#x platonic reader

[iydiamartinx]

UNEXPECTED GUESTS II

jason x reader, platonic!damian wayne

divider by: @cafekitsune & @thecutestgrotto& @omi-resources word count: 857 synopsis: Jason’s secret relationship is discovered by Damian—who keeps showing up uninvited. Jason’s patience is tested, popcorn is made, but at least Damian brought cinnamon rolls. a/n: y’all I’m still new to posting on tumblr, idk how to respond to your reblogs, but thank you for all the love!!

It started with a puzzle.

Then it became a movie.

Then it was breakfast.

Then game night.

You weren’t exactly sure how it happened, but somewhere between Damian’s first drop-in and now, he had quietly and confidently moved in emotionally. No key, no warning—just a kid who appeared at your door like a stray cat who decided you were his human now.

Jason was not amused.

“Babe,” he muttered one night, standing in the kitchen with a towel slung over his shoulder, “I think he lives here now.”

You didn’t even look up from where you and Damian were halfway through a Harry Potter movie marathon. “He brought cinnamon rolls. That buys him, like, three hours.”

Jason’s eye twitched. “That’s what you said yesterday.”

“And yet here we are. With cinnamon rolls.”

Damian didn’t even glance away from the TV. “You’re welcome.”

It didn’t stop.

Damian started showing up with snacks. Then books. Then a bonsai tree that he insisted would bring “calming energy” to the apartment—though Jason was convinced it was a surveillance device.

The turning point was when Jason came home from patrol to find you and Damian doing face masks while bickering over whether Batman could take John Wick in a fight, without prep time.

“I hate it here,” Jason muttered, dropping onto the couch like gravity had personally wronged him.

“No, you don’t,” you said, patting the spot beside you.

Damian looked smug. “You should exfoliate more. Your skin is tired.”

Jason looked like he aged five years on the spot.

Meanwhile, across Gotham, the rest of the Bat-family had questions.

“He skipped patrol again,” Tim muttered, narrowing his eyes at the tracker on his screen. “He’s somewhere in Crime Alley, but he’s not moving. That’s not like him.”

“He’s not fighting crime?” Dick asked, frowning as he squinted at the grainy feed Tim managed to pull from one of Gotham’s ancient surveillance cameras. “Is he injured?”

“No,” Tim said, zooming in. “I think he’s… playing Monopoly?”

Dick raised an incredulous eyebrow. “He’s doing what?” 

Tim leaned closer. “Wait—never mind. That might be a bomb.”

“I’m following him tonight,” Tim declared. “See what he’s hiding.”

“I’m going with you,” Dick said. “Damage control. Just in case he really has joined a criminal syndicate without telling Bruce.”

That night, they tailed Damian across rooftops, watching as he made his usual unannounced entrance into Jason’s apartment through the fire escape like it was a routine—and it was. By now, you’d already prepped hot cocoa, and a blanket was folded on the couch just for him.

Jason wasn’t home yet. Which meant Damian had free reign.

When Tim and Dick peered through the neighboring rooftop window, they expected secrets. Schematics. Maybe even an underground lab.

What they found was you and Damian arguing about whether waffles or pancakes were the superior breakfast food while watching John Wick in an aggressively cozy blanket fort.

Tim blinked. “Is that a fort?”

“Oh my god,” Dick whispered. “He has a fort buddy.”

Jason returned an hour later, tired, sweaty, and one patrol away from an identity crisis. 

He prayed Damian was gone so he could finally have some alone time with you. Every time he tried to initiate anything romantic, the little demon just happened to be there—coincidentally, of course.

But what awaited him was somehow worse.

The moment he stepped inside, he froze.

Dick and Tim were seated at your kitchen table, sipping cocoa. Damian was calmly painting from he sat beside you, and you looked like you were completely unfazed by the three vigilantes in your living room.

“Don’t say it,” Jason groaned, setting his helmet down.

“We followed Damian,” Dick grinned. “Turns out he’s been living a double life.”

Tim nodded solemnly. “I think he’s cheating on us.”

Jason dragged a hand down his face. “Of course you idiots followed him.”

“Her cooking is nearly on par with Pennyworth’s,” Damian said casually, not looking up from his brushwork. “And she doesn’t interrupt me when I’m watching Lord of the Rings.”

Dick raised a brow. “Lord of the Rings?”

“It’s a cinematic masterpiece,” you replied without missing a beat and Dick didn’t question it. 

“We just wanted to meet the person responsible for his personality transplant,” Dick said with a teasing smile. “He’s been nice lately. It’s suspicious.”

You shrugged. “We made a deal. He’s nice to everyone else, and I let him pick Friday night movies.”

Tim gestured dramatically. “She tamed the demon.”

Jason looked up to the ceiling like he was searching for divine intervention. “Why are all of you here?”

“We came for answers,” Tim said.

“We stayed for the snacks,” Dick added.

“And the Wi-Fi,” Tim finished.

Jason looked at you.

You smiled sweetly. “Cinnamon rolls?”

He sighed, walked into the kitchen, and took one off the tray. “I hate all of you.”

But he didn’t leave.

Not when you handed him his mug. Not when you leaned into his side. Not even when Damian held up his newest painting like it was the Mona Lisa.

Jason looked around his overcrowded apartment—full of noise, cocoa, and chaos.

“…You’re all sleeping on the floor.”

← Previous Chapter ✯ Next Chapter →

[smokebombsandspotlights]

📚“no hablo español…pero tengo un fernando.”

( F1 grid x fem!reader| 687 words | platonic | Yuki Tsunoda's sister | reader is in high school | Spanish class chaos | Carlos & Fernando save the day | found family fluff | group chat energy)

You: 16 years old. Still in high school. Struggling with Spanish. Yuki Tsunoda: big brother, small chaos gremlin, zero Spanish ability. The rest of the grid? Tries to help. Fails. Until two native Spanish-speaking legends walk in and save your grade.

IT STARTS WITH A PHONE CALL.

You’re sitting at the kitchen table in your hotel room in Mexico City, surrounded by textbooks and Duolingo notes, about three seconds away from crying over a Spanish worksheet you do not understand.

Your big brother, Yuki Tsunoda, walks in holding a can of Red Bull and freezes like you just set the room on fire.

“Why do you look like that?” he asks.

You hold up the worksheet. “Conjugations.”

He squints. “That’s… like, grammar?”

“In Spanish.”

“Oh.” He sits across from you. “I don’t speak Spanish.”

“I know.”

“You want me to help anyway?”

You look him dead in the eye. “Absolutely not.”

BUT YUKI IS A MAN OF SOLUTIONS.

So naturally, he FaceTimes half the grid.

In less than ten minutes, your hotel room becomes virtual study hall chaos.

Lando: “Try Google Translate—” George: “You know I got a B+ in GCSE Spanish, right?” Logan: “Wait, I think I have a friend who dated a girl from Barcelona once—” Daniel: “Is this the one with the upside-down question marks?”

You rest your head on the table.

“Is this what it feels like to be in hell?” you ask.

Yuki grins. “No, this is worse.”

CHARLES TRIES. HE REALLY DOES.

He joins the FaceTime halfway through and insists that Monégasque people “have a natural talent for romance languages.”

He then proceeds to mistranslate three sentences and accidentally implies the cat is eating your grandmother.

“Why is the cat eating my grandmother?” you ask.

He blinks. “I thought ‘abuela’ meant—wait. Wait.”

Daniel wheezes off-screen.

Yuki just shrugs. “At least he’s trying.”

FINALLY, A DOOR OPENS.

You're mid-rant about irregular verbs when the suite door creaks and two figures step inside.

Carlos Sainz: calm, composed, in Ferrari red.

Fernando Alonso: sipping an espresso like he didn’t just walk into a language crisis.

They pause.

Look around.

Carlos raises an eyebrow. “What is happening here?”

Yuki points at you. “She’s dying.”

Fernando squints at the worksheet. “Ah,” he says. “Spanish.”

Carlos walks over. “We speak Spanish.”

You blink. “You do.”

Fernando nods solemnly. “Quite fluently.”

AND JUST LIKE THAT, THE ROOM IS SAVED.

Carlos sits beside you, takes your pen, and calmly starts breaking down verb tenses.

Fernando paces behind him like a professor in a university lecture hall, adding commentary in between sips of espresso.

“No, no—comer is regular. But ir? That’s where they trap you.” “Write this down. The preterite is your enemy. You must tame it.” “Vosotros is used in Spain. Your teacher might not care, but I do.”

You’re scribbling furiously, trying to keep up, while the rest of the grid is still on FaceTime like:

Oscar: “...is this tutoring?” Max: “This is a masterclass.” Lando: “Why is this lowkey kinda hot.” George: “Respectfully—shut up.”

YOU FINALLY BREATHE.

After an hour, the worksheet is done. You understand the difference between ser and estar. You’ve even picked up a few new vocabulary tricks from Fernando’s dramatic reenactments.

Carlos taps your paper and smiles.

“See? Not so scary.”

You nod. “Thank you. Like—seriously. I was gonna fail this.”

Fernando chuckles. “Yuki is lucky we showed up.”

Yuki snorts. “Y/N’s lucky. I was gonna call her teacher and say she broke her wrist.”

LATER THAT NIGHT…

You're scrolling through TikTok when you get a text from Carlos:

🐎: If you need more help, send the next worksheet. 🐎: No Lando. No Charles. Just professionals.

A second later, Fernando messages you too:

🦦: Next time tell your teacher your tutors are two-time world champions.

You laugh so hard you snort.

Yuki throws a pillow at your face from across the room.

BONUS: F1 GRID GROUP CHAT.

📚SPANISH INQUISITION📚 You: worksheet is done 🫡 Carlos: ✅ Fernando: And she lived to tell the tale Charles: did we decide if the cat ate the grandma You: it didn’t 💀 Lando: can we still call her “abuela snack”? Yuki: you’re all banned. Max: i’m making flashcards for next time Daniel: who do i talk to about enrolling in Team Spain Spanish School™ Carlos: office hours by appointment only Fernando: tuition is one espresso and your dignity

[fanged-fanfics]

Imagin baby dough y/n cookie pointing at a shadow and babling "shadow cookie, shadow cookie!"

☆ Images of Futures Passed — Pure Vanilla & Doughbaby Reader ☆

Genre: Gen, Mild Angst || they/them pronouns for reader || No warnings needed

A/N: Ik it wasn't inherently a PV req I just added him cause it's an easy way to bring in the plot I hope that's okay-

──────.𖥔 ݁ ˖˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ──────

Pure Vanilla was carrying you about the kingdom, letting you balance in his arms while he communicated with the subjects. You were looking around aimlessly, spotting all the curious critters that were about. Butterflies, sheep, blue birds, everything of the like.

As he was talking to one of the preachers, he felt you wiggle in his hold. He chuckled good naturedly, patting your head "Careful, little sunflower, you'll slip" he warned lightly. You kept reaching your hand out in the direction of a shadow "Cookie!". "Hm? Do you see someone?" Pure Vanilla asks, trying to turn his staff in that direction to see as well.

There was nothing but shadow, coming from one of the many statues his kingdom held. Even still, you were reaching to it insistently "Shadow Cookie! Eee, Shadow Cookie!". Pure Vanilla felt a small chill snake through his form. You were much too young to know of the Beasts, he'd kept the knowledge from you completely. And yet, just almost hearing the name of his adversary made a sickening worry fill him. His breathing became shallow, and he felt the eyes of the preacher on him. He shook his head a little, nervously chuckling.

"Ahah, yes, the shadow from a Cookie statue! How wise! You're getting very observant" he praised in a soft tone that nearly shook. You looked up at him with some confusion, and he pecked your forehead to soothe your frown. "How about we finish this up, and then we can go play in the gardens?" He asked, smiling gently at the way your face lit up "Ooo, okay!!". He sighed gratefully, going back to talk to his subject. He tried his best to put the thought out of mind. He didn't want you to worry, not when he was here to protect you.

[biting-miguel-ohara]

Runaway - Logan Howlett x platonic!Reader

A/N: This is a fox mutant!Reader story based on this request. I tried to get it as close to the request as I could, but idk if I succeeded. I think it’s good either way

Written for a gn!Reader

Reader is an unspecified age, but is a student and is called kid in the fic

CW: fox mutant!Reader; platonic!Reader; young!Reader; mentions of past bullying; Reader runs outside a lot; very mild Professor X hate; Reader has animal instincts; Reader has heightened senses; sorta written for original movie trilogy Logan; Reader is called kid; Reader is a little wild; Reader has animal characteristics; Reader adopts Logan into their pack; what is a praise kink without the kink part? A natural desire for praise, I guess???; I don’t know how to tag this; fluff

637 words

You hated the school.

It was too… clean. Too neat and tidy. Everything smelled… sterile. Like cleaning agents and sanitizer.

The kids were interesting, you supposed. You’d always considered your mutation a curse, given all the bullying it had caused at your old school. But now? Everyone was a weirdo here.

The teachers were even weirder. But they were accepting, so that was a bonus. You still hated the school though.

Most of the time, instead of going to class, you’d skip out and hide in the woods. Obeying your animal instincts begging you to run and jump and play and be feral. You’d always be found eventually, but it was fun while it lasted.

Today, you’re deeper in than you’ve ever been before. You’re stalking through the forest, reveling in the scent of the trees and the leaves and the grass. Basking in the wind and the sun and the fresh air.

You can feel the tug at your mind. The telltale voice murmuring it’s time to return. You hate the Professor for it. The way he so easily invades your mind. It’s why he never comes himself.

You, of course, ignore the call. Instead, you head deeper into the woods, following the sound of a nearby stream. It’ll be a couple hours at least before any of the usual teachers find you. More than enough time for a play break.

But it’s barely any time before a new scent filters through from upwind. Musky and thick, like cigars and engine grease. You tense, tail swishing uneasily.

It doesn’t smell like a hunter, but it also doesn’t smell like any of the teachers you know. You crouch, instinct making you press back and hide behind a tree. You go still, watching. Waiting.

The sound of footsteps approaches. They sound lighter than you’d expected. Soon the person comes into view.

It’s a man. Bulky and rugged, wearing a leather jacket and jeans. Smoking a cigar in the middle of the woods.

Maybe it’s his stance. Or the undertones of his scent, woodsy and soapy. Or maybe it’s the way he scans the area, clearly looking for you. As if he knows what he’s doing.

But he’s certainly different than the other teachers and something within you knows it. There’s a familiar sense to him. A predator instinct, just like yours. You decide you like him.

“Come on, kid. Professor wants you back.“

Yeah, you definitely like him. He sounds almost bored, but you can catch the note of sympathy in his tone. Somehow you know he knows you want to be out here. Maybe he does too.

With a sigh, you step out from behind your tree. Trudging up to him with your tail drooped and ears flattened. “Yeah, yeah. I know.”

He studies you for a moment before nodding. “You’re good at running. That’s good. You’ll need to be.”

You blink. Tilt your head a little. You’ve only ever been told that your tendency to run is a problem. His words send a flood of pride through you.

Your ears unflatten and your tail sways a bit. You grin and show off your sharp teeth. A little more aggressive than needed, but you think he understands. You’re not some helpless human. Even young, you’re smart and full of fire.

For a moment, he seems to eye you with a bit of respect. Then he turns away. “Come on. It’s almost dinner time.”

He sets off at a quick pace and you follow easily. Yeah, you really like him. Anyone else would go slow or tell you to keep up. He’s different.

And you’re definitely adopting him into your pack. He’s given you a bite of praise and you want more. Whether he likes it or not, you’re his problem now.

No matter what anyone else says.

Logan Howlett Taglist: @yhlqmdlg @alekkkkssss

[ziipzeepzop-eez]

if you still do them, is it okay you do like one shots with ROTTMNT boys and a little sibling reader?

but here’s the thing, the reader is a little pink gecko with yellow spots, they’re around 10 or 9 years old and can run just as fast as sonic the hedgehog and basically have the energy of a golden retriever, they’re like a tiny dragon and it’s adorable yet SO. FREAKING. EXHAUSTING!!

❝ pink bubbles and banana laffy taffy!! ❞

₊˚꒰🥞꒱‧ — 𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐞 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐱 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐬𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠!𝐠𝐞𝐜𝐤𝐨!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

｡˚ 𓂋 🍋﹒✦﹒✿ ˚

❝l ɑׁׅ֮/ꪀׁׅ : okay i had to squeeze this one out because OHMIGOSH it is SO. CUTE!!!! i literally got soso excited when i read this because how did you know i'm legitimately obsessed with geckos?! 😭 i literally downloaded picsart to make that collage and wrote this in the span of a day or two because i got so excited aausghshdh !! fluffybun24, fluffy, darlin'. grips your shoulders and brushes your cheek tenderly. thank you. also, i'm just now realizing you asked for one shots after the fact ajsjjhd I AM SO SORRY I DIDN'T REALIZE UNTIL AFTER RE-READING IT after writing this whole thing out XD DX but foremost, i must tell you that i mostly do my fandom writing in headcanon/reaction formats !! :(( one shot(s) aren't really my forte . . . albeit, i do hope this is just as good !! o7

(honorable mention: @agentturtlecupcake *HARSHLY NUDGES YOU* HEY. HEY LOOK. LOOKLOOKLOOOKLOKKOKLOKOOOKKLLOOOOOOOK. IT'S the, k-KID-🩷💛)

˙🍋 ̟ !! ─ oh my goodness me, you are the simultaneous love and light, the bane and exhaustion, of everyone's respective lives.

don't get me wrong, your family absolutely adores you!!

especially since you're :(( the baby :(( aww :(((

it just, kinda freaks everyone thafuq OUT when you zip and zoom and flash everywhere

just. a maniacal streak of pink and yellow.

they don't know peace because of you. (affectionate!)

like they will be mindin' their whole business in its entirety and here you come

"*walks into the main living room* heeeeeyy, anybody seen my jupiter jim issue— [*nyooom!*] SWEET MOTHER OF G O D–"

it's not like you ever have ill intentions, tho 🥹 so it's okay.

