#considering peter could lift more with less effort

[wiltkingart]

partners

#spideypool #deadpool #spiderman #marvel #digital #original art #fanart #not sure how i feel about this one but im posting it anyway #i just think its really funny that deadpool would do any heavy lifting when theyre together #considering peter could lift more with less effort

[shurisneakers]

harmless (ix)

Summary: Bucky volunteers to go stop a small time villain, but nothing can prepare him for what exactly he has to deal with. (Bucky x villain!reader, drabble series)

Warnings: cursing, sex jokes, frustrated bucky, dramatic reader, anxiety

Word count: 3.9k

A/N: a lot of requests came in last week, so cool and thank you for sending them in!! i’ll try my best to write them if they weren’t originally what i had planned for this series bc they’re so cute kfjdghdf. also hey shoutout to @i-reblog-fics-i-like​ for suggesting the backstory thing! 

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

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Somehow it bypasses Bucky’s spam folder and is in his primary email. SHIELD tech is too advanced to let fake mails like this reach him and this doesn’t make sense. Unless it was one of the stupid dating websites he signed up for.

Leaving aside the obvious typo in the subject, he clicks on it, hoping it doesn’t unleash a virus onto his computer. 

He’s instead greeted with a poorly Photoshopped picture of you at a bar with a martini in your hand. He doesn’t have to look too hard to see that the martini is, in fact, an emoji. Off to a terrible start already. 

Right beside it is an even worse image, an imitation of an early Internet chat box.

Harbinger of Doom just sent you a message! 

Come to the empty lot near lair. Bring goggles. 😩💦

Decline/Accept

He wants to strangle you. 

______

“Why did you curse my eyes so early in the morning?” He spots you at the top of the lair, speaking loudly so that it hopefully reached you. 

“What?” you yell back down instead. “If you’re saying something, I can’t hear you.”

He rolls his eyes. He pulls his phone from his pocket and presses on your contact. 

He watches the look of confusion morph into one of slight surprise when you reach into your pocket and pull out your call.

“Don’t ever send an image like that to me again,” he says directly.

“If that one image is too much for you, how will we ever make our sex tape?”

His mouth opens and shuts like goddamn fish.

He can hear your laughter even without the phone.

“First of all- stop laughing- first of all, a sex tape is never going to happen. Second of all, I have a debriefing to go to, we need to make this quick.”

He holds up a finger when he sees you begin to say something. By the look of trouble painted all over your face, he knows it’s going to be a dumb innuendo. 

“Thirdly, why are you standing there?”

“I watched The Last Airbender,” you say once your cackling dies down.

“I like that show.” He did. Peter sometimes watched it when he came over and Bucky more often than not joined in.

“I know, you told me.”

Oh. 

“Okay, what now?” 

“Put your goggles on.” You take one step towards the ledge. 

“What are you doing?” The goggles don’t do anything to shield him from the sun, considering that they’re not tinted. Maybe he could invest in those.

You send him a smile, taking a step further. His walk towards the building turns into a jog, then a sprint when you’re basically standing on the edge.

You spread your arms out like Jesus Christ himself before flinging yourself off the building. His stomach drops.

His phone falls to the ground, discarded to the side as he sprints to break your landing. 

It never comes. 

Instead, a gust of wind smacks him in the face, forcing him a few steps backwards. 

“I am now an air bender.” your eyes shone. “Kind of.”

Just like that, the show was ruined.

He wipes the dust on from his glasses that he now understands why you made him wear. Considerate, for a person who nearly just gave him a heart attack. 

“Why.” It’s not even a question, just a statement. 

“You know how the Tower has a giant ‘A’ on the side?” 

He stares at you. 

“I‘m gonna spray paint ‘asshole’ on the side of it.”

Pepper would not like that. 

“That’s not even evil.”

“Yeah, but it’d annoy your super friends,” You do a flip midair, testing out the repulsors that were tied around your palms, “and I’m the voice of the people.”

You’re too high for him to reach. He doesn’t have his tools, or anything useful on him considering that he never had to use them before. He couldn’t even launch himself at you from the side of the building because you’d just move out of the way. He could jump really high but it would just have the same consequence.

He could talk and keep you distracted but that worked once, it wouldn’t again. At least not for long. 

Fuck, he really had only one option. 

He leaves you to do your somersaults and turns, walking over to where he dropped his phone. It’s an upgrade from the brick he was using a while ago, but not a high end Stark model. A smartphone, but barely.

He sighs, punching in the number and holding it up to his ear.

“Who are you calling?” you yell from above him. 

“Go back to your shitty aerobics,” he yells back.

You pause for a second. “Was that a fucking pun, James Bar-”

The dial tone ends when someone picks up. He diverts his attention back to the call.

“Hey man, I-

“No.”

“You didn’t even let me finish.”

“It’s probably something stupid,” Sam doesn’t even sound annoyed, just uninterested.

“I need your wings.”

“I was right. Bye.”

It was a long shot anyway.

“Fuckin’ hold on a second.” He sees you disintegrate a concrete block by having it drop from the air. “You come here and fix this, then. She’s air bending now.”

“...like Avatar?” Sam unsurprisingly got the reference. 

Peter’s interests were usually shared by everyone in the Tower, just because they had to compensate for the teasing he had to endure. It led to a lot of geeky documentaries and occasional musicals. Bucky wouldn’t be caught dead humming songs from Thoroughly Modern Millie under his breath. 

“Yeah.”

“You want me to come and fight your girlfriend,” he says slowly. 

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Bucky urges, “and yes, I need help. Can’t exactly reach her when she’s twenty feet above me.”

“We have a briefing in 30 minutes. Why did you even go there today?”

He doesn’t know how to answer that. Just looks up at you smacking one of the repulsors against your thigh when it sputters for a second. It’s tradition. 

“Well?” Bucky ignores his question.

“Fine,” Sam’s voice is distant for a second as he agrees. “Clint’s asking if he can come too.”

“Fuck no.” One of them was more than enough and Sam was way better at negotiation. 

He hears a faint profanity from who he assumed was Clint before the call cuts.

He takes a seat on the ground and waits.

“You’re not going to make any effort to stop me?” You have your arms pressed to your side, palms pointed downwards to keep you afloat.

 “I could just throw things at you again.” He makes a mention towards the small pebbles.

“I will fuck you up if you even try,” you warn. He lifts his arms in surrender. “So that’s it. You’re just going to sit there.”

“To be honest, I couldn’t care less if you painted the building,” he says with the least amount of interest he could muster, not that that was very hard.

“Do you not like your team?” 

“I do.” He isn’t lying. “But they’re little shits.”

“I can draw a couple of dicks on their window, no problem,” you say offhandedly.

He looks up at you through his fingers. “That won’t be required.”

Although it was appreciated. 

“Cool, so then I’m gonna go.” You make a mention of the utility belt on your waist. He looks at the many spray cans that decorate it. 

“What colour are you going with?” he interrupts quickly. Fuckin’ Sam. What was the point of wings if he couldn’t get here in 2 minutes?

“Red, probably.” You look down. “I got purple and white just in case.”

“Building’s dark, red is good.”

“You really don’t care, do you?” You lower yourself down to the ground, a few feet ahead of him. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing.” For fucks’ sake, Sam. “You really don’t like superheroes, do you?”

“I don’t have anything against them.”

“Then why do you do this every week?”

This was wading into personal territory and he did not like it. 

“Well.” Your eyebrows knit together. “Because I want to. It’s fun.”

“No other reason?”

“Do I need to have another reason?” You push your palm downwards, sending you back up into the air. “Can’t I just be evil because I want to?”

“Sure,” he says. He’s heard worse reasons. “Why not?”

“Besides, if you think I don’t like superheroes then you should meet Jake.”

“Who’s Jake?” He hadn’t ever heard you mention him before because he’d remember if you had.

“My roommate.” 

“I didn’t see him when I came over.”

“That’s because we’re not conjoined at the hip.” It takes you a second to stabilise. “Besides, he grabbed the water while I got the bracelet but he refused to come say hi.”

Bucky looked down at his wrist. It was still there. He found himself fidgeting with it more often than not.

“He hates superheroes?”

“He has a valid reason.” Your eyes widen in worry when your head suddenly dips. 

“What is it?” He knows the height at which you’re at isn’t very dangerous but if need be, he’s close by. 

“Come find out.” Your eyes shone mischievously. “But yeah, no reason for me to be evil.”

“Not even a tragic backstory?” 

“None. But if you want it, I can give you one, Barnes.” You test the waters, seeing how long you can lie horizontally. “Can’t promise you’ll like it though.”

“Try me.” He has time to kill. He’s a good listener.

“Well, it all started with my family- a troop of gorillas.” You flip over to lie on your back. “They practically raised me, they did. Until my gorilla mother died and I was all but consumed by grief and-”

“Your mother was a gorilla?” He entertains the notion. 

“Or was it my father?” you ask thoughtfully. “I don’t know, I don’t remember. Anyway, I met a-”

“Just to clarify, none of this is real, right?” he interjects. 

You stare at him. He stares at you.

“Bucky, that’s the plot of Tarzan,” you say slowly, “or at least whatever I remember of it... which I’m beginning to realise isn’t much.”

“Just clarifying.” He leans back again.

“Anyway so then when my mother, the deer-”

“Gorilla.”

“Whatever. Was killed, I escaped to some place-”

“Where?”

“Somewhere. And I stayed with these seven men-”

“Why seven?” He actually remembers watching this movie with his sister when it came out. An early memory, a bit faded. He remembers how long he saved up for the ticket.

“Because character development. And then I realised the reason my life was so weird was because there was a rat controlling me by pulling on my hair-”

“What the fuc-”

“If you ask any more questions, I’m going to stop.”

Bucky blinks at you. “So that’s your backstory.” 

“Raw and uncut, baby.”

“Just to get this straight, your mother, the gorilla deer-”

“Witch.”

“Huh?”

“She was a witch who stole my hair.”

“Wha-”

He’s interrupted by the giant shadow cast by something that flies overhead. 

Fucking finally. 

He doesn’t even have to look up. Sam does a small glide to the ground, landing gracefully beside him.

Bucky finds you speechless but straightened up from your earlier posture.

“Buck,” Sam greets him.

“Sam,” he says in return, getting up from his place. 

A grin spreads across your face. “Mr. Sam Wilson. No way.”

“You’re Y/N, I’m assuming?” Sam offers, posture relaxed. He clearly wasn’t here to fight. 

“The one and only.” You tear your eyes away from Sam to glare at Bucky. “Barnes, if you had told me we were expecting guests, I would have dressed better.”

Bucky furrows his eyebrows in suspicion at you. You’d dress up for Sam. 

You dressed up like a suburban tourist dad for him. He was feeling the offence incoming. 

“Can’t count on him to be useful in any situation.” Alright, he did not call Sam just to have the both of you team up against him. 

“Normally I’d agree with you but he did just invite you here, so...” you trail off, looking at Sam expectantly. 

What the shit.

Sam smirks. Bucky switches rapidly back and forth between the both of you.

“I see why Buck keeps coming back every week.” It doesn’t take long for him to catch on, enlisting a feeling of triumph from you. 

“I can’t see why he doesn’t just stay at home everyday if this is the view.” You gesture to him.

This is not what Bucky wanted.

“Okay,” Bucky interrupts, “what is going on here?”

“Pure chemistry, I’d say.” You’re half tempted to bite your lip to seal the deal.

“I agree.” Sam just nods, completely and utterly serious. 

You think that you’ll give him a gift basket just for playing along despite meeting you for the first time at that moment. 

“Get a room.” Bucky rolls his eyes.

“Maybe we will.” You tap your finger against your lip in thought. “How do you feel about Indian food, Sam?”

“Very positively.” 

Bucky grits his teeth. “If you’re not planning to spray paint the Tower, can you just hand over the repulsers so we can go home for the day?”

You let out a small tsk in disapproval. “See what I have to deal with?”

“Can’t imagine how you do it every weekend,” Sam says dryly, not wasting a second in replying. 

“Hello?” Bucky waves his arm around. “She’s the villain here.”

“Your face is the villain here.” You tear your eyes away from Sam only to glare at him. “He won’t even wear a cape. Why am I the only one who brings their A-Game every week?”

“Sam just get the damn-”

“You should wear a cape, man.” Bucky’s absolutely sure that even Sam knows it’s a ridiculous idea.

“I’m not wearing a fuckin’ cape,” he grumbles. 

“What are your thoughts on swords, then?” Your finger finds a place under your chin in deep contemplation. “You’d look great with a sword.”

Bucky buries his face in his palms. “Sam, for the love of God.” 

“Okay, alright.” Sam finally gives in with a small chuckle. He runs a few steps to get a small head start before launching himself into the air, whizzing past your levitating figure. He does a neat little flip midair before matching your height.

Showoff.

“How difficult are you gonna make this, Wilson?” you ask, a smirk on your face.

“Jesus Christ.” Bucky exhales, looking at the both of you through his goggles. 

“What’s your play here?” Sam calls out loudly.

“Was gonna spray paint ‘asshole’ on the side of the Tower.”

“After the ‘A’?”

“After the ‘A’,” you confirm. 

“Now that’s too small,” Sam tutted. “You gotta think bigger. Paint the whole Tower.” 

“Sam!” Bucky looks horrified. 

“Hmm.” You look like you’re considering it. “Don’t have enough paint for that though.”

“You’re an evil genius, right?” Sam casts a small glance at Bucky. “At least that’s what he tells me.”

“You talk about me?” You grin at the disgruntled man on the ground. 

“I don’t,” he mutters, shaking his head. A lie.

“Yeah, so build something,” Sam points out. “Get some more paint. I’ll even tell you the best vantage points to spill it.”

“No, he won’t,” Bucky shouts from below. 

“He’s just cranky because he didn’t get his prune juice this morning, ignore him,” Sam dismisses him.

Prune juice? He was a young 100, not ancient. 

“What’s your favourite colour, Falcon?”

“I like red.”

As annoyed as Bucky is right now, he stores that away in his memory for later. He also knows Sam loves seafood and a good pair of shoes. 

“A couple of gallons of red paint it is, then.” You lower yourself to the ground, Sam slowly follows suit until he lands beside Bucky.

“You know we can’t let you go without taking those, right?” Bucky tilts his head towards your invention.

You narrow your eyes at him. He doesn’t budge.

“I’ll tell ya what,” Sam pipes in instead. “I’ll keep them until you finish getting the paint and once you’re done, we’ll make an evening out of vandalising the Tower.” 

Bucky may not enjoy his company all that much but he admires Sam’s diplomacy. Of course, you would never make it this easy while reasoning with him.

“That a promise, Mr. Wilson?” You raise your eyebrow at him questioningly but are already in the process of removing the things from your hand. 

“Wouldn’t ever lie to you, doll.” He holds up his hand in a mock swear.

You walk towards Bucky and him, rotating your wrists to get rid of the soreness. “Bold claim for a man who met me ten minutes ago.”

“Feels like it’s been longer.” He sends you a wink and you can’t stop the laugh the escapes from you finally. 

Bucky holds his hand out for the gadgets. You shrink away from him with a click of your tongue.

“Technically, he takes this round.” You send a nod towards Sam, dropping off the repulsors into his hand. “So he gets it.”

Bucky rolls his eyes.

“You gonna keep ‘em safe?” you ask Sam, this time a little more earnestly. 

“Guard it with my life,” he says seriously, pressing his lips together in a line to avoid smiling. 

“You’re both ridiculous,” Bucky cuts in.

“You’re going to be late.” Sam tucks the devices into his pocket safely. “You know how Steve gets when people walk in on his speeches. Do you even have a ride?”

“Got the motorcycle.” 

“See you there.” Sam nods. 

“Save me a place,” Bucky says to him.

“No.” He doesn’t even hesitate. “Y/N. It was a pleasure.”

“Still holding you to that evening, Sam.” You send him a smile.

“I’m countin’ on it.” He gives you a small three finger salute before taking off, leaving you staring after his retracting figure. 

When the dust settles, Bucky awkwardly clears his throat. “Right. So that was that.”

“Dude,” you let out an exhale. “he’s so hot.”

He murmurs something unintelligible. It vaguely sounds like a series of threats but mostly a list of complaints.

“Don’t you have a meeting to get to?” You turn your attention back to him.

“Yeah.”

“Aren’t you going to be late?” You glance at the clock on your phone.

“I’ll just tell them I was on a mission.” Well, sort of. “Besides, what are they gonna do? Kick me out?”

“Fair enough.” You shrug. “Have a safe ride back.”

From what he knows of you and Sam, the both of you were kidding around. But he could never be too sure. He can’t even ask if you were serious about the entire thing because it’s none of his business. 

Were the implications of having his mortal nemesis and other mortal nemesis date important enough to overrule that? 

“Are you planning to skip your meeting, or?” you ask when he remains freezes in his spot, eyes glazed over like he’s thinking about something. “Because if you are, I know this great Thai place-”

“Don’t do that again,” he says instead, shaking his head to jolt him out of his thoughts. 

“What?”

“Flinging yourself off roofs like that.”

“Why?” Because it scared the hell out of him, for one.

“Just don’t.”

“Oh please, like you’ve never done dangerous shit like that before.” You narrow your eyes at him, reading his face. “Are you telling me you care about me?”

“No.” His nose twitches. “Just don’t throw yourself off buildings when I’m around.”

“What about when you’re not?”

“As long as I’m not there to witness it.” He shrugs, spinning on his heel to leave. Technically he preferred if you didn’t do things like that at all. 

“Fine. I’ll just have my clone try out all the dangerous stuff for me.”

 He stops in his tracks. “You have a clone?”

“Well,” You squint, “no. But I’m working on it.”

He scoffs, shaking his head. “Bye Y/N.”

“You know, it sounds an awful lot like you’re saying we’re friends.” Your whole demeanour changes and he already knows what’s coming.

“I never said that,” he argues vehemently. “All I said was that I can’t have your murder on my hands.”

“Thus implying that we’re friends. In a fucked up, enemies kind of way.” You positively beam at him. “Aw, Barnes, that’s adorable.”

Adorable? Adorable?

“I hate you.”

“I love you, too, bestie,” you gush, dumb grin on your face. “I’ll make us friendship rings next time. What are your thoughts on matching tattoos?”

He wants to cry. 

______

By the time Sam walks into the meeting room, the session’s already begun. He shoots an apologetic look to a monologuing Steve before taking his place at the nearest chair available. 

Something sharp pokes his thigh. His wings are off and in the backpack beside him, but then he remembers your little inventions that were still in his pocket.

He tries not to make much of a noise while he pulls them out, giving them a look over to make sure they’re not broken.

“Watcha got there, Big Bird?” Tony asks lowly from beside him.

“Something that Barnes’ enemy made.” Sam holds it up slightly. 

“The one he’s been rendezvousing around town with every weekend?” 

“That’s her.” He’s about to put it in his backpack when Tony stops him.

“Pass that here for a second.” He recognises it immediately for what it is, interest piqued. 

Sam hands one of them over while he puts the other back in the bag. It’s a metallic circle, not bigger than Tony’s palm, with a thick leather strap to tie it around your palm.

“She made this?” 

“Why don’t you ask him?” Sam mentions towards Bucky who silently slips into the conference room, standing in the corner near the potted plant since there were no more chairs left.

“The balance has gotta be off on this thing,” he mutters to himself, wholly ignoring the brooding man standing in the corner like a Christmas tree.

“She seemed to be manoeuvring it fine,” Sam catches the eye of a lower ranking agent who makes the mistake of glaring at him for talking while the meeting was going on. A few seconds later the agent hastily looks away and doesn’t turn around for the rest of the hour. 

“Could be better.” He uses a much more intricate model for his suits, although this isn’t even half-bad for a homemade version. “Do you know how long she took to make this?”

“Buck says she comes up with a new one every week, so I’m guessing that long.” 

It had a few glitches but it was incredibly refined for a week’s worth of work.

“Interesting.” He gives it a quick overlook before handing it back to Sam who drops it into the bag.

He casts a swift glance at Bucky, noting how he wasn’t even paying attention to the meeting but rather to whatever he had tied around his metal wrist, fidgeting with it with his thumb. 

Tony has an idea. 

And that was generally bad news.

Next part

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #mcu fic #bucky fic #bucky barnes fic #bucky fluff #bucky barnes fluff #bucky angst #bucky barnes angst #harmless fic #winter soldier x reader #Winter Soldier #bucky barnes #bucky

[thimbil]

Having some thoughts about the references and inspirations used for the Bad Batch’s designs.

So Boba Fett is my absolute favorite character and Temeura Morrison was perfect casting. I went to see the 2008 TCW movie in theaters because I was so excited to see him again, even if he was animated. You can imagine my disappointment. Whoever was on screen was not Temeura Morrison. You could sort of see a resemblance if you squinted and didn’t think too hard about it. They replaced Temeura with Racially Ambiguous G.I. Joe. If I didn’t know better and someone told me the animated clones are space Italians from the moon of New Jersey I would buy it. One Million Brothers Pizzeria and Italian Bistro. Not that there’s something wrong with being space Italian, I just don’t think it’s the right choice for the Fetts. The design got slightly improved by season 7 but it still bugs the hell out of me.

I did eventually get into the show later and (of course) got invested in the clones. Unfortunately, they were largely sidelined by the Jedi storylines. Out of the two new main characters created for TCW, Ahsoka definitely got more development and focus than Rex. When they announced The Bad Batch, I was excited to see a show specifically devoted to the clones… at least that’s what it said on the tin. We have all seen what lurks beneath those stylish helmets.

Jango Fett, you are NOT the father.

So who is?

Based on interviews with Filoni, it sounds like the Bad Batch was a George Lucas idea. And like all his ideas, it’s super derivative. The original trilogy directly lifted elements from sci fi serials, westerns, and samurai movies, more specifically Kurosawa films like The Hidden Fortress. For The Bad Batch character designs, the influence is obviously American action and adventure movies.

Now let’s get specific. Bad Batch, who’s your daddy?

Hunter

Sylvester Stallone as Rambo in First Blood 1982. That bandana has become an integral part of the iconic action hero look. You see a character wearing one and it’s a visual shorthand for either “this character is a tough guy” like Billy played by Sonny Landham in Predator 1987, or “this character thinks he is/wants to be a tough guy” like Brand played by Josh Brolin in The Goonies 1985 or Edward Frog played by Corey Feldman in The Lost Boys 1987.

Hunter’s model is closest to the original clone base. If you look closely you will see the eyebrows are straighter with a much lower angle to the arch. His nose is also not the same shape as a standard clone like Rex, including a narrower bridge. It’s certainly not Temeura Morrison’s nose. Remember what I said about space Italians? It didn’t take much to push the existing clone design to resemble an specific Italian man instead of a specific Māori man. The 23&Me came back, and Hunter inherited more than the bandana from Sylvester.

Crosshair

The long narrow nose, the sharp cheekbones, the scowl. That’s no clone, that’s just animated Clint Eastwood. Not even Young and Hot Clint Eastwood from Rawhide 1959-1965. With that hair, I’m talking Gran Torino 2008. The man of few words schtick and family friendly toothpick in lieu of cigar are pure Eastwood as The Man With No Name from Sergio Leone’s spaghetti westerns A Fist Full of Dollars 1964, For a Few Dollars More 1965, and The Good the Bad and the Ugly 1966.

In a way, this is full circle because the actor Jeremy Bulloch took inspiration from Clint Eastwood for his performance as Boba Fett in ESB.

Wrecker

In an interview Filoni lists the Hulk as an (obvious) inspiration for Wrecker. Ever seen the old Hulk tv show from 1978? Well take a look at the actor who played him, Lou Ferrigno. Would you look at that. Even has his papa’s nose.

You could make the argument that Wrecker was influenced by The Rock, an appropriately buff ‘n bald Polynesian (Samoan, not Maori) man. But look at him next his Fast and Furious costar Vin Diesel and tell me which one resembles Wrecker’s character model more.

Tech

Tech is a little trickier for me to place. If he has a more direct inspiration it must be something I haven’t seen. That said, his hairline is very Bruce Willis as John McClane in Die Hard 1988. His quippiness and large glasses remind me of Shane Black as Hawkins from Predator 1987. In terms of his face, he looks a but like the result of McClane and Hawkins deciding to settle down and start a family. Although, Tech’s biggest contributors are probably just everyone on TV Trope’s list for Smart People Wear Glasses.

And finally,

Echo

Oh Echo. Considering he wasn’t created for the Bad Batch, he probably wasn’t based on a particular character or movie. But if I had to guess, his situation and appearance remind me a lot of Alex Murphy played by Peter Weller in Robocop 1987. However, Robocop explored the Man or Machine Identity Crisis with more nuance, depth, and dignity. Yikes.

The exact tropes and references used in The Bad Batch have been done successfully with characters who aren’t even human. Gizmo from Gremlins 2: The New Batch 1990 had a brief stint with the Rambo bandana. I could have picked any number of characters for Defining Feature Is Glasses but here is the most cursed version of Simon of Alvin and the Chipmunks. Suffer as I have. Marc Antony with his beloved Pussyfoot from Looney Tunes has the same tough guy with a soft center vibe as Wrecker and his Lula (also a kind of cat). Hell, in the same show we have Cad Bane sharing Cowboy Clint Eastwood with Crosshair. I actually think Bane makes a better Eastwood which is wild considering Crosshair has Eastwood’s entire face and Bane is blue.

So we’ve established you don’t need your characters to look exactly like their inspirations to match their vibe. So why go through the trouble and cost of creating completely new character designs instead of recycling and altering assets they already had on hand? Just slap on a bandana, toothpick, goggles, and make Wrecker bigger than the others while he does a Hulk pose and you’re done. Based on the general reaction to Howzer it would have been a low effort slam dunk crowd pleaser.

But they didn’t do that.

So here’s the thing. I like the tropes used in The Bad Batch. I am a fan of action adventure movies from the 80s-90s, the sillier the better. I am part of the Bad Batch’s target audience. Considering what I know about Disney and Lucasfilm, I went in with low expectations. I genuinely don’t hate the idea of seeing references to these actors and media in The Bad Batch. I don’t think basing these characters on tropes was a bad idea. If anything it’s a solid starting point for building the characters.

The trouble is nothing got built on the foundation. The plot is directionless, the pacing is wacky, and the characters have nearly no emotional depth or defining character arcs. They just sort of exist without reacting much while the story happens around them. But I can excuse all of that. You don’t stay a fan of Star Wars as long as I have not being able to cherrypick and fill in the gaps. This show has a deeper issue that shouldn’t be ignored.

Why do the animated clones bear at best only a passing resemblance to their live action actor? In interviews, Filoni wouldn’t shut up but the technological advancements in the animation for season 7. So if they are updating things, why not try to make the clones a closer match to their source material? Why did they have to look like completely different people in The Bad Batch to be “unique”? Looking like Temeura Morrison would have no bearing on their special abilities and TCW proved you can have identical looking characters and still have them be distinct. In fact, that’s a powerful theme and the source of tragedy for the clones’ narrative overall.

