Sleepovers where he’s falling asleep in an oversized, white t-shirt that he inevitably forgets the next morning.

Dancing to these lyrics and this rhythm together in your kitchen nearly a year ago. And both of you deciding it was meant to be your song.

These moments from your life are suddenly flooding your mind as you admire him. It’s a wave of realization, your remembrance of memories long lost.

Can I go where you go? Can we always be this close forever and ever? And ah, take me out, and take me home! You’re my, my, my, my—

“Peter.”

#2024 #mcu #mcu imagine #mcu imagines #mcu x reader #peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #peter parker imagines #spiderman x reader #spiderman imagines #spiderman imagine #reminders #requested

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wolfvmin · 2 years

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blipped: family line (3)

title: family line pairing: brother’s best friend!yoongi x female reader genre: major angst !!, fluff, brother’s best friend au, unrequited love, set in the marvel cinematic universe (mcu), slow burn?, implied age gap, heavy themes,brother!namjoon, bestfriend!taehyung warnings: mentions of character death disclaimer: you can read this without knowing anything marvel at all. word count: 2.3k

At the age of 21, you confessed your feelings to your brother’s best friend, Yoongi, which he rejected. One day later, Thanos snapped, turning fifty percent of the world population to dust, leaving the other half lost, confused, and mourning–including you. Five years later, Bruce Banner snapped everyone back to life, including Yoongi, who doesn’t really know you anymore.

a/n: this is so short i'm sorry lol. i promise the next chapter would be longer and less angsty (maybe even steamy). index part 2 > part 4

Before you knew it, Yoongi and Namjoon acted as they had adjusted to the changes that were thrust into their lives. Well, they had to, anyway.

It was hard getting a job with half of the population being back; job openings were closing left and right. Thankfully, Joon was re-offered his position in the company he worked at because of his friendly relationship with his boss pre-blip. Yoongi, on the other hand, managed to land a job with a salary not on the same level as the one he had before. But who was he to complain? Everyone was scrambling to adjust to the amount of population once again. So many were struggling to the point that some people were saying that the Avengers were wrong to have brought back the people who blipped, that they have just made things just as hard as five years ago.

Was it worth it to reopen the wound of 5 years?

Yoongi reads the online post on the laptop on your desk. Surely, he thought, it wasn’t an easy task to accept that people who one mourned for 5 years suddenly came back into their life. Hell, it’s trauma that one does not know if it will heal. His curiosity kills him… but he can’t get himself to ask what the hell you’ve been through when they were gone. He was certain that Namjoon feels the same way.

They’ve been trying to act carefully around you as if they were never gone. Lately, it felt like a never-ending roleplay–like there was a time bomb in the room that was just waiting to explode.

Yoongi traced his fingers over the box in his hand. It’s small faux leathered and not bigger than his hand. The very same box that you owned for five years. To you, this was old news. But to him, he had just bought it a few months ago.

He found it in your desk drawer. He knows it’s bad to snoop around but he couldn’t help it when he saw it hidden beneath your stationery things. It was the only thing that looked from the past. Nothing in this apartment except for the picture frame that stood in your living room was a reminder of the time you used to have. But as he looked at the necklace inside the box, he remembers the way you looked, the way you moved, the way you smiled, and the way your eyes sparkled when you looked at him.

It was so different now.

It’s as if you were cautious of every step you take. You don’t laugh as much as you used to. The only time he hears you sound actually happy is when you speak with your coworkers over the phone.

He tries to get back to the way it was. Before he got a job, he offered to give you rides to your work which you refused because your neighbor and coworker, Jeon Jungkook, gives you rides to work and back home.

Jeon Jungkook, Yoongi learned, has been friends with you for two years now. What he also learned, is that the fucker was with you almost 24/7 of every day of every week. He doesn’t know why but the kid itches something in him.

Not that he would let anyone know that.

Looking back at the necklace, he wonders if you wore it or just kept it inside the box for all the years that went by. He hopes that you cherished it somehow.

What happened to you while we were gone, Y/N?

He sighs and gently puts back the jewelry box where he found it, careful not to make it look like it was moved.

He looks at the time on his wristwatch. You should be home soon. He should get ready.

An hour later, you arrived back home.

You had a bouquet of chrysanthemum flowers in your hand when you entered the apartment. Yoongi was on the couch sitting beside his friend. He could feel the worries and nerves of his friend from where he sat and he understands why.

A few days ago, you decided to tell them that you would be taking them to see your mom. Namjoon didn’t like the idea at first. But you convinced him anyway, promising your brother that it won’t be a mess like before. Namjoon finally agreed at the end of the dinner when you wouldn’t take no for an answer.

Time has changed probably everything except for him and Namjoon.

“You guys ready?” You ask them and take your keys from where it usually is. Yoongi and Namjoon take a glance at each other and nod at you.

They were still confused as to why you wanted them to see her but they thought it wouldn’t be bad to let her see them considering it’s been five years. The confusion on his and Namjoon’s faces were hard to hide when instead of taking a turn to the familiar neighborhood, you headed in a different direction.

No questions were asked nor words were said when you drove into the memorial park. Suddenly, the bouquet of flowers you had in your car made sense.

Yoongi fixes the collar of his recently ironed buttoned-up white shirt when he steps out of your car.

The three of you walk quietly as you led the way, sun dress flowing due to the wind. Namjoon walks behind you while Yoongi trails behind the two of you. He worries for his best friend who he now watches walking aimlessly.

You stopped in front of a grave. Your mother’s name is written on the stone.

You bend your knees to drop the flowers by the grave and you look at both of them.

“She died not long after the blip.” You finally talk and look over at Namjoon who was still lost for words. “Her vices finally caught up with her. She was bedridden for months and then one night, she had a heart attack.”

Namjoon takes in your words quietly in front of the grave as if he couldn’t believe the name written there.

“I’ll give you a moment.” You say to Namjoon who was just staring darkly at the grave below him.

You give Yoongi a look which he understands in a second. He gives Namjoon a pat on his shoulder before following you to the side.

The two of you walked until you were meters away from Namjoon. Yoongi watches as his best friend is now kneeling by the grave, eyes still lifeless.

Grief. It’s such a funny thing.

His heart breaks for whatever his best friend is feeling. He wishes better for him and you. He wishes this fucked up thing hadn’t happened. He wishes that the three of you lived in a different universe where there were no superheroes, no aliens attempting to take their planet, or no cities destroyed left and right just because there was some fucker who wanted revenge on some trauma.

Because while all of that was happening, their problems seem so mundane and small.

But it’s there.

And it hurts.

It hurts that Namjoon had to miss his mother’s death. It hurts that just a month ago, he was watching the same person screaming at you and Namjoon.

Even if Namjoon feels regret or maybe even glad she’s gone, he didn’t deserve it. Not like this. If it were he who was being asked what he was feeling, he would say he was sad. Not because he grieves your mother’s death but because of you. You were left alone. To be frank, he’s a bit upset at your mother even if she’s not at fault. Just when you needed her, she disappears again and escapes her responsibilities.

He looks over at you, seeing no tears fall from your eyes. He could see you were sad but unlike the Y/N he knew before, you stood strong on your ground.

“Don’t look at me like that.” You speak without looking at Yoongi.

“Like what?” He asks, crossing his arms to warm himself from the cold wind.

You finally look over, giving him a small smile. “Like you pity me.” You pause. “I’m glad she’s dead. That way she can’t fuck us over anymore.”

Yoongi takes in how you look. The way your eyes look weak but dark. The way you weakly smile despite how you appear to look fine. He still sees the twenty-one-year-old he cherishes in you. She’s in there somewhere. He would just have to accept that you’ve changed.

You were alone all this time. You had no brother and no mother to be with you. Whatever happened, Yoongi thanks the heavens that you’re still here, standing in front of him and looking so beautiful. You were strong like he always believed you are.

Yoongi doesn’t answer this time and looks back at his best friend and then at the grave he was staring at.

Maybe it’s time to visit his parents.

Yoongi loves his parents. They were good people. But his relationship with them is not the best. He loved them and they loved him but he often feels distant from them. When he comes home, he would often just hear his mother’s nagging voice and his father wasn’t someone who showed his emotions. He just… never felt liked by them.

For the past few months, he has only communicated with them by phone, telling them he should pick himself up first before leaving Seoul. It was an excuse to not visit them. He knows that he’s selfish by doing this. They have been waiting for years for him.

But he was scared.

If you, the person he has been spending years with, have changed so much, what would the blip make his parents be? He couldn’t stomach it. He couldn’t face it. Were they sad? Were they relieved? What struggles did they face during the economic collapse during the blip? Did his parents still love each other? Did they mourn him?

As he stood there, a little bit sweating because of the nerves, the front door opens.

The sight in front of him makes him freeze.

He could barely recognize his own father. And it wasn’t because of his mostly grey hair or the added wrinkles on his face. It was the tears that were falling down his face and how he was basically tripping on his feet to get to him.

His father’s arm wraps around his figure, squeezing him so tight it felt like he would crush his lungs. He pats his back anyway, eyes drifting to his mother who’s now crying with clasped hands on her face.

“You’re home, son.” His voice was just as he remembered. It was not as authoritative as it was. It’s a little bit gentle now–a little bit tired.

“Hey, dad.” He pats his father’s curved back. Over the phone, his mother told him how his father was still working his office job.

When he lets go, it was his mother’s turn to tackle him in a hug and smother him in kisses.

“Honey, you said you wouldn’t cry.” His father teases his mom who then glared at her husband.

As his mother lets go, he was immediately smacked on the arm, to which his father yelped at. Then, she shifted to Yoongi, who also received a smack.

“And you, why would you not go home?! I almost went to Seoul myself if only I haven’t been stopped by your father!”

And Yoongi grins, giving them a heartily laugh while rubbing his arm.

In his mind, he hasn’t been away for years but in his heart, he did miss them.

After the emotional reunion, Yoongi finds himself sitting at the dining table with a feast of his favorite meals in front of him.

“So,” Yoongi clears his throat. “How have you been?” Yoongi asks his parents as he digs into the food.

His mother stares at his father beside her and places her hand on top of his. “It was hard at first. We were really down to a spiral but we managed.”

“You don’t have to worry about us, son.” Yoongi’s father assured him.

Throughout the meal, his parents updated him on what happened in the 5 years he was gone. They updated him on stories of his relatives and whatnot. Surprisingly, Yoongi had a good time. He doesn’t think he had this much of a good time with his parents even before the blip happened. He found himself laughing at their stories and jokes, which rarely happened before.

They let him take some of his old things, shocked that they haven’t thrown them out yet. The next morning, he loads them in your car that you had let him borrow with the help of his father.

“You’re staying at Y/N’s, right?” His father asks as Yoongi puts down the box he was carrying in the trunk beside the one his father was previously holding.

“Yeah.” He answers, closing the trunk with a thud. “It’s just temporary though. I’ll move out when I find an apartment.”

Yoongi mentioned you a few times back then and he was sure that his parents only knew you as Namjoon’s brother. Sure, they knew your name but there was something with the way your name rolled off his father’s tongue that seemed too comfortable and too familiar.