"they're cute so it's okay!" — all of your siblings at one point, probably

while they do accept your golden retriever tendencies, it be givin' them gray hairs fr 💀✋

especially because you're so f a s t

you're there one moment then next thing they know you're halfway across the entire lair, tittering and chirping happily away.

˙🍋 ̟ !! ─ so, over the course of your life, they've all developed their own designated role when keeping up with you:

raph . . .

being the oldest definitely feels the most responsible for you and acts on it! he himself has developed a sixth sense for when you zoom by and can catch you with (relative) ease every time, and has definitely saved your butt from like. accidentally crashing into a wall or smth sjsjsj

but big bubba can't prevent everything :\ so you have gotten some owies !!

but you can always count on him to be there to help you feel better.

he's your biggest bro 🥹 he always makes you feel better.

but i imagine u're also a maniacal little shit (*cough* thanks leo *COUGH*)

so sometimes you just, str8 up run away from him like ACTIVELY escape his grasp

it deffo takes some effort 😮‍💨 (petition : #saveraphfromhissiblings /lh)

"[NAME]?! Get back here, you little speed monster!!"

*cue toiny baby gecko squealing and The Daily Chase commencement*

oh yeah. it's a daily occurrence.

you stress him out 🤣😭 but it's okay. :))

(after catching you in his hands, holding you up to eye level): "Alright, you little goober. That's enough outta ya today." "But Raaaaph!!"

and then you can't really do anything because raph knows your sweet spot, your little switch, that melts you like putty - a little patch riiiight in the center of your upper back, a well-pressurized scritch is all it takes really, and oh. there we go. down for a nap !

however you simply must have your grand rebellion moments and give him arm gummy bites the entire time but he's the just personification of "😇😌"

ain't no doubting he loves you tho. adores you, really; your bright bubbliness is what makes him smile most days, and even tho your energy is a bit much for him to keep up with, and he'd really like it if you stopped fighting him for afternoon naps sometimes, i don't think he'd change it for the world.

leo . . .

is one who's fairly on par with your hyperactivity, so he's the one we all turn to when your excitement is bubbling over into something a liiiiittle too much :'))

playing tag when you're zooming to and fro is one of you guys' favorites.

but sometimes he doesn't play fair and uses his odachi to teleport >:((

and if you get genuinely upset, he just scoops you up and blows raspberries on your soft lil tummy.

he's the only one who can wear you out so he's an essential part of everyone's lives asksksjd

but bc of this

HE PROBABLY USES YOU AS COLLATERAL TO GET THINGS HE WANTS I'M NOT EVEN PLAYIN

"LEO!!! Ugghhghhh, can you please handle them?!"

"Mmmhmmmmmmm....."

"L E O ಠಗಠ! For the last time, you are NOT choosing for movie night tonight and the kind of pizza!! You've had it all week!!!"

"Ohh, suddenly I have no capability for one very specific baby cotton candy-banana pudding gecko..... Shame. Woeful, horrible, terrible, shame—"

"LEO!!!"

he's a jerk, but he's highkey your idol and he would give the entire world for you in a heartbeat, so :))

donnie . . .

acts like your hyperactivity is an inconvenience...... but in reality, he doesn't mind it.

(only when it compromises his tech. you've only had one to two incidents involving his lab before permanent damage control was done and it's been this way ever since. 😭✋)

sure, sometimes your wild nature can make him cringe on bad days, but what's a sibling if they don't get tired of your antics once every while?

it's healthy development !!

plus. he himself has his moments where his lowkey descent into madness shows its peak, so he can't really talk.

you've all got your quirks, y'know? (/ref)

in truth he accepts it as a part of you, and he loves all of you - i mean c'mon, you're his baby sibling.

and even tho he doesn't openly admit it nearly as much as the rest of your family - he really does think you're adorable.

and in more truth: donnie takes care of you a lot. like- as soon as you started showing signs of your speediness and just-consumed-five-bags-of-candy excitement levels, he completely baby proofed the lair 😭

and you can't tell me he didn't know you'd possess those superhuman levels of speed bro you CAN'T

that man is a scientist and he leaves no stone unturned, especially when it comes to his family.

he has you microchipped too sjjsjdh

[ i just thought of this just now, actually: he and leo are a team when it comes down to your genetics/biological health. donnie researches with his stem-augmented brain and studies your dna down to the very microfiber; leo adapts with his medical affinities to make sure you're the healthiest little gecko mutant kiddo you can be. <3 ]

WE MAY HAVE MADE FUN OF HIM AT THE MOMENT, because how much harm can one baby gecko do Donnie you silly fool honhonhonhon BUT HE'S THE ONLY 👏 ONE 👏 WHO CAME IN CLUTCH.

very much "who's laughing now?"

certainly donnie. my bet's on donnie.

"THEY ALL LAUGHED. THEY CALLED ME A SILLY FOOL. BUT FEAST YOUR EYES, BRETHREN. EATETH THY WORDS!!" "..... Raphie! Bonbon's doin' that crazy scientist shtick again!!" "[NAME]. >:("

on another note, i feel donnie would extend that branch of 'baby-proofing' and relate it to the gift he created for you. [ ref: s1/ep2 — "donnie's gifts" ]

maybe it was something like . . . a malleable sludge, some sort of putty, that melded perfectly over your legs whenever you were starting to get too speedy.

you were initially excited over the cute little metal band anklets gifted to you by your older brother, buuut once it activated .... :((

it made you big sads. :((

being a little speedykins was your most defining trait !! why would donbon try to take that away from you?? :(( donnie :((( donbon why :(((

.... what you don't know, (and me either tbh, we never got that 'explanation' from the inventor himself), is that donnie made it with your specs in mind.

geckos are able to climb vertical surfaces (with some exceptions of course, but for the most part !!) — when activated, those little "putty bands" would've aided in that.

because donnie knows how much you love to run around, especially climbing up the walls, but you can't stick up there forever.

was it made to simultaneously slow your ass down? yes. 🤣😭

(he's only one man what do you want from the poor guy ☠✋ your drive by's were enough to send him into cardiac arrest every time)

...... was it made to adhere to nearly any and every surface texture known to man & mutant kind? for an unprecedented amount of time? with the intentions of you having so much fun with it? also yes.

was it made with intricate care and with, overall, your best interests at heart?

yes.

but after the whole ordeal, he really did mean it when he says you're great just the way you are. :))

in your calmer moments, he likes to have you wrap around his shoulders like a fashion designer scarf and taps at your cute little tail, half as a stim, half as a gesture of affection, while he's in the lab focusing on his latest project

or even just. vibing. y'all are primetime vibey.

he finds your weight comforting. like a tiny weighted pillow.

and he'll never admit that he feels his heart nearly burst with love and pure fondness when you yourself happily curl up into your brother and fall asleep there, cooing softly into his ear.

he built a little comfort bed/pillow extension for you in his battle shell for such occasions <3

but he prefers the sibling cuddles without his shell on.

he trusts you, after all.

(i will never financially recover from this aksjddh SOBBING)

mikey . . .

is exceptionally good at matching all of your moods: your bubbly hyperactivity and bringing you to a calmer, serene state !!

how does he do it. 🧍

he catches you in his arms and strokes/scratches your back to calm you down, and it works like a charm every time !

he never has to use dr. delicate touch on you. despite being the closest in age, surprisingly, you listen to mikey very well !

call it survivor's intuition 🫠 orrrr just the fact that you and mikey are very close and in-tune with one another,

whenever he calls it quits for you - no matter how much you might whine and pout - you genuinely do tone it down.

i know i said this for leo too but i feel like mikey just has that magic touch. yenno?

no pun intended. ha.

but en ee wayz !! yusssss, mikey and [name] are the cutest little goobers.

y'all deffo get roped together being the "babies" of the family,

and despite mikey wanting to outfit that mold — mostly by means of appeasing to raph's overprotective tendencies — he babies you a bit too !!

you like to poke fun. you're observant, clever little thing. you call mikey out on it, going so far as to call him a hypocrite,

and whether you guys have a serious discussion or not is completely up to you !

but for the time being he just pets your head and affectionately tells you to hush, and keeps right on babying you.

he likes being your older brother !! so sue him !!

dynamics change the older you guys get =] so who knows what the future has in store?

you're one of his favorite muses. your color palette never fails to strike inspiration within him 🎨✨

when he catches your pink n' yellow blur in passing, he can come up with an entire idea for murals to tag around, don't play w him

he likes to do body paint on you too !! :))

(completely safe + free of harmful chemicals wbk)

probably makes flowers out of your polka dots (he definitely calls them that) or connects them to make a bigger picture.

he made an entire field of flowers and koi fish pond encompassing your back one time and you absolutely loved it.

you'll always be his little muse 💔

"[Nameeee]!!~ C'mere, polka dot! You wanna see if I can make a constellation this time?" "YAY!!!!" "Wait- waitwaitWAITWAIT SLOW DOWN—" [ *cue wii bowling ball strike sound sequence* ]

˙🍋 ̟ !! ─ ahaaa. overall, you're their cute little ball of sunshine. their little sugar carnival. their little pink bubblegum and banana laffy taffy gecko baby! and — while you being.... you, can get just shy of unbearable sometimes, they wouldn't trade you for this world and all the others.

after all, what's a family if you don't accept every part of them? no matter how exhausting it is. <3 you're a handful, but that's why you've got six pairs. and as the years go on, it only grows.

@chachachannah + @sweetparty for the dividers 🩷 @cureqt for the cute emoji combo 💛 & pinterest for the pictures! [the collage is by me!!] 🥰

⟆ ˙🍋 ̟ !! ─ further author notes . . .

™ : as always, susceptible to future editing for grammatical/formatting corrections !!

i absolutely loveddd writing this!! and for the intricacy, this is the quickest i've ever pulled a request-bun fresh from the oven!! :o kudos to you, fluffy! <3 i do hope you like this as much as i did aaaa!! now i've got polka dot gecko sibling brainrot. 🥴 it's true: you never know it's a good idea until it's presented to you !!

a couple of fun facts: "sugar carnival" is a term coined by me, in reference to one of my free verse poems a while back! i, also, consider myself a sugar carnival being at most times ˶ᵔᗜ ᵔ˶ & i came up with the title on the spot after hearing + envisioning "pink gecko with yellow spots". ideal color combo, criminally underrated. fluffy your brain deserves a pedestal and i will personally create it for you with my bare hands.✋🩷💛

╰┈➤ tues. jan 23, 9:18 pm, '24.

[bird-in-the-space]

Humble Bar Musician Being Friends With Soundwave, Jazz, And Blaster

(Author's note: I felt inspired to write this. So, here you go. )

Warnings: some mentions of the incident with the higher-class bot, Soundwave, and his minicons being a bit protective, Jazz being a social butterfly, and nothing else much.

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

Soundwave 

- I feel like you and Soundwave became friends after you started working at the bar. He was one of the regulars, and you two hit it off when you revealed yourself as a musician.

- Music was generally rare in the lower-class districts, so I think you and Soundwave, both being music enthusiasts, would have made great friends.

- His taste in music was that of a DJ, but he found enjoyment in your music, especially when it was something unusual yet calming. He also admired how you practiced a wide range of musical genres.

- He would help you find parts when you were trying to make new instruments from Earth, knowing exactly what you needed and tracking them down, especially when they were difficult for you to acquire. You appreciated this immensely, and he became your go-to guy for the right materials.

- As a fellow music enthusiast, he would let you listen to some Cybertronian music from his personal collection—pieces usually guarded from the lower-class bots by the higher class. This gave you new inspiration and allowed you to remake those songs with your instruments, giving the lower-class bots access to their own lost music.

- You got along wonderfully with his minicons. Sometimes, you let Frenzy and Rumble test out your ongoing instruments, like maracas and other easy-to-handle ones, teaching them how to play with rhythm.

- Ravage, however, did not enjoy the newfound energy the two possessed for making offbeat noise. It was one of the few things he despised you for—but he still enjoyed your music nonetheless.

- Due to your humble and non-confrontational nature, Soundwave and his minicons were a bit protective of you. The lower-class districts were occasionally dangerous, and some higher-class bots took advantage of the less fortunate—like the one who offered you a job opportunity but then sent bots to attack you when you turned them down.

- After the incident, you would often find Laserbeak or Buzzsaw keeping an eye on you from a distance. You were even sometimes accompanied by Ravage, who was quick and observant. Soundwave himself, having a fearsome reputation as a skilled combatant, also offered you some unspoken protection, as many were afraid of him.

- You didn’t mind their protectiveness; living on Cybertron as a lower-class bot was tough, and anything could happen.

- Though he had a tough exterior, Soundwave was one of your most trustworthy friends.

Jazz

-Jazz was one of the curious visitors when you first started playing at the bar. After hearing your music, he struck up a conversation and soon became one of your friends.

-His taste in music leaned toward pop, so he especially enjoyed your more upbeat, party-like songs.

-As a friend, he never failed to make you laugh and was sometimes even flirtatious with you. He considered you a rare gem in the lower class for playing great music for free.

-His enthusiasm and optimism motivated you to try recreating jazz music. When you indirectly told him the name of the genre, Jazz became smug about it—clearly enjoying the connection.

-He might have even developed a taste for classy jazz music.

-He indirectly helped the bar’s business grow by bringing many of his friends over for drinks and to see you play. Through this, you met many of his friends and befriended some of them as well.

-Your boss was very pleased with this and encouraged you to make more connections.

-Despite his outgoing and sometimes flirty nature, Jazz was always respectful of your boundaries and backed off if you felt uncomfortable. He also didn’t tolerate disrespect toward you and would stand up for you in difficult situations. He became someone you could rely on when you needed support.

-Whenever you felt uninspired or unmotivated, Jazz would invite you to explore Cybertron and experience events that lower-class bots didn’t often get to see. Thanks to him, you felt less anxious about visiting these places, and through these outings, you gained fresh inspiration to continue making music.

-Jazz was the extrovert in your friendship, but you didn’t mind—it was sometimes nice to have someone bring you out to see the world.

Blaster

(I'm not very familiar with Blaster, so I wrote based on what I read on his wiki page.)

-You most likely met through Jazz, as he had a habit of bringing many of his friends to the bar to either grab a drink or listen to you play.

-Blaster didn’t believe Jazz at first when he claimed there was someone playing music for free in the lower-class district. Music was rare, but when Blaster came to the bar and heard your songs, he quickly became a fan.

-Your music was vastly different from Cybertronian music, and he was even more impressed to learn that you had an extensive repertoire of different genres. He became particularly drawn to music with strong beats.

-You didn’t mind his enthusiasm, especially since he showed genuine interest in hearing your other songs. While he enjoyed them all, he seemed to gravitate most toward your rock ‘n’ roll-style pieces.

-He soon became a regular, never wanting to miss out on your performances. His enthusiasm inspired you to experiment with recreating Earth’s rock ‘n’ roll music.

-Before you knew it, he had become your personal hype man—always cheering you on whenever you lacked energy or motivation.

-Jazz found Blaster’s excitement amusing and felt smug about introducing him to you, much to Blaster’s embarrassment.

-Although Blaster thrived on high-energy beats, he also enjoyed your calming songs, as they helped soothe his nerves whenever he got worked up.

-He probably saw you as some kind of music master—someone uniquely skilled in creating and performing such a wide variety of music.

Tags: @martinys-world

[httpvomitello]

Daddy's Little Shadow .｡*･ﾟﾟ

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Summary: Dealing with the cramps wasn't easy, so you, being Tony Stark's daughter, decided that you would stick to him all day to see if the pain would go away.

tony stark & daughter!reader

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Tony Stark was used to being followed—by reporters, by SI employees, even by rogue government agents on occasion. But none of those compared to the relentless presence of his teenage daughter when she was determined to stick to him like glue.

He first noticed something was off when he left his workshop to grab coffee and nearly tripped over you.

"Whoa—!" He caught himself on the doorframe, looking down at where she sat cross-legged right outside the lab. "Kid, what are you doing?"

You blinked up at him, her face pale but determined. "Waiting for you."

Tony frowned. "Why?"

You shrugged, then winced slightly, pressing a hand to your stomach. "Just felt like it."

Huh.

He stepped around you, heading for the kitchen. "Alright, well, don’t let me stop you."

He hadn’t taken three steps before he heard you scramble up and fall into step behind him.