Here’s Filoni’s early concept art of Crosshair, Wrecker, Tech, and Hunter. (Interesting but irrelevant: Wrecker seems to have a cog tattoo similar to Jesse’s instead of a scar. Wouldn’t it have been funny if they kept that so when they met in season 7 one if them could say something like “Hey we’re twins!” That’s a little clone humor. Just for you guys 😘)

None of these drawings look like the clones in TCW, much less Temeura Morrison. Let’s be generous. Maybe Filoni struggles with drawing a real person’s likeness, as many people do. But he had to hand this off to other artists down the line whose job specifically involves making a stylized character resemble their actor. Yet the final designs missed the mark almost as much as this initial concept. Starting to seem as if the clones looking more like Temeura Morrison was never even on the table. It wasn’t a lack of creativity, skill or technical limitations on the part of the creative team. I don’t think there is an innocent explanation. They went out of their way to make the final product exactly how we got it.

This goes beyond homage. They could have made the same pop culture references and character tropes without completely stripping Temeura Morrison from the role he originated. It was a very purposeful choice to replace him with more immediately familiar actors from established franchises and films. It wouldn’t shock me if Filoni, Lucas, and anyone else calling the shots didn’t even think hard or care enough about the decision to immediately recognize a problem. And I don’t think they believed anyone else would either. At least no one whose opinion they cared about. Those faces are comfortingly familiar and proven bankable. They are what we’re all used to seeing after all. They’re white.

Lack of imagination, bad intentions, or simple ignorance doesn’t really matter in the end. The result is the same. Call it what it is. They replaced a man of color with a bunch of white guys. That’s by the book garden variety run of the mill whitewashing. There’s no debate worth having about it. For a fanbase that loves to nitpick things like whether or not it’s in character for Han to shoot first or Jeans Guy in the Mandalorian, we sure are quick to find excuses for clones who look nothing like their template. Why is that? If you don’t see the problem, congratulations. Your ass is showing. Pull your jeans up.

#star wars #the bad batch #unwhitewashtbb #wrecker #crosshair #tech #hunter #echo

[absolutelyfizzing]

No flirting

Sam Wilson x Bucky's relative!reader

Description: Out of timeline! Reader is Bucky's great niece (his sister's granddaughter) who he found when he got to NY. She is staying in the tower for a week or so to take a sort of vacation. While she is there, she meets a certain flying man of the south and she starts to fall for him, much to her uncle's dismay.

Warnings: fluff? Sort of old fashioned Bucky, maybe a little ooc sam? I tried but idk if it went okay. This is awful writing, it was late and I don’t know how to write dialogue!

Word count- about 3000

MASTERLIST

You pulled into the parking garage of the avenger tower with a smile on your face. It had been a couple weeks since you had seen your uncle, well your grand uncle, because he had been off on a mission with Steve and the Falcon. You'd never met Sam Wilson before, only hearing about him from Bucky and Steve, but you figured he had to be pretty great to be an avenger.

You got your bag out of the trunk after you parked and began to make your way to the elevator. You had a room that remained pretty empty when you weren't there. Because of your closeness with most of the team, it had been offered to you permanently. You declined in favor of having your own place in Brooklyn and just staying at the tower whenever you needed a break from work or your friends or something. You waited patiently for the elevator doors to open on the right floor excitedly, knowing FRIDAY probably alerted Bucky you were on you way up. Your suspicions were confirmed when you were tackled in a pile of super solider as Steve and Bucky hugged you tightly. Steve had become family as well to you, just as much as Bucky was. You loved them both very much but at the moment they were squeezing the life out of you.

"Excuse me, I am a non enhanced person." You gasped out "I need air please."

At this they let you go, dopey grins on their faces.

"How is my favorite niece?" Bucky asked with a smile on his face, knowing it bothered you a little bit. You saw him as more of a friend than an uncle so being reminded that he was related to you and also was 100 and something years old was a little exhausting.

"Oh shove off. I'm great but I'd love some help getting this to my room?" You hinted while lifting your large bag.

Steve didn't hesitate to pick it up, absolutely no sign of effort on his face as he did so which frustrated you to no end.

"Thank you Steve" you chirped as he smiled kindly back at you and the three of you began to make your way to the room you would be occupying for the next week.

"So how's your mom?" Bucky questioned genuinely.

"You mean your actual niece? She's good, struggling to enjoy retirement at the moment." You smiled at the mention of your mom.

"I would have thought she would be enjoying it. Teaching always seemed like an exhausting job to me." He mentioned.

You agreed but then remembered "Says you, you've been on the job for over 80 years."

He gave you a side glare and then grumbled, "Touché"

You had arrived at your room, it was just the same as the last time you saw it besides the sheets having been changed, the room vacuumed, and the bed made. You smiled lightly. Tony was as softhearted as they come.

Steve put your bag down and they looked at you waiting for you to do something.

"Well come on! I wanna go say hi to the team!" You gushed as you grabbed their hands and started hurrying towards the living room of the floor where you knew most of the team members would be found on any given day.

As you walked in you heard multiple squeals and you were hugged by two redheads. Natasha and Wanda both loved you as you were about their age and were a little less jarring than most of the men they spent the day with. "I missed you guys." You whispered to them as the hugged you, Bucky and Steve having moved off to the couch to chat while you caught up with everyone.

"You missed us?! We have so much to tell you! What has taken you so long to come back here?!" Wanda whined a little.

"Buck wasn't around for the last couple weeks, he was away!"

"So? We are here and you're welcome any time, you know that!" Nat scolded. You knew she was right but you didn't want to intrude.

"You could never intrude." Wanda responded and you glared that she read your mind. She gave an apologetic look but you knew it was mostly fake. You were then pulled away from them by a rather large hand, when you turned around you saw the blond god who you were so fond of.

"Lady Y/N! How great to see you! So glad I was here when you were visiting." He said merrily. You wrapped him in a hug, it was a rare occasion that he was actually here when you stopped by. Other than them there was only one other person in the room, someone you presumed to be Sam Wilson. He was smiling at you already, waiting his turn to introduce himself. When you pulled away from Thor he walked over and you took a moment to admire him. He was tall and strong looking but his eyes were gentle and he looked like he gave good hugs and made people laugh. He stuck his hand out to you.

"Y/N, right? I'm Sam." He smiled. You smiled right back and shook his hand.

"No no no, no flirting." Bucky called from the couch, glaring daggers at Sam in front of you, your hand still holding onto his as you both looked over.

"Buck I didn't even do anything!" You whined, slightly embarrassed as you blushed. Sam noticed and just smiled again but let go of your hand.

"So you’re the Bionic Man's niece, yeah?" You smiled and nodded.

"Great niece, technically. My grandma is his little sister." You smiled and Bucky groaned.

"God that makes me sound so old."

"That's cause you are old!" You countered and Bucky just grumbled under his breath something about how he could still kick it with the kids.

You made eye contact with Sam again but looked away shyly and moved toward the kitchen in the common area to get yourself a cup of water. The conversation around the room buzzed and the only person who wasn't occupied was Sam as he followed you over to the kitchen.

"A shame I haven't met you before, I’ve been missing out." He smirked. He seemed a little cocky but you didn't mind. In fact you found it kind of attractive as it complimented your shy personality pretty well.

"Well don't worry I've heard all about you, Bird-Man. My relative has a grudge." You smirked as you sipped your water.

Sam rolled his eyes, "Oh he's just grumpy cause I can beat him in a fight."

"That sounds about right. I can't imagine what else he could be holding against you."

"Pretty soon he's gonna be mad at me for trying to flirt with his niece but I don't think I care much." He smirked.

Your eyes widened but you couldn't hide the smile he gave you very well.

"Oh Sam, I think he would kill us both."

"A worthwhile death." He continued.

"You're gonna have to step up your game then cause from where I'm standing, I don't wanna piss of my uncle with a vibranium arm over just anything." You challenged, wanting to see if he was serious. He smirked at you.

"Challenge accepted." He said and then he didn't leave your side for the rest of the day. This was much to the frustration of Bucky but you were an adult and he had other things he had to do anyway so he left it be besides the constant glare at the man who always seemed to be beside you. He followed you around like a lost puppy as you said hello to the avengers you hadn't seen yet, including meeting Peter for the first time. By the end of the night he was already through your shell and you were conversing with him with no effort. You could feel that this was not going to go well later but you couldn't help yourself.

"You know I'll take you up in that flying lesson sometime, sounds like fun to me." You smiled at him and he beamed back.

"That's why I offered it, I'd love an excuse to spend some more time with you."

"You don't need an excuse, you know. You could just hang out with me." You blushed and he did a little bit too. Without another word you headed to the room he had just walked you to and opened the door.

As soon as you closed it you smiled giddily and slid down the door, you could see Wanda and Nat talking to each other before looking at you. You had planned to have a sleepover the first night you were back and they had been waiting for you for like a half hour.

"Spill!" They both shouted at the same time.

You grinned before telling them about how Sam was being so sweet to you and that you were starting to get feelings for him.

"But it's only been a day, why do I already feel like this?!" You complained

"Y/N, he's been all over you all day, I'm sure he's in the same boat!" Wanda pulled you up from your spot on the floor and brought you over to the couch in your room.

"Yeah he's been following you around with puppy dog eyes. And it's really starting to piss off bucky too, as if they need another thing to hate each other over." Nat sighed.

You felt doubt start to creep in, Bucky was your family and you didn't want to go against his wishes. But Sam was so sweet and arrogant at the same time and the thought of him made your heart pick up speed.

"I'm not gonna act on it yet. I don't wanna make Buck upset over nothing. I'll wait till the end of the week and if it's still a thing I might consider talking to Sam about maybe going on a date." You said, getting quieter and quieter with every word. Both girls yelled out their excitement and began planning your outfits and actions for the next week so you could "keep him interested" in you. You went to bed exhausted but ready to take on the week of figuring out if your chemistry with the superhero was real.

The next week was torturous. Sam was just as flirtatious as he had been the first day and he got bolder and bolder as the week went on. He had asked you out a number of times, each time you responded with some non answer to try to buy more time. Bucky was getting progressively more frustrated about the flirting between you two until day 5 of your stay.

You and Sam were watching a movie together, you told yourself it was just as friends. You were on opposite ends of a couch and you could feel yourself getting more and more tired. Eventually you fell asleep during the movie and Bucky happened to walk by as you did. Sam noticed you asleep and smiled at the sight before he wrapped you in a blanket. Bucky sighed quietly and made his way to the kitchen to get water, not having been noticed by Sam yet who was too occupied with you. As Sam lifted you off the couch and began to carry you to your room, Bucky found it harder and harder to believe that the mans intentions were anything but pure. And he had never seen you so smitten. He begrudgingly decided he would not stand in the way of you two and he might even have to convince you to ask Sam out if you kept up the shy act.

The next day you awoke in your room. Not knowing how you got there you looked around. You remembered falling asleep on the couch while you were watching something with Sam. There was a note on your nightstand so you reached over to pick it up, heart rate increasing as you read the note.

"Didn't want to wake you, I hoped you slept well

- Bird Man"

You smiled as you read the note and began to make your way out of bed. You noticed there were socks on your feet even though you were sure you hadn't put them on. You almost got lightheaded at the realization that Sam put socks on you feet last night before you went to bed so that you wouldn't get cold in the night. The thought made you blush at how domestic it was but you wanted to thank him. You made your way down the hallway, still in your pajamas pants and hoodie you'd worn last night and you knew your hair was a mess. Still when you got to the kitchen and made eye contact with sam, his eyes brightened a bit and a smile came across his face. 

"Thanks for getting me to my room last night." You blushed shyly. You could feel your heart going faster and faster as you looked down at your socks.

"I would happily do that every night if it meant I got to take you out on a date." He smiled, already expecting you to avoid the implication again. You smiled at him and then glanced over at Bucky who was already looking at you. He winked and nodded and you knew what he meant.

You made eye contact with Sam, "Tomorrow night at 7, you can take me to dinner." You said while looking into your mug of coffee you had just poured. You looked up at Sam to see his reaction as his face fell neutral before he grinned. He quickly corrected his face too look like he was less excited.

"I knew I'd get you to crack eventually" he pointed out. You rolled your eyes before turning to walk toward the couch.

"I can take it back" you began before he interrupted you.

"No no, no need to do that, I have a great place in mind for dinner." He quickly said and you just smiled up at him lightly. The rest of the day was spent daydreaming about your date tomorrow.

The next night you were getting ready for your date, you had a flattering dress on and had your makeup done up, just finishing before there was a knock on your door. You checked the time and sure enough it was 7:00 sharp.

You mentally prepared yourself and took a deep breath before opening the door to reveal a fidgety Sam Wilson. The sight made you laugh a bit as he had never looked so nervous. It made you feel a bit better that he was nervous too. You took a moment to look each other over. Sam's eyes drifted south until he reached your legs and then back up to your lips. His eyes stayed there for a second before moving back up to your eyes. You had just finished gazing over his built frame that was squeezed perfectly into his suit. You nearly swooned. He had a bouquet of your favorite flowers ready which you shyly took and put into a vase in your room, thanking him quietly. There was a single moment of nerves before you broke the silence.

"You look very handsome." You smiled as you made eye contact with him, your hands fidgeting.

"I can't even believe I managed to get a date with a girl as pretty as you." Sam smirked before offering his elbow to you, which you promptly took. When you reached the elevator you both saw Bucky standing there with his arms crossed.

"Have her back by 10:30. No funny business." He glared at Sam before looking at you. "Have fun sweetheart, you know how to throw a punch if you need to." He smiled at you as Sam gulped. You gave Bucky a peck on the cheek before you and Sam both entered the elevator and it was on it's way down.

You ended up having dinner at Sam's favorite southern food restaurant in the city. More specifically, Louisiana barbecue. You loved the food and you didn't even feel pressure to eat pretty as you and Sam were having such a good time. You both were wildly overdressed but that was part of the fun. He payed for dinner and you promised to get the next one which had him smiling like a fool cause it meant you would go on another date with him.

After dinner he took you out to a dancing bar, but it wasn't fast paced or gross like many seemed to be in the city. Instead they played slower songs and it was less loud. You were grinning ear to ear as you slowly danced together, pressed together as close as you could be. At about 10:00 you began to head back to the tower. You decided to walk there because you didn't want to get home too fast and it was such a nice night out. You had never felt safer than with Sam at your side either.

When you made it back up you the residential floor of the tower, you saw Bucky sitting in the common space with a glare on. He made eye contact with you and when you smiled at him he winked and made his way to bed, not missing a chance to glower at Sam on his way by. You could feel Sam growing nervous next to you as he walked you back to your room. You turned around to face him and his hands were fidgeting. You took a deep breath to gather your courage before leaning up to him and kissing him deeply. He responded immediately and wrapped one of his hands around the back of your neck. You kissed until you had to come away to breathe and you both made eye contact. He smiled at the event that just happened and he took your hand in his before kissing it.

"I think that was the best date I've ever been on." He smiled.

"Well you're gonna have to top it next time." You smirked. He looked back at you and had a faraway look in his eyes. You said your goodbyes and you went to bed with cheeks that hurt from smiling so much.

He did indeed top it next time, and every date after that.

#sam Wilson #sam x reader #sam wilson x reader #sam imagine #sam Wilson imagine #Bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #marvel #avengers #avengers x reader #the falcon and the winter soldier #fluff #fluffy #Bucky fluff #sam fluff #sam x reader fluff

[shyficwriter]

You Laugh, You lose

Guardians of the Galaxy fanfic | Reader x Yondu, Kraglin, Peter

Summary: You're stuck on planet until morning when a part fails on Yondu's M-ship, so Peter suggests a game to pass the time.

Author’s Note: This is the fluffy/funny fic I promised to make up for the two angsty fics before it. Hope you like it! Also shoutout to @badjokesbyjeff where I got most of these jokes from.

Word Count: 3,100

One rule.

You laugh. You lose.

Ok, maybe there were a couple more rules than that, but that was the gist.

It was a game often played between you and Peter, and occasionally also with Yondu or Kraglin on long job travels to kill the boredom.

The goal? Make the other person laugh. If you succeed, you win. You fail, then the game continues until someone loses it and laughs. Winner gets bragging rights, loser usually has to buy a round of drinks for the rest.

The game had originally started out with the one rule, but over time a couple more rules had been added. One of these rules was that stuff like tickling was cheating. You'd think this would have been an obvious rule to start with, but when it was you losing the game to tickles, Peter didn't mind. Less competition, right? But once the tables were turned and he lost a round, then suddenly tickling was "major cheating" and "totally unfair!" So, naturally, now there was a "no touching" rule during the game.

Another rule that needed to be added later was that Yondu couldn't gibberish talk his way to a win. It just gave him too much of an unfair advantage over you and Kraglin, who would crack up very quickly upon being face to face with a deadpan Yondu talking to you in pure nonsense. Peter was the only one of you three not really effected by it, as he found it more annoying than anything else.

Of course, Yondu tried to use his status as captain to veto this rule, but after a vote of 3-1 against the gibberish, he finally relented, stating that, "Aw, fine! I don't need to do that to win anyway!"

However, this didn't stop him from slipping a little in from time to time, always claiming he "forgot."

Sure, Yondu. Sure.

That was pretty much the main rules. The rest were more just guidelines. Like, smiling was allowed, as it didn't count as laughing, but too sharp of an exhale out your nose while smiling could be considered a laugh. Stuff like that.

Today happened to be one of those days where a job had run long, or rather, the trip did.

The job actually went fairly smoothly, to Yondu's surprise. However, when it was all said and done and it was time to leave, the ship wouldn't start.

Luckily, Yondu knew a guy who could fix the problem (just something minor with the fuel intake, but at the same time not something that Yondu could fix without replacing a part he didn't have and certain tools he didn't bring with him.) Only problem was the guy couldn't get the part in until the morning.

So you were all stuck there. Until morning. On a patch of the planet that wasn't within reasonable walking distance of anything fun. Plus it was raining, so you were all more or less confined to the ship for the evening.

Great.

So that's why Peter proposed a game of You Laugh You Lose.

At first Yondu didn't want to, being grumpy about being stranded for the night over such a minor fix and all, but Kraglin managed to convince him in hopes it would lift his spirits.

Now, playing with four people was a little different than one on one. With two people you'd sit facing your opponent and take turns trying to make the other laugh. When starting with four you all sat around the table, each person taking a turn in attempts to get any of the other three to laugh. If someone cracks, regardless of who made them laugh, they're out, and can act as referees, or mildly help crack the others if they choose. Also, instead of the just first to lose owing everyone a round a drinks, all three losers would owe a round, pretty much ensuring the winner 3 free drinks the next time they went out.

Peter sat directly in front of you at the small table, with Yondu to your left and Kraglin sitting directly in front of him. The four of you took a second to fully compose yourselves, making your faces as expressionless as possible, and then Peter started.

He stared you dead in the eye. "Why do bees hum?" he asked, waiting a moment, more for comedic timing than an actual answer, as was how many of the jokes told in the game went. When no one spoke up he said, "Because they don't know the words."

You exhaled slowly through your nose and shook your head, the known sign for, "That the best you got?"

Kraglin's turn now. He took a different approach. He crossed his eyes and in a deadpan voice said, "Wanna hear a joke about a piece of paper?"

Yondu raised an eyebrow, but shook his head when Kraglin continued, "Never mind, it's tearable." Peter made the universal noise for having heard a bad joke.

Your turn. "What did the A'askavariian say after a bad night out?"

"What?" asked Kraglin.

"Wouldn't know. You should ask Peter."

Peter made a scandalized noise. "One time!"

You saw Yondu's mouth twitch, but he quickly recovered. Kraglin took a deep breath and exhaled to keep it together.

Yondu's turn. He told another joke at Peter's expense, and actually made himself crack a smile when Peter protested again. You and Kraglin fought back grins as Peter took his turn.

"What's Beethoven's favorite fruit?"

The three of you shake your heads, though in Yondu and Kraglin's case you were sure it was more because they didn't know who Beethoven was. This was then confirmed by Kraglin asking, "Who's that?"

Peter didn't answer the question, instead letting out a, "Ba-na-NA-NA!"

Peter said this so suddenly and loudly that even Yondu jerked his head back in startled surprise, as did Kraglin, but Kraglin also had to stop himself from barking out a startled laugh. You, however, had to try much harder to keep yourself from laughing. It wasn't even that good of a joke, but his delivery had you biting your tongue to keep it together. Yondu didn't get the joke, but assumed it likely would have been real funny on Terra as he watched you try to steady your breathing just as Kraglin took his turn.

"Ya know the difference between an oral and rectal thermometer? ... The taste."

That one received a collective groan and a look of disgust from you and Peter. Yondu looked almost impressed as he shook his head.

It was your turn again. "I once watched a documentary on how ships are kept together. It was... riveting." You wiggled your eyebrows on the punchline, but only received a mock-disappointed stare from the others at your awful pun.

Instead of a joke, Yondu decided on his next turn to tell a story. "One time we were on a job on Krylor," he began, "and a pretty lil' miss thing caught Peter's eye..."

Peter's eyes widened. He had a bad feeling about which story Yondu was about to tell. "Yondu, don't." he warned flatly.

Yondu only grinned and ignored him "He goes sauntering up to her, trying to be all smooth like.."

"Yondu, seriously." Peter warned again. Again, Yondu ignored him. By now you and Kraglin were already grinning from Peter's reaction alone.

"But the boy ain't watchin' where he's goin', he slips on an empty soda can and falls flat on his face right in front of her. But that's not the best part-"

"I will seriously kill you, ya blue dick!" Peter was getting so red and flustered you had to bite your tongue, as did Kraglin who's nostrils where flaring with the effort.

"It had rained that mornin', and he had been just unlucky enough to land on a puddle, and when he stood up it looked like he'd gone and done pissed himself. I don't think I need to say he didn't wind up gettin' the girl."

That broke Kraglin. He snorted a laugh and Yondu clapped his hands together, shouting, "Gotcha! Yer out!"

Kraglin groaned out a, "I don't know why those stories always get me!" but sat back grinning anyways as Peter buried his scarlet face in his hands whining, "So uncool!"

Peter composed himself and glared at Yondu. "Alright. What about that time you accidentally switched the intercom on while listening to that Brittany Spears music from Terra?"

Yondu just stared at him stonily, no hint of emotion, refusing to dignify the story with a response, although you almost thought you could see his face slightly darken. Kraglin, even though he was out, pretended to be very interested in the table and after an awkward beat you decided to take your turn, because there's no way you'd let yourself laugh at Yondu's music choices if you knew what was good for you.

"SO- Did you hear about the guy whose whole left side was cut off? He’s all right now." you say in an attempt to bring the game back to jokes lest you be the next one they decide to dredge up an embarrassing story about.

Yondu turned his attention to you. "Ya know, I think the toilet has anger issues," he said. You gave him a confused look and he continued, "Whenever I flush it, it completely loses its shit."

You fight a smile. Peter does the same despite himself still being cranky about Yondu's previous story. Kraglin, however, openly giggles at the joke.

Peter quickly steadies his breathing and says, "There were once two guys flying a ship in dead space. One turns to his buddy and says: 'Damn, I can’t find any milk for my coffee.' His friend replies: 'In space no one can, here use cream.'"

You raised an eyebrow in confusion momentarily before throwing your head back with a groan as you got the joke. "That's a terrible joke!" you say, allowing yourself to grin.

"But you wanna laugh, don't you?" Peter teased.

You playfully glare at him and take your turn instead of answering. "Which is heavier, 200 lbs of feathers, or 200 lbs of bricks?"

Now Yondu raised an eyebrow. "They'd weigh the same, kid."

You try not to grin as you shake your head. "Nah. It's the feathers, because you also have to carry the weight of what you did to those poor birds."

Yondu propped his elbow on the table and half-hid his grin behind his hand as he nodded his head in approval, before being mildly startled by the sound of a laugh escaping Peter's gritted teeth. Yondu joyfully slapped the table and pointed at Peter. "Yer out too, boy!"

"Aw, dammit!" Peter cried out, but he wasn't angry anymore. He followed Kraglin's lead and relaxed in his chair knowing he was now able to laugh freely at any corny jokes that came.

Yondu smirks at you. "And then there were two."

Crap. You had really been hoping you wouldn't need to square up against him alone. He was really good at this game, and rarely broke. You, however, always had to fight super hard against turning into a giggly little mess, and usually lost. There was just something about his ability to deliver the jokes with a completely deadpan or stern face that always broke you, but this time you were going to try your best to avoid that.

"I was kidnapped by mimes once." he said, "They did unspeakable things to me."

You inhaled deeply, and let it out slowly, shaking your head as you did so and giving a look that said 'Damn you.' "What’s the difference between an amateur thief and a professional thief?" you begin, continuing after a beat, "The amateur thief says, 'Give me all your money!' The professional thief says, 'Sign here please.'"

Yondu nodded his head thoughtfully. "That's actually pretty accurate. Not sure that's even a joke..." he grinned, almost taunting you at the inability to draw a laugh from him. His turn now. "Two burglars are robbin' a liquor store. One turns to the other an' asks, 'Is this whiskey?' The other replies, “Yeah, but not as wisky as wobbing a bank.” Of course, this last line was delivered with a clean slate of emotion, your weakness.

Fuck.

You had to turn your head away from him as you fought to keep your breathing in check, your lips pressed together, threatening to betray you.

"Ay Ay! No looking away you coward!" Peter laughed, prompting you to face him instead. You flipped him off, your grin finally splitting your face.

"There it is! Come on, you know ya wanna laugh." Yondu teased, grinning at how your nostrils flared when you turned back to glare at him. An unconvincing glare, but it was the best you could manage.

After a couple deep breaths with your hands balled into fists you thought you had calmed down enough to take your turn. "I yelled “COW!” at a woman on a bike once. She flipped me off and then ran straight into the cow..." You raised your hands and shrugged your shoulders in mock exasperation. "I tried!"

Peter laughed while Kraglin and Yondu just shared an amused glance.

"Ya know, I might've actually found that funny... if I knew what a cow was." Yondu taunted, grinning as your shoulders fell in realization.

That made Peter snort, probably for no other reason than he now just had a case of the giggles. But the look on your face was probably part of it. His snort in turn made you grin, his laughter contagious.

This gave Yondu an idea. Grinning evilly he reached over to poke Peter in the side, making the younger man jerk almost violently away with a giggle. Kraglin chuckled as Peter protested, "Hey! You know that's cheating!"

"Nah, you're out, boy. There ain't no rule that says I can't use it on someone that's outta the game." Yondu argued playfully, throwing a look at Kraglin who took the hint and poked Peter from the other side.

"Hey!" Peter whined, the pitiful sound making you cover your mouth to hide your widening grin.

Kraglin stood so he could tickle Peter properly, seeing your amusement at his predicament, and you clenched your jaw as streams of your friend's laughter mixed with uncharacteristically high pitched, "No!"s and "Please!"s poured from his mouth before he managed to escape Kraglin's grip and hop away from the table, clutching his sides and catching his breath. Just in time too, because you were worried that might've actually broken you if Peter hadn't stopped his girly ticklish squeals.

Yondu must've realized this too because he snapped his fingers in mock frustration, and conceded that it was your turn again. In truth he was glad Peter got away as well. The plan had almost backfired on him, nearly having made him laugh at the sight as well.

You had to restart your joke twice, each time having to stop yourself from accidentally laughing so you wouldn't lose. Eventually you finally got out, "Guy with a gun enters a bar... He cries out angrily: 'Who the fuck had sex with my wife?'... A voice was heard in the background, "You don’t have enough bullets mate!”

Yondu grinned, looking down at the table before nodding. "I like that one. It's good." However, he didn't laugh, just went straight into his next joke. "Nurse hands a man his newborn and says 'I’m sorry, but your wife didn’t make it.' He hands it back, saying, 'Well give me the one my wife made.'"