“Hm.” His father pats the closed trunk. “Well, you have a safe drive back.”

“Of course, dad. You guys take care of yourselves, yeah?”

“Yoongi! Take these with you.” His mother was running out of the door, holding a large insulated lunch bag and handing it to him.

“Side dishes?” Yoongi assumed. “You didn’t have to, mom.”

His mother slaps his arm repeatedly as if he offended her. “Shush. They’re not for you. They’re for Y/N. Tell her to eat a lot and to take care, okay? And Namjoon too.”

And Namjoon “too”? When did you become the first Kim to come to their minds?

Ah. It must be because he was practically living off of you right now.

“Oh. I will. Yeah.” Yoongi nods, “Thanks.”

His mom doesn’t hide her excitement. “Okay, drive safe!”

With a few questions unanswered in his mind, he drives his way back to you.

𓆩♡𓆪 want to be tagged to all my works or a specific one? 𓆩♡𓆪 : ̗̀➛ fill up this form here: taglist request form or send me an azk!

#yoongi angst #bts angst #yoongi fluff #yoongi imagine #yoongi scenario #suga x reader #suga imagine #yoongi x reader #bts x reader #im trying to update every week but exams r coming up AGAIN

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themosleyreview · 2 months

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The Mosley Review: Deadpool & Wolverine

Nowadays, we the fans don't ask for much. We are not asking for an Oscar caliber story or the cinematic God send of a film that'll change the face of the industry. For a few years now, we have been experiencing a decline in quality and wayward direction when it comes to the Marvel Cinematic Universe. We have been waiting for a film to be released that captures that same amount of fun, energy, fan service and emotional resonance that started with Iron Man and carried the studio to a healthy 11 year stretch. Well, I'm happy to say that this film single handedly fulfilled that wish and then some. I have truly forgotten what it was like to walk in with the highest of expectations and to have them exceeded in such a brilliant and exciting way. The story of the film may not be the most coherent or streamlined at times, but it got us from point A to Z in a bombastic way. I've said it before and I'll say it again, when a true fan of a character and his origins gets the chance to bring to life their story and style, it can work when paired with a filmmaker and team that shares the same passion. This film was that passion project and you feel it in every single frame. What I truly loved is how the titular characters were effectively and organically woven into the greater MCU while not really disturbing what has come before.

Ryan Reynolds has never been better as our favorite merc with a mouth Wade Wilson / Deadpool. From beginning to end, he delivers a fantastic and sometimes truly emotional performance as the wild card hero. The comedic timing is next to known and his mouth truly becomes a weapon in one of the most shocking moments of the film. He is and forever will be Deadpool and nobody else will ever come close to his brilliance. Morena Baccarin returns as Vanessa Carlysle and delivers a huge part of the emotional motivation for Wade and the film. Rob Delaney was excellent once again as Wade's best friend Peter Wisdom and I loved that he had an even bigger part to play toward the end of the film. The loveable Leslie Uggams steals the first part of the film yet again as Blind Al. The banter between her and Wade was always a highlight of the first two films and that continues here. Matthew Macfadyen was excellent as the the TVA Agent, Mr. Paradox. There is a level of smug, arrogance and sinister to him that is slowly unraveled as the film goes along and I loved every bit of it. Hugh Jackman puts the claws back on once again as the Logan / Wolverine and he hasn’t skipped a beat. Hugh has given us so much depth to the character over the past 23 years and he continues to deliver an expertly layered performance. He gets to portray a new version of Logan that we haven't seen before that is from a different timeline and it was refreshing to see him be unleashed in an even bloodier way. The emotional anguish this Logan goes through was truly heartbreaking and his journey for personal peace was well plotted and it earned its resolution. When I tell you that the chemistry, fun and overall violent relationship that is built between Logan and Deadpool was perfect, I mean it! It truly took me back to the days of the classic 80's gritty buddy cop films like Another 48hrs. They fight each other constantly, but eventually need one another to achieve a common goal and it was beautiful by the end. Emma Corrin was outstanding as the main antagonist, Cassandra Nova. The amount of lore about the character was fascinating and well explained in a fun and graphic way with her abilities on brutal display. She almost upstaged the main heroes as she would glide around them and infiltrate their minds and hearts.

The score by the great Rob Simonsen was sweet in the beginning and quickly became bombastic and epic as the film progressed. It was the best during a particular action sequence toward the last half of the film. The best track was “Hideout“ and once you see the film, you’ll know why. The only few gripes I have with the film were the details of the “anchor point in time” rules as they were a bit wonky and there were a few moments where I wish Deadpool was more serious. The jokes got a bit out of hand in the worst way when there needed to be more focus on the plot. Speaking of plot, as a Deadpool and Wolverine adventure through time it works, but this was more of a tribute to the Marvel/Fox universe that started back in 2000. As we all know it features alot of the cameos from familiar characters, but there is one that I loved the most. Even though he wasn't in the Fox universe, he was and still is the reason why we have these films today. It brought pure joy and tears to my eyes to see my favorite Marvel character come back to the big screen one more time and still be a badass. Overall, this was one of the most fun, energetic and fan pleasing Marvel films of all time. It was yet another love letter to Deadpool, to every aspect of Wolverine and to the Fox universe that came before it. Do stick around for both end credit scenes as one of them gives a loving thank you and goodbye tribute to the Marvel\Fox universe. Let me know what you thought of the film or my review in the comments below. Thanks for reading!

#deadpool & wolverine #ryan reynolds #hugh jackman #emma corrin #rob delaney #morena baccarin #Matthew Macfadyen

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iam93percentstardust · 2 years

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hello there!! happy advanced birthday :)) I saw this quote "“I went to sleep last night so I could see you.” by Frederick Seidel, from “The Last Poem in the Book,” These Days (Alfred A. Knopf, 1989) and I thought it'd be a great fic prompt for mcu stevetony post-endgame. Hope you have a great birthday weekend ahead <3

Thank you so much! Fair warning for this fic, this is Sad TM because, you know, post-Endgame and all that, but I think it still ends on a pretty hopeful note

Tony is younger and softer than Steve has ever seen him. His face is unlined, his smile freer than it ever was when Steve knew him (except once, except when Steve first moved into the tower). This is an age of wearing Rhodey’s discarded sweatshirts, huge on his lanky frame, and pulling his hood up over his face so that he doesn’t get recognized in the quad. The pants are tight, but Tony doesn’t even seem to notice them. His hair is curly, falling into his eyes, and Steve spots more than one person eyeing them like they’d like to see what Tony would look like with their hands buried in his hair.

He doesn’t blame them. Tony is lovely at this age, and his carefree smile and sparkling eyes are arresting.

“Are you my new bodyguard?” Tony asks him a week after he starts watching him.

Steve is startled. He hadn’t realized that Tony had spotted him lurking around the campus. He wouldn’t have expected him to, not this younger version of Tony who doesn’t seem to have a care in the world. His Tony, yes, but not this one.

He thinks quickly. The year is 1991, the month November. The Starks will die in less than a month, and though Steve will do everything in his power to stop their death, he also knows that he’s lost more fights against the Winter Soldier than he’s won, even when he didn’t know that it was Bucky. There’s every possibility that the Starks will die before Tony has a chance to check his claim.

“Uh—yes,” he says, possibly a touch too slow by the way Tony’s eyes narrow thoughtfully.

“That’s new,” Tony comments. “Never had a bodyguard start following me around before introducing themselves.”

There’s something deeply distrusting in his tone, and Steve scrambles for something to say that’ll keep Tony from questioning him. He just found him again after… after… well. After. He can’t lose him this quickly.

“Director Carter recommended it,” he lands on. He isn’t sure if Peggy is still the director at this time, but he’s pretty sure she still holds some sway if she isn’t. And, if he remembers correctly—Tony didn’t talk about her much, but he’d dropped a few gems here and there—Peggy is Tony’s godmother.

It does the trick. Tony straightens up. “You know Aunt Peggy?”

“We’ve met.”

“SHIELD?”

“I was special ops, actually,” Steve says, which is probably the best way to describe either the Avengers or the Commandos. “We met in Europe when I was on a mission once.”

“Cool,” Tony breathes, eyes dark and shining. He gives Steve an appreciate onceover, and that’s—Tony’s never done that before. Steve doesn’t even know if he’s attracted to men, though he heard plenty of rumors when he first moved into the tower. They’d never been close enough to have that conversation, and though Steve is certainly attracted to Tony, he has no idea if Tony returns—

An insistent beeping cuts through his thoughts.

His mind puts the pieces together in an instant, and then he’s shoving Tony to the ground, shouting, “Get down!”

Then—

“Uncle Steve?”

Steve slowly blinks awake, the last vestiges of his dream floating away on the dust motes he can see in the sunlight. The beeping of the alarm continues to annoy him, and he reaches over to slap it off, only remembering at the last second that this one wasn’t made for supersoldier strength.

A dream, he realizes. All just a dream. Another one to file away in the depths of his memory as the last things he has left of Tony, who is—

He looks at the black suit hanging up on the back of the closet door. Pepper had been kind enough to give as many people as she could the use of the lake house’s multiple guest rooms. More people, he knows, have rented out the other properties bordering the lake. No one is staying in a hotel. The news of Tony’s… the news about Tony hasn’t reached the media yet, and no one wanted today to become a circus.

“Uncle Steve?” he hears again.

“Hey, Morgan Pie,” he says wearily, scrubbing his hand down his face. “Come on up.”

He hears the pitter patter of little feet and then Morgan is launching herself onto the bed, crawling into his lap like she can hide from the world. Steve understands the feeling.

She’s gotten so big, he realizes when he wraps his arms around her. He used to come by the lake house all the time when she was younger, but he stopped about a year ago when he’d gone downstairs after tucking her in, only to find Tony and Pepper dancing together in the kitchen to some song that came out when he was in the ice. He’d felt such an intense, burning jealousy—such an intense possessiveness—that he’d left without saying goodbye and hadn’t gone back until Scott had shown up on his doorstep.

“I miss my daddy,” Morgan says quietly. Pepper hadn’t believed in lying to her, so she knows what happened to him. She knows Tony isn’t coming back, and she knows why.

“Yeah,” Steve agrees, resting his cheek against her hair. “I miss him too.”

Tony laughs, bright and beautiful, and Steve doesn’t think he’s ever seen him laugh like this. Tony at nineteen laughs with his whole body like he just can’t help it, like whatever he laughs at is so funny that he can’t do anything except double over, chortling so hard there are tears running down his face. The Tony Steve used to know hid his laughter behind smirks and little huffs, reserving his laughs for the most private of occasions.

Steve can’t help but beam, proud of himself for making Tony laugh like that, even though he can’t remember what it is that he said (he should be more worried about that, shouldn’t he?).

“You’re funny,” Tony says and pulls a drink out of nowhere. That’s right, Steve thinks. They’re at a bar. “So which is it? MIT, Boston U, somewhere else?”

Schools. They were talking about schools—colleges—and Steve had made a comment about going to clown school.