Tony poured himself a cup of coffee, sipping it as he leaned against the counter. His daughter hovered nearby, arms wrapped around her middle, shifting from foot to foot.

"You good?" he asked.

"Yep."

"You sure?"

"Mhm."

Tony squinted at you. "You’re acting weird."

You didn’t answer, just sidled closer until your shoulder bumped his arm.

Tony raised an eyebrow. "Okay, what’s going on?"

You shrugged again, then—without warning—leaned into him, resting your forehead against his shoulder.

Tony frowned.

You never did this. Not unless you're sick or upset.

"Hey," he said, softer now, setting his coffee down. "Talk to me."

You mumbled something into his shirt.

"What?"

You lifted your head just enough to grumble, "Cramps."

Oh.

Tony exhaled, some of the tension leaving his shoulders. "Ah. So that’s why you’re velcroed to me."

You nodded miserably.

Tony smirked. "You know, your mom gets like this too."

You groaned. "I don’t wanna talk about it."

"Fair." He patted your back. "Want meds? Heat pad? Chocolate?"

You shook your head, then burrowed closer. "Just… stay still."

Tony chuckled but obliged, letting you cling.

But Tony quickly realized that his daughter had no intention of letting him out of her sight.

When he moved to the living room, you followed, flopping onto the couch beside him.

When he went to check his emails, you dragged a chair over and sat right next to him, resting your head on his shoulder.

When he dared to get up to grab a snack, you was on your feet before he was, trailing after him like a tiny, grumpy shadow.

At one point, he turned and nearly ran into you.

"Okay, kid," he said, hands on your shoulders. "You’re killing me here."

You pouted. "I just wanna be near you."

Tony softened. "Yeah, yeah, I know." He sighed dramatically. "Fine. But if you’re gonna stalk me, at least talk to me."

You considered this, then nodded. "Okay."

Natasha was the first to spot them.

Tony was in the common area, attempting to make toast (and failing, because why was the toaster so complicated?), with his daughter literally hugging his arm like a koala.

Nat smirked. "Someone’s clingy."

Tony shot her a look. "She’s suffering"

His daughter groaned. "Dad, stop."

Clint, passing by, grinned. "Aw, Daddy’s little girl."

Tony flipped him off.

Steve, just smiled. "Need anything?"

Tony opened his mouth, but his daughter beat him to it.

"No," you muttered. "Just my dad."

Tony’s chest warmed.

Later, when you're curled up on the couch under a blanket, half-asleep against his side, Tony brushed your hair back.

"You know," he murmured, "you don’t have to follow me around to get hugs."

You peeked up at him. "I don’t?"

"Nope." He kissed your forehead. "Anytime, kid. Just ask."

You smiled sleepily. "Okay."

And just like that, Tony decided—

He didn’t mind being followed after all.

[rawme-price]

Ghost teasing deceptively small reader abt how weak they probably are.

"Go on, hit me as hard as you can." He taunts, arms open wide. You only come up to his chest, how hard could you really punch? He underestimates the anger contained in short people.

Anyways you gut punch ghost so hard he folds over, grips his stomach, and let's out the most painful wheeze soap has ever heard. Gaz pats ghosts folded form sympathetically, having been taken out on the mats by you a month ago and never mentally recovering.

"Its okay mate, ive got the whole thing on video." He reassures.

[cherry-pop-elf]

Shark-Dad

Namor x Reader

Can be read as platonic because ya know. Namor is a flirt lmao

AN: Was inspired by @chosentragedy s drawing of Namor helping Jeff dress up and just be an over all proud dad. So now time for some fluffy DILF action

SUM: While people were off to save the world, there was an incident that had left Jeff rather hurt. As one of the few ‘civilians’ that could be trusted you were in charge of taking care of him. Who would know Jeff The Shark was with you? His daddy, of course

Warnings: Canon typical violence, Namor being a number 1 dad, Flirts out the asssssss

“Poor baby. Hurt your fin real bad didn’t you?” You would sooth the poor little land Shark. Poor baby had gotten pretty hurt out there. From what Doreen told you he had jumped into the air to block an ultra pulse. How the hell was he alive?

Don’t worry about it.

You made sure he was as cozy as cozy could be in your living room. Found every pillow you could find, grabbed your softest blankets, and even let him pick out a stuffy to snuggle with. He’s going to have a long recovery ahead, but he’s a brave and strong boy. He’s got this.

He just needed a little hide out to recover in. They figured a civilian would work best. Hard for anyone to find out a little creature like him would be huddled in some humans home. Who would ever be able to find him? Besides maybe like Kraven.

A knock at the door said there was a person who could.

You looked over from the couch, having played a Disney movie for Jeff to enjoy, and tried to think back on if anyone was suppose to come over today. If it was someone like Doreen or Luna they would have texted you so you knew.

You would quickly turn down the TV, and listened again. Maybe you misheard? No, it seems you didn’t. There was another knock. This wine was a teeny bit more aggressive now.

Great. Who would want to see you now? Probably no one good. So, here you are. You were reaching under the couch for the gun that Miss Black Widow gave you. Wasn’t a gun with bullets, this thing shoots plasma bursts. A good way to knock someone out.

Step by step you reached towards your door, with the gun whirling to life. With it on full charge you would yank the door open. The barrel instantly pushed against the persons chest.

“Excuse me-?!” The man blinked, with his hands up at more so surprise than anything else. Who would expect a gun like Black Widow’s pointing at your face in the late evening? Not Namor.

NAMOR?!

“Oh! Sorry your royal Highness! Uh-!” You quickly flipped the safety on the gun, and lowered the weapon down to cool off. Whoops. That’s one way to make an impression.

“What are you doing here? Is something wrong?” You asked, while he more so just stepped right into your home. You didn’t really take offense to it. He’s from a exteremly different culture, and not to mention he’s well…Namor. You have plenty of friends who have socializing issues. A little patience goes a long way.

Before you could ask the question again, you soon saw him kneeling down to Jeff. In turn Jeff made little noises or excitement at the sight of him. He couldn’t move much from the pain, but Namor did it all for him. Laid himself right there on the floor. Didn’t care if he got his tank top and shirts dirty. No sir. Jeff came first. Curled up with him then and there.

He was saying something to the land Shark, but you couldn’t understand it. It sounded like Spanish but it wasn’t? Maybe old Spanish? Pre colonized? Better not to touch a sensitive subject like that. You just knew that Jeff was finally smiling. That’s all that mattered.

You would close the door, locked it, and put the gun away, before going to sit cross legged next to the cuddling pair. To see Namor give such gentle touches to him. Perfectly mindful of the bruises and cuts. Just doing whatever he could to comfort him. Anything to have Jeff happy.

“Looks like someone missed you, your majesty.” You whispered. A means to not interrupt the moment for them. Jeff needed so much TLC right now. Seemed Namor being involved was needed. Little baby was able to smile. He hurt, but he could hurt a little less now.

“Yes. Yes he has. And I to him. He is my little world. He is my little Paal.” He smiled a grin that made you think of Jeff. His teeth weren’t quite as sharp, but you could still see the happiness that reached his eyes. He had been so worried for Jeff. You could tell. You wouldn’t be surprised if he had been hunting him down. You knew people can get attached to Jeff, but something told you this was more than just a cute shark being hurt.

“What does that mean? Paal?” You asked, as you would adjust the blanket that was on Jeff. Help him stay warm since he was a shark that needed warmth. You swore you saw the man’s hand twitch. As if he was gonna attempt to swat you away. Territorial.

“Hm? Ah. It means child. He is my little ‘child’ if you will. My little boy.” He explained, as Jeff gave a weak wag of his tail at such a compliment. There was a tight bond between them. One that could Rival the tether between him and Gwenpool. Now THATS saying something.

“That’s so sweet. A perfect nickname for him.” You agreed, before finally getting up. Welp, you now had a second guest to deal with. No big deal. Jeff was the main priority right now. Jeff clearly was safe and comfortable with Namor. Trusted him enough to curl up into him. That kind of mental relief does more for the body than people can credit it for. Jeff deserved to feel safe.

Everyone does.

You would fill up Jeff’s water bowl, so that he can remain hydrated, and also grabbed one of your larger water bottles for Namor as well. Should you offer food? What would he even eat? Fish as well? Would it be insulting to offer him sardines? Were you over thinking this?

Maybe just communicating with him will solve it.

You returned back over to the smuggling pair, seeing that now Namor was sitting up and leaning against the couch. Jeff was curled up in his lap, having abandoned all the pillows for such a safe haven. Namor really brought Jeff comfort. He was better than a pillow fort even! That’s love right there.

You would set the bowl near Jeff’s head, and then offered your bottle to Namor.

“Oh, thank you my dear.” He would take it from you. You then curled up on the couch and rested your head on its arm. Your arms were under your chin as you looked at the aquatic boys. The intense scent of salt water, sea weed, and something else was deep in your lungs. The third scent was hard to pin point. Maybe it’s just something you’ve never smelled before? He is from the bottom of the ocean. Fascinating.

“Jeff really likes you…..You two just hit it off?” You asked, as you would go to mute the TV for him. To your surprise Namor had the remote, and if anything had turned it up.

You’ll keep his dirty secret of loving The Little Mermaid.

“I suppose so. I’ll never forget the day. Lady Squirrel had come to ask me a question about if I could ‘speak to fish’ for she had a problem with this little land Shark here. Had himself quite a tummy ache he indeed did. Had to reach my arm in there and pulled out a slingshot. She wondered where that was. As the surface people say ‘the rest is history’ hm.”

That didn’t surprise you in the ever slightest. You found it rather sweet. He just shoved his hand in to save the day. No worry about the grossness and the sharp teeth. A shark was in trouble and he thought of their health first.

Why did everyone say he was an asshole again?

“So, is this just you and Paal?” He asked you, as he would keep gently rubbing the sharks head. Little thumb circles to sooth the headaches that were to come. His other hand would bring the water bottle to his lips. Taking in a much need drink.

“Yeah. Just me and the little guy. I’m one of Doreen’s friends. We’re pretty close but the friendship is kept under the radar. So who better to take care of him than a nobody?”

That got a scoff from the king.

“A nobody? Well then, you are a very beautiful nobody.” He would flash those shark teeth of his, and you promptly slapped a pillow into his face. Made him give a huff against the material.

One of Squirrel Girl’s besties is literally Loki. You can handle a sassy and flamboyant man.

“Focus on the child-“ You warned, as he happily did so. Gentle little pets and soft kisses to that big head of his. Got sleepy little mrr’s out of him. Oh you swore you would loose a tooth. Little Jeffy. Oh he saved so many lives and was still kicking. Truly the best boy.

“He is such a strong little shark.” You sighed, as Namor would give a small nod to what you said.

“It is a lonely life, for him. Not many like him after all. He and I relate to such. Land and sea, yet neither welcome us with ease.” He would admit, as he gave a small squeeze of comfort. For himself or for Jeff is for speculation.

“I bet….Well you got each other. That’s one extra person. Right?” You offered that positive view point for him. “-And this whole multiverse time line thing. Endless time lines of people like you guys. Different versions of you even….Wonder how many time lines have you and Jeff close? Endless if you think about it. Endless time lines where you and Jeff find each other. Right?”

That’s a heavy topic to swallow, but it seems he was able to digest it. Smiled even.

“That is a lovely thought, my dear. I like that thought….I hope there is time lines I’ve met you as well.” You rolled your eyes at such a comment. Flirts. Flirts will flirt.

“Pay attention to your child-“ You chuckled, as you would look back to Jeff. How safe he seemed curled up in his arms. Just fast asleep, and blowing little bubbles between his snores. The most relaxed he’s looked since he got to your place.

He needed that.

His little snores were soothing honestly. Like a whale song. You didn’t know when you fell asleep, but it happened. The three of you knocked out cold together. The trio taking a much needed nap all together.

Your hair nuzzled into green hair, his arms secure around Jeff, and that baby shark snoozing away. Little bubbles left to fly into the air, and pop like little stars.

A very well earned nap.

[marvelwitchergilmore]

Friendship In Escape

Summary: Steve Rogers x fe!Reader -> After escaping a party, you meet Steve Rogers. It's in a simple conversation, you and him find common ground and from that a friendship grows. Question is, will either of you ever find the courage to act of the underlying feelings?

Disclaimer: This is a LONG one. Spoilers ahead for most of the main Captain America/Avengers films from The Avengers. Also, there's probably a lot of plot holes in this fic so we're just gonna ignore them. Slow, slow burn. Angst-y moments. Found family, fluff, taking care of each other. Some swearing. Reader helps Steve adjust to the modern world. Lots of hugging. Probably spelling and grammar mistakes but we're gonna ignore them, too (it's late and I'm pretty sure my brain is fried). Hope you enjoy it <3 Not proof read.

The party had been humming to life for an hour or more before the honorable host finally showed his face. Dawned in a big name branded suit, Tony Stark stood at the top of the stairs, calling for people to start the party. 

There was meant to be music, laughter, too many drinks and a fight he’ll be able to tell a story about at the next party. And you were sure, by the end of the night, he’d get his wish. 

This party in particular had been the third you’d been dragged along to in the space of a month. It hadn’t changed since you were a child. 

Posh names belonging to posh people with deep pockets and, when the time called for it, had long arms, too. The amount of money that was gathered from parties like this were worth the events being held. 

But never once had you felt comfortable. 

It wasn’t the shoes or the dress. In fact, getting ready was the best part of the night. But being dragged to the same people, with the same stories, being told about the same single people in their family, their sons, nephews, cousins. Being told to stand and take a picture with a smile that will let everyone know how fun the parties are. 

But they weren’t. 

For others they were. But for you? You had more fun spending time alone in the libraries at University, studying, answering company emails and working, mostly, from behind the curtain. 

If you could have done that, you would have avoided the parties all together. Relationships with other businesses were already solidified and had been for almost fifty years. 

So, after the fourth hour of walking around the gala room, standing and being forced to listen to the same conversations that you’d heard your whole life, listening to people be more interested in what Tony Stark had placed around his hosting room, and being introduced to another twenty something with a multi-billion dollar company behind his family’s name, but no integrity, you found your escape. 

“Darling, where are you going?” Your mother asked as you handed her your drink. 

“Just to the bathroom.”

She gave you a smile. “Hurry back. Sandra told me she’s bringing her cousin. Special invite from Mr Stark himself.”

You forced your millionth smile of the night and nodded. “Will do.”

As you took the stairs up towards the upper floors and bathrooms, you looked down over the edge of the balcony. They were preoccupied, listening to somebody’s story. 

Rather than taking a right, you took a left, bumping into a waitress. 

“I’m so sorry. Are you alright?”

She nodded. “Can I help you with something?”

You looked around you. “Just promise you didn’t see me. I need a break.”

The waitress just smiled. “There’s some rooms that haven't been decorated yet. Just take a right at the end of the hall.”

You looked down the hall, looked back and smiled at her. The first genuine smile of the evening. 

“Thank you.”

She shrugged. “This is my fifth party helping the host. We all need a break every once in a while.”

You thanked her again before walking down the hall. The minute you turned the corner, the party seemed like it was miles away. Every once in a while, you heard a roar of laughter but it never got any louder than that. 

With a sigh of relief, you decided to explore the different rooms. Some had tarp over the entrances, the insides not being suitable to survive at least an hour in. From holes in the floors to fresh paint fumes and drying plaster. 

But then one at the very end of the hall had a door. So, taking your chance, you opened it. 

“Oh!”

Inside stood a man dressed in a woolen style suit, his tie loose around his neck. He looked as if he’d been pacing and deep in thought before you’d opened the door. 

“I-” You looked around you, fearful you were about to get into trouble. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know anyone- Sorry.”

“Trying to escape the party, too?”

You stopped trying to close the door and looked at him. You couldn’t put your finger on it; maybe it was the way he stood, maybe it was the tone in his voice or maybe it was the way he was looking at you, but you saw something trustworthy in him. 

An unlikely friend in a place where you had none. 

“What gave it away?”

He smiled, softly. “You’re welcome to stay, if you’d like.”

You stepped inside. “Thank you.”

“I- I’m Steve, by the way.” He held out his hand and you shook it. 

“Y/n.”

“It’s nice to meet you.”

For the second time that evening, you gave a genuine smile. “Likewise. So, what are you hiding from? A match-making mother, or a business minded father?”

“Neither.” Steve laughed a little. 

You walked further into the room before finding a spot with less sawdust on the ground. You’d been on your feet for a long time. You found the perfect spot against a wall between two windows. 

“Wow,” you brushed what sawdust you could with your feet before turning around and tucking the skirt of your dress down. “Sounds like there’s a story there.”

He chuckled. “Not a big one.”

You shrugged, stretching your legs out and crossing them at your ankles. You patted the ground beside you. “My parents want me to socialise. I’d say talking with you qualifies as that. I’ve got time.”

Steve smiled as he watched you, finally agreeing to sit beside you. 

And for the first time in almost a month, you weren’t bored. 

Talking and listening to Steve didn’t make you so bored out of your mind you would have rather ran a cross country race. Talking with Steve was the first time you felt comfortable at one of these fancy galas. 

You’d come to learn that he was, in fact, the man they’d dug out of the ice. That he was the soldier lost to time, being forced into a new century without any idea how to deal with it. 