Your eyes went wide. "Yondu!" you scold. "That's terrible!"

"Don't give me that! I can see ya fighting not to laugh."

It was true. As much as the joke was bad, you couldn't help it. There's nothing that makes someone want to laugh more than knowing you can't laugh. Everything's funnier when you can't laugh. You roll your eyes and deliver your next joke. "Why couldn't the toilet paper cross the road? ... It got stuck in a crack."

Peter cracked up at that, moving to sit back down with a warning glance at Kraglin, who held up his hands as a sign that he wasn't going to tickle him again. Kraglin then shook his head with a wide grin as he watched Yondu run his tongue over his teeth and look down as he tried to suppress a smile.

Yondu inhaled. "Damn. Ya almost got me."

You grinned wide and bit your tongue. You almost got yourself.

"Ya wanna hear a joke 'bout construction?"

You let out a dramatic sigh. "You're gonna tell it anyway, might as well."

"I'm still workin' on it."

You smack your hand on your thigh and jerk your head to the side as your breath hitched. "Fuck you!" you say, a wide grin plastered to your face.

Now Peter and Kraglin were laughing at yours and Yondu's reactions more than anything else.

"Ya wanna tap out now? There's no shame if ya do." Yondu teased.

"Fuck you." you say again. "What did the plumber say to the singer?" You cursed yourself for not being able to come up with a better joke, but delivered the punch-line anyway. "Nice pipes."

Yondu didn't even crack a smile a that, not that you blamed him. He asked, "What's the difference between a good joke and a bad joke?"

"I don-"

"TIMING!" Yondu shouted so suddenly that you jerked back and a startled laugh finally broke free from your throat, and once it was out it was like a dam had collapsed- you couldn't hold back the torrent of giggles that had built up for so long.

"Dude! You can't just yell stuff out like that!" you scold, still giggling as you held a hand to your heart, "You scared me!"

"Made ya laugh though, that's what counts." he grinned. He stood up from the table and stretched. "Looks like I win." He ruffled your hair and you swatted him away playfully.

"One of these days I'll get you!" you say.

"Then why don't ya put your money where your mouth is," Kraglin laughed, Peter nodding with him, saying, "Yeah, you two face off again. Right now. Loser pays for everyone's drinks for the night next time we go out."

Still giggly you glance from Peter and Kraglin to a smug looking Yondu standing and grinning at you with his arms crossed.

With a giggly sigh you bow your head and concede. "I can't. I'm not ready."

Yondu lets out a chuckle and pulls you in to give you a noogie. "That's what I thought."

#gotg #gotg fanfiction #you laugh you lose #yondu fanfiction #yondu #peter quill #kraglin #x reader #starlord #reader is a ravager #yondu udonta #kraglin obfonteri #fluff #fluffy fanfiction #funny #jokes

[shreddedparchment]

Pseudo Princess Epilogue

08/21/2020

Pairing: King!Steve x Reader          Word Count: 6,172

Warnings: fluff, talks of sterilization/infertility

A/N: I did promise a surprise. There were some interactions that I wanted to touch on that I couldn’t fit into the last chapter and this just felt right to write. I hope y’all enjoy. If you happen to reblog, thanks so much for helping me spread my work! xoxo

“What have you decided?” You wonder, adjusting Joseph in your arms as they begin to tire.

“We’re going to adopt.” Nat’s smile is genuine and yet, you find there’s a sadness in her eyes that breaks your heart.

She looks at Joseph and stares at him for a moment before reaching across the small space between your chairs to caress his little cheek.

“May I be honest with you?” You hesitate but know that you need to say this in order for that sadness to leave her eyes.

Of course, her sadness is her own and you might only help relieve it. You cannot chase it away for good.

“Of course.” She takes her hand back to place over yours.

“I am so glad that you have decided not to see the witch.” You sigh. “After having lost all of you for over a year, the thought of losing more time knowing that I would have had it…”

“I know.” Nat interrupts softly, tearing her eyes down to her hand in yours. “James is the same. He told me to choose what would make me happy and for a moment I considered very much going to see her, but the forced look of detachment on James’s face was heartbreaking. I don’t want him to feel as if his opinion does not matter to me.

“If we cannot both be of one mind in this choice then it is a choice that I cannot make. We were both decided on adoption before I remembered the witch’s offer so, adoption is the only choice my heart can bear to make.” Nat’s feelings are genuine, and you can see the decision has lifted weight from her shoulders.

“You have known that you could not have children for years. Is this really what you wanted. Having them naturally?” You probe, already knowing her answer. “You know that Bucky does not and has not cared if you could give him natural born children.”

“Why do you know me so well?” She huffs a small laugh. “I wanted to give him the life he deserved.”

“The life he deserves is the one he chooses, love. And he chooses to be with you, just as you are. For him you are not lacking in anything.” You point out, remembering the look of utter worship he gives her every time they’re together.

“I know.” Nat nods, smiling wide albeit a little resigned. “I don’t think I’ve ever truly accepted that and that’s why I became so fixated on giving him a child born of us both.”

You scoot closer to the edge of your seat, adjusting the sleeping Joseph in your arms. Now that you’re closer, you can wrap one arm around her back a little, bringing your face down and closer to her own.

“We all love you, Nat. Just as you are. Any child you raise would be lucky to have you as a mother. I know I’ve said it before, but I cannot impress upon you the sincerity of what I say. Trust me. You are perfect to us. If not the world, then to Bucky and myself. And isn’t that enough?”

Her eyes begin to water, and you have the sudden urge to hug her. Before you can, the door to your sitting room opens. Quickly you wipe away the two tears that roll onto Nat’s cheeks as Peter freezes, his eyes wide with surprise. He’s still got his arms extended, feet still in mid-step.

“Oh,” He gasps. “I’m…I didn’t know you were in here your Majesty. I’m so sorry.”

“Peter!” You exclaim, happy to see him.

His face changes, a wide smile replacing the look of shock on his face.

“Hi.” He replies simply, moving towards you as you rise to your feet and with Joseph carefully balanced in your arms, you wrap Peter up in the other.

“It’s so good to see you. When Steve told me you’d left for Father’s castle I was saddened to be denied our reunion.” You chuckle, trying to keep Joseph as still as possible despite knowing that he will not wake even should you need to grab a sword and fight some random attacker.

“I’m sorry, I had to deliver Steve’s invitations for the feast he has planned for when the estate is completed. Only a few weeks now.” Peter says proudly as you pull back to get a look at his face. He seems to be getting taller still. Just over a year and you’re shocked by his growth.

He’s much bigger in muscle mass too.

“Invitations, sure.” Natasha teases, fixing him with a knowing look.

Peter seems to deflate by her implications which raises many questions in your own head.

To allay your confusion, he leads you back to your seat and helps you to sit.

“Morgana and I have actually parted ways.” He says simply, his voice serious but not melancholy.

“Oh.” Nat exclaims, exchanging with you a quick look of concern. “I hope that it was nothing that cannot be mended?”

Peter takes a step back and reaches up to scratch at the back of his neck.

“She is much happier with our engagement at an end. If I am honest, we have been growing apart the last several months. She has been busy undertaking King Stark’s training and I have been busy in the villages with minor disturbances from remnants of Hydra and their various factions.

“Our friendship is just as strong as it ever was, but I don’t believe romance will be a part of our future.” Peter sighs upset despite his words of assurance.

“Last I remember your romance was only just blooming.” You lament, hating to have lost out on the beauty of their love growing.

Now it’s gone?

“Yes.” Peter smiles. “I had high hopes for us but I’m certain this is the right choice for us both.”

“Is this a choice you both made?” Natasha wonders, worried for the young guard.

“We spoke about it at length and we’re sure that it’s for the best.” Peter nods. “Do not worry. We are both perfectly fine.”

Containing your frown is out of the question but he does look as if their choice is one of certainty and you can’t exactly contradict them if they have found what is right for both of them. Even if it’s a shame that you won’t have Peter as a brother-in-law.

With no choice but to move on, you let Natasha take Joseph from your arms as she moves him into the crib nearby.

You have one in here and one in your bedroom.

“So?” You begin, sitting back with a small grimace at the pain in your back. “What brings you to my sitting room? I know you did not come to see me since you didn’t know I was in here.”

As Natasha tucks Joseph in, she waits with observant eyes as if she’s still trying to decide if Peter has told you both the truth about him and Morgana.

“I was sent in to fetch your sewing basket. His Majesty said that he wanted to show it to me so that I’d know what to buy.” Peter explains, his brow furrowed as he observes the grimace on your face and the strange way you’re sitting.

The flowing gown you wear—slate blue around the shoulders down to the constricting bodice where it shifts and mixes with the peony pink fabric beneath the sheer top layer that then flows down to end in that same soft pink—puddles around you, soft to the touch.

It’s finer than anything you’ve worn in a while and the corset you’re wearing now forces your back straight once more.

You’d forgotten how uncomfortable the clothing you'd worn as Queen of Broklin could be. It was a hybrid of both pleasure and pain as the soft fabrics felt cool and heaven in touch but the stiff undergarments to help you fit into such fine dresses were forcing your body to readjust again.

The attempt to slouch and lean back against your chair in search of comfort does not go unnoticed by your once personal guard. Now rehired as you have returned.

“Are you in a lot of pain?” He worries, taking a step closer. His fists open and close as if he’s warring with wanting to reach out and help.

Everyone has been so attentive, so careful with you these past few days after your reappearance. It isn’t even so much that the clothing is too uncomfortable. The corset is tight indeed, but you were so malnourished when Steve found you again that your body had rejected all the rich foods that he’d sent for.

It wasn’t until Natasha thought to bring you simple unseasoned fish, vegetables, and plain water instead of wine that you managed to eat and retain the nutrition. Slowly they added saltier meats and seasoned vegetables and after five days of no missed meals, you were feeling stronger and more like yourself.

The only thing that weighs heavily on your mind still is your son. So much smaller than your daughter was at his age, or so Steve says.

Your husband cried into your chest for that first torturous night. Blissful yet painful. You were all so happy to be back together, finally you were all complete. The piece of yourself that you’d felt was missing had returned in you both, and still it was not enough.

It was excruciating to see your baby girl so grown. Walking, however clumsily, and talking. Her eyes when she sees you are full of confusion. There is no recognition there. Your heart breaks for the bond that you’ve lost.

For Steve, it was the sight of you and Joseph so feeble. So hungry for care and safety. The jumpiness that you’d developed once more having to watch your every step with Phin and the other village men who’d seen an easy target in an orphaned single mother.

He was devastated to know that you’d suffered the birth of your son alone. He hates to know that you fed on rats in your most desperate hours to keep your little one fed. It tears you apart to see him so agonized over it only to see that even through your efforts your son needed a doctor’s care.

Your body is not strong and because of this, everyone has been vigilant with the slightest change in your mood. Steve and Nat especially. Peter has been informed, clearly.

You meet his eyes and offer a smile.

“No. Not exactly. It’s been over a year. I must adjust again, that’s all.” You explain, refusing to give in to their worries about your health.

You feel much stronger already after less than a week. Your son is also more comfortable and seems to fuss a little more now that he has the energy to do so.

Natasha steps towards you, running her hand along the center of your spine.

“Perhaps I laced you too tightly? Once Peter leaves, I can adjust it and give you some relief.” She offers.

“I’m alright.” You smile, resisting the need to grimace again.

Turning back to Peter, you try to distract them.

“Why have you been tasked with the purchase of a sewing box?” This does the trick and both of them forget your discomfort.

“Oh, well his Majesty wishes to tell you himself. I will tell him you’re here and return as soon as I have what I need.” Peter takes a step back, the eagerness to complete his task pulling him away.

“Very well. Hurry back.” You smile at him fondly, a fond lilt to your words. “I have missed you.”

Peter nods, the corners of his lips turned up as he turns and shuts the doors behind him.

“If you aren’t feeling well, Steve will want to know.” Nat frowns, her hand still resting on your back.

“I’m perfectly alright.” You chuckle, reaching back to take her hand and remove it from your spine. “I would like to take a walk.”

You rise and despite yourself, groan as your body stretches. After so much time sleeping in a lumpy bed of hay, a soft plush mattress feels too firm and soft at the same time.

“Y/N…” Nat chastises.

“My body is sore. I’m not used to these soft beds anymore. They feel good when I first lay in them but after a few hours of sleeping my body becomes stiff. It will pass in time, Nat. I promise. I’m alright. Truly.” You walk away from her as you speak, refusing to be stopped and move towards your baby boy to tuck the blanket in around him.

His little crib is the same one that Maggie had slept in when she’d been an infant and your heart fills with warmth that Steve was right and that you would indeed have use for it once again.

Joseph shifts, his little fists flexing open and shutting once again as he coos then sleeps on.

“Will you stay with him?” You whisper, though you don’t need to. Joseph has slept through the worst storms.

“As you wish.” Nat sighs, moving to sit in the chair she’d placed beside him in case you’d wanted to sit down with him.

“If he gets hungry-” You fret.

“I’ll bring him to you.” She promises. “Go, enjoy your walk.”

You leave her in good spirits, feeling free in the safety of the estate walls after so much time spent looking over your shoulder.

Naturally, you allow your heart to lead you and you find yourself at the door to Maggie’s nursery. You can hear Samuel with her, his laugh mixed with her occasional little scream of excitement.

Slowly you open the door, pressing your hand against the wood to keep it as quiet as possible.

You spot them sitting on the floor amongst a pile of pillows that have been strewn across a large thick blanket. The windows on the far side of the room have been thrown open to allow a gentle breeze to cool the room.

Sam holds a luxurious doll made of soft fabric against his leg, his body relaxed as he leans against the wall beside a small shelf full of other toys made of wood and clay. There are other dolls too.

In front of him sits your toddler, her hands wrapped around a large green leg.

With a gasp you push the door open and stop to find Hulk sitting on the other side of the room taking up almost all of it. His arms are casually resting against his knees as your little girl giggles and reaches around to pinch Hulk’s massive calf.

He growls and she laughs again. Then Hulk laughs, and claps his hands twice shaking the entire room.

“Ha-ha!” He says with amusement in his eyes. “Princess laugh funny.”

You look to Sam, uncertainty gripping your chest and he rises then hurries to meet you by the door.

“Your Majesty.” He bows his head, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “Don’t be alarmed, they do this often. He won’t hurt her.”

“Queen Flower!” Hulk shouts, raising his hand to wave then points down at your daughter. “Look! Little Princess laugh funny.”

He lifts his massive leg, taking her with it as she sits on his foot and hugs him tighter. As he drops it, she giggles once.

“Do thing, Princess! Make Hulk angry again.” He orders her and like an obedient puppy, she reaches around and pinches his leg again.

Hulk growls. She laughs. He laughs and claps.

The sight, while frightening at first, fills you with joy.

Your little girl has been happy! You’re so grateful to all of them.

“She likes Bruce too, but she and Hulk have this connection that���s hard to argue with. We can’t keep them apart for long.” Sam explains.

“I’m glad.” You nod.

“He takes care of her. When she cries, he gets upset and won’t stop slamming his fists until she stops. That’s how this began.” Sam gestures at them as they continue to play.

“She was crying?” You fret, watching your little girl for the telltale signs that she had been shedding tears.

“She misses Steve. She cries at least once every time he has to meet with anyone for an extended period of time with affairs of the Kingdom. They’ve been attached at the hip since you disappeared.

“I think he clung to her so tightly because he sensed you in her. He was happy to be with her but he knew that something was missing. We all did, only most of us assumed it was Margaret.

“Steve even insisted once that it wasn’t her and that there was someone else that should be at his side. But he went to sleep and we ignored him. We assumed he was merely distraught. When he woke the next morning, he seemed to have forgotten his theory and we thought we were wise to move on.” Sam smiles, shrugging his shoulders as he fixes you with his sheepish grin. “Sorry.”

You and Steve haven’t talked much about your time apart that does not involve the children. Hearing that he'd felt as lost as you had during your separation eases the small bit in your heart that still wonders if Steve is truly in love with you.

“It’s of no importance.” You assure him. “We are together again now. That’s all that matters.”

“Maggie, look who’s here.” Sam calls to her, waiting for her to exclaim in delight at the sight of you.

While you know better.

As you expect she turns to look at you, her little eyes searching your face for recognition and it comes slowly. It isn’t the recognition of a mother yet but she still releases Hulk's leg and with unsteady feet rises and wanders over towards you.

“Hello my sweet flower.” Your heart expands at least fifty sizes—no, a hundred!—as you squat down to be closer to her.

She stumbles as she reaches you but falls into your arms with a giggle that you echo as you wrap your arms around her and lift her to your lap.

She's still so small. A baby. Your baby.

“I was just about to go take a walk in the garden. I want to see all the pretty flowers that your papa planted. Would you like to come with me, little flower?” You wait as she watches your mouth when you’ve finished speaking.

Her own moves silently as she reaches up to fidget with her ear as she thinks about it.

You’ve spent as much time as you can with her these past five days and because you’re in her places of home—her Papa's bed, his presence every moment that he can spare, at his dining table right beside him, in the bath while he sits with her in his lap and the two of you talk.

You’ve bathed her with you and tucked her in. Kissed her cheeks and chastised her when her tantrums grew insolent.

You have made yourself a thorn in her side but a place to seek comfort too.

So, when she turns back to you and places her little hands on your cheeks before wrapping them around your neck, you are ecstatic.

Sam helps you to your feet as Hulk rises and grumbles.

“Queen Flower steal funny baby. Hulk hate Queen Flower!” He says passionately before giving a great hurumph and springing through the large open window.

You watch him go with your mouth slightly open. Maggie turns to wave as Hulk disappears and Sam shakes his head.

“Ba-ba-ba!” Maggie calls out after him, her little hand limp as she swings her arm up and down.

“He doesn’t really hate you. He tells all of us that when we take her.” Sam relays and you’re surprised to feel a wave of relief that Hulk is also just throwing a tantrum.

“I’ve left Nat with Joseph while he sleeps. Will you tell her to bring him down when he wakes? I’d love to have them together. She’s still unsure of him I think.” You’ve noticed your little girl is jealous when Steve holds your son and you want them to love each other despite their time apart.

“Of course. Enjoy your walk, your Majesty. I’ll send a guard down for you as well. Steve would not like you two out in the gardens by yourselves.”