“Boston University,” he plucks out of the depths of his mind. “Art degree.”

Something sparks in Tony’s eyes, something dark and heated that makes Steve shiver. “Must be a second degree, right? Big guy like you, little bit of—” He touches his fingers to Steve’s temples where he knows there’s just the slightest hint of silver beginning to shine through. He’s going grey a little early—his ma said Joseph was like that too.

“First, actually,” Steve admits. When he was younger, he hadn’t needed a degree for the political cartoons. And then—“I enlisted.”

“Let me guess: army?”

“Special forces.”

“My my, what a surprise,” Tony observes dryly. His mouth twists, and Steve suddenly wonders if Rhodey was already stationed somewhere. After a pause that’s just a little too long, during which Steve searches for something to say—he hates to admit it, but he hasn’t gotten any better at talking to people he’s in lo—interested in—Tony forcibly drags himself back to cheerfulness. “So… art. Oils?”

“Watercolors,” Steve replies. “Charcoals, sometimes. Sketches.”

“Could you paint me?” Tony asks, a mischievous grin crossing his face. Before Steve has a chance to get annoyed at the question, Tony adds, “Or on me?”

Steve meets his eyes, which have turned heated again. Tony, interested in him. He can barely breathe, feeling like he’ll got swallowed up in Tony’s pupils, which have already swallowed his irises.

“Yeah,” he breathes, thinking about Tony painted in swirls of reds and blues and whites. A star on his chest where the arc reactor will sit in twenty years. A smear down his stomach where the paint’s gotten smudged. Twin handprints on his hips where Steve grips him as he thrusts into him. “Yeah, I think I could do that.”

Tony leans forward, eyes sliding closed, and—

“Steve?” Bru—Hul—Professor? Whatever Dr. Banner is going by now asks, waking him.

Steve tries to cling to the memory of counting every lash resting on Tony’s cheek as he leaned in, but in the way dreams always do, it slips away from him. He thumps his head back against the pillow, staring up at the off-white ceiling.

“Did I wake you?” Dr. Banner asks hesitantly. Steve doesn’t answer. “You don’t normally sleep this late. Thought for sure I’d miss you. Traffic and all, and. Your run.”

“Right,” Steve replies. His run. Through Central Park. Since he’s back in the tower again. The new owner had never gotten rid of the team’s suites when they moved in, and he’d been only too eager to offer them lodging after Thanos blew up the compound.

As far as he knows, only a few of them took him up on it. The Wakandans went back to Wakanda. The sorcerers have the Sanctum Sanctorum. Clint flew home to Missouri. Dr. Banner, he knows, has been sleeping at the compound mostly, one of the few heavy lifters left now that Thor has taken off with the Guardians. Steve hasn’t driven back down there. He has no idea how the rebuilding is going. It could be finished for all he knows. The few times he drove by, he couldn’t stop staring at the spot where Tony had—

Anyway, he doesn’t go down to the compound anymore.

“What’s going on?” he asks, swinging his legs out of bed.

“You asked me to tell you when the Stones were transferred to Wakanda.”

Right. Because despite both Steve and Bruce’s protests, it was decided that the Stones would stay on this Earth in this timeline until the compound was rebuilt. Just in case they were “needed.” All the more reason to finish the compound quickly. Steve’s seen the unrest as a result of the Snap’s reversal (too long, he thinks sometimes, when he’s too weary to keep the doubts from creeping in; they waited too long). It wouldn’t surprise him if one of the newly formed councils tries to use the Stones to keep people in line. It’s why he asked T’Challa the last time he was in New York if he would agree to take them to Wakanda.

“Thanks, Bruce,” he says. Tony would have been better at these types of political machinations. He would have known how to get the stones back to their proper place.

“Actually… it’s Professor Hulk now.”

Right. Because the world hasn’t changed enough.

Tony at thirty is experienced and gorgeous. He rides Steve like he was born to do it, sweat glistening on his skin, strong thighs working. His hands are busy on Steve’s chest, cupping and pinching and tugging, and Steve can’t stop letting out little whines every time Tony’s rhythm slows even just the slightest bit.

Tony has come twice already, his spend splattered across Steve’s stomach. He hasn’t come at all, and he doesn’t know if it’s because Tony told him not to or if there’s something stopping him or if he just hasn’t yet. But he wants to. He aches to spend himself in Tony’s body, mark his claim there as Steve’s forever. Tony belongs to him and him only and—

“Easy there, soldier,” Tony murmurs, wrapping his hands around Steve’s shoulders and pulling him up. Steve kisses him desperately, only realizing when Tony gentles the kiss how much he’s trembling. “It’s okay, baby. We’ve got all night.”

All night, yes, but the morning will come eventually, and when it does, Tony will be gone again, living on only in Steve’s memories and dreams.

He chokes out another sob, burying his face in Tony’s neck. Tony slows and then stills altogether, running his hands through Steve’s hair. The air around them smells like sex, but this, here, this is comfort.

“What’s wrong?” Tony whispers, kissing every inch of Steve’s face that he can reach. He sounds worried. He sounds careful.

“You’re gone,” Steve replies.

“I’m not, honey, I’m right here. Steve, look at me, please. I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

“No, you’re gone,” he sobs. “And—”

He wakes up. The bed is as cold and empty as it’s always been.

“I don’t know if I can do this without him,” he confesses to Bucky one night while they’re working on paperwork to get Bucky’s KIA status lifted. It’s late, and all Steve wants is for them to be done so he can go to sleep and see Tony again. It’s the only place he gets to see him these days, other than the memorials that cover the world, but those don’t really know Tony.

“I know he was Pepper’s,” he continues when Bucky doesn’t say anything. “But—fuck, Bucky, I love him.”

“Yeah,” Bucky says quietly. “I figured.”

Steve shoots him a sharp glance. Natasha had—had known. She’d figured it out way back after they all moved into the tower, but that was Natasha. He hadn’t thought he was that obvious to anyone else.

“I grew up with you, asshole,” Bucky says, punching his shoulder lightly. “And it sure as shit wasn’t me you kept thinking about calling with that phone.”

Steve very deliberately doesn’t touch his pocket, where he still keeps the flip phone even now, all these years later. He hadn’t realized Bucky had even noticed the phone. He hadn’t noticed any of them had, except for Clint, who had helped him choose it as the only one of them used to working with burner phones.

“So. What are you gonna do about it?”

Steve laughs, but it isn’t funny. “What do you mean, what am I gonna do about it? Nothing. There’s nothing I can do. I lost my chance, and now Tony is—” He stops before he can say the words.

Bucky’s expression softens, and when he touches Steve again, it’s a gentle nudge against his elbow, not a punch to his shoulder. “It’s been three months, Stevie. You still can’t say it?”

Of course he can’t. Saying it means admitting that Tony is gone, that he’s never coming back. Saying it means admitting that he failed, that he took a husband away from his wife, a father away from his daughter, and promised him they would all come back and broke it. It means admitting that the man he loves is—

He can’t say it.

There are lines on Tony’s face that weren’t there the last time they saw each other. His hair is a shade of silver Steve never saw in life. But his eyes are still as warm a brown as they’ve ever been, sparkling amber in the morning sunlight streaming in through the breakfast nook windows. Steve suspects, that if he looked in the mirror, he would be just the same.

“Harley called while you were on your run,” Tony says, crossing the kitchen as Steve enters. He pulls him into the sort of kiss that you give someone when you’ve known them your entire life, and Steve melts into it, winding his arms around Tony’s waist to keep him where he wants him.

“Mm, what a wakeup call,” Tony says when they finally pull apart, some sun-drenched minutes later. “Coffee? Or tea this morning?”

“Tea,” Steve says, digging in one of the cupboards for wherever Tony put the sugar this time. His husband, always so absent-minded. “What did Harley have to say?” In his waking hours, he has no idea who Harley is, but his dreaming mind supplies him with a grin that reminds him of Tony in his younger days and a job interview at SI.

“He’s getting married next year. He wants us to be there.”

“Isn’t that what the RSVP is for?”

“He wanted to check with us personally, seeing as next year is forty years together, and he thought we might have plans already.”

“Ah yes,” Steve says warmly, catching Tony’s wrist as he passes by and placing a delicate kiss on the inside. “Because I’m going to whisk you away for a whole year just to celebrate our anniversary.”

“Careful there, mister!” Tony chuckles, passing him his mug. “I might whisk you—”

Someone is knocking on his door. Steve fights back a snarl and the urge to hurl his shield at the door. For a moment, he wonders if whoever it is will just go away if he doesn’t answer, but all that happens is the knocking gets louder and more urgent.

“What?” he snaps, flinging the door open.

Dr. Banner looks taken aback at his response. “Oh, hey, cool, man,” he says, holding up a case. “Just thought you’d want to know that we got the Stones back. You can take them back to their timelines as soon as we’ve got another time machine up and running.”

“Gre—” Steve starts to say, only to stop when his brain catches up. “Me?”

“Well, yeah,” Dr. Banner says with a shrug. It’s very strange-looking on the man that Steve once remembers looking ill-at-home in his own bedroom. “Rhodey’s was the only one whose mission went relatively smoothly, but he’s still on bereavement leave, so I thought it was best to leave him alone. But yours and—” Steve doesn’t know what stricken expression crosses his face, but Dr. Banner just clears his throat and skips over Tony’s name. “Well. Yours was less chaotic than Thor and Rocket’s. I thought you’d be the best candidate to take them back.”

Is it Steve’s imagination or is there a slight green pulsing light emanating from the case?

“Thanks,” he says. “I appreciate the trust.”

“Yeah, don’t worry about it.”

Dr. Banner looks like he’s going to companionably punch Steve’s shoulder, and Steve automatically takes a step back. He doesn’t know if Dr. Banner’s learned to pull his punches yet—literally—or not, but he doesn’t want to risk getting thrown through a wall.

“You’re dead,” he admits for the first time in nearly six months. It’s only in the comfort of his own dreams, but it’s there. This Tony is the most familiar to him out of all the ones he’s dreamt. This Tony is the one he talked to the night before their mission, soft and sweet in a pair of flannel pajamas that Morgan got for him.

They’re curled together on their sides, facing each other, and Tony is squinting a little because he apparently needs glasses and refuses to admit it. Steve’s hand is resting on Tony’s hip, thumb sweeping back and forth beneath the flannel.

“You’re dead, and I killed you,” he admits, tears welling in his eyes.

“I don’t think that’s true, honey,” Tony whispers, leaning forward to kiss the tears off his cheeks.

“I did, sweetheart. I dragged you back into this life. You were out. You should have gotten to go home. I shouldn’t have had to bury you.”

“You didn’t make me do anything. No one makes Tony Stark do anything. I’m a law unto myself.”

Steve can’t help but smile at that, and it might even be true that he didn’t make Tony come back to the Avengers (come back to him), but he doesn’t know that he’ll ever stop feeling the guilt. His fault or not, it was still his request that brought him back, and that is, ultimately, what killed him.

“I have the chance to see you again,” he says eventually.