“I know a little of what that’s like,” you admitted to him. “To feel lost. I’ve been attending different parties like this since I was a kid. And never once have I felt comfortable attending them. I can talk to everyone in the room and feel completely loney, but I can sit on my own in a quiet place like this and…feel comfortable and be myself.”

“I had that once.” Steve told you. “I’d say back home, but I’m still in the same country. To be honest, I don’t know what anything is outside of this room.”

Then an idea popped into your head. “I could help.”

“How?” 

You shrugged. “I could help you adjust. I’m no therapist but I know how most things work in the 21st century. Movies, media, books. You said they gave you a document packet?”

Steve nodded, reaching into his jacket and pulling out a folded over thick document. 

“With all the stores and street names, I don’t recognise anything anymore.”

Opening it up, Steve handed it to you. It had an address, some pictures, different appointments and different wifi codes. 

“I know where this is.”

“You do?” Steve seemed surprised. They’d given him the address three days ago with no instruction on how to find it. They just told him something about Google Maps. Whatever a Google was. 

You nodded. “It looks kinda old.”

Steve shrugged. “‘Guess it’s their way of giving me some familiarity.” 

You shook your head. “When do you move in?”

“End of the week.”

“I’ve got a meeting in the morning, but I can take the rest of the day – help you move in, if you’d like.”

Steve looked at you. “You’d really do that for me?”

You handed his document back and nodded. “I would. Just because you were given an image for them to control, doesn’t mean that they should take advantage of the person you are behind it all.”

“That’s really kind of you, ma’am.” 

You smiled. “Don’t mention it.”

For an hour more, you and Steve just talked. Filled with quiet laughter and genuine smiles, you and Steve found an unlikely friendship in each other that evening. 

A friendship that would only grow stronger and stronger over the years. 

At the end of that week, you met Steve outside the SI building before walking with him towards the underground and pointing out different landmarks for him to recognise. A university campus, a museum, a deli store that served the best sandwiches. You explained about the times for the trains that headed towards the different states. Finally, walking down the different streets, Steve started to recognise a few different places. New businesses stood in their places, but the bricks around them were the same. 

“Pretty sure I got beat up in that alley.”

You followed Steve’s eye-line before looking back at him. “Bet your mom was beside herself with the amount of times you came home with a black eye.”

Steve held a reminiscent smile on his face as he looked at his shoes. “Just a kid from Brooklyn who was too dumb enough to run away from the fight.”

You watched Steve for a moment; something in his tone told you those weren’t just his words. 

“Come on, we’re almost there.”

You took Steve’s hand, leading him down the street before you both arrived at the apartment block. A couple of younger kids were playing out in the street, kicking a football around until they scored it round the corner of the building, one of their mother’s yelling to play in the back. 

A guy with a coffee cart served passers by heading back from their lunch break, on the corner. 

Unlocking the front door, you and Steve walked up the first few flights of stairs before finally reaching his new home. 

As Steve opened up the door and walked inside, he was met with a living space that probably hadn’t had someone live there…maybe ever. The furniture seemed old, the kitchen table was rusting a little at the bottom of the legs and the curtains had seen better days. 

A few boxes had been stacked by the entrance way with different labels scribbled on them. 

You rifled through them. “Bed sheets, books, clothes.”

You took a note of the size label. “You know, I think one of my friends might have some clothes you’d like. She runs a clothing company that does everything from a vintage style to modern day. I’m sure she’d love to let you rifle through her products; see if there’s anything you’d like to take off her hands.”

You turned around but Steve hadn’t been listening. Instead, he’d been focusing on the case files that were strewn across the kitchen table. 

Standing beside him, keeping your eye on his reactions, you looked down at the table before you came across a picture. You had to take a breath. 

Steve had told you a little about his friends from the war. The Howling Commandos. 

“Is that them?”

Steve nodded.

It took Steve a while to get used to his new apartment, but with your help, he found it becoming a home. You helped him change the bedsheets and work out his washing machine before putting your phone number into his phone. 

“Think of it like a telegram,” you told him. “But rather than waiting weeks to hear back, it’s almost instantly.”

In the weeks that followed, you met Steve at his apartment every few days. On the weekends, you showed him around some of the thrift stores where he’d found a new kitchen table and some dishes to use in the kitchen. 

One of your friends – the same friend that ran a clothing company – had delivered some new curtains. They were plain, but they were better than the ones Steve had been left with. 

Meanwhile, Steve found an old gym where he could spend his evenings and, with your help, had figured out the basics of a phone and computer. 

The one Shield had given him was far too high tech, even for you. So, you had brought Steve one of your old ones. It was still pretty modern, but it was a lot simpler to use than the Stark Industries issued one. 

Then he got pulled into helping Shield with a threat that, to him, would have been best left in the ocean. 

News reports came in thick and fast during the attack on New York. You hadn’t heard from Steve during it, until you nearly ran into him in the middle of the street as mechanical…whatever the hell they were, were flying through the sky. 

“Why are you still in the city?! Everyone needs to get out.”

You nodded. “I know, but people needed help.” You looked down at his shield. “You know how to use that?”

Steve nodded. 

“Can you break a lock with it?”

Steve followed you as you ran down an alley before disappearing around the corner and to an employee entrance. Neither you or Steve could tell what had welded a lock shut, but considering some kind of blue weapon lay not too far out in the middle of the street with similar residue being left of the door, you could only gather it had been some alien technology. 

It took a few tries but the lock finally busted open and a bunch of parents with their kids came flooding out of the doors. As you and Steve started directing people to safety out of the city, you saw the way the kids looked up at Steve. 

The whole image of Captain America had been controlled by the government, making him an image away from Steve Rogers. But nothing could control the way those kids looked up at Steve as their hero. 

A comic book hero that existed in real life. 

“Ma’am, is that everyone?” Steve asked one of the women that left the room. 

She seemed distressed as she looked around. “I-I think so.” Then she ran off with the others. 

Something in your gut told you to check the rest of the room, and Steve followed you inside. 

“Go! Help the others! I can look after myself.”

“But-”

“Steve.” You looked at him. “Go. They need you.”

It took him a minute but he took your word for it and ran back out of the door. Meanwhile, you checked under every table and desk before something caught your eye at the side of one of the cabinets. 

A kid, no older than six. 

“Hey, honey.”

“Mommy was meant to pick me up.”

You looked around, hearing something hit a building nearby. 

“I’ll help you look for her. Can I pick you up?” The kid nodded. “I’m Y/n, what’s your name?”

“Sophie.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Sophie. Come on, let's go and find your mom.”

After three hours of destruction over the city, and countless injuries being collected by people, it wasn’t until a mom came running through the crowds of EMTs and doctors, screaming out for her child that you and Sophie, sitting in the back of an ambulance, looked up. 

And Sophie called out. 

Jumping from the bench, Sophie looked outside and saw her mom running through the crowd. You watched as they collided and sank to the ground. 

“I’m so sorry, baby. Are you okay? Are you hurt? Why aren’t you with the rest of your class? Where are they?”

“Hey,” you said, walking behind Sophie. “They got separated when trying to clear the city.”

“Did you save her?”

“I got her out-” Suddenly, the mom crushed you with a hug. 

“Thank you. Thank you so much. I don’t know what I-” The tears continued to flow from her eyes. 

“It’s alright. All that matters is that she’s safe.”

“Thank you so much.”

Hours later, you had finally made it back home, had showered and switched your TV on. The news had been following updates and different people’s theories of what had happened. 

Then a knock came to your door. 

Upon opening it, you were greeted with a fresher looking Steve Rogers. 

“Shouldn’t you be with a medic?”

Steve smiled, “Shouldn’t you? Between the pair of us, I’m the one who has a serum running through their veins.”

You looked in his hand. “Is that a pizza?”

Steve nodded. “Didn’t know which kind you’d like, so I got the classic. Figured you haven’t eaten since yesterday.”

Inviting him inside, Steve laid it on the coffee table. 

“Shouldn’t you be helping The Avengers or something?”

“Avengers?” Steve looked at you with a curious look. 

You just pointed at the screen. “Oh, right. Yeah, we’ve all decided to take a break. But Shield tells me they’ve finally found me a job.”

“That’s something to celebrate.”

Steve shrugged. “Kinda hard to celebrate when an entire city almost got levelled to the ground.”

You understood. “I’m gonna head back tomorrow and see if they need any help.”

“Can I come with you?” 

“You don’t have to ask, Steve.”

He smiled, if a little sheepishly. 

For the rest of the evening, you and Steve shared a pizza and talked until neither of you wanted to say anything else. 

So, you picked out a film and placed it into the DVD player. And you and Steve just sat and watched it. 

As the months passed, you and Steve slipped into a familiar routine. He got better at texting, but you’d come to find he preferred to call. And during the days he was at the training facility in Washington and devoid of signal, he’d write you letters. 

And you wrote them back. 

He’d also started keeping a list, you’d noticed, of things you’d say in passing or you’d tell him to listen to or watch. 

On the quiet afternoons you spent together, Steve would open up more. He told you more about the 40s and being in the army. He told you more about his childhood and his best friend, Bucky. 

You’d surprised him one afternoon by taking him to the Smithsonian. They had a new exhibit put up – one pillar being dedicated to Bucky and his friendship with Steve. 

In one of his final letters, he’d told you of a man he’d basically been trolling on his morning runs. You’d come to find out his name and you smiled. 

Outside of you and the members of his team, Sam Wilson was the first friend Steve had made. 

However, you didn’t get to meet him in person until you got a call from him, under Steve’s contact. Of course, the minute the headline had flashed on your screen, you’d tried to get into contact with him. He’d fallen, or rather, jumped, from an elevator and fallen a hundred feet or more to the ground. His own work seemed to be after him. 

So, when you were told he’d fallen, once more, from one of the jets and had been in surgery, you rushed to him. 

Entering his room, Natasha had been the one to take you to his room after two nurses read your name on his file but wouldn’t let you through. 

“He’s alive, as you can see.”

“If I get a call like this again, telling me you’re dead, I’ll kill you myself.” You warned Steve before you walked to his side. The bastard had the audacity to chuckle. 

“I promise. If I’m gonna die, I’ll ask your permission first.”

From behind you, you heard a voice smile. “I like her.”

“Y/n, this is Sam. Sam, this is Y/n.”

From that day on, the movie and pizza nights came to include both Sam and Natasha. However, unbeknownst to you and Steve, the movie nights also came to include the rest of the team. 

Natasha had been trained to read people. And she’d never read anyone easier than you and Steve. 

And her information soon became Clint’s information which soon became everyone’s information when he accidentally let it slip to the others. 

Tony had been planning a party. Rather, he wanted to throw one and Pepper had come up with a list of people to invite. And when she read out your name, Steve had looked up but Clint had spoken first. 

“Is that Steve’s girl?”

They all looked around at each other before looking at Steve. He had a girl?

Steve faltered. “Yes, well, no. She’s my friend. We’re friends but-”

Tony turned to Pepper. “Invite Steve’s girlfriend.”

“She’s not my girlfriend. We’re just friends. And she doesn’t really like big parties so-”

“Invite her anyway. I can’t believe Clint knows about her before we do.” Then he turned to Natasha. “I suppose you already knew.”

She just nodded. 

And that was just the start of it. 

A few nights later, Steve had given you a heads up which you appreciated but it did put you on edge a little. But all in all, it was…fun. 

It was the first time you enjoyed yourself at a party and didn’t hate every minute of it. 

Firstly, the attire was fancy but not gala fancy. It was a celebration of Hydra finally being overthrown from Shield.

You arrived in your heels that didn’t hurt your feet so much, wide legged trousers and a graphic t-shirt. 

“Now, who is that?”

At the bar, Rhodey, Thor, Tony and Maria all stood watching as you entered the room, clearly looking for someone. Tony and Rhodey had met most of the building at the party. Maria had met them all – at the very least, she had a file on them all. 

But not on you. 

From behind the bar, Natasha leaned over. “That’s Steve’s girl.”

From the bar they watched as Sam noticed you first and called you over. You looked relieved at seeing a familiar face. Even more relieved at seeing Steve. Tony watched as Steve noticed you, too. 

The game of pool Steve had been winning at suddenly took a dip as his aim went off kilter, his attention immediately going to you. 

“Steve has a woman?” Thor asked, the other just nodded. “Well, we must meet her.”

However, as they all went to walk towards the pool table, Maria reached her hand out. “You boys swarm her, Steve will make sure you never get to speak to her again. I will go.”

And so she did. 

The others watched on as Steve introduced you to Maria, every protective instinct a man got when introducing his girlfriend to the rest of his family going up. And somehow, with simple ease, Maria had gained a small part of your friendship and led you towards the second bar. 

Meanwhile, Steve watched as you walked away, the heart in his eyes never leaving. Not even when Sam nudged him and they got back to the game. 

Throughout the night, Steve kept his eye on you. 

He almost broke the sound barrier by how quickly he turned up at your side when you were dragged into the conversation circle with most of them. 

“So, tell me.” Tony said, sitting beside you. “How did you meet our fellow Captain?”

“Tony.” Steve warned, though no true malice could be traced in his voice. 

You smiled. “It’s okay. We actually met at one of your parties.”

Tony sat back. “Really?”

You nodded. “Some fancy gala a few years back.”

Conversation between yourself and the rest of the group seemed to take a natural flow until eventually, all your nerves had subsided. 

But that didn’t stop you from needing a break by the end. Between talking with Natasha, Maria and Thor for most of the night, and beating Sam at a few rounds of pool – something Steve found incredibly entertaining,

Tony had backed Sam on his idea that you were cheating. Nobody won that many rounds of pool one after the other. So, as the others gathered and watched the game, Steve stepped forward and he covered your eyes. 

For a moment you looked up at him and smirked, and he smiled back with a light shrug of his shoulders. 

“Yes, thank you, Cap.” Sam said. “See. This will prove that she’s cheat-”

As you hit the white cue ball, everyone watched and was left speechless as every ball suddenly found its home in the pockets, leaving you with an automatic victory. 

Opening your eyes once more and standing up, you looked at the pool table with a proud look before looking at Sam. You’d never seen him as shocked. Looking at Steve, he seemed shocked but also proud. 

“Still think I’m cheating?” 

Tony just looked at you. “She’s a witch. She had to be. Were you cursed as a child? Born to some Vampire in Europe or something?”

Steve chuckled, as did you. 

“Come on, Tony. Accept your defeat.”

As the hours passed, eventually you found yourself outside on the balcony, taking a breather from the party. 

“Figured you’d find some place quiet.”

You stood back up, holding onto the balcony bar. “Hey.”

Steve smiled. “Hey. You okay? They can be a bit much.”

You shook your head. “No, it’s not that. Just needed a minute. You know, this is the first time I’ve enjoyed myself at one of these?”

Steve looked up at the building before looking back at you with a smile on his face. “It is better when people aren’t trying to show you off.”

You nodded with a smile. “Thank you for inviting me.”

“Thank you for escaping the last one and finding me in that room.”

It was in that moment that you realised the last time you’d gone to any kind of gala or party of the same scale was the first time you’d met Steve. 

You smiled fondly at the memory. “Thanks for not being mad when I opened the door.”

“I could never be mad at you.”

“You didn’t even know me.”

Steve shrugged. “I’ve got a good judge of character.”

You felt yourself chuckle before you looked out across the rest of the city before a cold wind blew through making you shiver. 

“Here,” Steve shrugged off his jacket but before you could tell him you were fine, he placed it over your shoulders. 

It smelt of him. 

“Thanks.”

Steve just nodded with a smile watching as you placed your arms through the holes and wrapped it a little tighter around yourself before you looked out at the rest of the city with him. 

“Can I ask you something?”

“Anything.”

“Is something going on between Maria and Sam?”

Steve couldn’t help but laugh. “She’ll eat him alive.”

“He might be into that.” 

Steve laughed and closed his eyes in disgust. “What makes you ask?”

You shrugged. “Just something I’ve noticed. He looks at her like she hung the moon. Though, of course, that’s when she’s not looking. When she is, it's like I’m back at school rehearsing for Much Ado About Nothing.”

Steve’s joy widened. “You were in a play?”

You laughed. “I wasn’t any good. I was only put on stage because my folks donated so much money to the school. All I wanted was to work with Tech.”

Steve chuckled. “I’d pay good money to see that. But, I get what you mean about Sam and Maria. Who knows? If the timing is right…”

Steve looked at you and you felt something bigger was being hidden behind his words. Part of you certainly held out hope that there was. 

“We should probably get back inside.”

An hour later, most people had gone home so it was left with just Steve, yourself, Clint, Natasha, Bruce, Maria, Tony, Rhodey and Thor. 

Still wearing Steve’s jacket, you were sitting in the middle of the sofa, your legs curled towards your chest. After he stood up, Steve came back and handed you a beer before he nudged your legs allowing him room to sit down before he pulled them across his lap. 

It was the standard procedure for you and him to sit on a sofa together. Mainly because his sofa in his old apartment had been small enough to do so. 

Despite changing apartments and the sofa, it was just something that stuck. 

The others took silent note of it as the debate continued between Thor and Clint over his hammer. 