“Thank you, Sam. Are you ready my princess?”

~~~~~~~~~~

It’s been nearly four hours of warm morning sun spent with your daughter in the fragrant peony garden that Steve had built in the estate gardens.

Waves of pink sway in the sultry summer breeze and Maggie’s little legs falter as she inches towards you, her small fist rubbing sleepily at her eye.

She’d spent the morning running after you, giggling loudly before screaming with excitement. She’d fallen many times, then risen and continued the chase. You’d let her catch you and fall to the ground to embrace her before she squirmed from your arms to indicate your turn to chase.

Her adorable antics were topped when she managed to crawl underneath your skirts, painting the bottom her dress—which once again, matches your own just as they had before you’d lost time—green as she rolled around on the soft pea-green blades of grass.

When she tired you two sat in the shade of a large oak giving you a much-needed respite from the blazing sun. She was up after only ten minutes, however. Energetic baby that she is.

All the while, at the edges of the tall blue hydrangea and wine butterfly bush, just out of sight is your guard. Five men circling the outside of the long garden. Out of sight so that they do not disturb you and Maggie though often you catch them peeking over the hedge to catch glimpses of the little miss.

She’s just as popular as she was before you lost her.

Halfway through your walk, Natasha joins you with Joseph. A blanket spread out beneath the oak where she’d sat with him while you played with Maggie.

Stopping, you admire her as she walks towards you. She’s the spitting image of her father and when you’d once thought her lips resembled your own, you can now see that she’s turning into Steve more and more every day.

“Muh-muh-muh…” She mumbles, and your heart skips a beat. “Muh-muh…”

As she reaches you, she lifts her arms towards you, her little rosebud lips fixed into a cranky pout.

“Oh, my sweet girl.” You gush, ducking down to pick her up before you cradle her against your chest. She’s heavy compared to Joseph but you don’t care. You will suffer through aching arms to hold her close.

She immediately lays her head on your shoulder and wraps her arms around her neck again, her eyes closing as you caress the back of her head tenderly.

“Were you attempting to call me ‘Mama’?” You whisper, but she’s already asleep.

With her dozing, you move back towards the oak where Joseph lays on his back playing with his feet.

“Are you hungry?” Natasha wonders, already pushing up onto her knees and grabbing her skirts in preparation.

“A little.” You confess, but I can wait until Maggie wakes before we head back inside.”

“Would you like Steve to kill me for not feeding you?” Nat walks to meet you and then reaches to caress Maggie’s head as she stops beside you. “I’ll see what I can find for us. Will you be alright with them both?”

She seems to really be worried about whether you can handle your children alone and perhaps if you were at your strongest you’d be offended, but you take her words for what they are—love for you.

“Of course I can.” You assure her. “Maggie’s asleep.”

She tilts her head quickly, looking skeptical before she turns and leaves for the house.

As you approach your little boy who has taken to a constant cooing, you wonder how you’ll manage to put Maggie down beside him when you hear a call from the garden gate.

“Y/N!” He calls, deep but vibrant.

His voice is like a siren’s song and you stop and turn without hesitation.

Steve. Your heart is suddenly pounding and you’re eager to see his beautiful face.

As you turn to look, he’s already close, turning his sprint into a jog. His lips are stretched into a happy smile. His eyes are bright, blue as storm clouds, but happy to see you. No, ecstatic. No, he’s full of life at the sight of you, looking as if he’s just quenched a terrible thirst.

“I’ve been all over the estate looking for you.” He gives one long inhale and a quick exhale of breath as if he’s only just catching it.

Had he literally run around looking for you?

“I’m here.” You return his smile. “With our little ones.”

Steve’s cheeks blush a vibrant pink before he takes a half-step towards you and leans in, wrapping his right arm around your waist as he rushes to meet your lips with chaste but hungry kiss.

There’s a need behind his lips that doesn’t equate to desire, and you wonder what it is that he’s searching for.

For you, the press of his mouth against your own sends rapid flutters from your toes to the top of your head making all of your thoughts fuzzy.

As he pulls away, he places both hands on either side of your face. His thumbs are a gentle caress against your skin. His eyes devour your confuddled expression, a look of amusement turning his lips up once more.

“I missed that expression.” He tells you and embarrassment makes you huff a small laugh.

“You’re impossible.”

Steve chuckles.

With your greeting out of the way, his eyes find the baby in your arms then the one on the blanket.

Joseph has also spotted him and has taken to kicking in excitement, his little eyes wide and his mouth a small o as he spews out more goos and coos.

“Did my princess fall asleep?” Steve reaches for her, expertly taking her from you she doesn’t even stir.

“We’ve been out here all morning.” You tell him and with your arms free, you quickly move to Joseph’s side, grabbing him and sitting him upon your lap so that he might look at his papa with more ease.

It only makes him kick faster and you chuckle as he squirms.

“I think your prince would also like your embrace.” You adjust him again, a sigh of relief escaping you after your laugh.

It doesn’t escape Steve’s notice. As he sits himself down on the blanket with you, he places Maggie beside him, stroking her chest to make certain she remains asleep.

“You’re tired.” He frowns but takes Joseph when you lean over and offer him.

He places him between his legs facing him, but when he whines and leans towards him with his little arms reaching, Steve picks him back up and gives him his all his attention while he waits for you to respond.

“We have been enjoying the length of the garden.” You explain, scooting closer to Maggie and moving the hair away from her little face. “Which reminds me, why was it that you made a peony garden even when you did not remember me?”

Steve turns to you, allowing Joseph to push against his lap with his little legs, then looks up towards the branches while he thinks.

As his mind wanders, you admire the sight of him. He looks regal in his short-sleeved cream-colored tunic, the neckline high with tan embroidery along the edge of the seam at the front. It leaves his muscular arms exposed, sinew shifting beneath the smooth golden peach of his skin as your son kicks and Steve keeps him rooted to his spot.

His hair is short once more, trimmed for the heat of the season but his beard is as thick as ever.

Brown trousers and dark brown boots complete his casually regal look and he has never looked so good.

“I don’t think I could properly explain it. The garden back home was full of them around Margaret’s—that is, your pavilion. I knew it as Margaret’s with my memory of you gone.” He fixes his words though you feel only the faintest of shifts in your gut of the old jealousy and resentment you’d felt at the mention of Margaret. “I had no memory of changing her flower for them, but I knew that the reason for it was vital. Then as time went on, I craved the scent of them. Maggie and I would spend hours in your garden. I think even she felt your absence. She was more peaceful whenever we were there where the flowers reminds us both of your pleasing scent.”

You laugh, unable to help yourself.

“What?” Steve turns to you, adjusting Joseph in his arms as the little one tires out and yawns. With his little head resting against Steve’s chest, he begins to drift to sleep. “Why are you always laughing at the things I say?”

You take a few more moments to let the laugh flow, then shake your head.

“I’m not. I’m just…I only began to use scented oils and soaps when I accepted father’s task to marry you. If you want a true example of what I smell like, think back to the moment you met me on the road just days ago.” You explain.

Steve thinks back, the small crease between his eyes deep as he tries to remember.

“You smelled like hay. A little bit like sweat and earth, but also like Joseph. But there was also the scent of peonies in your hair, despite what you say. Perhaps it has become engrained into your very being after soaking in so many baths with it.” Steve smiles, his eyes glazed over as if he’s thinking about it.

The shift of his lips is a little coy, and the pink tint returns with vibrancy to his cheeks.

“Why are you blushing?” You narrow your eyes at him, certain you know exactly what it is he’s thinking.

“I’m not blushing.” He shakes his head, a look of denial plastered across his chiseled features.

“You are. How can you think of me in the bath with our children sleeping right beside us?” You demand, your face fixed into mock shock.

Steve blinks, at a loss at your accusation because it’s probably true.

“What? I am not-I don’t-I haven’t-You don’t-” He sputters, flustered by your flirting.

You chuckle and refocus on your daughter, admiring the way she breathes as she sleeps while thinking with amusement about the amount of times you’ve bathed with your little ones since returning and Steve having joined you often.

“Your Majesties!” From the garden gate Peter rushes, one arm wrapped around a wicker basket, the other carrying a rectangular box sealed with twine.

That must be the sewing kit.

“That took you all morning.” You observe as he approaches then stops at the edge of your blanket and gives you both a quick bow.

“Yes, I wanted to be sure I purchased the correct one.” Peter explains, but Steve’s eyes are on the basket.

“What is that?” He gestures at it, then fixes his gaze on the young knight.

“Oh, Natasha sent me with a lunch. Cold meats and a few mince pies. There’s a jug of wine and a gourd of water in there for her majesty.” He holds it out and Steve takes it, placing it near you.

“Eat.” He says simply. “While you can do so comfortably with the children sleeping.”

He’s probably right. You begin to pull the food from the basket and portion it out onto two small wooden plates Natasha had placed in the basket.

“Where shall I put the kit, your Majesty? The den?” Peter wonders, holding the box with both arms now that they’re free.

“Yes, that seems-” He begins but then stops as the heavy sound of a guard’s armor approaches.

All of you turn to look in his direction.

Behind him follows a girl who looks to be about Peter’s age. Her beauty is undeniable though she walks awkwardly in the simple gray gown she wears. It isn’t anything fancy but probably the nicest dress she owns.

Still nicer than anything you ever owned before you married Steve.

Her hair is long, falling to her waist in a stunning number of braids. Her brown skin shines golden under the summer sun, her eyes a sharp inky black yet wider than normal with the nervous energy you can see flowing through her. Although her facial features are small, they’re also sharp, brows wide and angular.

“She’s finally here.” Steve exclaims, making to rise before he realizes that he’s still cradling Joseph to his chest and sits back down.

“Your Majesty, this girl says she is here for a job?” The guard offers, and gestures to the lovely young lady at his side.

“Yes, thank you. You may go.” Steve dismisses him and waits for him to depart before he addresses the girl. “Hello again, Miss Jones. You’re right on time.”

Miss Jones takes hold of her skirts and quickly ducks into a curtsy as if just remembering she should be doing so.

“I hope I am not intruding.” She says nervously.

“Not at all.” Steve nods. “This is my wife and Queen. You will report directly to her from this day forth.”

“What?!” You gasp, so surprised your smile vanishes. “Report to me?”

“I have hired Miss Jones to assist you with the children. She will be your second lady in waiting to assist you when and if you should need someone and Natasha is not around or has other things to do.” Steve says pointedly. “You shall do whatever her majesty requires but she’s awfully selfless and terrible with implementing her authority so you might have to read into her needs a bit more than I made it sound like when we met before.”

As all of you look back to Miss Jones, you find that she’s still in her curtsy, her legs probably shaking as she teeters from side to side.

“Y-you don’t have to keep bowing.” Peter tells her and she snaps out of it, nearly toppling over as she stands up straight.

“Right,” Miss Jones says, now standing awkwardly before she decides to give you all a tight anxious smile. “I will do everything I can to serve you with honor, your Majesties.”

Steve looks pleased and after a few more moments of considering the girl, you relax.

“Thank you.” You nod. “I will do my best to be as little a burden as I can be.”

“See?” Steve shakes his head and Miss Jones smiles a little more genuinely. “For now, I think you should rest. You must be tired after your journey. Tomorrow you may commence your duties but for now, Peter? Will you show Miss Jones to her quarters?”

Miss Jones curtsies again as Peter bows. “Yes, your Majesty.”

“Thank you, your majesties.”

For a moment they both stand there awkwardly, waiting for the other to walk. Peter gestures towards the estate and Miss Jones seems to turn but is uncertain if she should. As he begins to walk, she gathers her skirts a bit so that she might walk beside him with steady feet.

You watch them steal several glances at each other. Miss Jones especially watches Peter with an uncertain but curious gaze.

“Oh, this is for you.” Peter tells her and holds out her sewing kit.

“Thank you.” Miss Jones says, taking the box.

“I can carry it for you.” Peter offers.

“Oh…” Miss Jones hands him the box again and they walk on.

As they reach the garden gate, their voices are faint, but you can just make out what they’re saying as they disappear through the hedge.

“Your gown is lovely.” Peter tells her, nervous for a moment as he offers the compliment.

“Would you like to borrow it?” Miss Jones asks, her face serious as she awaits his answer.

“What?” Peter stops walking, fixing her with a dumbfounded look.

“A jest.” She tells him, stopping too.

“Oh.” Peter smiles and nearly laughs but continues to walk. “Right.”

Miss Jones smiles. “Yes. It wouldn’t fit you. Your shoulders are too wide.”

“What are you smiling about?” Steve wonders, pulling your attention away from Peter and Miss Jones while he lays Joseph down beside Maggie.

You offer him a plate of food, shrugging as your smile grows wider.

“Life has a strange way of giving us just what we need when we need it.” You realize, looking at all three of the loves of your life.

“Just as life brought you to me, do you mean?” Steve nods. “Yes. Just what I needed.”

#king!steve x reader #king!steve rogers x reader #captain america x reader #royal au #medieval fantasy au #steve rogers x reader #steve x reader #captain america x reader fic #steve rogers x you fic #avengers x reader #marvel au #marvel fanfiction #pseudo princess #daddy!steve rogers x reader

[regrettablewritings]

Preference: Surviving the Holidays

Characters: Dewey Finn, Peter B. Parker, Tadashi Hamada, Bruce Wayne

Dewey Finn: Thanksgiving

Dewey’s relationship with Thanksgiving was wack, for lack of a better word. Really that could be said for his relationship with most holidays, but what made Thanksgiving stand out ever so slightly was just how obsessively tied to gatherings with loved ones it was when compared to other holidays: You could party for Christmas; you could party for New Years; you couldn’t really party for Thanksgiving. And given that most of his time growing up was just himself and his ma . . .Yeah, the guy wasn’t too crazy about what he considered to be a sham of a holiday. (Plus, he didn’t vibe with the parade.)

And none of that lessened as he got older, with his relationship with his mother becoming more and more strained. After a while, the most he really got from the holiday was tagging along accompanying Ned to his own family’s place. But once Patty came along, that window of opportunity closed.

But that didn’t mean he didn’t long for it. Quite the contrary, it had become sour grapes for Dewey: He could gripe and sneer about Thanksgiving being a “boring-ass” wannabe day all he wanted to; the truth simply was that deep down, he knew he wouldn’t really mind the idea of being in the presence of somebody who loved and appreciated him enough to share a meal with him. Or to be thankful that he was in their lives and wanted him to know it.

That, and he missed the option of not having to stay cooped up in the apartment he mooched off in, eating Kraft Mac straight out the pot while imagining others elsewhere eating homemade baked macaroni as a side to a much more delicious and filling meal.

You personally didn’t feel especially impassioned by the day one way or another to be frank. At least, not usually. You weren’t sure what had gotten into you -- maybe it was because the two of you had just moved in together and wanted to make a statement, or maybe the spirit of the season had finally possessed the both of you, or maybe it was because the delirium of moving in two weeks before a holiday had finally taken its hold (moving is statistically one of the most stressful events in a person’s life, after all) -- but there was a newfound determination in trying to “get this right.”

Of course, there’s nothing and no one who says that a house only becomes a home once it has been christened by a successful feast. But there was a sense of maturity that did come with the idea of holding down even a dinner for two that wasn’t picked up from the deli down the street, or delivered by some knock-kneed cyclist. And it was a maturity the both of you were far too eager to acquire.

Never mind the fact that most of your kitchenware was still lost amongst the boxes (what few of them you could fit in the glorified Fruit-By-the-Foot box you called an apartment). Or that you guys were on a budget. Or that the dinner table was an old plastic collapsible one reminiscent of the tables put up at parties held in gymnasiums. You two were adults, goddammit, and you were going to pull this off at least once! Just once, and things would go back to normal.

. . .

Like most things that tended to involve the great Dewey Finn, you had no idea how this happened.

There was no turkey, no green beans or corn on the cob or even mashed potatoes or a pumpkin pie. Instead, what cluttered the table was a plate of Bagel Bites, tater tots, a plastic case of Lofthouse cookies, and, of course, some Kraft Mac. Neither one of you said anything. At least, not out loud. But the sheepish expressions you gave one another said everything.

Time had gotten away from you both. As did proper ingredients to prepare the more traditional meals associated with the day. You supposed that, in a panicked haze, the both of you wound up grabbing and putting together whatever you could to salvage your pride efforts but you began to suspect that that might not’ve been enough.

“. . . At least we beat Snoopy’s meal,” Dewey tried. A beat passed. Then a snort.

“S-shut up!” you cried. How dare he criticize an animated beagle’s meal of popcorn and toast? Though you had to admit, he had a point: You’d take pizza-decorated bagelettes over popcorn any day -- including Thanksgiving Day, apparently.

In the end, it wasn’t the most . . . traditional situation. And it certainly wasn’t enough to change Dewey’s mind about the day. But you both had to agree: It was a feast that certainly christened your new home together as your own. And for that, you were quite thankful.

Peter B. Parker: Hanukkah

While it wasn’t the most important holiday on the Jewish calendar, Hanukkah still held a heavy level of importance in Peter’s heart. Growing up, it had served as a foundation for so many things in his life: In certain traditions, stability was established; in the togetherness it garnered, there was love; and in the activities partaken, there were memories. Memories of helping Aunt May in the kitchen and of Uncle Ben determining him to be old enough to recite the proper prayers. Of lighting the menorah and setting the room aglow with the history of a miracle . . .

It was therefore a huge regret of Peter’s when he had foregone observing both the winter holiday, as well as many others in his culture during the more recent years when his life began to slip and slide out of control. So when he reemerged from Miles’ dimension, ready and willing to take a chance on life again, it was only natural that Peter was also ready and willing to bring back more positive habits and influences – celebrating Hanukkah included.

And with you, now present in his life and curious and eager as ever, he couldn’t help but feel all the more encouraged to share it. And maybe perhaps show off. Just a little.

For example, once you removed the whole Spider-Man situation, Peter was a pretty simple guy. Especially when it came to foods: Far be it from Peter B. Parker to turn down a burger with some fries or some pizza or street food. So that’s what made it stick out all the more when, after the first night he announced his decision to attempt making challah. Followed by some latkes. Maybe a babka as well. And some sufganiyot. Never mind that he had never actually made some of these without the more experienced Aunt May taking up most of the task. But he was determined and literally and metaphorically hungry for success, and who were you to question his ambitions?

. . . Apparently somewhat saner and more aware than he was. The babka and latkes were simple enough, thankfully. But the sufganiyot? Peter couldn’t fry like that; not with the best materials money could by, when said money was provided on the budget of two people trying to make it in one of the pricier boroughs of New York. And the less said about the challah process, probably the better. . . . Though you still had plenty to say.

“You’re a spider, Peter – why is your weaving coming out so weird?” you questioned, eyeballing the tangled mess of dough. Peter huffed, trying to keep his glower on his failed efforts, rather than redirecting it at you.

“It’s not my fault the guy moves too fast,” he said, referring to the tutorial you had both played on loop. He muttered something along the lines of “for beginners, my ass.” At this rate, the real holiday miracle would be if you not only braided the challah correctly, but also if you didn’t burn down the raggedy apartment. You wanted to say that there would be no shame in calling it and just going to one of the nearby Jewish bakeries for a loaf, but your partner seemed invigorated by spite-induced determination to see this task through.

Never mind that the strands of dough flopped against one another in spite of his best efforts. At this point, it resembled less of a perfect princess braid and more like a flattened Tangela. It was pitiful, really, but you had to admit: The pout his failed efforts had earned him was cute. You didn’t want to think lightly of what he was deeming a situation, but it was quite nice seeing him like this at all. When you had first met he was quite nearly the opposite, all grumpy and aloof and wanting nothing to do with you.

Who would’ve guessed that in due time, he’d become the very man who stood before you, eager to interact with you and bond with you, sharing moments like these . . . Moments which you wish he would just go ahead and enjoy along with you.

“Hey, Peter?”

“Ye -- ” A small blast of flour collided with his crooked nose, stopping the man short. “HEY!” He cracked one eye open just enough to glare at your grinning face.

“Don’t be such a Grinch, Peeby -- ”

“Wrong holiday,” your boyfriend snarked as he wiped his face.

“Hush. Anyway, we still got a few more nights to figure this out,” you reminded. You placed a quick peck on his powdery cheek for good measure. His shoulders slumped with a sigh. As much as he didn’t want to say it, he knew you had a point. Maybe he had gotten a bit too (literally) wrapped up in getting all this right. Though he did feel his spirits lift somewhat as you placed your hand over his with assurance.

Somewhat. All that was missing was --

Pff!

“UGH! PETER!” Your hands flew to your face in an effort to wipe away the fistful of flour that now caked it. All the while, the offender himself laughed. He was probably going to have to appease you with some chocolate gelt “for damages” but as far as he was concerned, it was worth it. After all, what better way to share these important moments than with his favorite person?

Tadashi Hamada: Christmas

A local little cafe in the heart of San Fransokyo was simultaneously the best place to be for the holiday season, and the worst. The great things about it were the cute store-bought and homemade decorations that decked the cozy halls of the establishment; the seasonal baked goods and sandwich specials that made the Lucky Cat smell like cinnamon or roasted turkey; the cozy feeling that welcomed you like a hug whenever you walked in.

Alternatively, there was the whole to-do with picky or rude customers coming in from out of town; the saturation of Christmas music screeching through the speakers; and way-too-hype women taking up tables for hours at a time after spending the day shopping (and clogging the already small aisles with the bags from said shopping).

But all in all, Tadashi made it all better.

Having grown up in the Lucky Cat, he’d long since learned how to cancel out the grinchiness the holiday season brought out, and was more than happy to help you do the same using his own methods. If you focused on the little things, he figured, you could attach sweeter memories and associations to them. Especially if you veered a little off the usual path.

Sure, there was joining him in the kitchen to prepare and bake cranberry-speckled pastries and frost cookies to resemble familiar holiday characters and items. But there was also stringing popcorn garlands together (“Tadashi, you’re the youngest 70-something year-old I have ever met.” “Hush, you; I’m doing you a favor by laying my Christmas cheer all over you.” “Phrasing, ‘Dashi, geez!”). But at the end of the day, there was one thing in particular that your boyfriend did to sweeten the deal. The one thing only someone like Tadashi could do: Snowball fight a la manipulation of barometric pressure.

Following the incident with the snow machine two years ago, Tadashi had to make a promise to Aunt Cass to only use it outside. Away from the house. That suited Tadashi just fine. After all: What better way to pelt your loved one in the face using snow warfare than to do so in a wide-open space like the park? And while those fortunate (and unfortunate) enough to have come upon the unusual winter wonderland he had created, the facts still stood: This was about you and him. You vs him, diving behind mounds of snow, screeching with both joy and discomfort whenever the snow made an impact against bare skin, eyes tearing up from the cold . . .

You could’ve done this for hours, especially since you were pretty positive Tadashi was letting you win. If only he hadn’t called for an armistice.

“ ‘Armistice’? For what? You scared I’ll beat your butt again?” you taunted through chattering teeth.

“No, you ding-dong,” Tadashi shook his head. “Look at you: You’re clearly at your limit with the cold.”

“Nuh-uh!” As if to betray you, your body gave a sudden jolt; a release of shivers like a spring being let loose after coiling. As if unimpressed, the young man reached for your gloved hands and gave one a gentle squeeze.

“Does that hurt?” he questioned.

You winced. “N-no . . .”

You heard him click his tongue. “Ah. Enforced armistice.”

“No fair!” you whined.

“If you sign the treaty, I will include hot cocoa when we get back.”

. . . Well, he could make a mean hot chocolate. Not too sweet, not too bitter, it was perfectly creamy with only the slightest hint of cinnamon for kicks. It was the perfect thing to relax you, causing you to come undone as it’s warmth spread about you inside while the warmth of the kotatsu took care of you on the outside.

“Comfy?” your boyfriend asked. You purred, foregoing a more proper answer just to take another sip of the glorious hot drink. Your enthusiasm earned you a chuckle from him as he inched closer to you. Just enough to hold your hand in his. “For body heat purposes” he might’ve insisted, had you asked. Not that you minded it: It was just what the evening needed to feel complete. Not the goofy, awful ugly sweater he wore that made Rudolph’s nose blink when you pressed a certain spot; not the gentle crooning of Christmas classics sounding from the miniature stereo Tadashi had set up; not even stockings carefully lined along the makeshift mantle, or the presents glimmering beneath the lights of the twinkling tree.

Just the warm feeling of togetherness. That this beautiful man you get to call yours is so willing to share how he celebrates with you. And that you, it turn, get to celebrate with him.

“Hey, you made her cocoa?!” Hiro’s complaining ripped through the air.

And his small but nevertheless vibrant family, of course.

Bruce Wayne: New Years Eve

Let’s face it: New Years Eve sucks. All everyone wants to do is throw a party (even when they actually don’t really want to), the parties are either obnoxiously loud or awkwardly quiet (there is no in-between), there’s never any food because all people wanna do (or have been convinced to do) is drink, and the alcohol is usually crap by the time you get there because everyone already knew to tackle the good booze as soon as they arrived.

Suffice to say, you had some gripes when it came to New Years Eve. And in spite of the luxurious images that tended to come to mind, parties thrown by the wealthy weren’t any different from the average one thrown by the common man. Really, the only difference was that the alcohol was of higher quality and the gatherings were usually held at some large hall like a hotel ballroom or even at a prestigious gallery.

But even if you’d known that beforehand, you still would’ve accompanied Bruce to one such party. Bruce wasn’t fond of them himself, but he needed to at least make an appearance to save face with all the moochers and bigwigs from neighboring industries and enterprises. You were honestly just there for support, though it was just as agonizing for you as it was for him.

Well, at least you didn’t have to actually talk extensively with anyone, you mused. You’d been nursing your drink for the last half hour or so, trying to walk that thin line between going about undisturbed while also not coming across as frigid or wallflowery. Not too far off, you could see Bruce smiling at another partygoer: A buxom ginger, surely an important figure in her own right, but clearly seeing no harm in grinning coquettishly at the affluent Prince of Gotham. You felt no trace of jealousy within you, however. You knew Bruce’s real smile, and the one he was currently providing her wasn’t it in the slightest.

No, the real one was the one he flashed you when he glanced over at you to make sure that you were doing fine off and alone. A sweet, glorious smile that reached his eyes. Though, there were also traces of exhaustion. And you suspected that the smile you returned held just as much because soon after that, you watched him excuse himself from whatever conversation he’d been trying to carry before making his way over to you.

“How’re you holding up?” he inspected.

You shrugged and sighed, “It is what it is. I’m making peace with the fact that the last thing I would’ve eaten this year would’ve been an assortment of cocktail wienies, what I think might’ve been pate, and ginger ale.” You’d meant for it to come across as more humorous, but the dry tone you had delivered your words in ruined the effect.

Bruce winced and offered yet another smile: A wobbly, more sheepish one.

“You ready to go home?”

God, yes.

“No, no,” you replied. “Really, it’s fine. Besides, it’s almost midnight anyway -- it probably wouldn’t look good if Bruce Wayne ditched a party his glorious hosts have so graciously invited him to.”

You watched as your significant other raised his brow. “Honey, I’m Bruce Wayne: I’m known for ditching parties.”

“Oh,” you said simply. Fair point. To your minor relief and slight embarrassment, he huskily chuckled.

“C’mon,” he sighed, placing his hand on your lower back as guidance. “My ass is sore from all the butt-kissing. Let’s go home where it’s warm. And quiet.”

“And we can actually eat!” you chirped, a little too excitedly. Once again, your embarrassment was met with approval.

The outside was both quieter and just as noisy as the inside of the celebration. Quieter because of the muting effect the fallen snow had, but also more lively because of the surrounding restaurants and streets and bars filled with people cheering and blowing party horns and singing in slurred joy. You liked it better than the party, if you had to be honest. But maybe perhaps because as you wandered the snow-caked streets to reach where Bruce had parked the car, you felt his gloved hand wrap around your own.

Of course, it was probably just to keep your hand warm -- maybe even just to make sure you kept pace with him, or that if you wouldn’t fall if you hit a small patch of black ice. But in a little corner of your mind, you couldn’t help but romanticize it: It was like he was accompanying you into the new year in a way. Just you and him. No loud parties, no pressures, no being anywhere or with anyone you didn’t want to be.

“Thanks, by the way.” Bruce broke the silence in a puff of cold air. “I know these really aren’t your thing -- I mean, personally, they aren’t mine, either, but you really didn’t have to come if you didn’t want to. But I appreciate that you . . . that you did.”

Your cheeks burned, though not from the whipping cold of the late December air.