“So what’s holding you back?” Steve gives him a startled look, and Tony just smiles wryly. “You think I could have known you for as long as I did and know recognize your moods? You want to find me, but you don’t think you should.”

“I killed you. What right do I have to find you again just to make myself happy?”

“And what about what I want?” Tony argues. “Maybe I want you to, did you ever think about that?”

Tony is starting to take on the hazy quality that means Steve is waking up naturally as opposed to being startled out of his dream. Steve can nearly see through him to the bed below. He leans forward and kisses Tony’s forehead, the tip of his nose, his chin, Tony’s beard tickling his lips.

“What if I don’t get to be happy?” he breathes, barely more than a sigh. He doesn’t mean for Tony to hear him, but this is his dream. Of course, Tony hears him.

“Honey, what if you do?” Tony kisses him sweetly, then pulls him into a hug, the touch so faint now Steve almost can’t feel it.

He wakes up to Tony’s whispered, “Come find me.”

“Five seconds,” Dr. Banner says.

There’s not a lot that can happen in five seconds. A handshake. A smile. A kiss.

But a lifetime can be lived in the spaces between the seconds.

Five.

“I’m not your Steve, Howard,” Steve says to the astonished man standing in the foyer of the Stark Mansion off of Park Avenue. Steve never visited this place in his lifetime. Tony sold it only a year after his parents’ deaths and moved out to Malibu permanently. It’s ostentatious. Steve can see why Tony sold it. “Your Steve died when he went into the ice.”

Which is true. Back when they’d first been planning the time heist, they hadn’t had the time to determine if they were really time-travelling or visiting alternate universes, which had been one of Clint’s theories. During the six months following the battle and sending the Stones home, Dr. Banner had apparently found the time to do the research that they hadn’t done initially (maybe they should have; maybe if they had, Tony and Natasha would still be alive) and determined that it was a mix of both. And when Steve had made the decision to stay in the past, he’d done it by finding a universe that no longer has a Steve Rogers. He won’t upset some poor guy’s life like that.

“But you are a Steve,” Howard says slowly.

“Yeah,” he says with a little shrug.

“Why are you here?”

There’s movement at the corner of Steve’s vision: Tony Stark, nineteen and beautiful and perfect.

“I’m here to fix things,” he states.

“Right,” Howard says slowly, clearly not understanding, but he will. “I—uh—I got married? Um, I think Maria’s asleep, but, oh—let me introduce you to my son.” He pulls Tony out of the shadows, a proud look on his face. Steve hates that he can’t tell whether he’s prouder over Tony or having Steve back. “Steve, this is Tony. Tony, this is Captain Rogers.”

“Call me Steve,” Steve says, sticking his hand out to Tony.

A slow smirk spreads across Tony’s face. “Steve,” he purrs, and Steve shivers.

Four.

Tony is twenty-eight and beautiful at their wedding. Their marriage wouldn’t have been legal even just earlier this year—still isn’t in a lot of places around the country—but Steve’s opinion holds a lot of sway in this state, and he’s been backing gay marriage since he came back.

Tony is dancing with a pretty, young paralegal that he dubbed Pepper the first time he met her and promptly stole as his assistant, but his gaze keeps returning to Steve like an iron shaving to a magnet. His tie is loose, the first few buttons of his dress shirt undone, and his hair is mussed because Steve can’t stop running his fingers through it every time they kiss.

“Last of us to get married, huh, Captain?” Dum-Dum says, dropping down into the seat next to him. He’s nearly ninety now, but still spry, still kicking.

“There’s still Bucky,” Steve comments. It burns that he still hasn’t been able to find him though Hydra has been forcibly routed from SHIELD. Maria and Howard are safe, and Maria even attended their wedding though she left after the toasts. Howard didn’t bother to show up. Tony had declared it no great loss.

“You’ll find him,” Dum-Dum promises, clapping his shoulder. “And in the meantime, you’ve got yourself a pretty, young thing to keep you plenty busy.”

“Don’t let Tony hear you say that,” Steve warns. “He’ll rig your doorbell to explode.”

“Good. I need more excitement in my life.”

As if summoned by his name, Tony flounces over and drops into Steve’s lap, giving him a messy kiss. He’s champagne-loose and sun-bright, laughing into Steve’s mouth.

“Hello, sweetheart,” Steve murmurs fondly, hardly believing that he gets to have this.

“We should say our goodbyes,” Tony informs him, eyes dark.

“Goodbye, Dum-Dum,” Steve says immediately.

They leave the reception to Dum-Dum’s uproarious laughter.

Three.

“Sometimes, I think I dreamed you,” Tony whispers in the early morning hours before Steve is more than a little bit awake. Steve can’t drag himself out of his sleep-hazy state to reassure him that he’s real, he’s very real.

Tony is forty and whole, the arc reactor nothing more than a pet project for Tony to work on in between releasing new technology to make the world a better place. Morgan, three years old and the light of both of their lives, is asleep down the hall, the newborn twins, Peter and Harley, in the room next to her.

Soon, Steve will have to wake up. One of the twins will be hungry. Morgan will remember that it’s Christmas. Tony will want to slide down the sheets and fit his mouth around Steve’s morning wood.

But for now, the world is still and quiet, and Tony is brushing his hair back from his face.

Two.

Tony is fifty and maudlin because he went grey late and only just found a grey hair for the first time yesterday. It likely doesn’t help that his over-the-hill birthday party was yesterday, and Morgan has recently decided that she’s too old and cool to hang around her parents.

But that’s what he has Steve for. Steve, who’ll kiss his greying temples and the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes and his laugh lines, who’ll fuck him like he’s young and twenty and capable of coming three times in an hour, who’ll hold him in the aftermath and tell him that he’s beautiful, he’s perfect, he’s all Steve’s.

And then, of course, Harley and Peter will rush in since neither of them has any tact, and Steve will throw the blankets over them and worm his way into his clothes underneath them before emerging to deal with whatever the twins want.

“What were you doing?” Harley asks curiously as Peter’s hand slides into Steve’s.

“Your father and I got hot,” Steve replies, which is true, after a fashion.

Rhodey, sitting at the kitchen table, chokes on a scone. Bucky, sitting next to him, just as he has every single day since Steve introduced him to his Tony and Tony’s flyboy best friend, unsympathetically pounds his back.

“I want an omelet,” Peter says, badly mangling the pronunciation. “Uncle Rhodey said he doesn’t know how, and Uncle Bucky only burned it.”

“What do we say, kiddo?” Steve asks, already getting out the eggs.

“Now,” Tony finishes, joining them. He ruffles Harley’s hair, drops a kiss on top of Peter’s head, and deliberately brushes up against Bucky, just to see his nose wrinkle when he inhales what he and Steve were up to.

“That is not what we say, sweetheart,” Steve says amusedly. “You’re teaching our children bad habits.”

“Please!” Peter shouts cheerfully.

“Yeah, honey,” Tony purrs, hand ghosting across the front of Steve’s pants. “Please.”

One.

“Remember what we were like at our wedding?” Tony asks. His hair is completely white now, but then again, so is Steve’s.

“I remember you convincing me to leave early,” Steve says, kissing him.

Tony chuckles. “Yeah.” He looks at Peter, dancing with his new husband in the middle of the dancefloor. Peter never did learn how to dance, not like either of his siblings, but that’s alright. The people who love him don’t care about his flailing.

“You want to leave early again?”

Steve grins at him. “Of course.”

Zero.

“You wanna tell me about her?” Sam asks, looking younger than Steve can ever remember being.

A lifetime passes in five seconds. Tony, smiling at him when he’s nineteen and ninety and all the years in between. The way Morgan’s hair twirls around her when she dances at her wedding. His first kiss with Tony, in the middle of a parking lot in the pouring rain. Harley throwing a snowball at the girl down the street—he’ll grow up to marry her one day. Tony’s eyes lighting up as the miniaturized arc reactor turns on for the first time. Peter tucked into his side as he reads him a bedtime story. Bucky and Rhodey and Pepper and Natasha, piling in for a family photo on Tony’s birthday.

Tony, Tony, Tony.

“No,” he says, smiling to himself. “No, I don’t think I will.”

#alle writes #stevetony #if you like please reblog

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gamersonthego · 2 years

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Chase Koeneke's Top 10 Games of 2022

I think in general, I found myself wanting in 2022. While new games in some of my favorite franchises saw releases, very few lived up to the expectations I had for them. I also just completely missed games that would almost assuredly make this list (Hardspace Shipbreaker, Immortality, Pentiment, Coromon, Chained Echoes, the list goes on). But what did make the list? Let's find out.

10. Digimon Survive

Look, I promised myself this would be my token tenth slot, and it’s not because it deserves it. Digimon Survive isn’t very good. Its strategy parts are thin and tedious, plagued by low movement ranges and bad maps. And its visual novel parts go on way too long, yet rarely offer much depth.

But dammit, there’s something here, and with some adjustments, a sequel to Digimon Survive could be really good (though I’m not sure it’ll get that chance.) The art style is excellent, the writing is solid (again, it’s an issue of quantity and redundancy, not necessarily quality) and outside of one or two of them, I ended up really connecting to both the characters and the Digimon. Other games deserve this slot more, but there was no other game I wanted to like more than this, and I think that accounts for something.

9. Platformer Toolkit

I love playing games, but I think I love analyzing them even more, which is probably why Mark Brown’s video-essay-inside-a-video-game appealed to me so much. Mark Brown’s YouTube channel, Game Maker’s Toolkit breaks down game mechanics, theory and psychology, and after he taught himself Unity this year (documenting his progress on the channel), he built a game that gave a tiny window into the the minds of game developers.

Platformer Toolkit is a simple browser-based 2D platformer, but it controls like garbage. This is by design though! Mark walks and talks you through the physics of character movement, unlocks sliders and panels in a Mario Maker style design that lets you tweak everything from jump height and run speed to squash frames and coyote time. And once you’ve finished the short and free experience, Mark opens up a number of presets that lets you toggle through a group of classic platformer physics setups (Mario, Sonic, Celeste, Meat Boy, etc.) so you can compare and gain a greater appreciation for why those characters control the way they do. It was really compelling and I felt like a learned a ton.

8. Marvel's Midnight Suns

I’ve felt this way for years and I haven’t been shy in saying it: I’m fucking tired of superheroes. Throw them all in the bin right next to zombies and let’s find a new thing to obsess over please. But I do love me a turn-based strategy game, so when the makers of XCOM: Enemy Unknown announced they were making a game based on Marvel heroes, the pros outweighed the cons, and I checked it out. And while I’m not back on the MCU train (in fact, the writing is so, so, so Marveliciously awful, that I’ve started skipping cutscenes whole cloth), I’m finding myself addicted to the game parts of this game.

Midnight Suns does not play like XCOM. At all. It’s an entirely new, card-based system, played in very small arenas. You’re always outnumbered and you always have a very limited numbered of actions available to you each turn. To overcome this, you have to employ clever strategy to make the most of every move, using attacks to bounce enemies off each other or parts of the environment, disabling the most vicious threats and finding the perfect opportunity to burn an action on achieving an objective. And while I never could thematically wrap my head around why these larger than life super-beings were all fighting in these cramped little spaces, the fact is, it’s just a really fun system to play around in.