By the time everyone was trying to lift it, Steve became one of the last. Sharing a look with you before looking at Thor, Steve stood up and tried to lift it. 

You watched as it squeaked on the table for a moment, but moved no further. However, your knowing grin – despite it never truly lifting from the table – caused you to look at Thor. 

He looked panic stricken. 

But Steve stood back and held his hands up. 

“Or…you’re all not worthy.”

“It’s still a trick!”

In the moments that followed, everyone turned to their own conversations; including you and Steve. 

But Clint and Natasha kept their eyes on you and Steve. Your legs over his lap, wearing his jacket, his focus solely on you, his hand rubbing lightly against the bottom of your leg that was exposed under your wide-legged trousers, your ever loving gaze on his that matched yours, light and soft smiles on your faces. 

“Ten bucks says they’ll be married in two years.” Clint whispered up to Natasha. 

“Deal.”

Something that Clint didn’t know, that Natasha did, was that you and Steve were fucking oblivious. 

They’d all be lucky if it happened in two years. 

Quite frankly, it should have happened two years ago. 

Suddenly, a high pitched noise rippled through the room. 

“Of course you’re not all worthy…”

Your eyes landed on an oil leaking…zombie robot?

His voice was deep and menacing and nothing about any of it felt comforting. 

“Steve?”

“Stark?”

“Jarvis?”

In a single turn of events you’d gone from laughing and joking with each other to suddenly defending yourself against a robot who claimed he’d killed someone. 

A swarm of them flew in through broken glass panels and Steve kicked up a table before any of them could hit either of you. 

You landed on the floor beside him, a little winded. 

“Are you okay?”

You nodded. “I’m okay. Go, go, go. I’ll be fine.”

Steve helped you up before running off in the other direction. It was a whirlwind of blasts, bullets and shattered glass. 

At one point, one had you cornered as Tony unhooked another. And for a moment, you thought you’d be sent flying out of the window and out into the open before Steve took hold of it, throwing it back towards Thor before Clint threw him his shield. 

And it all ended as Thor sent his hammer flying through Ultron. 

“What the fuck was that?”

“Banner.” Tony called him over before they headed towards their lab. 

Meanwhile, Steve turned around before heading straight towards you and holding you in his arms, almost lifting you from the ground. 

“Are you okay?”

You nodded, letting the scent of him, his clothes, his jacket, calm you. 

“Yeah. Thanks for saving my life.”

Steve truly breathed for the first time since the high pitched noise had rang through the room. With a hand at the back of your head, he pressed a kiss to your temple and he closed his eyes. 

“Come on, let's go and find the others.”

However, as he took your hand, you pulled him back. “Steve.”

“Right, you-you’ll want to go home-”

You shook your head. “It’s not that. You’ve got glass in your arm.”

“Oh.”

“Does Tony have tweezers in his lab?”

Steve nodded. “I think so.”

Less than five minutes later, you sat Steve in one of the chairs, Bruce handing you and Maria a set of tweezers each. 

Staring with his arm, you plucked out the small fragments of glass before his skin healed over them, before holding his palm up to face you. Meanwhile, they began discussing the extinction of The Avengers and the possibility of nuclear codes getting out to the rest of the world.

Then rage got passed around the room. 

By the time morning rolled around, Steve drove you back home.

“Whatever happens…” You looked at Steve, a small voice in the back of your head begging for him to be imprinted in your memory as if he hadn’t already. “Just promise me you’ll be careful.”

Steve nodded. “I promise. You’re the only one that can kill me, remember?”

You felt yourself laugh. At least he remembered. 

Looking at him again, you hugged him. “I mean it, Steve. Please be safe.”

He hugged you back, the feeling of him strong enough for you to still feel hours later. 

“I promise.”

Each day you didn’t hear from him was a little more worrisome than the last. And then when the media reported Shield helping evacuate people from a floating country…all you could do was hope Steve wasn’t one of the casualties. 

“Maybe I’ll take a leaf out of Barton’s book.”

“The simple life?”

“You’ll get there one day. Maybe you could get there with Y/n?”

Steve couldn’t deny he hadn’t thought about it once or twice. You and him. Together. More than friends. A part of him did think you felt it too. The same spark. Familiarity. The same love. 

“If something was gonna happen, it would have happened by now.” Steve told him. “Besides, I think the guy that wanted all that went into the ice seventy five years ago.”

Tony shrugged. “Don’t count on it. That guy is still there somewhere. See you ‘round, Rogers.”

As Tony drove away, Steve took in the building in front of him. And despite the acceptance he felt of being home, the idea of you and him…he figured that would always be with him. 

Even if it never happened. 

That night, Steve turned up outside your apartment with the next movie on his list and a case of soda. However, when you didn’t answer, he went in search of you. 

Opening the door to the roof, he looked around before spotting you in the very corner, sitting on the table of the picnic bench. 

“Penny for your thoughts?”

Looking around, you gave a sigh of relief at seeing him. He dropped the case on the table before you reached for him. 

“Thank god you’re okay.”

“How long have you been up here?”

“Since Nat called me and told me you’d landed. I couldn’t sit in my apartment anymore so…I came up here. Last time I looked out at the city was before everything went to hell.”

Steve looked out at the city himself before looking back at you. “We’re not out of the woods yet. Ross is probably about to reign hellfire down on…everyone.”

“What about the girl?”

“Wanda?”

You nodded. 

“I don’t know. She went through a lot, losing her home and her brother in one fowl sweep.” 

“You should train her.”

“What?”

“Train her,” you repeated. “You’re the only one who knows what it’s like to be in a war, to sign up to be experimented on. She’s gonna need someone who actually understands some of what she’s going through.”

Steve agreed with you. You had a point. 

“Tony can have a lot of influence and his heart can be in the right place but he doesn’t always remember that people didn’t have his childhood or his life.”

“He’s been through a lot.”

You agreed with Steve. “He has. But he’s never lost a brother, or his life to somebody’s cause. She’s gonna need help.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

The rest of the evening was spent talking over what had happened, what Steve had thought when the earth quite literally started to lift from beneath him, what had happened with Banner and Nat and then you gave him your news. 

Bucky had been spotted. 

The next time you saw Steve was at Agent Peggy Carter’s funeral. You sat at the back for most of it, watching as Steve helped carry the coffin and as people gave their eulogies. 

You didn't know much about Peggy Carter personally, though you could remember learning about her in school. The founder of Shield, working alongside Captain America in her early career. And from meeting Steve, you’d come to know more about her. As well as how deeply both she and Steve were in love. 

You’d seen the clips at the museum, and with Steve beside you, it gave them a whole other meaning. And even though Steve living through the ice and landing himself in the 21st century had given you one of the greatest friendships you’d ever had, part of you felt angry for him. 

Angry at the fact he missed out on his chance with Peggy and that she had to live a life where, as far as anyone knew, Steve was dead. 

A soldier and a love story left stranded in time. 

You could remember when Steve had first visited Peggy, again. 

And now he had to say goodbye, again. 

“It was a beautiful service.”

Steve looked up and down the aisle to where you were walking towards him. He felt the breath get knocked out of him. Or maybe back into him. 

“Hey, what are you doing here?”

“Thought you could use a friendly face?”

 A silent conversation then took place between you and Steve. Silent conversations weren’t unusual between you. A thousand words could be said in a look, but you’d both understand.

“I don’t know what’s gonna happen after I leave here-”

“No, I know. I know.” You understood completely. After he walked out of the church, Nat would be leaving without him. 

“Today’s been a lot. Tomorrow’s gonna be a lot.” You looked back at Steve. “Right now can just be…right now. You’ve lost someone, Steve. Right now you don’t have to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders. You don’t have to be Captain America right now.” Your gaze turned to Peggy’s picture. “I might not have met her, but I know you and I both know she would be telling you, you don’t have to be Captain America right now. At this moment, you’re just Steve: World War Two veteran who has just lost a great love in their life and deserves a moment to breathe.”

Steve gave you a weak smile, his emotions building up in his chest. “Thank you.”

Stepping forward, you wrapped Steve in a comforting hug and for the next twenty minutes, you both stayed inside the church. 

There he told you the smaller facts about Peggy – the ones he’d learnt when she was with him and his Howling Commandos. 

But then the time came to leave. 

Walking down the different streets, hearing time tick away, you and Steve soaked up what time you could before everything was about to go to shit. 

And on a bench beside the River Thames, you and Steve said your goodbyes. Both of you knew something was going to go wrong. What that was exactly, neither of you could put your finger on it. But something was going to happen. 

It was only a matter of time. 

“Here.” 

“What’s this?”

Steve read the piece of paper. It was a set of coordinates. 

“I own a house. It’s in the middle of nowhere, somewhere in Europe. If anything happens, Ross can’t touch you. The house had been in my family’s name for generations but one of my great aunt’s left it to me. It’s yours to use.”

“Y/n-”

“Take it, Steve. Nobody knows it exists so they won’t find you. It’s run down but there should be running water.”

Steve finally accepted it. “Thank you. You know, if Tony ever finds out about this, he’s gonna believe that you are a witch from a vampire family.”

You shrugged. “Maybe I am, you just don’t know it.”

Steve shrugged, pocketing the paper safely. 

“I’m gonna miss you.”

You took his hand. “I’m gonna miss you, too.”

You tried your best to avoid the tears, but they were trying their hardest anyway. 

“Just promise me one thing, Steve.”

Steve nodded, squeezing your hand a little tighter. “Be safe?”

You nodded. “Be safe.”

Your eyes locking with his, Steve decided to take a risk. There was a chance he might never be able to see you again. Whatever was going to happen, the first person they’d put a tail on would be you. 

He kissed you. 

With your hand on his lapel, you held him closer. It was short and bittersweet, but the memory of him and his kiss would forever be seared into your brain. 

And for a few moments, you just held onto each other, fearful of opening your eyes and accepting that one of you would have to walk away. 

With his finger, Steve gently brushed the stray hair from your face away and behind your ear before kissing you quickly for a second time. 

“One of us has to say goodbye.”

“I know,” you sniffed. “I know.”

“If there’s one thing I’m grateful for, it's that you walked into that room when you did. You were the first person to treat me like one and to help me. Thank you for wanting to escape that party.”

You laughed through the tears. “You never have to thank me for that. It’s crazy to think I almost didn’t go.”

“I’m glad you did.”

“So am I.”

Looking at each other for one final time, you leaned in and kissed him. You prayed that his hand by your waist would leave a brand – a different pain to carry with you than the one in your heart. 

Feeling yourself stand, the kiss broke away and you were the first to say goodbye. 

Walking down the stone pavement, you looked behind you before you turned a corner, only to find Steve had already gone. Between the bustling people, the bench you’d both just been sitting at was exactly that. 

A bench. 

Going home, you tried to find a way to keep yourself busy but no matter where you looked, everything reminded you of him. The movies you’d watched with him, the ones you didn’t. The pizza’s shared, and soda spilt, the curtain, bedsheets, books, clothes, pictures. 

You had some of his artwork in your house. Some of them people, most of landscapes – people and places you’d seen together. 

And in an album under your bed, you had his letters. 

Each one in its original envelope on one page and the pictures he’d drawn of the skyline from wherever he’d been. 

Some evenings, you’d reread his letters – still able to hear his voice. 

Then the headlines started to roll in. 

Captain America was a fugitive and had broken his team out of a high secure facility. 

And for almost two years a hunt was put on for him. You were interviewed every couple of months with the same questions. 

Did you know where he was? Had he contacted you? What information did he share with you?

Just because you’d given him a set of coordinates didn’t mean he’d use them. The last time you’d heard from Steve was in London and the only information he’d shared with you that day was about Peggy Carter and some of the old stories of when he was first in London in the 40s. 

In the meantime, your parents had convinced you to attend different dinner parties, charity shows, fundraisers and galas, all the while helping you find a date. 

Most of the people your mother had first introduced you to years ago, they were recently married. But the single ones she’d found; you dated some, though it never went any further than a sixth date – usually the date after your parents invited them to attend dinner. 

But no matter the fancy meal, or the conversation, or the man; none of them could beat a pizza, soda, a movie and…

Steve. 

None of them could beat Steve. 

But that all changed one afternoon when you were gardening. 

Living in the city had reminded you too much of Steve, and with the constant reminders of the memories and new threats and superheroes popping up, you decided to find somewhere nice to live. 

Someplace…simple. 

So, buying a house outside of the city with a few acres of land, you started renovating. Any business meetings you had could be done online which meant you had more time to fix your new home up. 

The smell of plaster, paint and sawdust filled your home for most of the days until finally things started to come together. New windows and locks were installed, the faulty taps were fixed and finally the entire place was given a new lease of life. 

And just as you were half way through with fixing your garden; planting some flowers and digging patches for a small allotment, a car pulled up outside your drive. 

On your knees in the dirt, it took a moment for your eyes to focus on the person climbing out of the car in the distance. 

They were tall, broad and had a beard. 

However, the closer they got, memories started to kick in. The walk, the frame…

You stood up and walked closer until you stopped again, feeling the breath being knocked out of you. 

“Oh, my god…”

He watched as you stopped in your tracks, your brain confirming who he was. Then you started running. Across the grass and onto the gravel path, you collided with Steve. 

“This is you, I’m not dreaming, am I?”

Steve shook his head and he held onto you, the essence of you filling his senses. 

“No, you’re not dreaming.”

You leaned back and looked at him before hugging him again. 

Finally, Steve set you back onto your feet and his hands remained at your waist. 

“Why are you back? Last I heard…”

“The team and I are keeping our distance for a few days. Nat’s headed to Ohio and Sam is trying to see his sister. It’s the best way to avoid Ross.”

You nodded, checking him over. He didn’t seem like he was dying. 

With a hand on his cheek, you smiled a little, pointing out the obvious. “You grew a beard.”

Steve smiled a little. “Helps me blend in.”

You looked into his eyes and smiled. “It suits you.”

Holding gently onto your wrist, Steve turned his head and kissed your palm and for a second you closed your eyes, leaning into him. 

“I’m really glad you’re okay.”

Placing your hand over his heart, Steve seemed to bear into your soul. “So am I.”

What followed was two hours of conversation around where he’d been and what he’d been doing since he left, and what you had been doing. 

Then he started to help. Painting the porch on the back of the house as you continued planting in the back garden, you spent time together. 

Time that was all too precious knowing he was on a clock. 

“Where did you learn to cook?” You asked Steve as you helped him chop up veg. 

With a smile on his face, Steve continued to prepare dinner. “I have a contact in Scotland. Their aunt runs a cafe and needed a few extra hands in the kitchen.”

As you helped Steve prepare dinner, you listened to the stories he’d gathered over his time away. Scotland, Spain, Germany, Italy, England, Poland, Norway, and many others. 

Once dinner was finished, you started to clean up. But from the table, Steve looked at you standing by the sink in front of the window. 

You’d never left his thoughts. 

Sat on that bench in London, he watched you walk away and for a moment, he remained where he was. He didn’t know if he’d ever be able to see you again – not without heavy restrictions. 

He wanted you so desperately to turn around, but if you did, he would have followed you. He would have stood up and ran after you. 

So he left. 

He left before you could look around, he left before he would stop fighting himself and follow you. 

And each day he woke up, for the few moments in the morning where he would forget what had happened, where he would forget the world he’d been found in, he thought about you. He thought about calling you or writing you a letter. He thought about seeing you when he’d roll over in bed. But each time…

You weren’t there. 

You weren’t with him. 

You were at your home, thousands of miles from him. 

And he had no way of talking to you. 

Walking across the kitchen floor to you, he placed a hand on your waist before reaching across to the window cill. 

“What are you doing?” You smiled. 

Looking at you and turning up the dial, Steve smiled. “Come with me.”

Taking the cloth from your hand, Steve dropped it back into the bowl of soapy water and took your hand in his. Then, pulling you into the middle of the kitchen with him, you both started to slow dance. 

“What’s this for?”

Steve shrugged, holding your hand over his heart once again. “I don’t know how long I’ve got with you. Figured we could spend it not washing up.”

You felt yourself smile. “I think I like that.”

It was soft and slow. Swaying with the beat until the radio turned static, you and Steve remained in each other's arms. 

“Can you stay the night?”

Steve nodded. 

“Good.”

The night soon settled over your home, the stars slowly emerging from behind the clouds. With your porch taking on a blue hue in its own shadow, you and Steve sat side by side on your porch swing. 

Your hair still a little damp from your shower, Steve continued to run his fingers through it. And with your head on his chest, you let his heart beat calm you. For a moment, Steve turned his nose into your hair and pressed a kiss to the top of your head. 

After a few moments, he didn’t say anything. Not that you would have heard anything considering your body was begging for sleep. 

Carefully standing, Steve slipped one of his arms around your back and one under your legs before carrying you inside. He tucked you under your bed covers before making his rounds, locking up the doors and windows. Finally, he got in beside you. 

For years, he’d dreamed of it. 

Being with you, by your side, a domestic and loving day before laying beside you knowing he would be waking up beside you every morning. 

And Steve smiled as in your sleep you moved closer to him, your arms wrapping across his middle. 

You couldn’t remember when you’d gone from the porch to your bed, but you could remember Steve. Feeling his arms around you, his heartbeat under your cheek, his lips on yours…

“Hey,”

Steve was sitting on the edge of the bed by your legs, fully dressed. 