“Of course I did . . .” you reasoned. “I know it sounds goofy but . . . we’re in this together, y’know?” You gave his hand a small squeeze. He squeezed yours right back, but with a bit more power. The warmth of it traveled up into your chest and cheeks. You licked your chapping lips.

“Besides,” you continued, “if I had just stayed home, I would’ve been bored. And probably would’ve given my New Year’s Kiss to Alfred.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Oh, who knows? New year, new me, right?”

You couldn’t have imagined what Bruce would’ve responded with next if it weren’t for the sudden distraction: The air, disorderly and sloppy mere seconds before, had all at once seemed to become uniform with the sounds of chanting. A count down.

You’d lived through so many New Years before, you weren’t quite sure what made this one different. There was no reason for you to pause as you did, your heart suddenly thundering in your chest at the realization of what was to come. It was just another year, right? A new year with new promises, new disappointments, new surprises both good and bad, new --

“ -- two! One! HAPPY NEW YEAR!!”

You had barely had a moment to register the words before you became distracted with registering something entirely different: A pair of warm lips pressed against your own, the feeling of large arms wrapped about your waist to pull you in close.

As he parted from you, Bruce flashed you one of his real smiles once more. One that denoted the mischief only you were truly privy to.

“Beat him to it,” he teased.

And for as shocked as you were over the exchange of the midnight kiss, you couldn’t help but blink . . . and find yourself in a giggling fit. That was why this year felt different: You had never had a boyfriend on New Years before. Scratch that: You had never had Bruce for New Years. And that made a world of difference. You didn’t want to make any assumptions but . . . it was a pretty great way to start a new year, if you did say so yourself.

#dewey finn x reader #peter b parker x reader #tadashi hamada x reader #bruce wayne x reader #Batman x reader #Dewey Finn #Dewey Finn imagine #Dewey Finn imagines #Peter b Parker imagine #Peter b Parker imagines #bruce wayne imagine #bruce wayne imagines #Tadashi Hamada imagine #Tadashi Hamada imagines #school of rock imagines #spiderman into the spiderverse imagines #big hero six imagines #dceu imagines #*casually posts this like 2/4 of these holidays haven't already happened* #Peter B. Parker is Jewish and I don’t see enough people openly acknowledging this #he’s Jewish m’kay? and you can’t argue otherwise because it’s canon as hell #...really tho based on some intricacies here the only one on this list who probably isn’t Jewish or of Jewish descent is Tadashi #just sayin #happy holidays y'all #preference #preferences

[kelieah]

was it worth it? (peter parker x reader)

request (summary) @annamckayla : Hello, ur amazing! I wanted to request an Imagine where the reader and Peter are married with a bby, and after every mission she could be like "was it worth it" (in a kind playful way) and each time he would say yes, but one day the reader is somehow muddled up in this dangerous mission along side a few other ppl, he saves everyone but her, and he doesnt know if it was worth it

word count: 3.1k

warnings: lil bit of fluff, LOTS of angst so buckle up

edited: this is one of my longest fics so far, i put a lot of effort into this one kdsjnsdkfn

a/n: hehe ily anna but this request not cool dawg (jk ily but writing this hurt like a buttcheek on a stick)

masterlist | teaser

-

You look out the window, holding the beautiful baby boy you and Peter made in your arms and rock him back and forth. Your eyes scan over the city buildings, knowing your husband’s somewhere out there stopping crimes and saving lives.

“Did you know Ben, that your daddy is out there kicking butt? Saving lives, almost every day?” you look down at your sleepy baby.

He glances up at you with half-lidded eyes and coos, reaching out to you. You smile warmly and let him grab your finger.

“Yup, that’s right, daddy’s Spider-Man. I almost fainted when he first told me during our Senior year of high school,” you shake your head and chuckle at the memory.

You continue to sway him in your arms until he falls asleep. You hum quiet lullabies and walk over to the bedroom, placing him in his crib that was next to you and Peter’s bed.

Your head snaps up once you hear the bedroom window sliding up slowly. You chuckle quietly and place your hands on your hips, already knowing who it is.

Peter crawls in and onto the ceiling, closing the window with his foot. “Peter Benjamin Parker, you better not jump down. Ben’s asleep,” you warn in a hushed tone.

He looks over at you and takes off his mask, flashing you a sheepish smile. God, you could never get tired of watching him take off his mask like that.

He crawls down the side of the wall and quietly lands, walking over to you. He holds your waist and you wrap your arms around his neck, pressing your forehead against his, “You seem really beat, Mr. Parker,” you mutter softly.

“I sure am, Mrs. Parker,” he pecks your lips, glancing down into your eyes.

You sigh longingly, curling your fingers in his hair, “Was it worth it?” you tease quietly.

He sighs softly, “Are you going to ask that every single time I go out on a patrol?” he murmurs against your lips.

“Mhm, because you’re not just coming home to your lovely wife. You’re coming home to your lovely wife and baby boy,” you whisper.

“In my eyes sweetheart, it’s worth it to save another one’s life, stop crime and come home to my whole world, you two,” he cups your face, pressing kisses all over.

“But what if you don’t come home one day?” you whisper, feeling your eyes begin to gloss at the thought.

Peter tilts your head up towards him and kisses you deeply, bringing you closer, “You know I don’t know the answer to that. You shouldn’t constantly worry about the future baby, you should try-”

You sigh against his lips and pull away, “I know, Pete. I know,” you mumble.

“I love you, and Ben, so much. Don’t ever forget that okay?” he holds your cheek gently, caressing it.

You place your hand on top of his nodding, “We love you more.”

Some nights he came back without a scratch but most nights he came back with much more than just a scratch.

Ben’s next to the couch sprawled out on a soft blanket, playing with some of his toys.

You’re fixing up some dinner until all of a sudden you hear a thud from your bedroom. You frown and quickly look up, turning off the stove in an instant.

You glance over at Ben making sure he’s fine. He looks up at you with curious eyes, his mouth all over a teething toy. You smile softly then quickly walk over to your bedroom, “Pete?” you peek your head in.

You gasp at the sight of Peter flat on the floor by the window, holding the side of his torso in pain. You rush over and slide next to him, lifting his head up gently to rest him on your lap.

“What happened?” you whisper, placing a hand on his cheek.

He smiles timidly and looks up at you, “I-I’m fine I swear baby, just a little whoopsie,” he breathes out.

Your eyebrows furrow in concern, and slowly lift up his hand. You frown at the deep cut above his hip, “Can you get up? I need to patch you up Peter,” you whisper.

He nods and carefully begins to sit up. You help him stand up and walk him over to the bathroom. You watch him lift himself up on the counter, letting out a sharp grunt.

You sigh, grabbing some cloth from the bottom drawer and handing it to him. “Apply pressure okay? I’m going to check on Ben,” you walk off.

You see Ben begin to doze off and walk up to him, scooping him up in your arms. You hold him gently and head back to the bedroom, placing him in his crib.

You walk back to Peter and get out the medical kit you have nearby at all times. Peter watches you with tired eyes, holding the cloth you gave him to his wound.

You look up at him and press a kiss against his forehead, “I think you need stitches bub,” you hold his cheek. He nods against your touch.

“Okay Mrs. Parker,” his raspy voice making your heart clench.

After stitching him up, you help him clean himself up. You stand in between his legs and wrap your arms loosely around his neck. You give him a concerned look that makes him pout.

“I know what you’re about to say.”

“Was it worth it?”

“Baby,” he groans quietly and pulls your waist close, “Yes, yes it was.”

You hum quietly, threading your hands through his hair, “Why?”

He nuzzles his nose against yours, letting out a quiet sigh, “You know why.”

You exhale and press your lips against his for a moment. He kisses back and holds you closer. You pull away and cup his cheek in your hand, “I guess so,” you whisper.

You never stopped asking him that question every time you came home. Deep down, you dread the day you won’t be able to ask him due to him never returning.

Though you knew it was repetitive and annoying to ask, you couldn’t help but ask. There was this one night where Peter wasn’t having it and the two of you broke out in a fight that thankfully ended in an agreement.

Peter tiredly crawled through the bedroom window, freezing as his enhanced hearing picked out the soft snores that came out of Ben’s mouth.

He smiled softly and closed the window, jumping down quietly. He walks over and adjusts Ben’s small blanket. Peter shuffles over to the kitchen to grab some food.

“Hello to you too,” you piped up from the couch, leaning on the palm of your hand.

“Sorry babe, hi,” he came up to you, bending down to kiss your forehead.

“You okay? Rough night?” you sat up, looking up at him worriedly.

“Don’t worry, I’m fine,” he waves his hand and goes over to the fridge, grabbing some food.

You sighed and followed, leaning against the counter. He heated up his food in the microwave and glanced over at you, “What?” he yawned.

“Was it worth it?” you teased, poking at his side.

Your smile faltered as you noticed he didn’t react. He let out a weak chuckle, “Mhm.”

“Peter, I’ve known you for what? Six years now? You can talk to me bub,” you murmured.

“Do you always have to fucking ask that question? Every single fucking time I come back from risking my life for others, “was it worth it” bullshit? Do you!?” he snapped his voice loud yet low enough to be heard by you but not by Ben. He dragged his hands down his face and looked over at you with the most exhausted expression, waiting for a response.

Your heart raced and you felt your throat begin to swell, never expecting Peter to burst out like that, “I-I never meant for it to upset you P-Pete,” you whispered, “I j-just-”

“You just what huh? Y/n, love, I don’t think you understand what I do out there,” he grits through his teeth, turning off the microwave that went off. “Of course it’s fucking worth it, I’m an Avenger. A hero. It’s what we do! That’s all we fucking do,” he fumed, pacing back and forth.

You inhaled sharply, quickly wiping away your tears that fell from your cheeks before Peter saw but you failed to do so. He stopped in his tracks, his heavy breathing calming down, “S-shit baby, I-I’m so sorry-” he took a step towards you.

You took a step back, “N-no, it’s okay. I get it, it was inconsiderate of me to ask, constantly. I-I just thought it was kind of like an inside joke y-you know? But there’s no excuse for it,” you whimpered, “A-actually a part of me, h-has been wanting to bring up y-your career Peter.”

He nodded, walking over and cupped your face, wiping away your tears, “Talk to me sunshine, I-I’m not mad. I’m not mad at you at all, dammit it’s just been a long day and I shouldn’t have taken it out on you just now. I-I’m calm, just talk to me. I’m here, I got you,” he pressed a kiss against your forehead, his words starting to take an affect on you.

You let out a shaky breath and nodded, “Peter, a-are you ever going to consider r-retiring? I-I know you’re young and I know it’s s-selfish of me to say, but you could do so many other great things. L-less risky careers, because we,” you choke slightly on your words, Peter instantly placing a hand on your back to soothe you. “B-because we have a family now Peter, and if you,” you sobbed, “If you died, god I don’t know what’d I do.”

Peter’s heart shattered at your words and he pulled you into a tight hug, bringing your head to his chest. “I know, I know,” he whispered painfully. “Y-you have to trust me, and what I do. I-I love you both, with all my heart. With all my entirety. But I-I just can’t give up what I do.”

You sighed deeply and nuzzled your head into his chest, “I get it Pete,” you sniffled, beginning to calm down. “I really do. But remember what you told me that night when I found out your identity?”

“Wanna check out the other web shooter?” he muttered, playing with your hair.

You stifle a quiet laugh, “Besides that. You told me you kept your secret for the longest time because you didn’t want to put my life in danger. Nor May’s, nor Ned’s. Or anyone close to you,” you sighed. “D-does that not concern you now?”

Peter tensed at your question, “W-well when you put it like that. I feel like shit now,” he grumbled making you chuckle. “Look, I’ll talk to Tony okay? I’d never want to put you in danger, let alone our own son. I-I’ve just been so wrapped up in being this superhero that everyone looks up to that I- I didn’t realize I have everything I could ever need in front of me. You and Ben,” he squeezed you tightly in his arms. You smiled in content, tearing up and held him close.

Even after that argument you had with Peter, you still managed to ask him the question. Luckily without pissing him off. He eventually came up with different creative and adorable responses each time which you absolutely adored.

“Peter, I’m going to run to the store real quick m’kay? Watch Ben,” you walk over to where he’s sitting, wrapping your arms around him.

He looks up at you and you peck his lips causing him to grin, “Okay mama.”

You smile happily, ruffling Ben who’s sitting in his dad’s lap and grab your keys, walking off. Ben pouts slightly and reaches out for you as you leave the apartment.

“Don’t worry buddy, mommy will be back,” Peter ruffles his head gently making him giggle. “Now look,” he props him up to face the TV, “That cool guy right there, that is Luke Skywalker.”

Soon after about two Star Wars movies later, Peter began to get worried. He places Ben who fell asleep back in his crib.

He walks over to his phone and leaves you another message. He paces around for a couple minutes and quickly glances at his phone repeatedly.

His heart jumps out of his heart when he hears your ringtone and immediately picks up, “Y/n? Are you okay? It’s been almost two-”

“Peter Parker,” a low raspy voice answers, “I hope you didn’t forget about me Spider-Man,” he chuckles darkly.

Peter’s eyes widen, panic beginning to rush throughout his body, “Where is she?” he spits.

“She isn’t the only one in danger Parker,” he holds your phone up, a bunch of other voices crying out for help.

“P-Peter!” he hears Aunt May wail out.

“You fucking monster,” Peter snarls, clenching his fist.

“Wilmington Fifth Street, the warehouse on the right. Can’t miss it. If you call backup, all your loved ones will be dead,” the anonymous enemy retorts and ends the call.

Peter quickly calls Tony, “Kid what? It’s like 9-”

“Mr. Stark please s-send someone over to my apartment to watch Ben. I-I have to take care of something please,” Peter explains, putting on his suit.

“On it,” Tony recognizes the panic in his voice, “Do you want me to send backup?” he asks but doesn’t receive a reply as Peter hangs up.

Peter paces around, running his hands through his hair. Within a couple of minutes he hears someone walk up to the front of the door and swings it open before they could knock, “Oh thank god, Happy. Please, watch Ben. I have to go,” he rushes back to the living room.

“O-oh okay, yeah of course. Peter what’s-” Happy asks closing the door behind him.

Peter jumps out the window and swings off to the address that clouded his mind. “God please, please,” he whimpers to himself and eventually lands in front of their warehouse.

He couldn’t just burst through the front door, that’d bring too much attention. Peter looks around and quickly swings up to the roof, finding an entrance from a lifted up window.

He scans the room quickly to see Aunt May, Ned and MJ all tied together. “Karen, is there anyone else is the building?” he mutters lowly.

“Yes. But if you act now, you can save those three,” she states.

“On it,” he grunts and swings down quietly. They all look up at Peter with fearful and tear-filled eyes, shaking their heads.

He quickly takes off the tape on their mouths and unties them, “Peter no he has her-” May sobs.

“I-It’s okay, everything’s going to be okay. All of you need to get out of here now. Police are on their way, they’ll be around the corner,” they all nod in response, too shaken up to say anything. He leads them towards a backdoor entrance. “Where’s Y/n?” he asks, before letting them go.

“She’s in the back, w-with the Vulture,” Ned looks over at Peter.

“He came back?” Peter’s breath hitches. “N-no time, okay go,” he pushes them out and quickly swings back inside.

“Karen, where are they?” Peter whimpers under his breath. She instantaneously shows the whole warehouse mapped out and where she detected two life forms.

Peter rushes over to the back and slams the door open. You sat there tied up in a chair and unconscious.

“Y-Y/n,” he sobs, stumbling over towards you.

“I wouldn’t,” a voice rings from behind you. Peter snaps his head up and shoots a web towards the voice.

The Vulture’s new and improved wings cut his web as it came towards him, “You know Parker, all those years ago. When you were a little fucking Freshman, you took everything from me. Everything.”

“You’re supposed to be in jail,” Peter snaps, walking over to him swinging a fist to his masked face. The Vulture’s wings are too fast and slashes his arm before Peter could make contact. 

Peter lets out a strained yelp and gets kicked down by him. “Now, I’m going to take everything away from you, starting off with your wife,” he spits, placing his weighted foot down on Peter’s head.

Peter yells in frustration and shoves him off, attacking him with all the power and rage he mustered up. The Vulture easily blocks his attacks and slams him against the wall, “Tsk tsk. You never learn,” he steps on him roughly and repeatedly. Kicking him down with his weaponized and sharp boots. Peter weakly attempts to block his blows but fails. The Vulture chuckles darkly and walks over to you, shaking the blood off his boot.

“N-no, Y-Y/n, please n-no,” he gets up slowly, his ears beginning to ring and his sight becoming blurry. The Vulture circles you, cutting off your restraints and kicks you to the floor, your body falling to the ground with a thud.

You wake up to a sharp pain impaling your stomach, the Vulture’s point of his wing shoved into your torso. You let out a blood-curdling scream, bright red seeping out from your clothes. You feel something warm and thick begin to spill from your mouth.

“Y/n!” Peter shouts, tears streaming down his face. He limps over to you and falls by your side, screaming out in agony.

Suddenly the walls shake and Tony appears with the rest of the Avengers that were nearby to help. “Fuck,” the Vulture mutters and makes a run for it, about to fly off.

Tony blasts him down and flies down, managing to fight him off. Steve helps him out and they capture him, getting his weapons off him as they cuff him up.

You look around beginning to see white. Your ears fill with ringing and faint voices, until a familiar weak voice snaps you back into reality for a moment.

“M-my pretty girl, h-hey. Hey,” Peter whispers, brings your head onto his lap.

“P-pete?” you barely whisper, weakly raising your hand to his cheek.

“Y-yup that’s me. Your husband, the father to our child,” he shakily holds your hand against his cheek.

“B-Ben? Baby B-Benjamin?” you ask, eyes fluttering as you stare into Peter’s glossy eyes.

He nods in response, tears dripping down from his face onto yours.

You go silent for a while, trying to process everything that just happened. Peter chokes on his sobs, and brings you close to his bruised body.

“P-Peter?” you rasp.

“Y-yes my love?” he sniffles, brushing a hair out of your face.

“W-was it worth it?” you ask tiredly, lips quivering as a slow tear rolls down your cheek.

He lets out a loud strained sob, shaking his head furiously, “N-no. No it wasn’t. It wasn’t,” he wipes away your single tear with his thumb.

You barely curl your lips in an attempt to smile and close your eyes, going limp in his arms. Peter bursts out in a fit of sobs and hugs you close to his body, his body trembling against yours.

Tony and the rest of the team stand around nearby, pain filling their hearts and tears welling up in their eyes as Peter cries out in misery.

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[iron-mum]

My Spider Sense is Shinglin’

By @iron-mum and @geekinthecorner for the @friendly-neighborhood-exchange 

Rating: General

Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark

Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark (Brief appearances from Stephen Strange, Helen Cho and Bruce Banner)

Summary: 

“You feeling okay, bud?” He said, racing over and helping the teen disentangle his legs from the blanket. “A little,” Peter lied badly, unsure why he’d even bothered trying. Even his greatest attempts at white lies couldn’t get past his mentor. He’d grown to know the kid and his antics exceptionally well. “You wanna try that again with less understatements?” “Headache.” Peter started, pausing for just a moment. Tony had lingered just to see if anymore was going to come before standing up, with the intention of heading to the kitchen. He’d barely lifted his leg to take the first step when... “Spidey Sense still tingling… Not hungry… Hot.”

or: Peter mistakes shingles for a pulled muscles and suffers miserably.

Tony had a knack for knowing when something was wrong. An ingrained intuition from the copious amounts of people he had met in his lifetime had led to some pretty nifty bullshit detecting skills. The genius paid attention far more than he was given credit for, particularly when it came to the few people he held closest and dearest. Peter was adamant that if he were a Sim he would have the perceptive and observant trait, albeit his chance of learning something new from a socialisation being higher than the thirty-five percent the game offered. The duo had settled for a solid seventy percent.

So, when the very intern who praised his observational skills barely uttered more than a greeting upon sheepishly entering the lab, Tony knew something was up. Peter who was usually all beaming, charismatic grins and energetic pacing on the floor—or ceiling— had been sat in the same spot for almost an hour or so, features so tense it looked unnatural. Initially, the older man had made subtle changes to the environment they were in, lowering the music a notch and dimming the lights ever so slightly in an effort to decipher the discomfort the kid was apparently unwilling to discuss. All had proven unsuccessful.

“You okay, buddy?” Tony questioned softly, when he noticed the teen wince and wriggle from his seated position. The deciphering had been going on all morning so all that had been left was tackling the issue head on. Rather than answering, Peter put the pen down that he’d been aimlessly playing with and cupped his face in his hands, breathing harsher than usual.

“My Spider Sense has just been really acting up all day,” he hesitantly replied as he heard his mentor’s steps draw closer. “It’s been getting more uncomfortable as the day progressed.”

A cool hand tentatively cupped his neck before manoeuvring to the left shoulder and offering a comforting squeeze. Peter instantly wished the soothing touch to his skin lasted longer than the few seconds it had, an involuntary whine escaping his lips as he fought to not cry there and then at how glorious it had been.

Alarm bells were ringing in his mentor’s head instantaneously. An admission of discomfort was rare and not something to be taken lightly when coming from someone who could easily make jokes about being stabbed or hit by a truck. That in addition to a sound that resembled a small baby animal in distress had Tony’s mind in overdrive.

“You’re feeling a little peaky. Why don’t we call it a day for lab time and go up to the penthouse?” Tony offered, mentally chastising the potential for Parker luck to strike at this very moment. The kid’s aunt was away for a week with training and Pepper was abroad for international meetings. Not that he didn’t want to look after Peter, the mechanic just immediately felt awkward and three thousand percent out of his league at the prospect. There was a small sigh of relief when Peter finally meandered off his chair, the duo slowly making their way towards the elevator. The older man’s hand remained on the kid’s shoulder, thumb occasionally rubbing the teen’s neck as he seemed to be enjoying the movement.

“You take a seat on the couch, I’ll fix us up some snacks,” Tony directed as he watched Peter totter across the room before sluggishly flopping onto the sofa, one arm immediately resting over his eyes whilst the other lay across his chest and holding his left side. There had barely been a hum of acknowledgement.

Peter felt absolutely, fudging dreadful. His stomach growled in hunger as a reminder that he’d waited far too long to eat but his appetite was completely shot. Almost like his mind had dissociated from the basic needs it required. All he could concentrate on was not succumbing to the pain in his flank which at this rate had gone from dull ache to a thousand knives piercing him over and over.

Not wanting to eat and feeling like the worst human possible for not telling his mentor to stop the food preparation, Peter opted for feigning to be asleep. A difficult task in itself considering the spikes of pins and needles he’d been feeling. Amidst the all-over-body irritation was a very prominent, localised pain to his left side. The teen had put it down to a pulled muscle as he had been patrolling a lot more vigorously than usual with the school break now in full swing. Nice one, Parker.

The self diagnosis Peter provided himself meant that he’d been reluctant to mention anything to Tony prior, not wanting to be a burden over something that should have been trivial. His mentor did always seem to be dealing with more than enough on his plate anyway. With a small shiver at the feeling of bugs crawling across his skin, Peter began to second guess not providing Mr. Stark with all the details of his symptoms. After what seemed like a moment’s hesitation, a soft material was being draped over him.

Tony had clearly fallen for the fake sleeping act. Or was just too polite to call him out on it . Allowing Peter the whole sofa, he slid an armchair across so he was within close proximity to the kid and pulled out a Stark Tablet ensuring the brightness was low. The genius had used the settings on the tablet to dim the room and ensure no one disturbed them.

The teen could hear the tablets gentle thrum, the sound of Tony’s fingers delicately touching the pad and his steady, calming heartbeat. His breathing was soft and gentle, a steady tempo that Peter found himself trying to follow. He eventually yielded to drowsiness and found himself slowly falling into darkness, hoping he’d feel better after a nap.

Peter’s wake up had been particularly violent. The teen shot up after feeling an excruciating sting in his side, skin feeling like he was literally on fire. He’d swiftly fallen backwards into the cushions, mind still catching up with the body, leaving him with a sense of disorientation and overwhelmingly lightheaded. Tony was at his side within seconds, clearly just returning from the bathroom, a flare of panic in his eyes.

“You feeling okay, bud?” He said, racing over and helping the teen disentangle his legs from the blanket.

“A little,” Peter lied badly, unsure why he’d even bothered trying. Even his greatest attempts at white lies couldn’t get past his mentor. He’d grown to know the kid and his antics exceptionally well.

“You wanna try that again with less understatements?”

“Headache,” Peter started, pausing for just a moment. Tony had lingered just to see if anymore was going to come before standing up, with the intention of heading to the kitchen. He’d barely lifted his leg to take the first step when...

“Spidey Sense still tingling… Not hungry… Hot.”

“The day you’re not hungry is the day the whole country falls apart,” Tony frowned as he headed to the kitchen and ran the tap. A full glass of water and wrung out flannel later he was back at Peter’s side and very carefully helping him to sit up, the sway and unease in the teen’s movements evident.

The thought of water had Peter feeling nauseous but he knew this wasn’t something his mentor was going to back down on. He held the glass in his hands, leaving it on his lap for a moment and enjoying the cold temperature on his fingertips. The older man carefully placed the flannel on his neck and boy, was it heavenly. A final moment of discomfort dissipated and the relief was overwhelming.

“Peter?” Tony asked, tone full of a parental tone that Peter had only thought he’d ever hear from his Aunt. The flannel was off of his neck and wiping away the sweat from his face, a thumb underneath the cloth carefully gliding under his eyes.

“I’m so sorry,” burst out of his lips before he could stop it when he registered the way his face had crumpled, just about holding in the tears. “I don’t want to be sick.”

"Come here, kid," his mentor offered soothingly and quietly, knowing that when Peter was this burnt out, a sensory overload could creep in and take over at any minute. And that was the last thing he needed added to the mix of symptoms. Tony placed the flannel down and took the glass from tremoring hands before opening his arms.

Peter complied, leaning into Tony, his face buried into the older man’s shoulder as one of his hands clutched tightly onto the rock band themed t-shirt. His body let out a long, shuddering breath no longer able to keep it in through fear his lungs would burst. It was a bittersweet mixture of relief and excruciating stabbing in his side again.

"I’ve got you, buddy. Nice slow, breaths for me. I’ve got you." Tony’s arms were wrapped around him tightly now, a strong grip that left him feeling protected and grounded. One hand found its way in the teen’s hair and started to massage the scalp, occasionally lifting the curls and allowing them to ping back.

“Thank you, Mr. Stark,” the teen mumbled, face not wanting to leave from its smushed position in the older man’s t-shirt.

Acting on an instinct he had been aggressively repressing, Tony simply tilted his head down and pressed a kiss into Peter’s hair in response. All those years of being so abundantly sure he’d never had kids were well and truly buried in the past. It wasn’t necessarily that he’d disliked children or wanted to be tied down to a miniature version of himself, fragile and requiring a dependant who could at least look after themselves which wasn’t one of his strongest traits. But he also had a terrible fear of failing. Of being like Howard.  

Whilst he knew he didn’t have it in himself to be so ruthless and cruel, it troubled him to no end. And even when Peter Parker had come along and wormed his way into his life in all the best kinds of ways. It had taken time to acknowledge the level of care he’d had. This young, endearing, little shit had Tony wanting to give him his all. Hell, the more weekends they’d spent together the more sure he was that Peter would in fact be his legacy. A part of his small circle of friends who he trusted like family and would fiercely protect at all costs. And despite the pair not seeming to be aware of how close their bond was, a majority of their nearest and dearest could spot it from a mile away whilst being blindfolded.

“You wanna tell me when you started feeling this funk? Do I need to speak with Helen?” Tony questioned when Peter pulled away.

“I pulled a muscle on my left side a few days ago and kinda felt off since then. The tingling has been the same, but like initially it was on and off. Sometimes it was on par with that time Vulture dropped a warehouse on me and the next, like that time I entered the building on fire to save Tiddles the tortoise. Or that time I got road rash after being dragged by a van down fifth street. Or that time Tiddles took a chunk out of my finger.”

“Alright. I’m going to be honest. That's a lot to unpack, kid,” Tony remarked when he’d managed to metaphorically pick his jaw off the ground.

“Few days of stuff. Sometimes aches, sometimes sharp shooty pains,” Peter clarified as he rubbed his nose.

“When you’re feeling better we’ll be having a chat. Particularly about this apparent arch nemesis, Tiddles .”

“Tiddles is totally my villain origin story.”

“On the subject of villains , wanna carry on watching The Big Hero 6 series? Globby has me on the edge of my seat on what he’s going to get up to next.”

“Sounds like a plan, Iron Man.”

On cue, F.R.I.D.A.Y. dimmed the lights as the TV turned on and the surround sound immediately kicked in. As the opening theme popped up on the screen, Tony was on his feet and skipping towards the kitchen to retrieve the snacks he’d prepared beforehand. He shoved a bowl into Peter’s hands, a smirk tugging at his lips when the teen immediately took a handful of popcorn and shovelled it into his mouth. The older man took a seat next to Peter, digging into a bowl of chips with a side of dip.

As the afternoon slowly turned into evening, Peter had slowly scooted towards his mentor until Tony got the hint and had shifted his arm to the back of the sofa so the teen’s head could rest on his chest. Eventually the hand that had previously been gripping the back of the couch would find its way wrapped around the boy’s shoulders and then eventually providing tender ministrations across the scalp.