7. Vampire Survivors

More than any other game this year, Vampire Survivors justified my purchase of a Steam Deck. That sounds weird, right? I spent over $500 on a thing just to play a $5 game on it most of the time? But, uh, Vampire Survivors really is that good. This horde mode meets roguelike with a thick coat of Castlevania paint and a sprinkle of idle game sensibilities just kept sucking the hours right out of me.

While the game on its own is fun enough, the real secret to the game’s success is, well, it’s the secrets. Finding the right combination of active and passive power-ups leads to special ultimate upgrades that turn you into an absolute buzzsaw of destruction against screen-filling masses of enemies. The more you play, the more fun, new toys you unlock, compelling you to try just one more run. A compulsion I would often give into.

6. Citizen Sleeper

I was so hot on Citizen Sleeper when I first loaded it up. I’ve followed Guillaume “blackysan” Singelin’s work for awhile now, and seeing their work translated to a video game was really exciting. And the writing, my god, the writing! I hung on most every word. And its dice-heavy tabletop game mechanics and extremely limited resources brought in a satisfying combo of luck and desperation that gave me a real sense of scrounging and stretching for survival.

And then I realized that the game rarely allows the player to fail, almost always throwing them a bone at the last minute, never fully committing to the survival tale the story would have you believe. And about two-thirds of the way through the game, the economy just falls apart completely, as any reasonably competent player can amass more than enough resources to live comfortably, even while the story tries to convince you otherwise.

It was a real heartbreaker to me, one that partially led to me taking the first potential ending the game presented. But the more distance I get from it, the less I think about the busted economy and the more I think about my sleeper, and the choices and friends she made along the way. And thinking about that makes me smile.

5. Live A Live

Man, I wish Live A Live had gotten a western release back on the Super Nintendo. I know young Chase would’ve loved the JRPG-meets-turn-based-strategy combat, the amazing music and the fragmented story that stars multiple protagonists in different time periods. I know this because current Chase loved it, especially with this HD 2D touchup it got on the Nintendo Switch. Is it better than Chrono Trigger and Final Fantasy? I mean…maybe? The fact that it’s even a question at all speaks to how good Live A Live is.

It’s so inventive for its era. Heck, it’s still inventive today, playing with both genre and expectations to create something unique while wearing its influences proudly on its sleeve. More RPGs should’ve taken cues from Live A Live. And they still should.

4. Triangle Strategy

Oh look, another turn-based strategy game. Oh, and it’s HD 2D too? Yup, I have a type, and Triangle Strategy almost fits it to a t. The game tells a grand story that genuinely gripped me (even though the voice acting often didn’t), and offered real, tangible choice leading to different story paths, character recruitments and endings.

And while the battle mechanics weren’t perfect, there was enough depth and variety from the different characters that I took great pleasure in building each soldier up, unlocking new skills and equipping with new gear, looking for synergistic combinations. I love tactics games that make me care about my characters, and I fell hard for this cast of knuckleheads.

3. Tinykin

One of my favorite gimmicks in media is shrinking down and exploring a normal-sized space as a tiny character. I love the MacGuyverness of recontextualizing modern household objects as buildings, tools and transportation. And Tinykin has this in spades. In this miniature adventure, you explore kitchens, bedrooms, bathrooms and greenhouses as you collect Pikmin-like Tinykin — creatures that help you navigate the world and solve its objective-based puzzles.

Tinykin has no combat, just chill, puzzling vibes that allow for curiosity and coziness to walk hand in hand. And as your posse of Tinykin grows, you roll deeper and deeper with your crew, until you are masterfully climbing, gliding and sliding about these creative spaces. It’s the perfect game to wind down with, and one I’d happily return to if another room got added as DLC.

2. Pokemon Legends: Arceus

Coming into 2022, this is not the Pokemon game I expected to make this list. Legends: Arceus looked awful in trailers: Empty worlds, lifeless combat, no real multiplayer to speak of. And none of those things changed once I got my hands on the final product. What did change though, was my perspective of the game in the first place.

Legends: Arceus has you exploring an ancient Sinnoh region, in a world where the concept of Pokeballs and capturing Pokemon is just being discovered. Battling Pokemon isn’t all that fun with the new speed and strong style mechanics, but there’s hardly any battling in the game at all. Instead, Legends: Arceus is about the thrill of catching and collecting. It’s the first game in a while that makes “catching them all” feel like a relevant goal again. And the arrival of Alpha Pokemon (which are essentially bigger and rarer versions of their normal counterparts) added yet another layer of collection on top. In a year where Scarlet and Violet mostly disappointed me, Legends: Arceus is what kept me carrying a torch for my beloved pocket monsters.

Neon White

No other game made me feel as smooth, as cool, as fast and as clever as Neon White. Traversing this deadly parkour demon hunting time trial was my favorite experience of the year. I loved parsing out the fastest route through a level, discovering shortcuts and time saves along the way, before spotting a collectible and slowing down to a puzzling crawl to work my way up to where it was hiding. I loved taking on the challenge rooms that require precise and inventive ways of using your arsenal, not just for killing, but for traversal purposes as well, and then taking that knowledge back to the main game and seeing how i could implement it into my runs.

Just about the only thing I dislike about the game is some of its writing and voice acting. Spike Spiegel himself, Steve Blum does a great job, but very little else of the cast is pulling their weight.

But when a game makes you feel this damn cool, it just doesn’t matter what little hiccups you encounter. It’s my favorite game of the year, and one I’d probably love even more if I had a dedicated crew on my platform of choice to compete for the best level times. Neon White is a kinetic experience that turned me into a speed runner with every level.

#goty #2022 #neon white #pokemon legends arceus #tinykin #triangle strategy #live a live #citizen sleeper #vampire survivors #marvel's midnight suns #platformer toolkit #digimon survive

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anacecherry · 2 years

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Ace Lore

Everyone in my friend cycle is posting their lore and Louie gave me the idea to make my own as well so here we go. Kept switching between 3rd person and 1st person because I felt like using both so the phrasing may seem weird

This isn't in any order I wrote them down as they came to my mind

Named Ace because of Among Us

Had a Danganronpa phase in 2020

Was a mod in dr-transparents

Also had a dr edit blog have fun trying to find that one

Used to be homophobic but one day during breakfast I asked my mom if being gay was a sin and she just thought for a second and said no so I stopped being homophobic

Dad in jail (out in march 9 😎)

Watched the entire mcu once

Goes to one of the greatest schools around the area and its shit

Watches how to learn Turkish videos despite being turkish

Has been pirating movies ever since I started using computers because I didn't know you had to pay for it until 3 years ago

Has an """uncle""" and """aunt""" thats younger than me (the aunt is a toddler)

First experience with the sonic franchise was that flash fangame based on sonic advance 2 and I thought Knuckles was a girl

Has an evil twin named Allo, who likes reddit and men

Knows every single frame of animation in Rise of the TMNT

funneylizzie follows me. I forget about that a lot.

The only person that never misread Penosh's og url

.w batman

Will :handshake: me

The CEO of Rise Casey Jones (Cassandra)

The mere sight of Cjj is enough to fill me with rage

Got kicked out of a toh youtubers server bc I tried to explain the owner that the potion coven was, in fact, a real coven and not just a track that they only teach at Hexide

Once woke up and saw a short weird girl with long black hair watching me from the side of my bed, she disappeared after I closed and opened my eyes again. No it wasn't sleep paralysis.

Has a sunflower seed addiction

I was Penosh's first follower I think that should be here

The 6 kittens we took care of after their mom died, most didn't last 2 months alive, the 5th one ran away like an idiot and the 6th lives with our neighbors and hates us

Most likely had a crush on my middle school best friend

Says "Lan" a lot in real life my friends think it's funny

Grew up near the sea so Im immune to the smell of fish

Remembers her first earthquake in 3rd person

When I clear out likes it takes a long time and I end up rebloging a lot of posts, and it might happen again & will be real big this time so be prepared

The Ralsei icon is traced from the og sprite from Deltarune and I will never ever change it it is a part of my identity now

Url used to be tsundere-blue-cherry before I changed it

The first time I remember throwing up might be one of my core memories. did you know you cant talk when you're just about to vomit

Has headaches forever ever since elementary school

Had a budgie named Şans that flew away because mom kept forcing us to keep the windows open

When I was ~6 I a dream where a Caillou toy that I had came to life and I got so scared that I tore it apart and ran. When I woke up I checked the drawer I put the toy parts in and he was still there and greeted me I screamed and slammed it shut and never looked at that drawer again

Ayıcık the teddy bear

Had 2 imaginary friends and one of them was a mirror

Diagnosed as American

I have cherry in my url but cannot eat cherries bc when eating cherries I realized it had worms in it and it happened twice and I have not been able to eat cherries without drowning in anxiety ever again

My youngest sister called my middle sister Dede despite her name not having those letters in it and the word dede meaning grandpa in our language. We started calling her that as well

Had a dream, before the sonic 2 trailer came out, where the trailer released and it was normal except Boom Knuckles was there as a separate character from normal Knuckles and had his model from the show

Made up number lore when I was younger

Uses light mode

#mutuals #ace's cherry

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tarnishedxknight · 5 months

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[ Another Time Another Place A Hollow Universe In Space ]

The galaxy finally knew his name.

Peter Jason Quill had become the legendary Star-Lord, Captain of the Guardians of the Galaxy. They had saved it not once but twice, earning the respect and admiration of entire societies across the cosmos.

That was why it was important they never knew about the way he was screaming now, lest said respect and admiration was replaced by mockery. Like a child being chased by Abilisks, Quill was screaming his lungs out as he tried to save his team and his ship during a particularly difficult, unexpected landing. If they made it out alive, he would ask Mantis to make the others forget about the noises that escaped him. Though to be fair, they were all screaming. The Benatar slowed down; their screams died down. The Zune was still playing songs as if nothing ever happened, and Quill was amazed by its inability to give a fuck.

“Well, that was smooth.” Rocket’s voice rose from his seat.

“Guys?” Quill asked with a voice that was too high-pitched for an adult, shaky with panic. “Is everyone okay?”

A chorus of confused, affirmative answers erupted around him. Groot nodded – then puked. As the Guardians undid their seatbelt, Quill stood up first.

“Let’s do it again!” Drax broke into laughter, slapping his thighs. “Tell me we can do that again!”

“No, thank you,” Mantis replied.

“Drax, you’re fuckin’ crazy, aren’t ya?” Rocket said.

“There is no way we’re doing that again,” Gamora added.

“I am Groot!” complained Groot.

Quill silently nodded and closed his eyes as they bantered; it was like getting confirmation that his team was okay, and relief made his voice go back to normal when he finally asked the important questions:

“Did you, uh… Did you guys hear me scream, or…?”

“No, Quill. We were too busy thinkin’ we were gonna bite it,” Rocket said.