“Hey, what time is it?”

Steve kept his eyes on you. “A little after four.”

You gave a groan and closed your eyes again. Steve chuckled. Reaching out, he gently swept the hair from your eyes, your head turning towards him. With his hand on your cheek, he felt your smile. 

It was your turn to hold onto him and kiss his palm. 

And just as the knowing sadness started to grow, Steve still smiled, leaning forward and kissed you. 

You would never get bored of his kiss.

Peppering it out, you held onto his face before your hands slipped around his back and you held him closer. 

With a sigh, Steve held you closer to him, trying to imprint the feeling of you in his arms. 

Trying your best to ignore the growing tears, you spoke. 

“Just promise me you’ll be safe?”

Steve chuckled a little. “You know you’re the only one who's allowed to kill me. But I promise.”

“Good.”

Holding on a little tighter, you silently begged for more time with him. But the clock was ticking. 

From above, there was deep rumbling. 

“You better go,” you told Steve. 

It took him a moment before he let go and with one final kiss, it was his turn to say goodbye. 

Hearing his boots walk across the floor of your bedroom, down the hallway, through the living room and towards your front door. 

You heard his pause for a moment and in that moment, you wondered what he would do if you called out for him. 

But he couldn’t stay any longer. 

People needed him. 

The world needed him. 

Hearing your front door click open, Steve’s footsteps trailed off as it closed once more until eventually the only sound that was left was the ever quieting sound of a rumbling jet engine.

Six months later, half of the world disappeared. 

With a snap of Thanos’ fingers, Steve watched as half of his team, his family, disappeared. And upon returning back to the Avengers’ compound, you were his first call. 

Only, you never answered. 

“Go.” Natasha told him. 

He didn’t need to be told twice. 

Making a break for it, Steve ran down into the garage before hopping on his bike. He’d made it to yours in half the time. 

Pulling up, he started calling out for you. His voice filled with desperation and fear, he ran up to your front door. 

It was unlocked. 

He almost tripped inside as he tried the door, the hinges getting stuck. 

“Y/N!”

He raced around your home; checking the kitchen, living room, pantry, washing room, office, bathroom, and the bedrooms before finally reaching yours. 

The bedding was strewn a little, the soft lines of the fitted sheet folded into where you would have been laying. The pain in Steve’s chest seemed to grow heavier by the minute. 

You weren’t here. 

One hand on his hip, another covering his mouth, Steve turned around in a slow circle. Tears pricking at his eyes, his mind had gone from running a thousand miles a minute to…being completely overrun by pain. 

He had nearly a thousand chances to be with you, to share a life with you that he’d always dreamed of – all before everything went to hell. 

But it was too late. 

You were gone. 

Just like half of the world, you were gone. 

Gripping onto the cold metal of your bed frame, Steve tried to steady himself. 

You were gone. 

Somewhere behind him, he heard a click. 

His entire body stilled. 

Slowly turning around he found…

No one. 

Somewhere down the hall, a door closed. 

As quietly as he could, Steve walked from your bedroom and down the hallway. The noises started to compile together. 

Shoes shuffling, a bag being thrown onto a counter, a bucket handle rattling against itself. 

From a corner, Steve saw an apron thrown across the back of a kitchen chair. A tap started to pour before someone switched it off. 

Then someone started to hum. 

You started to hum. 

Fully stepping into the kitchen doorway, Steve felt the entire life get knocked back into him. 

Then you turned around. 

He scared the shit out of you. 

The bucket slipping out of your hand, it knocked against your sink, the water spilling down the drain. 

Just as it did, you recognised him. 

Rushing forward, Steve enveloped you into his arms, your feet lifting from the ground. 

“You’re alive,” you breathed. 

“I thought you were gone.” Steve mumbled into your shoulder, holding onto you tighter. 

“Steve, what’s going on?”

“He won.” 

Steve set you back down on your feet and for the first time in almost seven months, you finally got a good look at him. He looked tired, worn. Beaten. 

“We almost did it, but he won.”

“Whose left?”

Steve tried his best to name those who were left. 

“We think Tony’s gone but we can’t be sure.”

The tears were falling from Steve’s cheeks as he told you. Wiping them away, you pulled him back into a hug. 

“I tried calling you but when you didn’t answer…” You could feel Steve’s entire body shaking under you. “I thought I’d lost you, too.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t answer. Steve, honey, you need to sit down. Let me get you some water.”

As you sat him down, Steve watched as you moved around your kitchen. Grabbing a glass from the cupboard, running the tap until it was cold before handing it to him. 

“I’ll make you some food. When did you last eat? You should call Nat.”

“Right.”

After calling and updating Nat, Steve hung up the phone. And for the next few hours, Steve talked you through everything he could; right up to him running through your door. 

In the months that followed, a transition started to take place. People had to get used to a world where half of the people they loved were gone. 

And somewhere between Steve finding you in your kitchen and Tony and Pepper having their daughter, yourself and Steve finally came together. 

Properly. 

This time there were no goodbye kisses and fear of never seeing each other again. That biggest fear had been and gone. 

What you were left with was…acceptance. 

Acceptance that you had both almost completely lost each other for good. There was no point in avoiding feelings, or being scared of what might happen. 

You both had a chance at a life together. 

So you both took it. 

From then on your home with Steve became interchangeable between the Avengers compound and your house. Saving her from the lifetime supply of peanut butter sandwiches, you dragged Natasha when you could to your home with Steve and made her a decent meal. 

Being out in the open also gave her a breath of fresh air away from the training facility walls that never changed colour. 

And eventually things…settled. 

People found a new way of life, coming back each year to celebrate those who were lost. And then new life was brought into the mix. 

Not too long after Pepper had given birth to Morgan, you were faced with a positive pregnancy test result yourself. 

And Natasha was your first call. 

“What’s going on? I have an extra gun in the car if we need it.”

You showed it to her. “What does that show?”

“Holy shit, you’re pregnant.”

A small whimper left your lips as you handed her the test stick and started pacing around your bathroom. 

“Are…are we not happy about that?”

You whimpered again as you paced up and down. “I-I don’t know. We-we haven’t planned anything. I mean, we’ve talked about it a few times but what if something goes wrong? Are you sure it was positive?”

Natasha looked back at it. “Well, it’s got a plus sign so-”

“It’s the third I’ve taken this week. The other two came up invalid but that one was like a bright flashing light.”

Reaching for you by the shoulders, Natasha sat you down. “Okay, first off, breathe.”

You did so. 

And then some more. 

“Okay. Here’s what we’re gonna do. I’m gonna go and get you another box of tests. Proper ones, not these things. And you’re gonna call Steve.”

“He’ll probably pass out. Why do you think I called you?”

Natasha laughed. “Just call him. I’ll be right back.”

And she was. 

Walking back inside, she called out and Steve called back. 

Three minutes later, you were all huddled in the bathroom waiting for the result to finally show. 

“What if it’s a false positive? If it’s positive-positive, will I be able to carry the baby?”

Crouching down in front of you, Steve held your hand. “Whatever it is, we’ll figure it out. Together. Okay?”

You took a breath and nodded. Leaning up, Steve kissed you and you kissed him back. 

You’d been having conversations about starting a family together for a while, but neither of you had started planning it just yet. Mostly because you hadn’t gotten around to it. And you didn’t know if you could even carry Steve’s kid. For all either of you knew, the serum would carry onto your child. 

Natasha looked at her phone. 

“It’s time.”

With a shaky breath, you and Steve stood. However, you paused as you reached for the test. 

“Count me down.”

Steve chuckled softly, counting back from three. 

After one, you turned it over. 

Pregnant 3+ weeks

You felt yourself smile and laugh a little before showing Steve. 

“You’re gonna be a dad.”

Taking the test from your hands, Steve took one look at it before the water-works started. 

Nine months later, inside the Avengers compound, Natasha was walking with you. 

“Once they started arguing over what the manual said, I made a break for it.”

Tony had surprised you and Steve at your home and after an hour, Steve had wrangled him in to help build the crib. It was the final thing that needed to be built and since Steve had banned you from lifting heavy things since you had elected to ignore your midwife and pushed the crib from the living room and into the nursery. You couldn’t help. 

“Have you decided on a name yet?”

You shook your head. “Not yet.”

“Well, I might be biassed but Natasha is a really good name.”

You laughed a little. “I’ll think about it.”

Natasha smiled, holding onto your hand as she helped you down one of the narrower steps. 

However, halfway around the building, you stopped. 

“Everything okay?”

You nodded. “Just a bit of cramp.”

But it wasn’t just cramp. 

Barely a second later, you felt water trail down your leg until there was a louder splash against the tiles. 

“Oh, shit.”

You looked down. “Oh, my god.”

“Okay, okay. We’re okay.”

You nodded, taking hold of her hand as she walked you down the hall. 

“Steve’s old room is just down the hall. Once we get you there-”

“Call him.”

“I know, I will.”

“No, call him now. Please.”

Twenty minutes later, Tony’s car was kicking gravel up and onto the windshield. Steve ran inside, nearly taking out a few employees on the way. 

Almost fifteen hours later, a healthy baby girl was delivered. 

With her in Steve’s arms, bundled in a fresh baby blanket, everyone stood around the bed. 

“Only took you a decade.”

Steve chuckled, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from his daughter. And neither could you. 

And for almost four years, it was blissful. 

As your daughter grew up, Steve told her stories and showed her pictures of the 40s. Even at the age of three, she seemed wise beyond her years. 

Then one night, everything changed. 

Recently, she hadn’t been sleeping. So, lay in bed with you whilst Steve was still at work, you told her a few bedtime stories but when Steve came in an hour or so later, he found her still awake. 

“You should be asleep,” he whispered to her. 

“I tried. Mommy fell asleep, though.”

Steve looked over and smiled. “Come on, let your mom sleep.”

Picking his daughter up, Steve carried her down the hall, leaving his jacket on the bed beside you. Making sure to close the door behind him, Steve started to talk to his daughter. 

Their conversation eventually turned to someone from Steve’s past. 

“Daddy, whose that?”

Steve looked at the photo. It was him and Bucky during his army days, though both were out of uniform and in civilian clothing. There weren't many pictures of Bucky in normal clothes. 

“That’s Uncle Buck.”

“But he’s not in green.”

Steve chuckled. “You’re right, he’s not. That was when we were in London. Pinky, one of the Howling Commandos, decided to take us on a tour of London.”

“Wow.” 

She was awe-struck. 

“Does he know I was born?”

Steve felt a pang in his chest. “Maybe. I don’t know if he can hear me, but I’ve told him.”

“Would he like me?”

Steve smiled. “He’d love you.”

Kissing her temple, Steve sat down in one of the chairs. “Try and get some sleep.”

Steve himself must have fallen asleep because next thing he knew, you were waking him up. Your daughter was still fast asleep, he carried her to bed before you led him down the hall and he collapsed onto your shared bed. 

The next time he woke up that morning, everything you both knew was about to change. 

Time Travel. 

There was a chance everyone could be brought back. 

And after a long conversation, one that was overheard by your daughter who had been playing in the back garden with the family dog, Steve accepted what he had to do. 

“You and Aunty Nat will have pictures again.”

Handing Steve a slightly mud scattered, crinkled, crayon drawing; your daughter had drawn a picture with everyone on it. 

Herself, you, the dog, Steve, Nat, Bucky, Sam with his wings, Clint with his bow and arrow, Thor and his hammer, Tony, Bruce…the stick men with different items, standing on a green field with a corner sun, continued on and on. 

It was that night you kissed Steve and he said what could have been his final goodbye to your daughter. She held onto him tightly, telling him she loved him. The only thing that carried him on his feet was the thought of going through what Scott was. 

In the time he got stuck, he thought his daughter was gone. 

Steve would have done anything to get his daughter back. 

And it didn’t take much for him to remember the pain that washed through and over him when he thought he lost you. 

Scott, like many others, had lost someone they loved. So had Steve. But he hadn’t lost you, though he thought he did. 

People needed their families back. 

And that’s what they got. 

At the cost of Tony’s life. 

After everything had settled, you drove as fast as you could to find Steve. And you found him far outside of the Avengers compound, crouched on the floor. 

“Steve!? Steve!”

Looking up, he spotted you amongst the grey smoke. A shining light in the darkness. 

Running as fast as you could, you eventually reached him. 

“I couldn’t wait any longer. I needed to know if you were okay. Are you okay?”

Steve’s voice was quiet. “He’s gone.”

“Gone? Who’s gone?”

Steve’s voice broke. “T-tony. Tony’s gone.”

“Oh, my god.”

As Steve hugged you, you held him as tightly as you could. He asked about your daughter. 

“She’s with my dad back home. She’s safe. She just needs a cuddle from her dad.”

Steve nodded. “I think I need one from her, too.”

Two weeks later, Steve brought Bucky and Sam home. 

“Honey, come here.” Your daughter ran to her dad’s side. “Sam, Buck. I’d like you to meet Aurora. Rory, honey, this is Sam and Bucky.”

Sam knelt down and shook her hand. “It’s nice to finally meet you, miss.”

Meanwhile, Bucky was in pure shock. Slowly, he knelt beside Sam and Bucky felt his life flash before his eyes. 

“Steve…she looks like your mom.”

As Rory studied Bucky, she decided to hug him. Sam smiled and so did you and Steve. And eventually Bucky hugged her back, frightened he might break her. 

“Can I show them my room?”

The consensus was yes and whilst Sam was dragged towards her bedroom, Rory shouting for you to follow, Bucky and Steve followed behind. 

Inside her room, her walls were covered in different pictures she’d drawn of the different stories Steve had told her. Of course, most of them were stick men, but the message was still clear. 

A week later, a funeral was held for Tony and the Stones had to be returned. 

Standing beside Bucky as Steve stood on the platform, Aurora stood and waited in between both of you. 

And in what was a few seconds later, Steve returned with Natasha by his side. 

Aurora gasped and bolted forward. 

“Aunty Nat!”

“Careful, kiddo.” Steve warned just before Aurora collided with her, but Natasha shook her head. 

“It’s okay.” 

Lifting her into her arms, she hugged her tightly.  

“You’re back.”

Natasha smiled. “Thanks to your dad.”

Looking at her dad, she smiled before hugging Natasha again. 

“I’ll be back in a minute.” 

Natasha nodded and carried Rory back towards you before everyone started running over. Meanwhile, you watched as Steve walked over to Sam. 

Ten minutes later, your daughter bolted from the crowd and towards her dad who was finally out of his protection suit. 

“I missed you.”

“I missed you, too.”

Seeing you again, Steve kissed you before kissing Rory’s cheek. 

“Everything okay?”

Steve watched as Fury made his way over to Sam, and he smiled. 

“Everything’s good.”

Kissing you again, Steve smiled. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For walking into that room when you did.” Steve told you. “I’m just sorry it took me so long to do something about it.”

You shook your head, looking from him to your daughter and back to him. “It happened when it was meant to.”

Steve smiled before he kissed you. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Tony was right; Steve found the life with you he’d always wanted, even if it did take him a decade to do something about it. 

[iydiamartinx]

UNEXPECTED GUESTS IV

jason x reader, platonic!damian wayne, ft. batfam

divider by: @cafekitsune & @thecutestgrotto & @omi-resources word count: 2k synopsis: Jason’s secret relationship is discovered by Damian—who keeps showing up uninvited. Jason’s patience is tested, popcorn is made, but at least Damian brought cinnamon rolls. a/n: Here it is! The final part! Hope Y'all enjoyed! Also I hope I got everyone who asked to be on the tag list, if I missed you I am so sorry!

Bruce lifted a brow at the sound of heavy footsteps and the sight of Jason sauntering into the manor kitchen, a duffle bag slung over one shoulder like he owned the place.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, pausing mid-bite, fork suspended halfway to his mouth.

Jason didn’t break stride. “Gee, thanks for the warm welcome,” he drawled, dropping the duffle beside a chair with a solid thud.

Bruce sighed, setting down his utensils. “That’s not what I meant. It’s just you have your own place.”

Jason shrugged, nonchalant. “Maybe I just felt like spending some quality time with dear old Dad.”

Bruce’s gaze narrowed, eyes flicking over him like a scanner calibrating for irregularities. Jason was calm. Casual. Civil. Voluntarily in the manor. Something was wrong.

Jason would rather set himself on fire than willingly spend an evening under Bruce’s roof. He was being too… not-Jason. Polite, even. Pleasant. 

Clone? Possibly. Cyborg? Wouldn’t be the first time. A mind-wiped doppelgänger sent to spy on the family?

Then it hit him.

He paused in growing horror…

Did he finally kill the Joker?

Was that why he was in a good mood?

Bruce stared at him. Jason just blinked back innocently, which only made it worse.

No, something was definitely wrong.

“He’s lying,” came a voice from the doorway, smooth and amused.

Dick entered, mug of tea in hand and an unbothered grin on his face. “It’s because everyone’s crashing at his place.”

Now that he mentioned it, the manor had been suspiciously quiet lately.

Bruce glanced between them. “Why?”

Jason froze, his posture stiffening like someone expecting a sniper shot. His eyes flicked to Dick, silently warning him to shut up.