The aches and protests Peter’s body had been firing off seemed to be that much easier to ignore as they cuddled. Not only was the calm heartbeat and steady breathing back to lull the teen to sleep, but he could also feel the gently hearty chuckles of Tony as well as his warmth. Like a heated blanket set to the perfect temperature. Peter succumbed to darkness with the faintest of smile across his face that the man who hated being emotionally vulnerable and often recoiled from physical contact had made an exception for him. And how freaking lucky and privileged was that?

Although Peter was feeling completely shattered, sleep did not arrive once he’d gone to bed. He’d managed to nap again on the sofa which had prompted his mentor to call it a night. The teen’s bleary eyes checked the time from his bedside clock—04:03—he let out a defeated groan. He’d certainly been drowsy, but felt like he’d been on the edge of drifting to sleep and then immediately stirring.

The usual comfort and feeling of safety of Tony’s MIT hoodie was instantly tarnished as his skin prickled with fire at the fabric being placed over it. Peter audibly gulped before creeping out of the room and heading to the lab, wanting to be in his mentor’s presence or at least find some sort of distraction.

As the doors made a gentle swooshing noise upon opening, he felt his mentor's gaze fall upon him. Peter spotted the squint of Tony's eyes as he started to study him. He definitely could tell the teen looked as shit as he felt no doubt. Bags under his glassy eyes at the level of exhaustion he was feeling and cheeks still flushed even though the ambient temperature.

“Stop analysing me please, Mr. Stark,” Peter grumbled, wishing the world would just swallow him up already.

"I can't tell if you're up early or late." Tony stated as he dropped the tools he was working on and hastily made his way towards Peter's side. The boy’s body language was screaming undeniable discomfort as he clearly started to struggle to even move.

"I tried to sleep, I really did." Peter answered more exasperated that he had meant to. He'd seen right through his mentor's statement, knowing he'd wanted to ask if he’d actually got any sleep. “I was so... uncomfortable,” the last word almost came out as a choke, breath hitching. “Everything… hurts.”

“Come here, buddy,” Tony gently coaxed as he went to embrace the young hero. One of his arms had barely made its way around Peter’s back when he’d recoiled back involuntarily at the burning sting the touch had caused. Tony took a horrified step back, arms awkwardly falling back to place at his sides. “I’m sorry, kiddo. I didn’t mean to-”

“Oh God. Oh G- I’m so sorry, Mr. Stark,” he gasped as his face crumpled and a frown replaced the forced neutral ‘ I’ve got this’ look.

“Peter…” Tony started, but stopped as the words barrelled out of his mentee, emotions all over the place.

“Something’s wrong with me. I don’t know why… Everything hurts… And now. Now…”

“Take a breath, kiddo. Nice and easy,” Tony instructed as he took a single step towards the teen. “Let’s get you somewhere comfy and then we’ll get you checked over, okay?”

Peter managed a weak nod, rubbing his nose on the sleeve of the hoodie and followed, trudging slowly as a bone-deep exhaustion dictated his every step. The teen didn’t recall the trip in the elevator nor getting to the sofa. Almost as if it had been a blip in time, not even a blurred feeling or sensation, just missing.

“You’re making me a little nervous, Underoos.” Tony’s voice cut through the mental fog. The tone hadn’t been condescending in any manner. Just an honest admission, hoping to catch the boy’s attention.

“It’s got worse. So much worse.”

“Fri, temperature?”

“38.7. This is up from 37.8 yesterday,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. notified, the duo both cringing at the change.

“Alright, I’m pulling rank, we need to get you checked over,” Tony decided, not wanting to take any chances with worsening symptoms. Particularly when fever was now added into the mix and his Spiderling had next to know thermoregulation.

“Wait… Wait. Could we try super soldier strength Tylenol?” Peter pleaded, giving his best puppy dog look. At this rate he was happy to put on the Peter-Pity-Party-Parker charm if it meant avoiding the dreaded medbay.

“I catch even a whiff of you getting any worse and we’ll be in the medbay quicker than you can say super soldier strength, again. Oh, and you’re having some food,” Tony conceded reluctantly as he left the kid’s side to grab the medication.

“Take these,” he requested handing over the pills once they’d been procured. “I’m going to make some toast.”

“Thank you, Mr. Stark,” Peter mumbled. He briefly allowed his eyes to close as he listened to his mentor potter around the kitchen, cupboards being opened and utensils being sought. The noises reminded him of the domesticity of home life with May as she’d scramble to prepare last minute lunchbox snacks for the pair of them.

His mentor returned a few minutes later with two toasted peanut butter and jam sandwiches in hand, Peter’s eyes slowly opening as he took the plate. After the first bite he let out a hum of satisfaction. Everything about it was perfect; the way the toasted bread crunched when he took a bite, the warm peanut butter coating his mouth, the tangy sweet from the strawberry jam.

By mid-morning, Peter had drifted off to sleep and Tony once again found himself watching over him. The teen’s vitals were up in the top right of his tablet, scrutinizing eyes narrowing when it had slowly started to creep back up. The agitation to touch had shortly followed as Peter would suddenly jerk and grunt.

Tentatively, Tony lightly brushed the damp curls sticking to his mentee's forehead away so he could lay a damp cloth across it. The teen let out a whimper the moment it touched, body shivering violently at its exaggerated interpretation of the coolness. The lengths Tony would do to take away the pain and discomfort for his kid couldn’t even be put into words.

They were back up to 38.7 by lunchtime. Not that Tony had seen. The tablet in his hand was precariously dangling from one hand the other still buried in Peter’s hair. Exhaustion had well and truly settled in and he’d drifted off despite all the coffee he had consumed.

An ear piercing screech and wild arm being thrown into his face woke Tony from his nap. He practically fell off the sofa as his mind tried to process what the fuck was happening. Animalistic cries, screams for help and an arm hitting him again from his position on the ground was enough to spring the words emergency into his mind.

“Fri! Call every doctor right now!” Tony said harshly, the words tumbling out of his mouth. It couldn’t have been more than ten seconds from the request when orange flecks appeared in the room and then a portal was opened by Stephen Strange.

“List of symptoms?” was all he said, saving the greeting for later when he saw the deathly pallor of Peter’s skin and the twitchiness of Tony meaning a panic attack was likely right around the corner.

“Skin has been tingling yesterday and today but isn’t his Spider Senses. Fever, loss of appetite, sensitive to the lightest touches and a pain to his left side. Mixture of aches that range from being bitten by a tortoise to being hit by a truck,” Tony was rubbing his eyes profusely, desperately wanting the sleep to remove itself from his weary features. The doctor had perked a brow at the last sentence but quickly decided what he wanted to do next.

“Peter, I’m going to lift your shirt,” he informed, not meaning to ignore Tony but just needing to get straight to work with the triage. “Actually, could you lift it Tony? I don’t want… my hands to make this any worse than it’s going to be if he’s touch sensitive.”

Tony was quick to comply, hating the few seconds it had taken as Peter’s face scrunched into an anguished grimace at the feeling and his whimpering turned into ragged sobs. The raised, blotchy red rash across his side was clear as day. It looked like a nerve branching across his chest, angry looking blisters scattered throughout it’s hostile takeover of his pale, clammy skin. Dashing footsteps from the hall alerted the trio that more medical personnel had arrived in the form of Bruce Banner and Helen Cho.

“I think it’s shingles. We’re going to need a gurney,” Stephen called out briskly, not wanting to waste any time. A rash meant it was potentially already a few days into the virus taking hold so precious time had been wasted for optimum effectiveness of the antivirals. The doctors skidded to a halt, well aware a gurney would be just seconds behind them courtesy of F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s assistance. “Fever, malaise, hyperesthesia, vesicular rash spreading from left flank.”

If Tony thought it had been unbearable watching Peter be transported onto the gurney and swiftly taken to the medbay. Then it had been an absolute living nightmare to see him be poked and prodded, IV needing to be in place to provide the fluids his body needed and the administration of pain medication that would help dull down his senses and hopefully allow him to rest. Bruce had tried to keep him at arms length to give the medical personnel the space they needed but that had lasted mere seconds.

Peter's body was stiff and twitching involuntarily, his back arched awkwardly as he writhed in brutal agony. The teen's face was contorted in pain, eyes slammed shut and mouth slightly open as he took gasping breaths laced with cries and incoherent mutterings of pleads for help. Hot, uncontrollable tears streamed down the side of his face and God did Tony want to wipe them away but he knew even the faintest of touches had felt like chemical burns to the kid.

The morphine was due to take effect at any moment, but until then Tony felt like a useless entity within the room. Peter's hands gripped onto the sheets and tore them instantly. There was a risk that the IV was going to be yanked out if the flailing didn’t stop.

"Dad… Dad…" Peter bawled, no longer capable of riding out the searing pain in solitude. Tony short circuited. The room froze. "Dad!" the teen again screamed when there had been no response despite the multiple blurred forms within the room seeming to hear him.

Fuck this. Tony had pushed past Bruce, not enough to harm him in any way, just enough to give him the space to get to his kid’s side. One hand was placed on the mattress of the bed and the other eagerly wanting to stroke the boy’s head but sitting next to the pillow instead.

“I’m here, kiddo. I’m here,” he assured as best as he could, voice on the edge of breaking.

In a move apparently out of his control, Peter’s hand lashed out and grabbed his mentor’s wrist. Quickly, the pads of his fingers dup deep into the flesh, unable to control his enhanced abilities whilst so delirious. The first crunch of bone had Tony biting down on his lip, desperately attempting to remain stoic for Peter’s sake. But then the bones grinded and he let out a pained gasp.

“Peter,” He managed as he deeply inhaled in an effort to sound as self-controlled as possible. The tight clasp started to loosen, as the teen’s movements slowed and his eyes looked almost vacant before they closed. Tony had taken a staggering step back once it had been clear, unsure if it was motivated by the searing pain of his now broken wrist or because there was the pressure of someone’s hand on his shoulder leading him away. He’d barely made it to the hallway still unsure who he was following when his knees buckled and the world around him became a bleak blur.

In his catatonic state, Tony wouldn’t remember the scans and treatment of the newly broken bone. His exhausted body would simply shut down and he’d fall asleep, itching to fend off the feelings of panic stricken shock and complete, unrivalled fear. When he did rouse, Bruce and Stephen had been there to let him know how his mentee was before informing him of the damage that had been inflicted. A broken wrist was nothing when he found out Peter was now on enough medication to allow a pain-free rest.

The first conscious memory Peter had in the fog of his slow awakening was the dry taste in his mouth and beginnings of nausea creeping up on him. Despite his body protesting he attempted a small movement, wincing as he did so. His head felt like it had been stuffed with cotton as he slowly lifted his arm to rub his eyes before attempting to open them. When his sense of smell returned and the stench of harsh disinfectant and latex burned his nostrils hit,  his eyes opened far too quickly and far too widely.

The teen’s attention was quickly drawn to the presence to his left. Tony was slumped in a chair at such an incredibly awkward angle it was sure to cause neck ache when he woke up. A cast-clad wrist was loosely folded across his chest as the other arm seemed to loosely cradle it. Gentle snoring would usually be comforting for Peter, but his eyes kept drawing back to the cast with a dreaded sensation in the pit of his stomach that he had been the one to cause of it.

Peter moved again, hissing at how incredibly touch sensitive he seemed to be. It was as if he could feel every individual fibre of the bedding around him. Despite the noise being barely audible, Tony started to awaken. The older man had gone to move too sharply, clearly moving his sore arm too quickly and boy could Peter not take his eyes off of that cast.

“There’s my favourite young adult,” Tony greeted gently as he awkwardly shifted to pour a small jug of water into a cup, the casted hand barely keeping it in place. He did his utmost best to remain passive faced despite how tedious the task now felt to him and he could feel Peter’s hard pressed stare on him and the arm. Plopping a straw into the cup he brought it to the teen’s mouth. Peter had wanted to gulp it down the moment he felt the plastic touch his lips, swigging greedily as the water soothed his parched throat and mouth.

“How are you feeling, Pete?” Tony asked once he’d finished, placing the cup to the side. Lordy, did his kid look so small in the hospital bed.

“A little high,” Peter confessed after assessing himself and spotting the cannula in his hand. “A little sore… Mr. Stark…?”

“If you need any more painkillers than just let me know and I can get Cho. They’ve got you on the good stuff,” Tony was completely aware that sore was likely overriding the high feeling. Because he’d seen Peter high on pain medication before. It tended to involve a big goofy smile and eyes bug-eyed wide. There’d even been the occasional moments where he thought he could fly and would flap his wings whilst making whooshing sound effects.

“What happened?” Peter asked so innocently and child like, a reminder of the young hero’s age. Tony had to steel himself for the inevitable conversation that was about to go down. Because he knew what the kid was like. Knows that the kid can’t stop taking his eyes off the cast.

“You got a one way rare ticket to getting shingles. Not common for your age bracket and Spideyness but. We know what you’re like when it comes to contracting the weird and wonderfu-”

“I meant... what happened to your arm?” Tony looked down at it before meeting the teen’s eyes.

"Alright, so don't freak out on me. You did nothing wrong…" The older man began, quickly being interrupted by an even paler looking Peter.

"Oh God…"

"Ah-ah. Listen to me, Peter." Tony requested firmly, as he placed a hand over Peter’s and carefully gripped. He needed to show there was still respect and most importantly trust. Needed the boy to be grounded and to focus if this wasn’t about to turn into an emotional shit show. "Please."

There were tears welling in Peter’s eyes that he had no chance of fighting. Lacking the confidence in his own voice to not crack he simply nodded.

"You were off your face, quite literally, with a fever whilst a virus attacked your nerves. You were not in control. And it was an accident." His mentor’s voice was tender, sympathetic with just a touch of authority. His eyes were full of love and conviction that stunned Peter momentarily whilst he absorbed the information.

"I'm so sorry, Tony,” the teen rasped, barely holding himself together. The kindness he was being shown felt unwarranted and undeserving.

“I need you to listen to me very carefully, buddy. I know exactly how you’re feeling. I know you’re playing the blame game right now because I’ve been there. I-I-Pepper was almost attacked by a suit because of my actions whilst I was asleep. It’s undeniable logic that I wasn’t even conscious so how was it my fault? But I let it eat away at me and she had to snap me out of that deep guilt-trip-well big time. I know you, Peter. I know you’d never hurt me. And nothing could hurt more than seeing you in pain and being utterly helpless to make it better.”

The stiffness in Peter’s hand finally released and his hand gently took hold of Tony’s thumb. The teen shifted into a seated position, his mentor standing as he did so before leaning over the bed and offering a hug. Peter accepted the embrace, the determination in the movement and lack of flinching from the older man serving only to affirm that he didn’t fear the boy.

“Alright, move over, Young Buck. Your old man can’t stay bent like this for too long.”

With his mentee shifted out of the way, Tony scooted onto the bed and raised an arm immediately. Peter showed just a hint of hesitance before snuggling in, an arm placed across Tony’s lap and his head on his chest.

“I don’t know what to say,” Peter admitted, the latter of the sentence slightly slurring as he started to drift off in the safety of his mentor’s arms.

“Get some rest, Peter. I’m sure you’ll make up for the lack of talking once we get back in the lab,” Tony mumbled before a thought crossed his mind. “In fact, you get to fill me in all about Tiddles once you’re up and ready. That tortoise is on thin fucking ice.”

The teen half smirked at the comment, though no words formulated as sleep took a hold. Deep breaths soon turned into soft snoring. The older man’s fingers slowed their movements before coming to a halt as he planted a tender kiss into the teen’s hair. As he started to feel himself succumb to exhaustion he requested that they only be disturbed if it was a mandatory check up or emergency.

“Love you, dad,” Peter whispered so softly it was barely audible. Even in his exhausted state, Tony’s chest filled with overwhelming joy and happiness.

“Love you too, buddy,” Tony replied with a content, sleepy smile on his face.

#friendly neighborhood exchange #tony stark #peter parker #irondad #spiderson #fic exchange #sickfic

[stonylovessteve]

SLS 2021 Creator Reveals

We’ve reached the end of the exchange and that means it’s time to reveal the creators of all our works!

Thank you for putting so much love and effort into Stony Loves Steve 2021, you really made it a great experience. We hope everyone loved it as much as we did!

Giftees, be sure to leave a comment and kudos on your gift if you haven’t already. All our creators worked hard to make this event a success, so show them some love.

You can now post your work publicly outside of the exchange. Tag it as #stonylovessteve2021 on tumblr and we’ll reblog you. @ us @stonylovessteve on twitter and we’ll retweet you.

Below the cut is the final list of all the works produced for the exchange and the creators.

Cold as Ice, Warm my Heart by lil_aussie_girl for parkrstark (MCU, 1.5k)

The cold took away one love already, and his greatest fear is that it will do it again - before he has the chance to say those three important words.

Strength Like The Sea/A Familiar Yet Foreign Face by Lacrimula_Falsa for funkyspacegirlfriend (AU, 3k)

There had to be another explanation for the ugly burning feeling in his chest because this wasn’t a rom-com and he’d known Steve for less than a day.

After years of his father fruitlessly searching for one, Tony finally gets to meet a real-life vampire.

· · ·*‒*‒ ‒ ‒*‒ ·*‒ · ‒ ‒

Anthony.

No, not Anthony, because Anthony had crumbled to dust right before his eyes. But this man looked so eerily similar to him, he could have been Anthony’s twin brother. Only the eyes were different, warm brown instead of cold blue. After being woken nearly a century after he went into stasis because the pain of losing his lover Anthony was too much, Steven meets a man who looks just like him.

I Know There is Comfort Where We Overlap by jellybeanforest for ghosthan (Ults, 10k)

As a relic of a bygone era, Steve struggles with feelings of isolation and severe depression made worse by his recent breakup with Jan Pym. He secretly hooks up with random strangers chasing a sense of connection with someone, anyone. Things are going (not) well when he and fellow Ultimate, Iron Man, are tasked with infiltrating a Thai resort serving as a front for illegal arms dealing. Only catch: They must go undercover as a married couple on their honeymoon.

finding steve rogers by jacobby for geekymoviemom (MCU, 6k)

Steve sighs. “Sorry. I wasn’t a very good tour guide. Ma always told me about the town, but she never got into specifics.”

Tony takes Steve’s hand in his and places it close to his lips. “It’s your first time here too. We understand.”

AKA

After a botched mission with SHIELD, Steve takes a vacation with his family to a town in Ireland.

Things are knot as they seem by BladeoftheNebula for DepressingGreenie (AU, 3k)

Everyone assumes Captain America is an alpha and Steve doesn’t see the harm in not correcting them. After all, Alphas command respect while omegas are still considered far too delicate for leadership.

And sure, it sucks hiding his designation when he’s in love with Tony Stark, the hottest alpha he’s ever seen, but what alpha would want an omega who could lift them with one hand?

So it’s fine. It’s not as if anyone was ever going to find out his secret anyway…

A drop of love by CapAL for Perlmutt (AU, Comic)

After sleeping for 70 years Steve wakes up to a world that he doesn’t understand. As an age-old vampire he’s seen a lot of things in his life, but nothing has ever confused him as much as the bubbly Starbucks barista Tony. They meet by chance and Steve stays. He falls for him, even though he knows he shouldn’t, and together they explore modern New York, while Steve tries to hide his true nature from Tony, afraid that he would send him away if he knew the truth.

The Fake Prince and the Cat  by Neverever for Fluffypanda (AU, 5.5k)

Steve is sent in place of Prince Brock to marry the libertine Tony Stark. It's better than he thought it would be, plus he makes friends with a cat.

father to son by parkrstark for HogwartsToAlexandria (MCU, 2.5k)

Steve had been planning on asking Peter to be his son, officially, for weeks now, but he always chickened out because he didn't thik he was good enough for the boy. Funnily enough, Peter had the same idea, but when he showed the adoption papers to Steve, he didn't have the best of reactions.

The Best Half Of Me by Huntress79 for RoseRose (AU, 1.5k)

An encounter with one of his exes at a charity gala opens Tony’s eyes about how much he really loves Steve - and how much he’s looking forward to their future together.

neither here nor there by ghosthan for  Welcoming_Disaster (616, 18k)

Captain America comes back from Dimension Z changed. He has had over a decade of his life taken from him, as well as the woman he loved. Stoic, secretive, and traumatized, much of what he experienced remains a mystery to SHIELD and the world; Tony is there to help him heal, and uncover the truth about how much Steve has lost.

The Eventide Aspect by geekymoviemom for ishipallthings (MCU, T, 12k)

“Yeah, Cap, about that,” Tony says, looking rather sheepish as he scratches at the back of his neck.

“Yeah?” asks Steve.

“Well… remember those half-baked ideas that I mentioned?  I’m afraid this might be one of ‘em,” says Tony.

“Okay.  Care to explain it to someone who doesn't speak technical?”

“Ahh…” Tony trails off, mumbling under his breath again.  “Yeah.  Um… if my theory is correct, I’m thinking that when we stepped through that window, we might’ve entered another dimension.”

Looking by Robin_tCJ for Vento_Lunar (MCU, E, 4k)

After a raid on a HYDRA base, Steve's body reverts back to the way it was before the serum. Tony still wants him.

You Had Me in the First Half by Corsets_and_Cardigans for Robin_tCj (MCU, E, 2k)

Steve is on his way to meet Bucky for a movie before their football team goes away for a game. Too bad Tony has plans for him! He'll apologize to Bucky for it later.

the rest is history by starksnack for muchmoremajestic (Avengers Academy, G, 2k)

It's Steve's birthday and he usually likes to spend it alone. Of course, Tony has other ideas.

Basically just some soft AvAc fluff.

(Let Me) Love and Be Loved by HeLovedYou for wikketkrikket (MCU, T, 6k)

Steve forgets how to self-sabotage his own happiness.

He also forgets his team, his soulmate and the last three years of his life.

avengers featuring steve’s doppleganger vol 1 (FANCOMIC) by wingheads for jellybeanforrest (616, Art)

tony dates a man who looks a lot like steve. everyone can see it, everyone knows what that means, except tony, who doesn't seem to realize he's dating steve's doppelganger. steve doesn't see the resemblance either and actually comes to like tony's new boyfriend, but then one of the other avengers spills the beans that they look exactly alike to tony, who can't unsee it now and breaks up with the new guy, only for steve to be sad that his baseball-buddy won't be around anymore.

Hart Island by Amber_Skye for lil_aussie_girl (MCU, G, 12k)

Steve is acting out of character, and Tony and the other Avengers can’t work out why.

the soul of dragons by funkyspacegirlfriend for Amber_Skye (MCU, T, 2k)

Steve’s dragon companion is the largest Tony’s ever seen up close. And she captivates Tony from the very first moment.

Just in the Knit of Time by DepressingGreenie for picturecat (Avengers Assemble, T, 2.5k)

Steve only has a week to tell Tony he loves him before his secret is leaked to the world.

Learning Curve by picturecat for Huntress79 (Avengers Academy AU, G, 2k)

Freshly defrosted, Steve Rogers is the newest teacher at the Avengers Academy—an attempt to guide and teach the newest generation of heroes before they have to take on the burdens of their teachers. Steve himself has a lot of learning to do.

First Impression by veryvincible for wingheads (616, M, 7k)

The Avengers find the schematics of a deadly weapon in the hands of an up-and-coming villain. To safely retrieve the data that led to its creation and keep the city safe in the process, they have to take a very subtle approach. The man-- Jack Marshall-- has an eye for hunks and a tendency to get vulnerable with them. The team could use this to their advantage, if they have the right assets.

Enter Steve.

Dandelions and Lilies by Wikketkrikket for CapAL (AU, G, 4k)

Written for CapAL for the StonylovesSteve event 2021.

A summer job in the florists is pretty good, as summer jobs go; and when a handsome guy comes in with some very particular requirements it gets even better.

Or it would, if Steve wasn't lying about the meaning of every bouquet he sold.

Potshot by jellybeanforest for jacobby (AU, T, 2.5k)

In an expansive wasteland infested with hordes of the undead, Steve, leader of a group of ex-military operatives known as the Avengers, searches for survivors and supplies in the ruins of the old world.

That’s all well and good, but Tony would do just about anything for an American cheeseburger.

For Stony Loves Steve 2021. Based on a prompt by jacobby.

Remorse and Rapture by oliverparker for optimusprime13 (AU, E, 6k)

When Steve's mother falls ill, he's forced to move in with the family she works for. He's not thrilled about it.

Shards of Eternities by Perlmutt for starksnack (AU, T, 5k)

Rumor had it that the war would soon be over. It could not end soon enough. Until then, Anthony would wait for Steven. He would wait and protect their child. He would wait and write another thousand letters for his alpha, his mate, his husband, if only he would come home, come for him, come for them.

Two Can Play That Game by JehBeEhh for Becci Barnes (BeccEEE) (MCU, T, 4k)

Tony Stark is many things. Patient isn't always one of them. Especially not when there's a happily ever after at the end of that bout of patience.

Uncovered by mariana_oconnor for Corsets_and_Cardigans (MCU, G, 6k)

Steve didn't think the tip-off was anything more than the usual nonsensical conspiracy theory. He only went to check it out because he was curious. He definitely wasn't expecting it to be a trap.

Build Me Up Buttercup by ishipallthings for BladeoftheNebula (4k, M, MCU)

Tony sees the gold letters spelling “Stark” on the edge of Steve’s hood and his mind grinds to a halt. Steve looks good wearing his name. Too good.

(In which Steve starts experimenting with a new style. Tony does not find this infuriatingly attractive, thank you very much.)

Discovery [Art] by Fluffypanda for captainstars (Art, G, Noir)

Renowned adventurer Tony Stark discovers a carving of a lost civilization's protector.

I left my heart (at home with you) by captainstars for UisceOneLove (2k, G, AU)

It shouldn’t have surprised him as much as it did.

The man grinned at him, wide and beautiful. Steve couldn’t help sneaking another glance towards the heavens. They really lost their citizens fairly easily. Steve would like to say this was the first white robed beauty he had come across until now, but he wasn’t.

(OR)

Steve moved to a cabin in the woods hoping to live the life of a hermit werewolf. When Tony Stark decided to become his new neighbor, it threw a bit of a wrench into Steve’s plans.

(OR)

A werewolf and an incubus cuddling in a tree.

Raspberry Beret (I Think I Love Her) by ralsbecket for oliverparker (4k, M, 3490)

When Steve looked at Natasha, he knew in his heart that she was what put his derailed train back on its tracks. For the first time since they met, Steve felt like he had some semblance of a plan for his future. And he wanted Natasha to be a part of it.

Savior Complex by optimusprime13 for HeLovedYou (18.5k, G, AU)

Wealthy businessman Steve Rogers stumbles into barely-getting-by Tony Stark in a cemetery, and they hit it off immediately. Steve is enamored by Tony’s razor-sharp wit, his startling intelligence, and his penchant for building stuff. He has a problem though - he can’t stop wanting to save everybody around him, especially Tony - who is struggling to make ends meet. However, Tony is too proud and stubborn to accept any help from Steve. But when Tony gets kidnapped to act as bait for Steve, how far will Steve go to save Tony when it means sacrificing himself?

Through His Stomach by RoseRose for JehBeeEh (2k, G, MCU)

Steve decides he wants to try to cook with all the new ingredients he has found in this new time, but he needs someone else to taste-test his creations. Tony is holed up in his workshop, so he makes the perfect guinea pig. The two of them grow closer over several meals.

Iron & Sapphire by Becci Barnes (BeccEEE) for Lacrimula_Falsa (AU, 5k)

Steve can always sense him, long before Tony enters his cave. It makes his blue scales tremble and his big wings flutter in excitement. Tony brings light and warmth into this musty hideout he calls home. And food. And while they may be as odd a couple as you can imagine, that won't stop them from bantering and cuddling just like anyone else.

Man On The Moon by Welcoming_Disaster for veryvincible (616, 7k)

Things haven't been the same since Steve has found out about Tony's secret identity. A mission that goes wrong forces both of them to confront why.

I Love You to the Moon and Back by muchmoremajestic for mariana_oconnor (MCU, 3k)

After Steve gets attacked in the woods, certain changes start happening.

Happy Birthday to America's ass by njava97 for ralsbecket (MCU, 2.5k)

It's the night before Steve's birthday and something is very wrong.

Magic's in the Moving Portrait by UisceOneLove for neverever (AU, 9.5k)

Without his ma, Steve's lost his ability to make art. In walks new wizarding student Tony Stark, who also happens to be his new roommate. All hope might not be lost just yet for him and his brush.

Reach The Sky by Vento_Lunar for njava97 (MCU, art)

Non-serum Steve Rogers saves the world. (And Tony saves him)

#stonylovessteve2021

[fiftyyearfilms]

50 Years Later: The Still Sweet Legacy of Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory

Image source: https://people.com/food/gene-wilder-death-willy-wonka-pure-imagination/

I first watched Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory during the summer of 2001, when I was four years old. Sometime after the end credits rolled, I waddled into our little English garden and decided to have a nibble of one of the buttercups poking through in the grass. You will be unsurprised to discover that it tasted acrid and bitter and that I promptly screwed up my face and spat it out again. ‘But— but- -’ little four-year-old me thought, ‘—but in Willy Wonka’s garden the yellow butter-tea-cups are edible and filled with a breakfast brew! The toadstools and mushrooms ooze sweet white cream! And the trees don’t sprout boring old fruit, but giant jellified gummy bears!' According to my four-year old logic, in Wonka’s edible garden these synaesthetic saccharine delights could exist and so in our garden they could too. So was the bittersweet belief that ‘Anything is possible’ the film inspired - bittersweet because, of course, it's not true. Today marks the 50-year anniversary of Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory, which premiered in the United States on this day in 1971. Time reveals a legacy that is more sweet than sour.

The 1971 adaptation of Roald Dahl’s 1964 book ‘Charlie and the Chocolate Factory’ has an origins story that reads like a saccharine fairytale, complete with the requisite obstacles. Once upon a time, the story of Charlie Bucket and his lucky visit to a chocolate factory found its way into the hands of a 12-year-old girl called Madeline Stuart, the daughter of a Hollywood filmmaker, Mel Stuart. Madeline approached her father and asked him to make a film out of the story. In Stuart’s memory, his daughter’s innocent plea went something like this: ’Daddy... I want you to make this into a movie!’ A self-confessed chocoholic, Stuart said yes. And the rest was history? Not just yet...