A sudden knock earned a collective exclamation of surprise among the crew, and they dashed across the corridors of the Benatar as Quill gripped his blasters, Drax his knives, Gamora her switchblade and Rocket aimed his gun. Mantis wanted to protest, say that maybe the citizens of the planet were friendly, maybe they were simply knocking to welcome the Guardians. But she knew, like the others, that they had a young child aboard, so she picked up Groot and held him protectively. Then, Quill slammed a fist against the controls to open up the doors…

(Yeah, you had a good idea and I think it’d be fun to develop it, though I’ll go with multiverse stuff. If they can keep their canon backstories then it’ll be easier for me to understand their context. Since FFXII characters can end up in the MCU, it could also be the other way around. I named this verse after some lyrics that seemed fitting, but feel free to change it if you want! Apologies in advance if I derp anything too hard!)

__________

{ Yeah, I think that’s the best option if you aren’t familiar with the game and want to make it easy on yourself. I’m placing the Guardians in the most hospitable time to start out, before the events of the game and even the prologue. So... King Raminas (Ashe’s dad) is still alive, Basch hasn’t yet been framed for his assassination, and Rabanastre (capital city of Dalmasca) hasn’t been attacked/occupied by Archadia. The reason I put them there is because Rabanastre is a racial, ethnic, and cultural melting pot, so I figured that would be the most interesting for them. Archadia is far less diverse, it’s mostly humans. And they wouldn’t be as forgiving of a random ship coming into their airspace, heh. So... we can eventually make drama happen, but I figured for now, let’s plop them somewhere fairly hospitable (they’re still going to be wary and confused, heh, but at least they won’t shoot them out of the sky) and let them get used to the world first before we add any drama.

Also, don’t worry about messing things up! I can either fix it or run with it, it’s not a problem, heh. I’ve been a fan of this game since 2006, I’ve beat it start to finish three times, and I just watched a 6.5-hour movie of all cutscenes and important shit... and I am STILL messing things up. For some reason, I cannot get the events of the prologue and those at the beginning of the main game straight. I keep thinking King Raminas (Ashe’s dad) was assassinated in the palace on the night of the fete when Archadia attacked Rabanastre, but nope, that happened two years earlier, and in Nalbina Fortress while he was there for a treaty-signing on the border of Dalmasca and Nabradia. I have said so many times he was assassinated in the Royal Palace of Rabanastre and I don’t know why I can’t get it through my thick skull that he was not, lol. I also mix up Gabranth’s last two important scenes, at the Pharos and then later on the Bahamut. To me, those two important conversations will forever blend together in my head and I keep quoting them at the wrong times, and I just... *rubs temples* How many more years do I have to be a fan of this game before I get it right?! XD So don’t worry about it, it’s a very detailed and confusing game at times, so you’re fine, I’m messing things up too, lol. }

Although the city of Rabanastre was prospering, the ever-present shadow of war loomed over all of Ivalice. While Nabradia had seemingly thrown in their lot with the Rozarrian Empire in dangerous opposition to the Archadian Empire, King Raminas of Dalmasca had been adamant about remaining politically neutral. He wanted no part in Archadia’s brutal expansion, nor Rozarria’s recruitment of smaller, previously-neutral nations in order to gain access to their territory and airspace.

Solidarity with Dalmasca’s sister kingdom of Nabradia on the battlefront was not an endorsement for the Rozarrian Empire, the king asserted, but would Archadia see it the same way? Should a war be waged between the two powerful empires, it would be the smaller kingdoms that would suffer most, their skies and land becoming the stage upon which the two behemoth political entities would play out their battle for dominance of Ivalice. While Basch understood his king’s distaste and apprehension, and agreed with it, he worried how much longer Dalmasca would be able to avoid choosing a side in the conflict.

With Nabradia’s not-so-clandestine alliance with Rozarria and Prince Rasler’s approaching wedding to Princess Ashe, tensions, worries, and fears ran high. Would either empire use the marriage as an excuse to escalate what was already bubbling beneath the surface? These worries were stoked, and pointedly so, by reports of an unidentified aircraft in Dalmascan airspace. it had appeared in the skies above Rabanastre, and all attempts to make radio contact had been either unsuccessful... or ignored. As he made his way to where the ship had forcibly docked at a restricted skyport with neither safety clearance nor permission to do so, Basch listened to the concerns of his royal guardsmen.

The ship was... strange. They had no idea what make or model it might be, and what was even more concerning than that, was the fact that it flew no colors or banners. By all accounts, it was either not affiliated with any political entity, or it was attempting to conceal said affiliation. Basch made haste to the dock, taking a company of guards with him. He hoped this was merely a misunderstanding, but if it was not... if it was something more nefarious... he had to be ready. The king was alerted and, as always, well-guarded, and so Basch sought to make sense of the situation Hopefully peacefully so.

When the travelers made no attempt to exit their ship, Basch took it upon himself to step out onto the gangway and... knock on what appeared to be its entrance. His other hand rested on the hilt of his sword, ready for anything. When finally the door did open, Basch was confused by what he saw. What technology was this? Never had he seen such a ship before. He was curious, but duty came first.

“I am Captain Basch fon Ronsenburg, Knight of Dalmasca. You have arrived at the Royal City of Rabanastre without prior notification at a dock reserved solely for palace traffic. Please state your identity and purpose here. What land do you hail from?”

His tone was authoritative but also fairly polite. He had no reason, as of yet, to think this was anything other than a misunderstanding or perhaps something done out of desperation. If the ship was damaged, their radios down, then that might explain the lack of communication prior to docking. He kept an open mind, but was also prepared to take action if these people were here to threaten his king and princess...

#{ another time another place a hollow universe in space }#main muse: basch #{ knight of the order } ᵖʳᵒˡᵒᵍᵘᵉ ᵛᵉʳˢᵉ #{ the darker corners of ivalice } ᵐᵃⁱⁿ ᵛᵉʳˢᵉ ⁻ ᵈᵃʳᵏ ᵉᵈⁱᵗⁱᵒⁿ

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nextstopwonderland · 3 years

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I’m seeing a lot of current takes that Andrew Garfield has “always been underrated” or “is finally getting recognition” or “is only becoming big now” and I’ve got to take a lot of issue here. This current framing that he is now getting his “big break” after being in an mcu movie is not only both ridiculous and patently false, but it’s also flat out insulting and carries with it a subtext of “relevancy only occurs once you’re in an mcu movie.”

Andrew Garfield received tons of critics awards for The Social Network; he was nominated for a BAFTA and the golden globe. he won the British film evening standard award for the combination of both the social network and never let me go because in his breakout year he released not one by two movies and was on a press tour promoting both of them while receiving critical acclaim for the pair of them. His breakout out year was 2010, not 2021. Prior to that he’d already received awards and praise for his performance in Boy A in 2008 and he performance in Red Riding was being talked about, especially because of the upcoming release of TSN. He was not overshadowed by Jesse Eisenberg or Justin Timberlake. Everyone was talking about him. He was cast in Spider-Man in 2011 was still in the middle of doing TSN press. Oscar snubs happen all the time and the Oscars themselves do not and have never reflected the best performances/films of each year. Sure, we all want him to finally win one despite this, but conflating success with an Oscar win is terribly short sided. That being said, he then went on to receive an Oscar nomination for Hacksaw Ridge in 2017. He has won a Tony for his portrayal in Angels in America and he’d already been nominated for one back in 2012 for Death of a Salesman. He received awards and acclaim for Silence and Hacksaw Ridge, again two movies that came out in the same year and so he was competing against himself during the awards season race. There is an entire wiki page dedicated to all the awards he’s received/been nominated for.

tl;dr : Andrew Garfield is not underrated/“his talent is finally being recognized” just because you’re now finally paying attention to him.

#Andrew Garfield #I also think ppl truly believe that if you aren’t making Hollywood blockbusters you’re considered underrated #this guy has flat out said that he carefully crafted his career particularly after tasm bc he wanted to be an actor not a celebrity #and that the theater is where he truly lives #and yes he might have put out four movies this year but it isn’t until nwh dropped that im seeing ppl saying this stuff #so once again framing it around the mcu

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swtki · 3 years

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Destroy Dick December - P.P

Pairing: Mcu! College! Peter Parker x Fem! Reader

Summary: Inspired by this fic by @selfcarecap (read it bc its literally so good !), usually destroy dick December is a joke, not this time though!

Warnings: Smut, 18+ content, overstim, vaginal sex, oral sex (m + f), handjob, facefucking, sexting, masterbation ( m+f), swearing (duh), vanilla sex, romantic sex, rough sex, mentions of spit, unprotected sex, creampie, degration, pet names (baby, sweet boy/girl, angel), dry orgasm, crying (m), nutting in pants, dry humping, humiliation (m), Sub! Peter, Femdom, borderline sex addiction, female doesn’t orgasm sometimes, let me know if I missed any!

A/N: while usually I use tasm Peter, I felt that mcu Peter would fit better with this concept. Once again, read No Nut November here!

Day 1

It started off simple enough, the first few days would be normal for us and then it would get a bit more challenging after that. We knew this going in, and we talked about it majority of November. The pent up sexual urges we both had led the conversation.

“So will wet dreams count or no? Because I lost a few times this past month because of them.” he asked, spinning around in his desk chair.

“Mmmm, yeah I think they’ll count towards you. Not saying you should resort to having fifteen sex dreams a night or anything, but it might help to have one or two every now and then. I can only be up for so much.” its not that I wasn’t excited about sex, I just knew I would get bored of it every day, multiple times a day. He needed to be self sufficient.

“Do you want me to do what we always do? Like, do you want me to make the 2:1 ratio of your orgasms to mine?” Peter always talked so technical, as if we weren’t doing this partly for shits and giggles.

“God no, its destroy dick december, and I don’t have a dick. This month is all about you, baby.” I crawled over to him from my place on the floor. “We should start, I’ve planned the first day to be real special.” He gave me a confused look but agreed and sat on the bed. I stood up in front of him, unbuttoning my sweater to reveal a lace bra. It was sheer against my breast, the cold air making my nipples buck up against the fabric. “You’ve gotta tell May to fix that heater.” I laughed.

He stared at me, hands in his lap. “Please keep going.” he begged. Usually, speaking when not spoken to would have been an automatic restraining. But that night wasn’t the usual, it was supposed to be a love filled night. I tugged down my jeans, revealing the matching bottoms of my lingerie.

He looked at me as though the reincarnate of Athena herself were standing in front of him, he always did. I climbed on top of his lap, his hands immediately grasping my ass to keep me stable. My arms snaked around his neck , pressing my body closer to his. As the warmth radiating from his skin wrapped around me, I realized that this was giving me deja vu of our first time together. The light touches, my body against his, the urge to go slow but the fact that we only have so long until May comes home. Yeah, this was just like that.

We rarely skipped any foreplay, but I needed him wrapped around my body as soon as possible, and most importantly, inside of my body. I kiss him for a while, letting hands roam and tongue explore. I could feel him underneath me. I could feel how much he felt the same way as I did.