Dick, of course, did not. If anything, his grin widened.

Bruce’s gaze sharpened. “Why?” he repeated.

Jason shot Dick a glare, the kind that promised swift and bloody vengeance, but the little shit was immune. He grinned wider, practically radiating delight.

“Oh, because of his girlfriend,” Dick said, drawing out the word with far too much delight.

It had been unspoken—agreed upon, even—that whatever chaos was unfolding at Jason’s apartment stayed there. The last thing he needed was his personal life dragged into the manor spotlight and have Bruce interrogating his girlfriend. He was already hanging on to his sanity by the thinnest of threads.

But Dick had two fatal weaknesses: an insatiable love for family bonding… and a disturbing amount of joy in watching Jason suffer.

“You should see him at home,” Dick went on, far too pleased with himself. “Total domestic bliss. Folding laundry. Cooking dinner. It’s like watching a lion try to do ballet.”

“Shut the fuck up, dickhead,” Jason snapped, his voice a low snarl.

Bruce paused, fork halfway to his mouth.

The silence that followed was thick enough to cut with a Batarang.

Very slowly—deliberately—Bruce looked up. His eyes locked on Jason.

Jason had a what?

Before anyone could speak, Alfred appeared beside Dick with the poise of a man who had seen war, death, and teenage Bruce Wayne at his most dramatic—and had emerged utterly unshaken.

“Master Jason is bringing her for dinner, of course,” Alfred said, smooth as ever, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

“Master Jason is not!” Jason barked, visibly horrified.

Alfred raised a brow. 

Finding out you’d been invited to dinner at Wayne Manor wasn’t exactly a shock. If anything, you’d been expecting it. Most of the family already knew you—had dropped by Jason’s place uninvited enough times that introductions were inevitable. It was only a matter of time before Bruce caught wind of your existence too.

What surprised you more was how not nervous you felt.

Jason, on the other hand, looked like he was mentally preparing for battle.

As the iron gates of Wayne Manor creaked open, you watched him through the passenger-side mirror. Your six-foot-two, weapons-grade boyfriend was pacing beside the car like a man about to face execution. His hair was a mess—freshly wrecked from his own anxious hands—and while the tousled look worked unfairly well for him, it didn’t do much to hide the storm brewing behind his eyes.

“Just… don’t let them suck you into anything,” he muttered, half to himself, half to the universe. “Don’t be too funny. Or too smart.”

You arched a brow. “So… you want me to be dislikable?”

“What? No! I mean—maybe? I don’t know!” he snapped, throwing his arms up. “If you are, maybe they’ll finally stop showing up at my place uninvited. But I don’t want them to hate you either.”

He paused, then groaned. “God. Don’t mention cinnamon rolls. Damian’s still holding a grudge because I ate the last batch.”

You laughed. “Of course he is.”

Jason stopped pacing only long enough to glare at the front door like it personally offended him. “Just… don’t be nervous. We’ll be in and out. Quick and painless.”

You blinked slowly. “Jason. I’m not nervous. You’re the one spiraling.”

By this point, you weren’t even sure he realized what he was saying anymore. He was just venting aloud—burning nervous energy like a fuse inching toward a powder keg.

With a soft breath of amusement, you stepped into his path, catching his hand in yours before he could wear a trench into the manor’s immaculate brickwork.

“Babe,” you said, gently squeezing his fingers. “I’m fine. I got this. You’re the only one falling apart here.”

So you reached up, brushing your fingers along his jaw before leaning in to press a soft kiss to his lips. It was brief—grounding—but it worked. His shoulders dropped an inch, the rigid line of his jaw easing ever so slightly.

When you pulled back, you were already smiling. You laced your fingers through his and gave his hand a gentle squeeze.

“Ready?” you asked.

Jason exhaled, long and slow, like he was about to walk into enemy territory. Which, for him, wasn’t entirely inaccurate.

“Fuck no.”

Alfred greeted you at the door with the warmth of a man welcoming a long-lost friend.

“Miss Y/N,” he said, voice smooth with genuine affection. “We’re delighted to have you.”

You barely had time to smile before Damian appeared—materialized really—at your side.

“You’re sitting next to me.”

You blinked. “Hello to you too,” you said dryly.

He didn’t acknowledge it. His attention was already on the dining table as he pulled out a chair for you with the gravity of someone bestowing a great honour.

 “What? No! That’s my girlfriend, demon spawn.” Jason snapped. 

Damian didn’t even flinch. He turned to Jason with a droll look, sharp and effortless. “And I pity her for that fact every day.”

You muffled a snort behind your hand and slid gracefully into the offered seat.

“Thank you, Damian,” you said, smoothing your napkin onto your lap with a smirk. Then, with mock innocence, you patted the open chair on your other side. “There’s still one free spot left.”

Jason moved toward it—clearly ready to reclaim his territory—only for Dick to slide in smoothly at the last second.

“Y/N!” Dick beamed, overly bright, already leaning his elbow on the back of your chair like he belonged there.

Jason’s jaw ticked. “Oh no you don’t, Dickhead.”

With all the grace of a man well-versed in brotherly warfare, he hauled Dick up by the collar and dragged him out of the seat with zero ceremony.

“Hey!” Dick protested, arms flailing like a cat being relocated. But Jason was already dropping into the seat beside you, triumphant.

Dick slunk across the table with a wounded pout, muttering something about uncalled-for violence.

You raised a brow at your boyfriend. “You know we practically live together. You see me every day.”

Jason scowled. “So do these assholes. They break into my apartment every day.”

Damian arched a brow from your other side, utterly unbothered. “Careful, Todd. Green isn’t your color.”

Dinner was… everything Jason feared.

Tim asked how you two met—twice—just to watch Jason twitch with increasing irritation.

Stephanie demanded relationship details with the energy of a late-night talk show host, bouncing in her seat as she eagerly listened to answer her questions.

Cass watched you in silence, head tilted with a quiet, steady kind of approval. She didn’t need words. She’d already decided she liked you.

And Dick?

Dick was the worst.

He had a seemingly endless supply of Jason’s most humiliating childhood stories, and he recited them with theatrical flair, smirking each time your laughter made Jason’s eye twitch.

Meanwhile, Bruce sat at the head of the table like a statue carved from shadow and marble. He didn’t speak much—hardly at all, in fact—he mostly just watched. His gaze never drifted far from you, sharp and evaluating, like he was measuring you against an invisible checklist. Determining whether you were worthy of his son.

Eventually, between the second course and murmured side conversations, Bruce set down his glass with a soft clink against the china.

“Y/N.”

Jason stiffened like someone had pulled a gun on him. You felt it in the sharp shift of his knee against yours beneath the table. Without looking, you placed a calming hand there.

Jason’s fork paused mid-air. “Bruce…”

You didn’t flinch. You turned to meet his gaze, calmly. “Yes?”

Bruce didn’t blink. “You’ve been with Jason for how long?”

“Almost a year,” you answered easily. “Give or take a few near-death experiences.”

Dick leaned back in his chair with a grin. “That’s basically a vow renewal in this family.”

Bruce continued, tone even. “And you know.”

It wasn’t phrased like a question. You nodded anyway. “Didn’t take long.”

“You stayed.”

“I did.”

Jason muttered, “Why does this feel like a background check with extra judgment?”

Bruce studied you for a moment longer, his expression unreadable. “You’re aware of the risks.”

“I’ve had them explained,” you said dryly. “Repeatedly. With charts.”

Tim snorted into his drink. “Please tell me one of them was color-coded.”

“That was mine,” Damian muttered, arms crossed.

That earned the smallest twitch at the corner of Bruce’s mouth. It wasn’t often anyone got Damian’s seal of approval. 

Bruce went quiet for a moment, and the weight of his silence settled over the table. He studied you like a strategist surveying a battlefield.

Finally, he spoke. “You’re either incredibly brave… or incredibly foolish.”

You shrugged, unbothered. “Probably both. It’s part of the application process, right?”

Cass smiled behind her teacup. Steph stared at you with wide, glittering eyes and whispered to Jason, “Marry her.”

At that, something flickered in Bruce’s expression—approval, maybe. Something harder to name. Something deeper.

He nodded once, almost to himself. “You’ll be here for Sunday dinners moving forward.”

Jason nearly choked on his drink. “Are you serious?”

You ignored him, smiling sweetly. “Of course.”

“Babe!”

You patted his thigh. “Ignore him. We’ll be there.”

Dick leaned over, grinning at Jason’s dramatics. “Wow. He likes her more than he likes you.”

Bruce didn’t answer.

Which, of course, meant: yes.

After dinner, Alfred insisted on tea.

Damian insisted on sitting next to you again—claimed it was “for tactical proximity,” though he was clearly just making sure no one else got the seat first.

Stephanie suggested you move into the manor under the guise of “Jason’s health,” citing stress levels and his lack of basic nutrition, and how beneficial it would be for the two of you two live here. Cass offered you her bedroom if the “shoebox you’re living in” ever became unbearable. Tim asked if you could cook, already planning meal rotations. And Dick—of course—invited you to game night next week with a wink and a warning: “Lose to Damian at your own risk.”

Jason looked like he was developing a migraine.

He sat beside you on the long couch in the grand living room, shoulders hunched like a man awaiting trial. Laughter echoed around the walls—walls he used to call cold and empty. 

Now they rang with bickering, teasing, warmth.

You nudged him gently with your elbow, barely hiding your smile. “Still want to fake my death and move to the Alps?”

Jason glanced at you.

Then at Damian, practically glued to your side like an emotionally constipated barnacle.

Then at Tim, who was deep in concentration trying to download your favorite show onto the Batcomputer, muttering about file formats and codec errors.

Then at Bruce—stoic, silent Bruce—watching his family with a small, unmistakable smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Jason sighed. A long, suffering sound, that was too dramatic to be sincere.

“…Yes.”

← Previous Chapter

Tag list: @stormz369, @gothamhappiness, @remmyswritings, @dominazina, @nicverse, @roastyyytoastyyy, @sunnyfield, @snowy-violets, @sh0jun, @chicarandom11, @oooof-ifellforyou, @esposadomd, @bmyva1entine, @salvatt1, @ghost-candyyy, @sofiafantasies, @leogf

[brunettemarionette]

𝐈𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐖𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐕𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚'𝐬 𝐝𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫

↠ female reader. no description of features. no mentions of size.

a/n: pictures made by me, spoilers I guess if you haven't watched Deadpool? No warnings just fluff and dumbassery.

Some time after Deadpool & Wolverine, they get back together, and you're a total surprise for them despite the two wanting a baby before Vanessa died.

"So... are we having a Sonny or a Cher?"

Not being called either of those names and definitely not being called anything 'strippery'... or Wade Jr, Wada, Darth Wader and definitely not Todd, either.

No matter how much Wade worried about being like his dad, all that went out the window when you were actually born.

"I've only had a daughter for a day and a half, but if anything happened to her, I'd kill everyone in this room and then myself... come back to life fuck shit up and die again. Rinse and repeat."

Wade leaving you with Blind Al as a babysitter (sometimes she wouldn't even realize you're there).

"Wade, you can't just leave the baby with a blind person." *Surprise Pikachu Deadpool * "...ableist..."

I feel like Wade, at some point, either dropped you or you fell when you were a kid, but it's for the best since that's how he and Vanessa found out that you're a chip off the ole' block when you heal super fast.

Despite what Vanessa thought when they first agreed to make a baby, they did, in fact, make a 'super baby.'

Always following your 'Uncle' Logan around no matter how much he tries to get rid of you.

"'Babypool' go-... play or something, okay kid?"

Growing up surrounded by mutants means you never think you're different or a freak but instead becoming very protective of your mom. After a talk with your dad about your mom dying, you realize just how fragile people are.

Surprisingly, Wade makes a great girl dad. He does the tea party thing and, of his own accord, puts on the dress and clip earrings; he serves tea to the plush bears and scoffs when others mock him.

"Clearly, you people have no class."

As you got older, you started to look more like your mom, but no matter what situation you found yourself in, you could stop the snark, so much so that it earned you the nickname 'Mini mouth' – Wade was so proud.

Wade took you to the roof of the building to 'bond,' which Vanessa knew was him teaching you how to fight – something she was okay with until you both fell off the roof... more than once.

Them both knowing that despite wanting to give you a normal childhood and life you were going to be some kind or 'hero/antihero'. So they roll with the punches, and Wade makes sure you know exactly what you need to know about it.

"No, spermpool, red is my color. Just ask your mom when we-"

"Ew, Dad... and don't call me that."

On that note, investing in headphones was something you picked up the older you got, asking the store which ones cancel noise the best and then buying earbuds to go with them.

"Minipool, Girlpool, not-as-good-deadpool, Wishpool... ow... okay! We'll think of a better name for you!"

Despite you and your dad both being mercs who have been killed or hurt in every which way, your mom still rules the house. That's how you two find your katanas confiscated when you started playing 'Star Wars' during Thanksgiving.

Your dad makes a lot of Batman and Robin jokes when you're working together, only after he made a weird Batman and Catwoman joke until he realized why that was gross. So you became his Robin.

For someone so laid back about love and sex, Wade is very protective when it comes to you. Seeing the bad guys flirt with you, his deadpan snark reaches a few levels higher than his norm – it doesn't help when your mom hypes up your catsuit.

"I told you we should have gotten her a costume like what the lady three floors down wears."

“Red, that's a Muumuu.”

Being impulsive is like an inherited trait from both of them, which just makes up a chaotic household, and yet you all love every minute of it.

"One of the best things my dad ever gave me, not by choice, are these two gold-plated 50 caliber desert eagle pistoleros...."

𝗧𝗵𝗲𝗺𝗲 𝗦𝗼𝗻𝗴𝘀

The Nights by Avicii

GDFR by Flo Rida

X gon' give it to ya by DMX

𝗥𝗲𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝘀𝗵𝗶𝗽 𝗧𝗿𝗼𝗽𝗲𝘀:

Chaotic parents x Inherited Chaos (you)

Matching Family Energy

Dumbasses (wade, you) x Oh, those are my dumbasses (vanessa)

[fanged-fanfics]

Ok, but what if next time shadow milk comes into the dough baby's room, we show off our artistic skills by doing makeup on him? Making him as pretty as ever!

.

(And then when he leaves, black sapphire is like 'what in the world happened to your face-?'.. 'Art, my dear minion, ART')

☆ Blue Hues of Trouble — Shadow Milk & Child!Reader ☆

Genre: Semi-Fluff, Platonic || they/them pronouns for reader || Warning for mild manipulative themes

A/N: Previous part for those who need it!

──────.𖥔 ݁ ˖˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ──────

You rummaged around in the box sitting beside you, taking out tools you honestly can't remember the name of. You knew dressing up your face was something adults did for fun, and hey, Shadow always did say you were his favorite little artist! The jester sat before you, hunced over so you could reach his face.

You applied what had to have been the third layer of blush, drawing shapes on his cheeks with eyeliner ink. He sat perfectly still, humming in contentment. While you were turned away, his eyes flicked over to the corner of your bed. The doll he'd given you was haphazardly tucked away, mismatched button eyes peeking out of the sheets. He couldn't help grinning to himself.

"Say, little one, did your papa say anything about our plush friend?" He asked, putting on the most innocent tone he could muster. You huffed, applying eye shadow to his right eyelid with a frown "No.. I gotta hide it. Papa would try to toss it away". "How cruel!" Shadow Milk gasped, his face the picture of childish hurt "All because your dear friend wanted to give you a little gift?"