The early 1970’s wasn’t Hollywood’s happiest hour. Low attendance and a struggling national economy meant that the U.S film industry was in a state of near-collapse and financing the movie was no easy feat; studios were cash-strapped. It was a stroke of sweet luck that the producer of the film, Mel Stuart’s friend David Wrober, had a connection to the Quaker Oats Company who, by happy chance, were looking for a way to break into the chocolate industry. In an unprecedented move in Hollywood, Quaker Oats agreed to finance the film on account of the fact that it would allow them to launch a ‘Wonka’ bar. A convenient if imperfect marriage was formed between the food company and the producers. A Happily Ever After? Still not yet...

There were active forces that didn’t want the candy man to make the leap from page to silver screen. Having long been vocal about Hollywood and its poor representation of black people, the NAACP objected to the adaptation because of the colonial overtones of the Ooompa Loompas in Dahl’s story (described as “a tribe of miniature pygmies” who were imported from Africa); they didn’t want additional attention being brought to the novel. The NAACP eventually suggested that “The solution is to make the Oompa-Loompas white and to make the film under a different title.” Mel Stuart agreed. The title was changed to ‘Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory’, a change that would also benefit the marketing of the Quaker Oat Company’s ‘Wonka’ bar. After Stuart consulted with some black actor friends, it also was decided that the elf-like characters would be carrot orange with grass-green hair. Whether this amounted to ‘whitewashing’ or not is a matter for the individual to decide but changing the skin colour was the only way to adapt the book without making more significant changes to Dahl’s story. After all, it was the man himself penning the screenplay.

Image source: https://www2.bfi.org.uk/news-opinion/news-bfi/features/search-perfect-willy-wonka

Dahl’s screenplay - bloated and too close an adaption of the book, was eventually revised by newbie screenwriter David Seltzer, but the fantastical elements of the author’s story remained largely intact: chocolate rooms with chocolate waterfalls and rivers, fizzy-lifting stations that send Charlie Bucket and his grandfather floating to the ceiling, and elevators that fly straight into the sky. Harper Goff, famed for his work on the 1945 Disney film ‘20,000 Leagues under the Sea’, was tasked with bringing Dahl’s demanding vision to life in the art department. Then there were difficulties in casting too, and a cross-country search took place for the Oompa Loompas and the lucky ticket-winning children (lamentably, only white actors were cast). With scouting and sketching underway, producers had the formidable challenge of finding somewhere to shoot the movie. After considering the Guinness Factory in Ireland and – wait for it - a national monument in Spain, producers settled on the Munich Gas works and Bavarian Film Studios in Germany as the central filming locations. It was cheaper than America and the location’s foreignness to British and American audiences would work in the favour of creating a ‘Neverland’ story.

Tinged with sweetness and sourness, pre-production on Wonka came to a close in late August 1970 and principal photography began. For the adults on set, budgetary problems were an ongoing source of stress and the unusual marriage between Hollywood and the food industry was one of the main causes. Unlike Paramount or Universal, who might have expected the film to go over budget, Quaker Oats viewed the film as one long advertisement for their new bar and were unsurprisingly less sympathetic when the weather was bad and shooting had to be delayed or when something went wrong on set and more money had to be poured in (or, in the case of the chocolate waterfall, a specially sourced anti-foaming solution). The kids also had their tribulations (and were only renumerated £60 per week for their hard labour). Stuart was a tough director. So tough, in fact, that the child actors used to joke that they deserved Oscars for their roles (or for putting up with Stuart). He treated the young actors as adults and perhaps that’s one reason why the performances are so strong. But Stuart reflected that overall, it was like ‘one big slumber party’ for the child actors. Stories from the set include Paris Themmen, who played Mike Teevee, releasing bees from underneath a bell jar in Wonka’s chewing gum machine. Denise Nickerson (playing Violet Beauregarde) and Julie Dawn Cole (Veruca Salt) fought over Peter Ostroff, who played Charlie Bucket, and took turns being his ‘girlfriend’ day-by-day. After lunch breaks, Ostroff and Gene Wilder, who played Wonka himself, would walk back to set together sharing a chocolate bar. There was an excitable atmosphere on set and, filmed without storyboards or pre-production rehearsals, it translated into authenticity in the final film.

Image source: https://www.thedelite.com/willy-wonka-and-chocolate-factory-movie-facts-you-never-knew/

Filming came to a bittersweet end in November 1970, cast members said their teary goodbyes, and then seven months later, Willy Wonka premiered in the United States. While time has judged differently, the contemporary reception to the film was, at best, lukewarm. From a $2.9 million dollar budget, the film only made $4 million in theatres and ranked as #53 in the box office. There were a number of reasons for this. Several reviewers panned the movie; a critic from the New York Times called it ‘tedious and stagy with little sparkle and precious little humor’. The fun and spectacle of Willy Wonka didn’t sit well with an anxious and cynical audience. In the Vietnam era, The French Connection, The Omega Man, and A Clockwork Orange were in, and optimism and fun were out. The film also had to contend with the declining weekly movie attendance across the U.S, which reached an all-time low of 14 million in 1971 (from 44 million in 1963). On top of this, Dahl didn’t exactly enthuse about the final product. Finally - and this is what the director attributed primary responsibility to: a lacklustre marketing effort on behalf of Paramount Pictures.

But box-office results aren’t everything. Like sherbet - sour at first and then Oh so sweet, Willy Wonka has gone on to gain a mass following of fans and gained the all-desirable ‘cult’ film status. The phenomenon happened over time. Six years after the film appeared on cinema screens, it was sold to Warner Brothers and became one of their best-selling video cassettes. Then, periodic screenings on cable and network television over the following decades meant that it gained an even wider following and stayed within Western cultural consciousness. The never-ending references to Willy Wonka in popular culture - from The Simpsons to Austin Powers to Marilyn Manson’s music videos, is testament to this. The same could be said about the upcoming Willy Wonka origins story, whether it turns out to be a good film or not. Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory currently stands as the second most watched film of 1971 on Letterboxd (the Goodreads of film).

Re-watching the film in 2021, it seems almost inevitable that the film has found new and wide- ranging audiences and there’s one main reason for it: a stellar and totally captivating performance from Gene Wilder. The director attributed the film’s longevity to the fact that ‘it was made for adults; it was not made for children’ and it was Wilder himself that brought the grown-up fun. Wilder’s Wonka is sarcastic and witty, ensuring that the final film ended up as a ‘story for children’ only as much as After Eights are for post-dinner treats and Yorkie bars are just for boys. Wilder created a more nuanced and entrancing character out of Wonka than what is portrayed in the book - a Wonka who is dishonest but trustworthy, sarcastic but still empathetic, indifferent but deeply caring, and aloof but charming. Sure, the sets seem slightly dated (the chocolate room in particular) but watching Gene Wilder sing ‘Pure Imagination’ is so wholly captivating that one almost doesn’t notice the set’s limitations. Creating, let alone portraying, such an enigmatic version of Wonka is a tall order, but Wilder made it looks effortless. As evidence of his skill as an actor, Willy Wonka shows Charlie little interest until the very end of the film and then within minutes conveys a parental love to the boy that seems entirely believable. Wilder’s tantalising hot then cold, sugary then sour, sweet then salty performance sustains the whole film.

From the outset, it seemed like the Wilder-Wonka synergy was made to be. Wilder was a relative newcomer to Hollywood in 1970, making his feature film debut in the 1967 film Bonnie & Clyde, but when he walked into the casting room at the Plaza Hotel in New York, Mel Stuart knew he was the man straight away – ‘That’s Willy Wonka!’ he said. Wilder himself immediately seemed to have an intuitive understanding of how to bring the character to life, agreeing to take on the role on one condition: he said to Stuart, “I would like to come out [of the factory] with a cane and be crippled because no one will know from that time on whether I’m lying or telling the truth.’’ Like a magician, Wilder’s Wonka was going to draw you in and keep you in the palm of his hand. To the child actors on set, the Wilder-Wonka symbiosis was very much real. Julia Winter recalled that between takes the kids would crawl all over Wilder yelling, ‘It’s my turn to sit on his lap!’. In turn, Wilder would tell them jokes and stories; he ‘never got cross’. I remember feeling the same captivation as a child watching the film: I wanted to spend time with Wonka. It was only some adults who missed the magic trick. Dahl criticised Wilder’s performance as ‘pretentious’ and insufficiently ‘gay’. Wilder himself recalled hearing talk of mothers saying that the film was ‘cruel to the children’, but he understood that ‘maybe some mothers felt that way, but the children didn’t feel that way...there are limits and they want to know the limits’. The continuing classic status of the film is evidence that the kids (and Wilder) were right. The Wilder-Wonka magic has survived 50 years without souring. The only bittersweetness in watching the actor sing and twirl across the screen is knowing he is no longer with us.

Image source: https://cometoverhollywood.com/2016/08/29/musical-monday-willy-wonka-the-chocolate-factory-1971/

If Gene Wilder carried the film, then what about the story itself? The plot is simple, heart- warming, and doesn’t deserve close scrutiny. Willy Wonka really is a ‘show’, the story is secondary to the individual charisma of Wilder and the spectacle of the image and music. We don’t know if Charlie will be happy or sad once he’s inherited Wonka’s factory. We also don’t know what happens to the rest of the children after they’ve been punished. But who cares? The audience is taken to a joyful fun park where you want to eat everything on screen and play with all the gizmos and gadgets, and where the music is so catchy that you can’t get it out of your head for days and weeks after.

Select ideologues have (and will) taken issue with the story, discarding it as gauche capitalist propaganda. One Marxist criticism of the story even gained enough traction that the director took notice in later years. The parts seem to be there: a businessman running a competition by hiding five golden tickets in his candy bars, competition from other candy makers, the Wonka-Oompa Loompa relationship, and a ‘Rags to riches’ story for Charlie. But one might ask if this is an unnecessary and selective reading. The parts for an alternative vision are equally apparent: from the wild and uncontrolled creativity and experimentation inside the factory to the joy found within the chocolate work itself, and from the relentless drive forward ‘You have to go forward if you want to go back’ to the end picture of the elevator shooting through a glass ceiling and into the skies. If a critic really wanted to make the comparison, such images would sit more easily in Soviet Russia than capitalist America. Wonka might have a capitalist wrapper but take a bite and look closely inside and its ideological filling is incoherent (it is, after all, entertainment). One could imagine how the film might be set in a collectivist community rather than a ‘capitalist’ factory, but it would have made for a worse film. It is the sense of unease that runs throughout the film that has made it timeless, whether its Wonka’s frustration with August Gloop for polluting his pure chocolate river, his fear over someone leaking the secret recipe for the ever-lasting gobstopper, his nightmares in the tunnel sequence, or his anxiety over finding a worthy heir for the factory, which finally manifests as a misjudged outburst at Charlie. It’s the fraught relationship between abundance and greed that makes for such compelling watching. Anyway, as the screenwriter stated in an interview, the film is ‘...not the function of sitting down and intellectualising... it’s the function of scotch tape, cardboard, let’s put on a show!’ Why spoil the fun and examine the parts individually when the sum of the parts is a universal message people need to hear now as much as they did in 1971? Reward honesty and integrity, not greed.

A moral message delivered in an almost subversive tone is another reason for why the film feels timeless. Instead of adults dragging tired and bored children around, the adults in this film are at the mercy of their kids and Wonka. Young viewers can marvel at the gluttony of August Gloop, the smart-mouthed Violet Beauregarde, the wanton bad behaviour of Veruca Salt, and Mike Teevee’s devotion to cable. It’s escapism at its best to watch other kids do what you can’t do: speak back to parents and yell and scream. It’s equally as tantalising when the naughty children are punished in fantastical ways. Augustus, drinking from the chocolate river, falls in and then gets sucked up a chocolate chute. Violet chews forbidden gum and then blows up into a blueberry the size of a small horse. Veruca falls down a garbage chute. And Mike finds himself sucked into a television. Best of all, the parents are equally guilty of bad-behaviour as the kids - and, boy, do they pay for it. Wonka might be a film for children and adults, but you can guess who’s going to really have the best time. It is little Charlie, after all, who wins Wonka’s factory at the end of the day.

In the scene where Willy Wonka drinks from a yellow flower-shaped cup and then eats the cup, the cup itself was made of wax. Gene Wilder had to chew the wax pieces until the end of the take, at which point he spat them out. Adults that once watched the film as children now know that flowers in the garden aren’t edible. Our eyes can pick up the small imperfections in the film - the sweets that look plastic and chocolate river that looks like exactly what it was - ‘dirty, stinky water’. But through a child’s eyes - even coming to the film half a century after its release, the film really can be a ‘world of pure imagination’. In another fifty years, will children still wander into the garden, pick up a buttercup, and bite into it with all the belief in the word that it’ll taste like sweet, white chocolate? As long as parents continue to show children the film, they will - and what a marvellous legacy for a film to have. Fifty years on, it’s safe to say that Willy Wonka has had a sweet and indelible impact on our sadly mostly inedible world.

Sources for post: 

Mel Stuart, Josh Young, ‘Pure Imagination: The Making of Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory’, 2001. 

Julia Dawn Cole, ‘I Want It Now! a Memoir of Life on the Set of Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory’, 2011. 

Pure Imagination: The Story (Making) of Willy Wonka & The Chocolate Factory: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0yyev_3S_Y4

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#Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory #1971

[blu-eh]

Prompt request if your up to it (kinda specific idk how I came up with it). You know the idea that Peter steals the Avenger's food when they don't yet know who he is? I was thinking if he were ever stealing Thor's poptarts (or whatever other food) and Thor decided to put Mjolnir on top, maybe record footage of it at night, and Peter is half asleep while moving the hammer and taking the pop tarts leaving everyone watching him super confused at the whole situation. Weird I know but I thought this could be super funny, do with it what you'd like.

as per what I usually do with prompts: I took this and then ran with it in the opposite direction. messy & unedited ofc

“I know the hazing rituals for the Avengers would probably be a ride or die but this is just ridiculous,” Peter says.  

“It’s punishment,” Mr. Stark tells him. 

All in all, it’s pretty terrible punishment. Peter had been caught with his hand in the cookie jar—or the poptart box, in this very specific case—no less than three times in the past mouth which, yeah. Peter can’t really say he was the best at sneaking around but, to be fair, it wasn’t like he knew the poptarts were Thor’s specifically. 

Following a very important Avengers level meeting that involved the entire team, the conclusion to protect Thor’s poptarts was not to write his name on them like any sensible person but instead to take his very large and very magical hammer and leave it on a box of poptarts so Peter could no longer access them. 

Which is the exact scene that Peter Parker walked into on that early Sunday morning after taking a car to the side and getting smashed around by the lizard. Devastated seems a little dramatic to describe the feelings Peter experienced upon realization, but there had been nothing he’d been looking to more than taking a poptart and possibly a nap. And as cool as it is to see Thor’s hammer up close, it’s currently in the way of Peter’s very important weekend cooldown that usually involves some tasty preserved parties and a bed. 

Now that won’t happen because the Avengers put Thor’s hammer on said box of poptarts. 

Still. You would think the Avengers would be more creative in their Anti-Spider-Man Stealing Mechanisms. 

Peter tells Mr. Stark as much. 

“Doesn’t need to be creative if it works,” Mr. Stark says which is more than a little hypocritical considering Mr. Stark takes the word creative to the extreme on a good day. “It’s stopping you right now, isn’t it?” 

Peter sighs with all of the exasperation of a super-powered teenager who hasn’t had food in at least two hours and a truck load of determination to spare, rolls up his nonexistent sleeves on his t-shirt, and says, “Okay. No one can say I don’t like challenges.”

 - 

“If you can put Thor’s hammer in an elevator and the elevator still moves up, then we’re working on the assumption that the hammer is only heavy when something interacts with it so—hey, Mr. Stark, could one of your suits lift it?” 

“Not with me in it,” Mr. Stark says. 

The rest of the Avengers had taken to watching Peter try and figure out the like it was some 90s soap opera—which is to say, they have been absolutely invested since the moment that Peter started writing on the whiteboard and pacing around the common room. 

“He’s still going at this?” Mr. Steve whispers to Ms. Nat. 

“He hasn’t stopped since he came here,” Ms. Nat says right back. 

Peter dutifully ignores outside conversations and scribbles his notes on the Avengers- approved whiteboard that he’d dug out of Mr. Stark’s lab for the sole purpose of trying to figure out how to free a box of poptarts from a magic hammer. “Yeah, you’re not worthy so you wouldn’t be able to lift it—”

“Thank you for the reminder, Underroos.” 

“But I’m talking about like, if it were just the suit. Hey, would FRIDAY be worthy? Could she drive a suit and lift the hammer? She’s not technically alive so maybe…Never mind, we’ll test that later. Would something like a pulley work? If I’m not directly lifting it, would that still influence the magic still? Dr. Banner, what do you think?”

“Truthfully, I have no opinion on this, Peter,” Dr. Banner says.  

“I think,” Sam says. “That you are putting way too much thought into a magic hammer.” 

“A magic hammer that’s on my food.” 

“It’s Thor’s,” Sam says. “Not yours.” 

“That hammer? I figured that was pretty obvious.” 

“Sam looks two seconds away from lunging and wringing Peter’s neck. He takes a deep breath and says, “No. The food.” 

“Minor detail,” Peter says. “Hey, do you think—”

 -

Clint whistles. “Impressive.”

Sam’s got that mom-friend worrying look in his eyes and a hand on his cellphone already to dial emergency services or, worse, Peter’s aunt. “Is that…is that going to work?” 

“Honestly, I have no idea,” Peter says. 

‘That’ is a cumulation of nuts and pipes and bolts and various scrap metal that Peter has managed to scrape up and put together in the last two hours. It towers over the living area and into the kitchen. A roller coaster of science, compacted down into a Rube Goldberg constructed out of more than a couple thousand dollars of junk pieces and starts with a single marble that’s no bigger than a quarter. 

Peter’s done a look of cool stuff in his two years of Avengering—missions, messing around in Mr. Stark’s lab, working on top secret projects for an even more top secret government—but he’s not quite sure anything lives up to this masterful creation. 

Mr. Steve and Mr. Stark are off to the side with the rest of the Avengers who cared enough to watch him construct everything after the five hour mark. Mr. Steve leans over to Mr. Stark and whispers, almost too quiet for Peter to hear, “Should you stop him?”

“The good mentor slash guardian thing would be to stop him,” Mr. Stark says right back. “But at this point, I’m invested so no.” 

That’s about as good of permission as Peter’s ever going to get so he takes the first step and drops the marble into a pipe. From there, it moves through wood pieces, metal sculpted into ramps and tunnels and pulleys until it’s caused a cascade of reactions. It takes a solid three minutes before it nears the end and Peter can only wait with baited breath and the whole mechanism comes to a valiant conclusion and the last piece slams into the hammer and…

The hammer doesn’t move. 

Sam doesn’t even bother hiding his laugh. “Better luck next time, spider-kid.” 

Clint shrugs. “It was a good effort.” 

In science, it’s not uncommon for things not to work. Peter’s had his fair share of exploding inventions, spider webs in his face, and code that doesn’t run. It still doesn’t prepare him for the crushing disappointment that he feels upon seeing that magic hammer still sitting on a box of poptarts that he so desperately wants to free.

At this point, it’s not even about the food anymore. Peter’s too invested to not see this through some way or another. 

So he starts building and tries it again. And again. And again. 

By the time night had fallen and the starts were covered by light pollution in the heart of New York, Peter’s no closer to those poptarts than he was during the early afternoon. The rest of the Avengers had lost interest at this point—content to longue around the lobby with a movie playing in the background and an ear peeled just to make sure Peter hasn’t accidently injured himself yet. 

Eventually, Mr. Stark wanders back into the room and knocks on the wall. When Peter looks up, Mr. Stark says, “Alright, Underoors, it’s bed time.” 

“But I’m not done,” Peter says. “I’m so close, Mr. Stark!”

Mr. Stark takes in the scattered pieces of junk and the hammer still sitting atop the poptart box, unscaved and unmoved. “Uh huh. Right. Well, I’m sure it will still be there next time you stop by but it’s a school night and I don’t want to face your aunt’s wrath if I bring you home too late.” 

“But…” 

“I am sure you can thwart the poptart box some other time,” Mr. Stark says which is really just the tipping point for this entire situation. 

By the end of it, Peter’s so frustrated the he goes to yank the poptart box out from under the hammer itself, damned if the poptarts get crushed, ripped, or otherwise destroyed in the process. He puts one hand on the hammer and one hand on the box and just pulls.

It’s not the poptart box that comes loose. 

There’s a hammer in his hand that hadn’t been there before, lightweight in a way that made Peter think he had been holding a piece of paper and not an extremely destructive magic weapon. The room around him goes so quiet that a pen could be dropped and the echo would be heard all the way down the hall. 

“Oh,” Peter says. “Huh.” 

“He did not just do that,” Sam says. “Please tell me the fourteen year old did not just do that.”

Peter pivots on his heel and points the hammer at him. “I’m sixteen.” 

The rest of the Avengers are looking at him in a way that Peter can’t quite really describe in a totality. Dr. Banner has a hand over his mouth, Clint’s jaw is about as close to the ground as it can be, Ms. Nat looks somewhat amused but there’s something else there—Peter’s not fantastic at reading expressions and even less fantastic when it’s reading expressions of a superspy so he doesn’t even try there. Mr. Stark looks a bit more exasperated than surprised but it’s that exasperation when you think your kid can’t do something and are pleasantly surprised to see them succeed. Mr. Steve is standing, white-knuckled grip on the couch’s arm and eyes wide in an expression of shock that Peter’s never really seen on him before.

Peter’s surprised the Avengers a handful of times but he thinks, with the hammer in his hands and the poptart box freed, that this is situation is the best. 

“I think,” Mr. Stark says in the same tone voice he always has when he’s trying to take control of a situation where he has very little control in. “That we need Thor. Right now.” 

#marvel #marvel fics #spider man #MCU spiderman #spiderman fics #my fics #asks #u ever just churn something out in like 30 minutes because u have literally nothing better to do

[ashthewaterghoul]

The Ball - A Wolfstar One Shot

Tonight was the night. The night that the class of 1978 had been anxiously awaiting. The seventh year leavers’ ball. Every girl had meticulously perfected each element of their outfit and the lads had some help from their dates in finding the right dress robes, corsages and other accessories. Each couple was perfectly matching one another, and the Great Hall was decorated with magic aplenty. Confetti sprinkling down from the ceiling, banners that flashed different messages of good-luck and goodbyes, self-refilling plates and bowls of food and drinks and tables that grew depending on how many people were around it.

The couplings were just as anyone expected, Peter and Mary going as friends, James and Lily, Marlene and Dorcas, and who could forget, Sirius and Remus. Sirius had been fussing over each detail of their ensembles since Remus asked him out in a much less extravagant way then James did for Lily. Sirius was wondering how he could tie a tie and fold a pocket square without magic and trying to find spells so that his robes’ shade of black was exactly the same as Remus’.

The night was finally here, and Remus was on what he calls “the perfect day” of the lunar cycle, it’s the day when the moon has very little effect on him, his strength, his senses, anything. He could enjoy the time with his date like any regular lad going. Even though Sirius had started getting ready at 1 o’clock that afternoon, he still wasn’t done, and it was nearly 7 o’clock, the start of the ball. Remus was the only one left in the common room, he was nervously fidgeting with the positioning of his corsage, which Sirius has picked out to match the dress robes. He was about to go see if Sirius was okay, even though he was given strict orders to not see him until he was done.

Just as Remus started towards the stairs to the dorm, his date walked down. Remus’ breath escaped him completely. The wait was definitely worth it. Sirius’ long, silky curtain of hair was pulled into the signature bun with his wand going through it, small pieces of hair purposefully pulled out, perfectly framing his already perfect face. His makeup could be described as nothing less than gorgeous, blue shimmering eyeshadow accompanied by a large wing of eyeliner, the dash of blush brought even more warmth to his face and the bright red lipgloss was the cherry on top of the cake. The robes that Sirius was panicking so much about were just as perfect as the boy wearing them, the midnight blue tie and pocket square folded and tied perfectly, adorned with a dog paw print tie pin.

“You going to stand there gawking or are you going to take me to the ball?” Sirius said jokingly, a wide smile on his face. Remus found the ability to speak.

“Sirius, you look beautiful.” He said adoringly.

“You look very handsome.” Sirius replied.

“Thanks. Well, shall we?” He held an arm out.

“Yes, we shall.” Sirius replied, linking arms with his date.

They walked down to the hall, smiles gleaming and unchanging.

When they got down to the area before the hall, they instantly spotted their friends and walked over.

“Finally!” James said, spotting the two.

“We almost thought you weren’t coming.” Lily said.

“After all the effort that went into this?”he gestured to his entire body, “You’d have to be barking.”

“I reckon I look better though.” Marlene butted in, dramatically adjusting her robes and orange tie, which she favoured over a dress.

“Attention students!” McGonagall announced by the entrance to the hall, “If you get into your pairs, you may enter in a moment.”

Everyone instantly jumped into a line, joined tightly to their partners. The doors swung open, revealing the decorations that Lily and Dorcas were in charge of, every one walked in and sat at their allocated seats, ready for their meal which promptly arrived, well, appeared. Soon after, everyone was done eating and ready to dance.

The first dance was to a traditional wizard’s ball song, with a specific dance to accompany it, Sirius assumed what was usually the female’s part. The music started and everyone started dancing in synchronisation. As Remus and Sirius danced together, they felt strangely connected in a a strange way, each move, each lift, each second caused the connection to grow. The last lift at the very end of the song went well, but Remus lowered Sirius slowly and gently, not wanting the moment to end. Sirius looked deeply at Remus as he slowly descended. After a few moments of silence before the next song a million emotions flowed through each lad, and an equal amount of words were silently exchanged. The next song started playing, this one very slow and no specific dance, the two just held each other. Sirius wrapped his arms around Remus’ shoulders, and Remus held onto Sirius’ waist, their foreheads were pressed against each other’s, eyes shut as they gently swayed to the music.

Lily and James were holding each other in a similar fashion, her red hair in bouncy curls over one shoulder, James didn’t want to wear green, but after seeing Lily in her dress for the first time he could not resist. Dorcas and Marlene chose to wear orange, Dorcas in a light, flowing dress that actually managed to get Marlene at a loss for words and Peter and Mary in yellow to “symbolise the happiness of friendship” as they put it, Mary had a rather simple dress on, that worked surprisingly well with the dresses of her friends. The three couples all kept staring at Sirius and Remus, happy that they had finally found that bond that had always been lurking within since they met.

The volume of the song started to increase, Remus and Sirius separated their foreheads and nodded in unspoken understanding. As the music suddenly swelled, the two boys pulled each other into a kiss, a passionate kiss that cemented their bond with each other, forever, no matter what.

A few songs and a lot of dancing later, the two lads had snuck off outside to their little spot on the grounds that no one else knew about. Sat with not even a centimetre between them, silently smoking while enjoying the company of each other. Remus finished his cigarette and threw it to the ground, and turned to face his boyfriend. He just stared at how perfect he looked.

“You’re gawking again.” He said while casually taking another puff.

“I know.”

“Okay, then.” He said, shaking his head with a smirk.

“Merlin, you’re gorgeous.” Remus let out and caused a massive smile to grow on Sirius’ face.

“You are just,” Sirius said chuckling, not quite being able to find the right word.

“I’m just what?”

He placed a small kiss on Remus’ lips.

“That, you’re just that.”

Remus chuckled, but a thought crossed his mind and caused his face to drop.

“Are you sure you want us?” He asked, motioning between the two.

“What do you mean?” Sirius’ expression unchanged.

“I’m a werewolf and you’re a Black.”

“Yeah, no shit Sherlock.”

“We aren’t exactly going to have it easy.”

“Remus,” he said softly, throwing his cigarette away and moving to sit on his boyfriend’s lap, “I don’t care. I just want you, and you are a werewolf, and that’s amazing, and you are amazing.”

Remus started to tear up at those words.

“Padfoot, that was beautiful.” He said gently tucking one of the stray bits of Sirius’ hair behind his ear.

“No, Moony, you are beautiful, in whatever form.” His silver eyes twinkling in the starlight.

Remus gently pulled Sirius into another small kiss. Remus was staring at Sirius, something was clearly dancing around his mind.

“What is it, Rem?”

He took a deep breath before saying: “I love you. I always have, and I always will.”

It was Sirius’ turn to tear up now. He let of a happy sob and flung his arms around Remus, nuzzling into the crook of his neck. After a few moments of a bone crushing hug, Sirius looked at Remus fully.

“I love you, and I will never stop.”

Remus took another deep breath and said: “Pads, I never want to spend a day without you, never again, so would you consider spending this night with me? And tomorrow, and every day after that?”