I lay back on his mattress, feeling the cold air once again as he stood to strip. A few bruises decorated his muscular frame, but we’d fucked with much worse wounds. With much less care as I would use that night. He kicked off the blue striped boxers, climbing into bed so he was placed with my legs on either side of him. He kissed me this time, fiddling with the hooks on my back. I could feel him smile when they finally pulled apart, a triumph for the boy. As he slid himself inside of me I wrapped my legs around his waist. The familiar pressure below my stomach, the soft brush of his hip bones against my clit, the sweat making our bodies stick together. I let it all sink in as I laid there. He thrusted with his own steady pace, and I didn’t ask him to change it. I didn’t realize my eyes were shut until he whispered “Open your eyes, baby.” and brushed the hair out of my face. Of course I complied, meeting his eyes with mine immediately. He was close, his hips started getting sloppy, and the grip he had on the sheet made me worried he would rip it.

“Are you close?” I whispered, he made a small whimper signaling that yes, he in fact was. “Cum inside of me, Peter. Wanna be filled with you.” As if I had just hacked the magic code, he released with a loud groan. Staying inside of me, he collapsed and put his head in the crook of my neck.

“I think the next few days will be easy.” He said.

Day 7

Seven, seven? How was I going to manage to help Peter cum seven times that day? I was tired, I was sore from day five and day six, and most importantly I only had so many functions. At this point, I was just a hole and maybe a mouth, but it was all for the cause.

We facetimed in the morning, getting the first two out of the way. I came over in the afternoon, did one round in missionary, did one where I was on top and he thrusted, we only had three to go.

“Pete I need a break, well, my vagina needs one. How are you feeling?” I asked, my hand rubbing his shoulder. I noticed that his face turned red. “How fucking short of a refractory period did the spider bite give you?”

“Uh, y’know like a minute.” He said quietly. I laughed and sunk to my knees.

“Let me take care of you, of course with you doing all the work.” his pants had been discarded a while ago, and I only wore his shirt and my underwear. While yes, I was tired, he would be sensitive now so it wouldn’t be like a fifteen minute endeavor like usual. I grabbed his hands, placing them on my head. “Fuck my face?” he pulled in a sharp breath and stuck his cock into my open mouth.

He had my nose pressed up against his pubic bone, and my hands were flat against his thigh. He thrusted once, earning a grotesque gagging noise from me. This repeated until I was covered in my own spit, my nose running from the constant gagging. He forced my head onto him again, and held it there while his cum dripped down my throat.

Two to go.

Day 14

Mutual masterbation didn’t solve everything, but it could help. We could be across the room from each other, just getting ourselves off while the other benefited. I pushed my skirt up while I was sitting on his bed, him sitting on the chair a few feet away. It caught his attention as a soft moan left my lips. His head snapped towards me, smiling and proceeding to tug his jeans down. I watched him stroke up and down on his cock, and he watched me rub the sensitive bud between my legs. Neither of us really said anything, our moans filled the room as I came undone and he exploded with a few more tugs. Sex hadn’t lost its meaning or its appeal, it was just a bit too strenuous for me to do that many times.

Day 20

By day twenty, we were both sensitive. It felt like we would only stop having any sexual contact when we slept. And even then I was still considering letting him fuck me in my sleep so we could keep with the score. It hadn’t gotten to that point yet, but I spent the night after day nineteen, so I awoke to Peter laying next to me. He no longer got morning wood, but it wouldn’t take that much to fix it. I watched him sleep, enjoying the peace and warmth that our bodies radiated. He stirred awake, and suddenly that peace was over.

“Peter, I’ve been thinking.” I said with my arms wrapped around him. “If you wanna go ahead and call it quits on this challenge-“

“No, I want to complete it. You can tap out of course, but I want to complete it.” He interrupted, a serious look painting his face.

“I wanna help you complete it.” I sat up and strattled his lap, my underwear and his pajama pants were the only things keeping our skin from touching. I could feel the hardness under my ass, and I wiggled my hips a bit to tease him. “Remember when we first got together, how we would dry hump all the time?” I started grinding on him, biting my lip from the pleasure. I could feel how bad he needed me, the proof was rubbing against my cunt. He was quiet, obviously trying to make this last. I pressed down harder and earned a whimper. The more I moved and the harder I pressed, the louder he was. When his eyes rolled back into his head and I felt a wet spot on my thigh, I knew that his first orgasm of that day was in his pants. It felt good.

Day 27

Anytime Peter was under me I had him whimpering. I kept giving him handjobs, let him rut against me when I was lazy, the usual. His whimpers had become more high pitched, as I continued to rub his cock with my spit well after he had cum he would almost yelp. His hips would buck up, he would try and squirm away and he would screw his eyes shut. On the 25th orgasm of that day, he sobbed. I hadn’t given him a break since the fifteenth orgasm, and he was feeling the effects of it. As soon as I saw the tears fall from his beautiful eyes, I stopped and checked in.

“You okay, baby?” I rubbed his thigh in a loving manor.

“Ye-yes. Feels so good when you do that. Im in Heaven right now.” He sounded tired, but insisted I continue. His tears wouldn’t cease after that day.

Day 31

We were done. Finally done. Well, almost at least. We had made twenty nine that new years eve, and on that twenty ninth, a strange thing happened. Peters hips faultered, he cried a bit, and he slumped over when he came. The only thing that didn’t happen was the actual white liquid. His body ran out it seemed. We decided to save the last one for later in the evening. Send the year off with a bang if you will. But, even the last orgasm was dry. I felt proud of myself and I know he felt embarrassed.

January 1st

The day without sex was much needed. Peter and I went on a date where I didn’t get fucked immediately after for the first time in a month. He also wore a metaphorical badge of honor for his dedication to Destroy Dick December. I didn’t know how long it would take for us to even dry hump again, but at least my boy was happy.

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crazyxshit · 3 years

Text

Brat.

my blog is 18+ (minors dni) & remember you’re responsible for your own media consumption.

likes, comments & reblogs are appreciated!

words: 3.8k

warnings: NSFW! darkprof!steve, rough sex, degrading, manipulation, begging, sir kink, slapping, p in v

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To say you were tired was an understatement. You were honestly sick of being so strict with yourself. It came to the point that you stressed so much you missed out on actually living as a teen. But now you were a university student and living was a priority.

The amount of pressure you put on making yourself seem like the perfect student the last few days was straining so you decided that going out with your best friend Nat would be the perfect remedy. It was the night before your first class for your third year in college and honestly, you had just wanted to let loose tonight.

Which leads you to one of the most popular college bars around campus. "Nat, Don't you think this is a bit too crowded," trying to tell her, your voice at a high volume due to the music that was blasting throughout the room.

She had your hand in her's, steering both of you in the direction of where the bar is. "Nope. It's exactly what you need." She yells back, turning to the bartender to request some drinks.

You don't say much, quickly reminding yourself what you had planned for tonight. Get tipsy, dance, and have fun with Natasha. It had been long overdue since the two of you had hung out, your schoolwork always being the main priority.

But what didn't know? Was that a certain man who had been watching you... He was in the shadows lowly lurking but he was more present than ever. Watching how your body moved slowly and sensually on the dance floor. His jaw and hands clenched, taking every ounce of self-control within him to not tear you away from the man you had begun dancing on.

It made him sick to see another man have their hands on your body or even be in the sight of you. It was like the anger inside was begging to be let out. To take you home with him, bend you over every object in his house, and fuck you until you were screaming his name.

Soon. All that would happen soon.

It had already been halfway into the semester and not much had happened. Except for the one-eighty in yourself. You became more of a party girl, and while Nat never expressed her concern you could tell she was worried. You've partied almost every other week and while you never went home with a guy, you've kissed a few people.

One of the worst things about your year was the one and only, Steve Rogers. Your professor. He was always known to harshly grade his students and reprimand them if they cursed in his class. He never tolerated lateness and most people called him 'Ancient Rogers' by the way he acted.

So you made it your sole purpose to piss him off. In every single way.

Walking into his class on a bright and early Monday morning, you wore something casual. You weren't about to be one of those girls who would wear dresses and skirts and dress up like it was some kind of fashion show. But you definitely weren't about to go on campus where hundreds of people would look at you and think you didn't care how you perceived yourself.

"Hey, Nat," Yawning as you greet her, still tired from the night before as she approaches you, her straight red hair framing her face and a fell a little bit past her shoulder. She has two coffees in her hands and as she hands you one, you gratefully accept, thanking her for it.

"I hate Mondays." She groans in which you nod your head in agreement. "And we have Rogers class first."

"Yes, we do." You half snarkily respond with a mischievous tone in your voice. "Why do I feel like this is going to go bad." She had a right to be after all you were going to piss him off once again. She knew about it due to the many times you told her about him and from what she had witnessed. She knew your whole charade of pissing him off was just your way of flirting with him, but she didn't know if he appreciated any of it.

Heading in the direction of his class, you both talked to one another about things that were going on in each other lives. Your friendship with her was one of those where you would forever have things to talk about and the conversation never got boring. In a way, you struck out when you met Nat, when everything else in your life went to shit she would be there for you.

Sitting in the front of the class, you waited for Rogers to comes inside the room. You had to mentally prepare yourself each time you were going to see him because he undoubtedly hot. Like the type of hot that would you make you spit your water out or made you double look to make sure you weren't seeing things. You would never tell him that to his face but you were pretty sure he knew by the number of times the other girls gawked at him like he was a statue on display.

And as he stepped inside the room, he still managed to take your breath away and cause dirty thoughts to form inside your head. Quickly. A little too quickly. His full beard was probably the best part about him. It was trimmed but still covered the entirety of his lower face. You imagined how it would feel against your soft skin more times than you can count. His blondish hair slicked back as it ended before it even reached his hair.

He was also in a suit- a navy blue one with a matching white and blue tie. He was your law professor after all but you truly didn't know why he dressed all professionally like he was about to go to trial. His biceps bulged again the constricting fabric like at any point it was about to burst through and you wouldn't mind it at all. He was seemingly very fit and you couldn't help to think how he would gaze into your eyes before scooping you up in bridal style to throw you on top of his bed.

"Good Morning. Let's start." He said, turning around to start writing on the board. His class was boring, and if he wasn't so attractive you would probably fall asleep in it. But as he continued droning on about corporations you didn't really pay attention. And of course, the rarest of times you don't pay attention to him, he fucking calls on you.

"You. Would you like to answer the question?" He asks, his hands on his hips as his sea-blue eyes seemed to bore holes into you.

"No thank you." Flashing him a slight smile as a way to tell him to not bother. "Do you not know the answer or were you not paying attention?" He hinted at, a certain annoyance tied with his voice that pissed you off.

"Well, if your class wasn't so boring, maybe someone would pay attention." Shooting back at him, your own tone reflecting his. Giving you a look of disbelief, he breaks eye contact with you.

"See me after class."

Mocking his last words under your breaths before actually paying attention, you noticed how he didn't call on your the rest of the time. Purposely.

An asshole he was indeed.