Sirius was speechless. His happy crying replaced with a shocked expression that was fixed and impossible for Remus to read.

“I’m sorry, that was too much to quick wasn’t it? You can forget I said that, if you want. I-”

Remus was cut off by deep kiss.

“Of course I will.” Sirius said in a soft whisper.

The two went back into another tearful, bone crushing hug.

“We should tattoos as well.” Sirius said, finally looking at his boyfriend again.

“What of?”

Sirius looked around for ideas until his eyes landed on his tie pin.

“What about we get each other’s paw prints?”

“That sounds great, Pads.”

The two pressed their foreheads together again, just next with each other. They enjoyed a long few moments, until they were abruptly bombarding with their friends dog piling on top of them. All of them rolling on top of one another in an entanglement of limbs, laughing so much that most of them were losing their breath completely. When they were finally all free of each other, Dorcas piped up: “We were wondering where you got to!”

“Yeah, we thought you’d gone back to the dorm to-“

“NO, that was just you Mary!” Lily cut her off.

“How did you find us?” Remus asked.

“You forget that one of us can turn into a very small, somewhat undetectable animal.” Peter answered.

“Oh yeah, forgot about that.”

“Why’d you guys sneak out here anyways?” Marlene asked.

“We were trying to get some peace and quiet.” Sirius said.

“Yeah, probably so you could-“

“Mary MacDonald, I swear to God!” Lily shouted.

“Shall we go back in? It’s freezing out here.” Dorcas said, brushing the grass from her dress. All the girls made their way in as the boys stayed behind staring after some of their closest friends, Sirius and Remus clinging to each other’s side like there’s no tomorrow.

“They all look great tonight don’t they?” Remus said aloud.

“They always do, mate.” James said, clapping an arm around Remus’ back.

“You know what I mean, you were absolutely gawping at Lily, more than usual that is.” Remus joked.

“I could say the same about you with that one.” He gestured towards Sirius.

Remus let out a light chuckle.

“Can you blame me? He looks gorgeous.” He turned his head to look at Sirius, who was giggling and blushing.

James walked around to Sirius’ free side and put an arm around his back which was promptly returned, and Remus waved to Peter to join him. The four boys walked back to the castle, linked together like brothers, well two were closer than brothers. The special, unique bonds that each shared were ones that would last a lifetime. And Remus and Sirius? That bond would surpass a lifetime.

Hello there, sorry this one was so long, it’s ~1880 words so if you made it to the end then have a cookie 🍪. This was inspired by a part I put in ‘Take Me Back - A Wolfstar One Shot’. Thank you for reading! Any feedback would be greatly appreciated as well as other ideas for future fics!🥰

You can view my other one shots here

#the marauders era #the marauders #sirius black #remus lupin #peter pettigrew #james potter #lily evans #marlene mckinnon #dorcas meadowes #mary macdonald #wolfstar #jily #flowerpott #dorlene #the maraudettes #prom #leavers ball #hogwarts #gryffindor #one shot #wizarding world #messrs moony wormtail padfoot and prongs #moony wormtail padfoot and prongs #moony #wormtail #padfoot #prongs #mlm #gay #lesbian

[parkersbliss]

Behind That Mask | P. Parker

Pairing: Peter Parker X Female Reader

Word Count: 2.7K oops?

Warnings: one or two no no word

Summary: Peter can’t seem to talk to you, at all, but maybe Spiderman can change that

Request: I saw your post to request so can you do a Peter x reader who is really badass and like intimidating and Peter is infact intimidated and the reader is like flirting with him and he’s like extremely flustered. Like I want Peter to be like ‘i want them to ruin my life’s y'know?

A/N: repost bc there were issues with the first one, sorry in advance!

Masterlist | Taglist

It was no secret that Peter Parker was scared of you. Well, he wasn't scared of you, Spiderman isn't scared of anything. He just found you intimidating. Like, really intimidating, but he really liked you so he'd accept it. Not that he wouldn't accept, Peter wasn't a judgy person. Just watching you punch Flash in the face during the Europe trip, he was amazed, to say the least. You didn't even hesitate just sucker-punched him and walked away. Peter really liked you, but like MJ you were... hard to connect with. At least for Peter, you were.

"What's good, (Y/N)?" Flash said, winking.

"Not your nose if you keep that up," You said, not even looking at him.

He rolls his eyes thinking back to the Europe trip and how you practically broke his nose for teasing Peter.

"Whatever," He grumbles, walking away.

"God, Ned, she’s so badass," Peter admires, watching Flash walk away form you. He noticed how you didn't even put your book down to talk to him, just gave a sly comment and he was on his way.

"Just go talk to her, man!" Ned encourages, pushing him toward you.

"Wait, Ned, I don't really think that's a good-"

Ned doesn't give him time to finish and shoves Peter directly in front of you.

"Hey (Y/N)!" Peter chirped happily.

You look up from the book you're reading, blank expression plastered on your face, "Hi Parker."

Peter scratches the back of his neck, his heart pounding in his chest, "What are you reading?"

You lift the book up from your lap and show him the title. His face goes slightly pale at the title.

"Oh, wow. A good girls guide to murder, that sounds lovely."

You let out a little laugh at his face, letting your tough exterior down. "it's a murder mystery, not a how too."

"Oh."

"Did you want something?"

C'mon Peter, you can do this. He repeated in his head. Peter is visibly sweating now, his hands tucked into his pockets. His chocolate eyes avoiding your gaze. "Earth to Parker!"

"Right, uh... um, what's your opinion on Spiderman?"

You cock an eyebrow at him, it was certainly a weird question to ask. You didn't quite understand why he needed to interrupt your time to ask such a silly question, but you shrug it off. Peter was an awkward guy, cute nonetheless.

"He's cool, I guess."

Peter nods, mumbling something to himself before walking back over to Ned. You felt a bit disappointed, some part of you wishing he asked a different question, but you let the feeling wash away and go back to your book.

"What was that 'what's your opinion on spiderman?'" Ned questions as Peter mentally slaps himself.

"Look, man, I just couldn't do it."

"Do what?" MJ asks, butting into the conversation.

Peter's cheeks turn pink and MJ catches on quick, "Ah, my best friend."

"Is it that obvious?" Ned said, staring at poor Peter who was pouting.

"Not to (Y/N) apparently."

Peter sighs, "I don't know, she's just hard to talk too. I feel like she doesn't even want to talk to me!"

Ned pats his shoulder in an effort to reassure him, Peter shrugs him off.

"Peter was trying to ask her out, but he chickened out."

"(Y/N) probably doesn't even want to go!"

...

Peter was out patrolling, granted it was a little late, but he needed to clear his thoughts. Not that patrolling did that because if anything it just temporarily pushed them away until he was home in the comfort of his bed. Peter was mindlessly swinging, not even thinking just swinging when he saw you.

You sat on your rooftop, gazing at the infamous New York skyline. It was late, stars illuminated the dark sky. Your feet dangled over the edge of the building and you let a million thoughts run through your head. It was calming up there, just you and your thoughts. For a city that never sleeps, it sure was quiet today. You fiddled with the drawstrings of your hoodie, your fingers constantly tugging and knotting them. You didn't even notice the superhero that was swinging by until he smacked into the building across from you.

Peter yelped as he tried to regain his thoughts. He needed to work on not getting so easily distracted.

"Hey! Are you okay?" You called out, standing up. Peter's heart leaped in his chest. And then, he had an idea. It was crazy, but it might work. However, considering the fact that it only took him a few seconds to come up with this plan, it probably wasn't. He had to remind himself that you didn't know who he was. To you, he was just a superhero.

"Yeah! I'm fine!" Peter made a split decision, he decided to talk to you. Just not as himself, he always found himself a little more confident as spiderman. And maybe that's what he needed to talk to you. Without a second thought, Peter- er, spiderman- fired a web and swung his way toward you.

"Hi," You said stupidly, what else do you say to a superhero? He waves at you, a little stiff in his arm.

"What are you doing up here this late?"

You debate telling him, after all, he was a stranger, but he was also a superhero and It's not like he was going to tell anyone.

"I like coming up here to think, it's calming."

The hero nods his head and something tells you that you should open up to him. You sit back down and Spiderman does as well, at least a foot between you two.

He turns toward you taking in your side profile, the wind blowing your hair around, but you let it. He watched your steady breathing as the night turned darker until you finally said something.

"There's this guy," You shook your head, a laugh falling from your lips. "I can't believe I'm going to tell you this."

"You can trust me," Peter assures you. He wanted to know himself who this guy was.

"I really like him, he's sweet, funny, awkward and smart. I just don't feel like he likes me back. And maybe it's because I can never hold a conversation more than two minutes with him, but," You sigh, "I just feel like I'm trying a bit too hard for someone who doesn't care. And it's not his fault."

Peter felt his heart crack a little, you liked someone else. Unless you were talking about him, which was unlikely. MJ said it was obvious that he was interested in you, but maybe you were clueless. Peter immediately shook away that thought, you weren't clueless. You were brilliant and he wanted to tell you that. In fact, he wanted to tell you everything he liked about you, but he settled for something a little less subtle, "I think any guy would be lucky to have you, but maybe this one, like you said, if he's awkward he might just not know what to say. You could drop a more obvious hint see if he picks up on it, but there's no guarantee if he's shy."

You smile, Spiderman gave pretty good advice. "You seem to know a bit about this stuff."

Peter laughed, he didn't know one thing about getting girls, but he knew a lot about himself. "Well, when you're a lady killer like me, you get used to it." He flexes his arm, making you laugh.

"Ok there, Mr. Full of himself."

Peter laughs too, "sorry."

"It's fine. Can I ask you something?"

"Yeah."

"Is it hard? Doing this... I mean, assuming your an adult or normal human being. Don't you ever get scared you can't go back to your lover- if you have one- or just... yeah."

Peter's taken aback, he never really thought about it too much. He didn't have someone to go back to, but when he did... what if that someone were you?

"I don't have someone to go back to," He said quietly, you turn to face him.

"oh, I'm sorry-"

"No, it's fine, but yeah it's hard. Although, sometimes I go out because it helps me think, it gives me something else to focus on at the moment." Like you.

You nod, feeling like maybe you invaded his personal life a bit too much.

"We can be single together," You offer, cracking a smile. You hope he's smiling too behind that mask. He was, a smile bigger than you could imagine.

"I'd like that."

"Then I guess we're in a single relationship." You both look at each other and laugh, "I guess we are."

It was then you check the time on your phone, realizing how late it was. Peter notices it too and thinks about how he should be heading home.

"I should go," You both said.

You break into another grin, kissing his cheek as a sign of thanks.

"See ya around, single buddy."

You disappeared inside, leaving Peter cupping his masked cheek, and if he wasn't wearing that mask, he felt sure that you would laugh at the stupid grin on his face and the blush that covered his cheeks.

...

"Hey, Parker!" You said a bright smile on your face. For some reason, Peter turned around and checked behind him, making sure that someone else named Parker or with the last name Parker wasn't there.

"oh, uh hi (Y/N)."

"You look cute today," You comment. Peter looked down at his outfit suddenly hyper-aware of his fashion choice. Which wasn't a bold one, it was, in fact, a classic science pun t-shirt and joggers. He wasn't trying to be rude, but there was no way you thought he looked cute. He wasn't going to diss your compliment though.

"Thanks?" He said, trying to hide the very obvious voice crack the came at the end. You bumped shoulders with him and he stumbled a bit, letting out a laugh. A very familiar laugh, one that sounded a lot like the person you were with last night, but you decide to brush it off. You'd rather not have that thought lurking in your head, another reason to like him was not going to help you.

"What? Can't I compliment you?"

Peter tugs at the material of his T-shirt. He was sweating now. "I- uh, yeah, of course, you can. It's a free country, you can say whatever you want to me," He squeaked out.

"Hey, Parker! Take a hint, will you?" Flash laughed from the opposite side of the hallway.

You stuck up your middle finger at him, "Mind your damn business, Thompson." He immediately shuts up, not interested in getting another punch to the face.

"Sorry about him," you smiled apologetically to Peter, ruffling his hair a bit.

"Uh, no It's fine you really didn't have to do that. Flash is just Flash, ya know? He just doesn't like me, not that I care. Who cares? Not me!" Peter blabbers, wishing he could just shut his mouth up already.

"Ok weirdo, catch you later," You toss him another smile over your shoulder and disappear down the hallway, leaving Peter very confused as to what just happened.

"Dude!" Ned said, "(Y/N) just flirted with you!"

"W- what?"

"(Y/N) flirted with you," He repeated, a little slower this time. Peter laughed, that wasn't possible. It seemed coincidental to last night when he (as Spiderman) had told you to make a more obvious move on this "guy," but now Peter wasn't so sure this guy wasn't him. Which made him hopeful, but he learned a while back hope dies quickly.

...

Another night spent on your rooftop, you were hoping a certain hero might swing by. There was a small thwip behind you and you turned to see Spiderman.

"Hey!" You said brightly.

"Hi, single buddy, still single?" He jokes, sitting down next to you. A little bit closer than last time.

"Unfortunately," You reply. "Are you?"

"Not for long, at least I think."

You furrow your eyebrows, "Oh?"

He laughs and you swear that laugh sounds just like Peter's... there wasn't any denying it. Or maybe they just laughed alike.

"There's this girl, and I think she made a move on me, but I just don't know. I like her, a lot, but if she didn't I don't want to scare her off. And she's kind of intimidating, she's so badass. And, I guess behind this mask, I'm just me."

Without thinking, you grab his masked hand, "I think whoever is behind that mask has a heart of gold. You put yourself at risk every night doing this, for what? I don't know. Any girl would be lucky to have you. So I think you should shoot your shoot with this girl, you only live once. She sounds incredible."

Peter smiles behind his mask, both at your words and the fact that you're holding hands.

"She really is," He whispered, looking at you. There's some part of you that feels like the person behind the mask, is someone you know. Some part of you just screams it's Peter and if it was, you needed to know. There were two ways you could find out, cause him to slip up and say your name or mention your crush on Peter and see if he reacts. And maybe if he was Peter, then this could work out.

"You know, the guy I like, his name is Peter, by the way."

Peter's hand goes limp in your grasp, you turn to look at the masked hero waiting for him to say something.

"P-peter, huh? Tell me more about him."

You can tell he's trying to keep his voice table, but you catch the crack at the end. The stutter at the beginning and the way his body is leaning into yours a bit more.

"I think you know enough. Don't want to cut our single date short, but I should finish my homework."

Peter nods, standing up and letting go of your hand, if only he knew of the plan hatching inside of your head.

"See ya around." You wave him goodbye and he swings off the building back to his own home, leaving him to wonder if you knew.

...

You spilled all your guts to MJ the following morning, your whole theory on how Peter was Spiderman.

"I mean, I'm not crazy, right?"

MJ shook her head, deciding that if you figured it out she might as well confirm it. "Don't tell Peter I told you, but he is. I figured it out over the Europe trip."

You gasp, "That means.. he does like me!"

MJ pats you on the back, "Might've kept that a secret from you too."

"MJ!"

"Look, in my defense, he asked me too!"

"whatever, there he is!" You felt giddy inside, watching him place his books in his locker.

MJ shoves you gently, "go!"

You nod your head, feeling confident and gently tap Peter on the shoulder.

"Oh, hey (Y/N)!"

You notice how he's fidgeting with his hands and without thinking, you grab them and interlock your fingers. Peter's sweating now, "W- what are you doing?"

"This," You smirk as you gently press your lips to his. It's quick, but you can feel his whole body go rigid as his mind tries to grasp what just happened. You pull away and Peter yanks his fingers from your grasp, making you feel like you did something wrong until he uses them to cup your face instead and press a much more passionate kiss to your lips. You smile as your hands run down his biceps, feeling the muscle there. Confirming what you already knew.

"So, when were you going to tell me it was you behind that mask?" You ask when he pulls away.

Peter blushes, "You knew?"

"You guys have the same adorable laugh and not many people laugh like you do."

Peter grins, "Aw, you know me so well."

"And because MJ told me. She also told me you liked me."

"I don't know if I should thank her or punch her."

You laugh, kissing him again because you could not get enough of this boy.

"Get a room!!" Flash shouts.

"Flash, you have about five seconds before I really break your nose this time."

"Oh shit."

#peter parker x y/n #peter parker drabble #peter parker x you #peter parker oneshot #peter parker fluff #peter parker imagine #peter parker angst #peter parker headcanon #peter parker x reader #peter parker #tom holland angst #tom holland fluff #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x you #tom holland headcanon #tom holland drabble #tom holland one shot #tom holland imagine #tom holland x reader #tom holland #spiderman x you #spiderman far from home #spiderman: hoco #spiderman x y/n #spiderman x reader #spiderman imagine #spiderman oneshot #spiderman angst #spider man

[marvelvsmarvel]

Cap’s Super Power

After analyzing the fight scenes between Cap and Bucky I started to think about what we know about Cap as a fighter and seeing his actual progression in the MCU and how this speaks to being a super soldier not only physically but tactically and strategically.

First Avenger: It’s the Superman fighting where he’s literally physically superior than everyone that he really only needs to swing or kick to win a fight. He still uses a gun and uses the shield in the most basic way as protection or a frisbee. Learns at minimum that the shield can absorb bullet damage completely when fired directly.

Versus Red Skull: Kinda the same example of his fights with Bucky. Cap was used to easy wins that when he first hits Skull and he takes the blow it’s terribly shocking. Skull is only not as surprised because he understands the capabilities of their abilities. Their fight isn’t as crazy in a technical manner again as fighting styles back between American and Germany wasn’t so broad from boxing + street fighting but again when you’re used to winning most fights with a punch or kick someone who can actually take the blows makes a match and in the end it ultimately was a draw.

Avengers: There’s the moment when he first hits Loki and he barely moves and Cap realizes “oh crap he really might be a god”. Cap’s insufferable yet utterly amazing willpower and ability to learn and adapt and strategize in combat and warfare are verily considered a part of his super powers or abilities. We see that for the first time here as he keeps at it against Loki and lasted against an army of aliens who are kicking his butt. Again when he went under he fought Nazis with wild tech and a super steroided Red Man Group member and then woke up to a demigod and aliens... in the future. His will power is insane! But his strategic mindset is in full display coordinating this advanced fighting group of individual abilities whom he only just met hours before against an army no one anticipated of unknown tech and weaponry. (He did research up on the Avengers members but more or less spark notes.) He also learned about the sonic blast that occurs between Thor’s hammer and his shield on the fly. All in all probably the most beaten up he’s ever been with or without serum and had a realization of the number of “I should be dead” moments that solidified how durable and strong he might actually be.

The Winter Soldier: After fighting an army of aliens and winning Cap looks to take it easy and routinely by hooking up with SHIELD to refine his abilities and knowledge on modern warfare and it shows. Primary difference is in his shield-wielding every which way from his turtle defense position to redirecting bullets to taking down a quinjet with only that shield. There’s obviously more psychological trauma in this one fighting his previously accepted as deceased bestfriend (and that never quite goes away) but also psychological in that it seems possible that this is the first time he’s been stabbed and shot by a bullet. Now I know he fought aliens but still he was never shot before. I point this out to show that post Avengers he had an idea of what he could do and how durable he could hold up in a fight but here I think he believed he was going to die in the final fight with Bucky.

Age of Ultron: Once again the strategy is on full display as the team works much more like a well oiled machine. (It is suggested that he was the one that trained them as a unit as well since he trains the new members at the end.) He and Thor use their weapons-combos in a few different ways.

Verse Ultron Bots: It is noticeable that Cap works their joints which seems like their most vulnerable spots but it also just neutralizes them. This is like Fighting 101 but it shows up later in more noticeable ways.

Civil War: Strategy again only with a fun wrinkle in which he trusts Wanda to literally toss him into a building. It’s understandable that on paper Team Cap had way less fire power and so the pregame strategy had to be key. There was a joke that Cap literally could’ve killed Peter when he dropped that container on him but I think that in the one on one fight between Spidey and Cap that he got a gage of his strength primarily when Peter webbed his arms into a tug-o-war situation.

Versus Iron Man: That Fighting 101 breakdown started with taking out the thrusters on one foot. Keep the combat close within his arm reach to avoid the hand repulsors and other long range weaponry which of course is a huge advantage to Iron Man. Again seems obvious and plus they’ve trained and fought together but he makes the cognitive effort when he charges Tony dead on with his shield. Attacking the neck area (joint) in rage he literally rips the helmet off (but that is a common opening for the suit). He takes out the arc reactor thus neutralizing the suit. (He did luck out with a strategic enclosed location...or did he pregame that as well...?)

Infinity War: The tactical aspect of fighting with foreign weapons without training such as the Wakandan gauntlets and Proxima Midnight’s spear is demonstrated. This is his second go at aliens only this time the army is a mindless horde. He’s a lot faster and stronger since Avengers and it shows.

Versus Thanos Round 1: It’s not a fight but there’s things to analyze. He charges in and doesn’t initially attack but slides under and behind. He strikes his knee (joint) and then uppercuts his chin. An uppercut to the chin is a classic knockout punch but it’s also practical being Thanos’s most exposed weak point and the height difference. He also gets to gage his strength in a game of mercy but Thanos hand vs all of Cap.

Endgame: That insufferable willpower...

Versus Thanos Round 2: There is the idea that Cap knew he was able to lift Thor’s hammer and with that came the understanding that he would “possess the power of Thor”. With a clear understanding of this he wields Mjolnir as if it was always his and calls lightning at will but first the breakdown. Throws the hammer to save Thor with dramatic effect. This time he attacks first with a Mjolnir uppercut that levels Thanos. Then the behind the back sneak attack by tossing the shield knowing it would be deflected and then throwing the hammer at it to create the sonic blast. A flying knee to the chest because he’s still bigger than him and stronger than him. So afterwards using the hammer and the shield he goes knee (joint) to uppercut again but now seeming to be on an even power scale with Mjolnir that 40’s Brooklyn back alley boxing mentality comes out attacking the head over and over again. Then he calls the lighting and literally give his best shot. Obviously Thanos turns up the heat and regains the advantage BUT if Cap was on par with strength and ability there’s no saying who wins that matchup.

Overall I just love the detail toward progressing Cap as a fighter. The super soldier serum was a one and done and it made what was good great but that didn’t just include him physically but mentality and spiritually as a good man and as a warrior.

#Steve Rogers #fighting #super powers #captain america #team cap #chris evans #marvel #mcu #marvel cinematic universe #marvel studios #avengers #avengers endgame #endgame #avengers infinity war #infinity war #avengers age of ultron #age of ultron #captain america the first avenger #the first avenger #catfa #catws #the winter soldier #captain america civil war #civil war #cacw #spiderman #red skull #iron man #thanos #ultron

[p1nkwitch]

May I send in another rrequest for Lonelyeyes with 52? I really love your writing! Thank you!

You may sent as many as you like!! Its a pleasure, plus im really having fun. I hope you like this one, its sappy despite what it may appear.

52- Accidentally Witnessed kiss Lonelyeyes

Peter was trying his best ok? Elias asked him to go to the institute so they could talk about some changes needed for the budget and so after delaying it as much as he could, he went.

Its not his fault his husband wasn't at his office, so he went to look for him and found him in a small break room steppin in his tip toes trying to reach something from the top shelf. Peter mind went to a lot of places due to the position, but more than anything he instinctually went to stand behind him and reach up, pressing himself against his back. Elias takes a deep breath and lets it out once he sees its him.

“Miss me?”

“Hardly since i saw you this morning” Peter stays where he is, but lowers the little coffee bag into the table next to him.

“Well you could have asked me there, and yet you try to get me to your lair to talk business” Elias turns and he lets him, now chest to chest he grins down at him wolfishly.

“Honestly i go to look for you in your office and its empty, then i find you here in such a… compromising situation…” Elias pouts and he chuckles.

“It's business, I would rather have it signed here than at home. Secondly… i keep this hidden here in case of emergency, but someone took the stool that is usually in place, not my fault-” Peter considers, his beautiful husband keeps ranting at him and he stays there close to him, slowly enough that the other won't notice immediately he uses forsaken to cover them and be unseen, after all this effort he thinks he deserves a little price.

“Besides, compromising really?” That snaps him back a little bit and he hums in agreement.

“Well, yes! You in your tippy toes stretching aaaaall the way up showing yourself, my my mister Bouchard, were you trying to get someone to pay attention to you? Mm, is there anyone i should be worried about, or… was this just a nice little act for me?” Elias narrows his eyes and Peter whispers next to his ear making him shiver and confirm his idea.

“Were you expecting me to fulfill some sort of work fantasy for you my little harlot? You should have said so i would love to” So before Elias could deny it, he leans down and kisses him.

For all that he claims about being a watcher, he is very shy when he wants, his little siren. Or perhaps he is playing at it, wanting to keep at whatever little game he is playing at. Peter keeps the lonely in place for them, keeping them hidden away from any prying eyes. Elias must feel the difference of spaces in reality, because the next thing that he knows is that his husband is wrapping his arms around his neck and deepening the kiss, making him press closer and trapping him against the table. He makes a noise of complaint, so without much thought and to give him more space he lifts him and sits him there so he can stand between his legs. 

Peter doesn't stop kissing him even if he has to lean down a little bit more, he enjoy having his husband like this, a funny little game they play, honestly why Elias asks him to this kind of stuff is not his business, but if it makes him happy, then so be it, less fighting later. He has to split up to be able to breath and in doing that he commits the mistake of seeing his husbands face up close. He is breathing hard and has his mouth slightly open while being flustered to no end. Peter sees him bite his lower lip and look up at him with such an earnest expression-

Oh fuck.

He laughs softly now, and the man snorts before joining him.

“God you piece of work”

“Shut up you-” Peter doesn't let him finish before he moves back to kiss him, not…. desperately or anything now, but merely just soft traces that makes him shiver and sigh against him, while caressing his cheek in the meantime, Elias leans into it like a flower looking for the sun, and it thrills him because he can take it away at any moment. 

When he tries to step back his partner hooks his leg around him and brings him back before using both hands to hold his face and fill it with kisses. Its stupid and silly, but it makes him feel way too good, he cant help it, Elias doesnt usually act this nice so he cherishes it when he can, its mostly for when he is away and needs to think of something to miss.

Gods he loves this man so much- 

It doesn't take long for him to start go down his jaw and neck leaving traces, Peter tries to not make much noise, when Elias bites and kisses afterwards a spot in his jaw he loses patience and goes back to kissing him while keeping him in place, he doesn't want to let the smaller man go for now, he is having too much fun just messing around and clearly so is the other who was clutching his sweater hard and biting his lower lip.

Peter will admit that he rather likes Elias being so prone to bite him, not to him, god's no, he is not an idiot. But this is nice.

They would have stayed like this for a while longer, but Elias stiffens and Peter confused and mildly concerned that he hurt him-

Stupid. stupid how did he not notice-!

Realizes that forsaken is nowhere to be seen, so that could only mean one thing. Elias takes a breath and puts his head in his chest. Maybe he thinks while feeling the creeping sensation of being seen, maybe if they stay silent and don't move they will leave? 

Elias starts to hit his forehead softly against his chest and Peter knows that is not going to happen. He attempts to pull them away, but it wont take Elias, so yup, he fucked up.

Minutes pass and a single.

“See you later double boss?”

Elias clutches his sweater and he has the distinct image of an animal trying to tear open his chest.

“Tim” Peter doesn't want to die today.

“Timothy i would appreciate it if you would not gossip, less… i take measurements” Silence.

“No, of course not-!” He was about to offer his own comment, but Elias kicks him.

“My husband merely came to visit-”

“Oh, OH. Thats-Oh ok, i ummm will see you later im going back to work” Footsteps and Elias breathes in and out.

“What-happened?” Half truth? He can't admit that he accidentally got too sappy and forsaken kicked them out.

“I got a little bit too distracted my guiding light” 

“... let's go back to the office” Peter thinks.

“Is there anyone coming here?” He looks up looking angry and upset, which was not the idea.

“Peter-”

“Just… is it?” Closing his eyes and focusing he replies.

“... No” Ok, good he can work with that. He kisses him again this time just a brush of their lips and helps him up, before grabbing his hand and kissing his wrist.

“Apologies?” His face was cold, but his lip twitched.

“I will complain, he is a gossiper Peter” He nods.

“Ugh fine, one for the way back” Grinning back at him he wraps his arms around his waist and kisses Elias before smirking against him, and dipping him slightly. He flails but Peter kisses his neck and helps him up again.

“Let's talk about budgeting then?” His flushed and annoyed face is price enough even if he will not hear the end of it for the entire time he stays in land.

#peter is dumb dumb in love #tim just went directly to scream at the archives while having a meltdown since his life was uprooted #he thought Elias was boring #Elias is having some weird work fantasies i know it #not as mad as you may think #writing prompt #lonelyeyes writing prompt