As student by student left the room, you decided to busy yourself by staying on your phone, not really caring for what he had to say. "I suggest you pay attention in my class, for the sake of your grade." He stills in front of you, lecturing you like a child or some sort, in which you respond back with a halfhearted hum.

"Is that all?" Looking up to ask him, boredness masking your tone and face all at once. You were honestly doing it to piss him off and by the vein popping out from his forehead, you were achieving that goal.

"Whatever you're trying to pursue, stop it. You really don't want to see me mad, like you've been trying to do for the past few months." His tone lower and deeper, making you smirk in satisfaction.

"Or what? You'll punish me." Sarcastically responding, A remark like that was probably not the best way to go about it yet on the inside, you didn't care. His buttons were fun to press and his reactions were to die for. Just like now, how he had a surprised look on his face like someone was about to tell him he was about to be a father.

But the atmosphere shifted. His jaw tightened, his blue eyes seem to dilate as you tried not to lose yourself in them while the smirk still remained on your face. It was like he was secretly warning you to not proceed. Of course, that wouldn't stop you but it was interesting. What could be so threatening about him?

Pushing past him, you let that same smirk falter because while you loved this game of cat and mouse with him, he was dangerous. Not actually, not in a way, you could put into words but he was like water and all you wanted to do was drown in it. To let it consume every inch of you until it swallowed you whole.

It was now Wednesday, another class with Mr. Steve Rogers and you couldn't wait to see how things would go today. You normally would have him three times a week, Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. Given your previous exchange you decided to cool it off a bit but Mr. Rogers just made you insane.

The type of insane that made your blood run hot and cold simultaneously. The type of insane that was maddening. It filled your senses making you act like an entire brat. It wasn't how you usually acted but something about him evoked that feeling inside you.

Walking in his class with Nat, you sat down in your usual spot, and when he walked in he had literally taken your breath away. He was in a gray suit this time, a black tie resting on him this time. He had always his hair ungelled, just slightly ruffled which you dreamed of pulling at or running your hands through it to cause a reaction out of him.

Your mind was snapped back to reality when a paper was placed on top of your test. You had expected this quiz since he told you about it a while back but for some reason, you felt unprepared. Looking over each question to answer each one thoroughly, at random times it had felt like you were being watched.

And each time you looked up, you saw the same stormy blue eyes that had seemingly darkened a shade. Mr. Rogers was staring at you. You noticed how he brought his hand up to his face, running it over his full beard. You could have sworn he was looking at you but maybe he wasn't? Or was that his attempt of some sly way of breaking his eye contact with you for it not to be so awkward?

It annoyed you yet made you excited and irritated at the same time. It was like he was teasing you with his gaze. It limited your focus on the test that was supposed to be half of your grade and while he didn't physically do anything to disrupt you secretly blamed him as the distraction.

The end of the semester. Fucking finally. You were supposed to get that test back from Mr. Rogers today and get your grade but you couldn't shake off this anxious feeling you had ever since completing the test.

"Hey, I can literally see you shaking. Do I need to take the coffee away?" Nat said to you, her words filled with concern as she softly placed her palm on your thigh. It broke you out from the stressed-filled thoughts.

"I'm fine, I just don't want to fail this exam. There's a lot riding on this." You tell her, finally aware of your shaking leg— forcing it to stop.

"You say that with every test. And at the end of the day, you always get the highest score so don't worry."

Sighing, you let your head fall back, exhaling in hopes to calm your high tense nerves. You really need to relax. Nat was right. You were fine and you would get a good score this wasn't anything to freak out over.

But it was. As the paper landed in front of you that morning, your score was anything but high. A twenty-five percent out of a fucking hundred. You were absolutely mortified, shocked, and guilt-ridden. How could you do this to yourself? It wasn't like you to fail something and yet life took you by surprise once again.

"Uhm- Mr. Rogers. I would like to talk about-"

"If anyone has an issue or concern about the way I graded then you can show to my office hours." He sternly said before continuing on with his lesson. Looking around the room everyone seemed relieved, for the most part, the only person who was appalled was you.

Like you said he was an asshole. He knew you were going to talk about your grade but he cut you off. What a nice professor he was. But this time was different. Normally you would give a smart or cocky remark but you didn't. He noticed this but you were too frustrated with yourself and at him through the entire class which made you distracted from any attempt at learning.

At four pm, you inevitably found yourself at his office door. It seemed to stare back at you hauntingly, mahogany-colored with his name and subject gold plated and all. It was almost like a warning. To not go in. That uncertainty lurked ahead and for some reason it made you want to go in even more. Raising your hand to knock on the wooden door, you were greeted with a "Come in" from the other opposite side.

It was like he wasn't surprised to see you. The casual look on his face said enough and as soon as you stepped inside, closing the door behind you in case this would turn into a yelling match.

Taking a seat in the chair in front of his desk, he leaned back, twirling a blue inked pen in his masculine, large hands causing you to gulp. An entirely inappropriate, what could those hands do to you, thought appeared in your mind, causing you to shift uncomfortably.

After this, you would have to find some mediocre college boy to fuck. To rid you of Steve Rogers and all the scenarios your mind had created.

"I'm not surprised to see you here if I'm being honest." He said licking his lips, casually which had an effect on your body. Is that crazy? To have an effect on someone without even touching them?

"Of course not, I have a few words for you, Mr. Rogers. A twenty-five out of one hundred? You know that's bullshit." Your tone, accusing him of grading wrong or purposely sabotaging you.

"If I were you, I would watch my mouth. Especially after receiving a grade like that on such an important test." His tone was calm, not like how he was earlier in the day. So why did it piss you off so much more?

"There has to be anything I could do- another test I can take or paper I can write to pass the class. I need this credit." You said, the underlying begging tones becoming more prominent as you spoke. You hated it.

Begging wasn't something you did, you worked hard, normally got your way and that was that. But you never had to grovel. You always had the best grades, were the person who did it all, and did it correctly. But lately, that changed. Things just weren't the same. You wanted to lose control and the partying helped that but there was still something missing.

He kept looking at you his eyes narrowed like he was thinking. "No." Leaning forward he started writing on a piece of paper again, dismissing you easily.

"You're a fucking asshole. This must be fun to you huh? All this power, not caring who suffers at the other end." You knew this outburst wasn't going to be great for you in the long run, but you had to get those things off your chest. He was toying with your grade and future like it was an afternoon activity and it made you furious.

But you weren't entirely stupid. Standing up you began to walk out of his office, reaching for the doorknob, before abruptly getting pinned to the wall by your wrists. How did he even get over to you so fucking fast? "Didn't I say watch your fucking mouth?"

"Mr. Rogers-" To say you were shocked would be an understatement. You knew you got on his nerves quite often but you didn't think he would actually act like this. The worst part was that you liked it. You were always one for the rougher side of things. Tame and soft is nice and all but most times you just wanted to be fucked and degraded.

"Sir. If you're going to use that tone towards me, if you're going to act like a fucking brat, you'll address me properly." His blue eyes were dark, the only light was the lamp on a table next to his desk. It barely illuminated his features but up close he was even more attractive. His beard fitting him perfectly, his hair slightly messy due to him probably running his hands through it often, his lips that looked so soft and kissable you couldn't help to think the type of control he held.

"Or what?" Recovering your cocky demeanor. He wanted to call you out on your tendencies then you would act like it. You secretly wanted to see what he would do— if he would have you suck his cock until it ruined your makeup.

"I'm going to teach you a fucking lesson." He lets you go, only to lightly drag you by the wrist towards his desk, sitting on his chair, facing you. "Bend over on my knee." You don't hesitate to do what he says, his dominance wildly attractive.

"Look at you." The way you could see what was happening cause every feeling in your body to light up like a fire. It excited you, the waiting of what he would do— not being able to see. The only downside was that you couldn't see his face when he would finally touch you in the way you've been needing him to.

"So fucking beautiful." He slipped off your pants, leaving your panties on. You couldn't help but to squirm, his fingertips lightly caressing every curve, every part of your skin.

"Such a pretty slut." In an instinct, he struck your ass, the sound of his hand connecting with your cheek lowly vibrating within the room. You couldn't help but to squirm and jolt forward, the pain and pleasure making your blood rush to your cunt making you throb. "Stay still or do I have to make this last all night."

All night? He couldn't. He wouldn't. Would he?

"No. Ste—Sir. Just fuck me."

"Beg then. If you want it then beg." Slapping your ass at the end of every sentence. That asshole. It was like he knew what your body needed. What it wanted. "I don't beg." You tried to say but the words come out broken.

"Well then I guess we will be here all day." He darkly chuckles at you while slapping your exposed cunt, knowing exactly what you would do. You would bend to his will, giving him exactly what he wanted.

You contemplated for the short second. Your mind clouded with lust. Everything about this was wrong but it all felt so right. His hands on your bodies, his dominance tone.

"Fuck. Sir. Please. Touch me. Use me. I’ll do anything." You rasped out, the sting of pleasure roaming through your body. It was making you breathless.

"Get up and ride me then." He demands, forcing you to scramble quickly onto your feet. You hurriedly make do of his belt, unzipping, letting him push down his pants.

He was fucking bigger than anyone you've ever been with. His cock glistened with precum in which you smoothed your hand over it, rubbing up and down his length.

"Fuck. I want your pussy. I'll have your mouth next time." His words alone and the promise made you all the more wetter. He grips your hips pulling you on top of him, drawing a moan from your lips.

You gasp for air as he moves your panties to the side, pounding into you, causing your walls to pulsate around him. He slipped in so easily and the smell of sex covered the air.

Steve searches your eyes for any discomfort. He wanted to take you rough but he didn't want to seriously hurt you. He wanted to worship your body but ruin you from the inside out. He wanted to mark you all over have you fucked out and cock drunk by him only.

Your moans of pleasure is what lets him know that he can speed up and he does alright. His dick makes his way to every inch of your inside, as he grabs you by the throat with one hand and the other wraps in your hair while kissing you. Your saliva mixes with one another, grunting and panting into the kiss.

He grips your breast through your shirt fondling and slapping it until he's content. You grip his shoulder for support the brutal speed in which he's fucking you at is sending you to your edge.

"Fuck. Sir. I'm going to come." The words leaving you in a small whisper. The only way you knew he had heard you is the way his mouth found the sweet spot on your neck, sucking and biting as he continued to fuck you roughly.

He was bruising you for sure and you felt hot all over. "Come my sweet slut. Give me all your pretty sounds and your sweet sweet come." He pants, nibbling your ear just because.

The words were all you needed as the bubble in your stomach exploded, him following in suit. Your body shaking in Steve's grasp. He held onto you the entire time until you were calmer.

You slump against his shoulders not wanting to move. He places you down on the couch without any effort. He goes to his desk finding something he could clean you up with, making his way back to you.

Your body spasms, your muscles exhausted from being so fucked out. You don't know when but somehow through your blissed out phase, you felt his large body came behind yours, laying in what was sure and uncomfortable position on the couch.

#steve rogers #steve rogers smut #chris evans #chris evans smut #marvel smut #marvel one shot #marvel cinematic universe #prof steve rogers #steve rogers x female reader #natasha romanoff

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