You nodded sadly "Yeah... but he doesn't play with me anymore! He just talks about big stuff...". Shadow Milk shook his head, tutting as he pulled you into his arms "Poor little doll! All alone, with no one to play with" he sniffled. You couldn't help but giggle at his silly antics "Nuh-uh, I have you!". Shadow Milk grinned, but no kindness reached his eyes "That's right. You'll always have your dear friend Shadow Milk"

The doorknob clicked, and the strong hands cradling you were suddenly gone. You landed on the carpet of your room with a grunt, looking around in bewilderment. All traces of your blue and black friend had disappeared in a mere blink, as if he were never there. You felt yourself beginning to pout, but footsteps sounded of someone entering

"Little sunflower, are you here?" Pure Vanilla asked. When he saw you, his worry melted into a tiny smile. He strode over, makeup kit completely ignored as he lifted you onto your feet "I was looking all over for you. Are you alright?". "Yes, papa" you nodded. You couldn't help but notice lines on his face that hadn't been there before. Faint darkness under his eyes, circles wearing heavy on his kind face. Pure Vanilla's smile almost faltered seeing you looking at him in concern. He stood back up, patting your head "That's good. I've someone very important I'd like you to meet"

Just then, the door creaked open more. Dark Cacao was there, and right beside him stood someone new. A tall man with pale grey armor, iridescence shinning in his large sword. He placed the weapon to the side, intense gaze falling upon you. You scooted closer to Pure Vanilla, who held your hand as reassurance. This new stranger bent down, seemingly scanning every inch of your face. "May I have your hand, little one?" He asked, extending a gloved hand to you. You stepped back, looking up at Pure Vanilla. He nodded gently "Don't worry, this is a dear companion of mine. He won't hurt you. I wouldn't let him"

With some of your worries softened, you gave the stranger your hand. He closed his eyes, and a light emitted from him. The glow of it made you feel warm, and it seemed to circle your being. The stranger's brow furrowed, and he stood "I can sense it". Pure Vanilla suddenly looked afraid "You don't mean...?". The other nodded. "Their souljam has been touched by deceit. I can feel it, clouding the edge of their essence"

Dark Cacao's frown deepened, and Pure Vanilla gripped his sleeve "No.. no, no, this can't be. I've been so careful- I can't-" his breath hitched "Elder Faerie Cookie, you must help us". "Don't worry, I won't let any harm come to this doughling" Elder Faerie promised "I can watch them, in my kingdom"

"No!" You shouted, clinging to Pure Vanilla's robes. You hid your face in his stomach "Don't wanna!". With a deep frown, Pure Vanilla turned to the faerie "I think that would only harm them.. they're so young, they still need me". "But this is the safest way" Dark Cacao said "If that Beast is back, we don't know what others might have been freed. We must eliminate this problem quickly". "There has to be another way" Pure Vanilla plead, holding you close to him. He looked to Elder Faerie, who gave a conflicted sigh

"It is possible that I can send a guard from my kingdom, someone to watch over them. They won't be able to purge the influence, but hopefully it can stop the spread" he said. "Thank you, Elder Faerie" Pure Vanilla responded "For all your help. I'm more greatful than you can imagine". "I'll also be sending someone" Dark Cacao chimed in "This castle needs protection". "I couldn't ask that of you" Pure Vanilla said "You need someone to protect you as well, if this really means what we fear it does"

"You are one of my oldest and closest allies, Pure Vanilla Cookie" Dark Cacao responded "A threat to you is a threat to me. I know what it's like to lose yourself... to lose your child..." the Cacao king gave you a look, his sternness softened by reflection. Pure Vanilla nodded "Thank you, my dear friend. I very much appreciate it. Whenever you need, I will make sure to return this kindness"

After a long time of the three discussing their options, they were soon being seen out. You were much more relaxed, but still sticking to Pure Vanilla like glue. "You may expect Silverbell Cookie's arrival soon" Elder Faerie said, standing in the threshold of the castle doors "I have faith that he will guard this castle to the fullest extent possible". "I will send you Chocolate Bark Cookie" Dark Cacao said next "He is one of my oldest allies. You can rely on him, much like you rely on me". "I cannot thank you two enough" Pure Vanilla sighed "Please, be careful on your travels". "Don't worry about us" Elder Faerie said "We'll check in soon enough"

Once inside, you headed to the kitchen. It was still a little upsetting that Shadow Milk had left so suddenly, but now you were also confused. What did all this mean? Did you do something wrong? Why did everyone seem upset with you? As you mulled over the question, Pure Vanilla sat you in your favorite chair. "Care for some Fluffy Castella?" He asked, taking out a cooking pan. You grinned happily "Yes please! And a bit of Toffee jam". "Coming right up" Pure Vanilla chuckled "How about you help me mix it all together?". You slid off of your chair, padding over to excitedly peer at the counter "Yeah!! You can count on me!"

Lingering on the windowsill, a small inky black blob with a single blue eye observed you. It just as suddenly slunk back, rushing across the fields. Around the outskirts, where the trees covered the moon and the forest ground stayed dark, two Cookies leaned against the bark of the trees. The blob stopped before them, morphing and twisting. It grew in size until the gunk peeled away, revealing Shadow Milk Cookie. "Master Shadow Milk!" A pitchy voice squealed, the cookie with red apples in her hair jumping forwards to greet him. "That took hours" the Cookie in purple and black pointed out, sliding into view with smooth strides

"I needed information" Shadow Milk responded simply "It seems our target is getting reinforcements. They're trying to weed us out". "They caught on this quickly?" The purple one asked. "That Elder Faerie Cookie.. I just know he's planning to seal me in that cramped tree again" Shadow Milk mumbled. "Never!" The gal declared, squeezing Shadow Milk's arm in a crushing hug. "Don't worry, minions, your master won't go down that easily" Shadow Milk declared, bravado returning to his tone "With just a pinch of deceit, we'll plant the seeds of our brilliant takeover!"

"Is the... face paint a part of it?" The purple Cookie asked. Shadow Milk raised a hand, feeling the botched shapes and messy makeup that was still on his face. He put his hands on his hips with a scoff "This, Black Sapphire Cookie, is art. If you're jealous that I can pull it off, just say so". "Of course not, Master Shadow Milk" Black Sapphire replied, bowing deeply "How foolish of me". "You're forgiven. This time" Shadow Milk replied, beginning to step into the thick woods "Now we must prepare. Our next act is just a curtain call away!"

[six-eyed-samurai]

🌸Life would be so much fun with these two psychos as your overprotective, fashion forward, freaky poser older brothers!

🌸I can think of a few words on how you'll turn out raised by these two: spoiled, coddled, well dressed, short sighted, manipulative, badass.

🌸The Haitanis were living by themselves as minors. Meals probably weren't fancy back then but all three of you would be playing hot potato with the best piece trying to give it to the other - or, well, Ran and Rindou ganging up to give it to you.

🌸Probably felt bad when you go to school (you're the only one still going) and all the girls have pretty things, new bags, non dog-eared textbooks, uniforms whose colours have faded a little. Ran tells you you're the best out of all of them, the smartest, the most beautiful, etc instead and Rindou counts their savings to get you a new pair of nice shoes.

🌸Speaking of school, Ran nearly cried the day you stopped needing to hold his hand all the way there, or so he claimed. You insist you can carry your own bag now and Rindou lectures you on the dangers of scoliosis all the way.

🌸I’m not sure about their grades academically but since they're older they still try and help you study. Well, Rindou does, because Ran has a bad habit of getting distracted and dragging you along. By distracted I mean napping.

🌸Ran loves doing your hair! When you were younger he’d be the one to brush and braid it, figuring out how to do whatever struck your fancy from magazines, secretly feeling nostalgic and sad when you outgrow pigtails and no longer match with him. Still though, you two divas are always making Rindou drive to the salon and pay for it all. You want to dye? Go for it! You want a perm? Whatever you want! Bleach?…uh, no, bad for your scalp :)

🌸Rindou and you gossip a lot - mostly about Ran and how you’re both tired of his stinky ass sleeping twenty four hours. Aside from that you think your brother’s got the best taste in music, even if you’ll never say it now, and Rindou takes pride in you idolizing him and his DJing skills. You don’t understand how someone so great at that hates going to karaoke so much but there we go. You’re very embarrassed when he catches you singing and records it.

🌸When they got into gang stuff and the whole ruling Roppongi thing they didn't have time anymore, but they tried to have either one of them fetch you from school no matter what. No, don't walk home with Yukiko! Nii-chan can get you!

🌸You know those annoying moms at sports games going all “hey, look over there, that's my kid” every other minute and love yapping about said kid's accomplishments? Yeah, that's why the Haitanis are really unpopular with the other parents when they attend your competitions. Not just because they're delinquents. They're noisy delinquents.

🌸My own bro has this thing of yelling stuff at me like “SOCIALIZE!”, “IT WAS RIGHT THERE, GOD, WHY?!” , “NOOOOO”in front of everyone. Ran does that a lot when he's trying to get your attention, no matter whether you're outside or inside. It's all “HEY LOOK WHAT I GOT YOU”, “LITTLE SISSSSSSSSS”, “PRINCESS, YOU FORGOT YOUR LUNCH!!!”until you and Rindou beg him to stop. Please.

🌸They’re very, very proud that you know how to defend yourself so well, both physically and verbally, from bullies looking to harass the Haitanis’ kid sister or mean girls picking on your outfit or bitching about how the little princess always needs saving. Rindou had to stifle his smirk when he saw you beat down the creep that wouldn't take no for an answer with a move he taught you himself because someone needs to be responsible and reprimand you that violence, is not, the answer!

“But you're in a gang, nii-chan.”

“That's different. Next time someone's following you around, I'm beating him up.”

🌸Low-key I feel like they'd turn a blind eye on whatever less than appropriate stuff you're doing. Oh, you wanna stuff shaving cream into Usagi’s locker for talking shit about your friends? No, Ran definitely didn't see you stuffing a can into your bag. What's this Rindou hears about you copying off someone's test paper? Nonsense. He helped you study this topic himself.

🌸No way, absolutely not, their baby sister is too innocent and pure for such things.

🌸But when it comes to breaking their rules, nuh uh. They're not gonna stand for it; sorry, it sucks but it sucks. No involvement with gangs. No smoking. No skipping school without a valid reason (”Yes, princess, going to a cafe with your beloved older brother is a valid reason, now let's get going.”). If you need money just ask. Again, no interacting with gang members.

🌸Most of all: no dating.

🌸If you've never gotten a confession and feel left out that all your friends are dating, sad bad luck, sorrows, sorrows. Ran will comfort you and assure you you're a catch, beyond a catch, an angel no one deserved, but secretly be glad.

🌸If you have, though, and it's not a secret admirer, Ran and Rindou will show up at school looking for him/her and give him/her a nice chat. With a baton. And Rindou casually bringing up all the ways to hide a body.

🌸Heaven forbid you actually have a boyfriend/girlfriend.

🌸The actual problem isn’t that they’re against that. Ran’s the best person you want when preparing for a date and you know one text will have Rindou running if he/she tries anything uncomfortable. Your number one hype men, although you’re tired of yelling at them no, okay, stop, you’re not gonna do the nasty, so stop will all these protection warnings!

🌸No, the problem is that they have the most unrealistic expectations for whoever your (unfortunate) crush will be. You’re not saying their (impossible) ideals don’t sound pleasant, because who doesn’t want the perfect partner, but they don’t exist and do they really have to be so nitpicky about whoever you bring home?

🌸Their baby sister is just too pure and innocent for such things!

🌸Moving on they’re extremely against bringing you into gang life. You know vaguely what they get up to, but otherwise they keep their lips sealed. The idiots showing up at their house for revenge from a rival gang had their asses handed back to them twice as much for involving their sister. The rest learnt to stay away from you. On the one occasion they had to bring you along very reluctantly, Tenjiku low ranks learnt the hard way not to make a comment on you, not just because you gave them a nosebleed (from a punch, not…yeah). They’d only trust Kakucho with you…Izana, not so much, but what can they do if boss wants to induct you in?

🌸What happens when they go to juvie? Ran and Rindou worried sick about you, of course. You’re equal parts tears and indignant anger when they’re taken away and they’re pretty alarmed because how are you going to make it on your own? How? How?!

🌸I think it’s after they’re released the dynamics that had been changing since the day they became delinquents become more obvious; you’re the one taking care of them now, not the other way around. Ran doesn’t order takeout anymore, you make bento. You no longer need Rindou to come fix a flat tire, in fact you take his bike to the shop for maintenance. Ran grumbles that you’re pulling at his hair too hard with the comb and Rindou grudgingly lets you do his highlights over the sink. When they’re back, battered and bruised you set down whatever you’re doing with a complaining sigh to bandage them up, pass ice and wipe off the blood.

🌸You’re the most precious thing in their lives. Ran and Rindou aren’t ever letting you go, get hurt or worse. You’re going to get into a good college, graduate, get a good job and everything great in life, far, far away from the mess in theirs.

🌸For now they’re content to lazily smile and watch you those off in between them, horror movie long forgotten and popcorn crumbs all over your hoodie.

[bird-in-the-space]

The Mysterious Painter being Alchemist Prime's Apprentice

If you had been reborn in the time of the primes, and Alchemist Prime took you in as his apprentice.

(Author's note: This was something that has been on my mind, and I took some inspiration from Citlali's story quest)

Warnings: none much, some mentions of the caste system, and some doubting your art skills.

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

- Imagine being reborn at the time when the thirteen primes still existed on Cybertron. The society still lived in a mild kind of caste system, but this time it would not be so serious with the existence of the primes. You were still forced to learn proper survival skills so you wouldn’t end up angering the wrong person, but this time you painted more openly. 

- Your art skills were admired all across Cybertron, even though your art, name, and interest in organic lifeforms were considered odd.

- You respected all the primes and their dominions. You found them and their unique existence fascinating as they were Primus’s first creations. However, even they seemed too busy to notice the hardships of the less fortunate. You understood that their positions and duties were not something they could not ignore, so you never saw them in a negative light for it. 

- Your life was good. But then, one day, you found a container holding a strange liquid. You tried to return it, but since its origins were unknown, you were told to keep it or throw it away. 

- You did not know what to do with it until you got home and accidentally spilled a drop into one of your freshly painted artworks while inspecting it. It did something mysterious as it made your paint shine and materialize the painting into the actual thing. It was magical and strange at the same time. 

- You figured out it was some kind of chemical compound like an alchemy potion. It most likely belonged to Alchemist Prime as he was known for his mystical experiments with elements and materials. How it got misplaced, you did not know. 

- Your conscience said to return it as it was probably valuable, but seeing your painting come to life made you want to see what else you could do with it. Maybe you could borrow just a little to sate your curiosity. 

- For the next few days, you mixed the liquid with different paint colors and saw what happened. You did not expect much but your experimenting resulted in many curious outcomes. You even mixed some colors together and painted on different surfaces to see what would happen. 

- Alchemist Prime eventually left his home to look for the container as the liquid inside was an important alchemy compound. He wasn’t certain how it got misplaced or fell during the transport, but luckily, he had ways to locate it. He could have asked some of his people to bring him more, but unfortunately, the compound was not something that was easily found. 

- While looking for it, he would ramble on his thoughts. His brethren had been asking if he would take an apprentice soon like they had. He had considered it but so far no cybertronian had shown similar fascination for alchemy like he did, or that they just did not feel right to him. It was honestly a hassle. 

- He once even doubted he would ever find the right apprentice, and then he started having visions. He envisioned colors, many different and marvelous colors. He was not certain at first what those visions meant, but then he figured out that whoever was to become his apprentice had connections to colors. 

- He would then be surprised by finding traces of the liquid in small flowers growing on the street walls. He was puzzled as organic flora did not usually grow below Cybertron's surface and these flowers looked unusual. The colors were vibrant and the petals looked like they were made from some kind of liquid. Alchemist touched the flower petals and found paint smearing his finger. This made him curious. It was now clear someone had found his compound and used it in a very peculiar way. 

- He would then follow the traces to you, finding you using it as a mixture of paint to make more flowers on the ground. He would then see the paintings come to life. He looked around and found the secluded alley filled with different varieties of these flowers. It was lovely and Alchemist was filled with excited intrigue. Not many ordinary cybertronians knew how to manipulate the elements of his field and he had never seen any of them used this way. 

- He then looked at you, sensing something different about your spark, but seeing you made him realize you were the apprentice the visions spoke about. Colors were connected to art so it was you. 

- Alchemist would excitedly show himself, startling you as you knew who he was and then realize you had gotten so lost in the art experiments that you had completely forgotten to return the container. 

- You apologized for taking it, but he brushed it casually and asked how you managed to use his compound to bring your art to life. You then relaxed and explained how you mixed the liquid with different paint colors, finding different results.

-  Alchemist was surprisingly easygoing, and he listened to everything you said with keen interest. 

- He then complimented your art, and then, out of the blue, he asked if you wanted to become his apprentice. 

- He claimed you had a natural curiosity and talent for alchemy, so it would be a wasted opportunity for him to not give an invitation. He could sense that your spark was different compared to other cybertronians, and he would like to see your skills in the art flourish even further. 

- It was a golden opportunity, and you had always found his mystical arts fascinating so you accepted. And that is how you became Alchemist Prime’s apprentice. 

- He was a patient and a good teacher. You listened to his lectures well and felt comfortable learning at your own pace. He encouraged your interest in researching and finding ways to enhance your paint, giving them qualities and abilities to do things ordinary paint can’t – such as materializing things into existence, controlling elements, and making a color that would stay vibrant for eons. 

- He was like that one cheerful uncle and when you showed him the new paint mixtures and their unique capabilities he would marvel at them with joy and pride. 

- As his apprentice, you had the chance to meet the other primes, which was an exciting experience and you befriended bots who were mentored by them. Alchemist encouraged this as it was always good to be surrounded by friends. 

- With Alchemist, there was never a boring day. Though he sometimes had little accidents with his experiments and something blew up, you would always laugh about it. Trial and error were natural parts of creating something. 

- You did not forget your passion, continuing painting and making many art pieces. You would remain humble and decline invitations from high-class bots when they found out a renowned artist such as yourself had become a prime’s apprentice. You did not want your art to be appreciated by a single group. It was something you wanted all to enjoy and find inspiration. 

- You would utilize your newfound abilities to help many bots who had it rough. Your kindness would touch the sparks of many and the art of painting would inspire new artists which delighted you. 

- There was one painting opportunity you accepted. Alchemist asked if you would like to paint the thirteen primes in a historical moment on a great wall. Due to the respect you held for him and his brethren, you accepted even though you felt slight pressure. Painting such respectable figures was something that had little room for errors, so you needed to pull this off perfectly. 

- You worked hard for many cycles, painting every detail and refining the colors. Some doubted you could make a wall painting great enough to capture the power and magnificence of the primes, but you were not deterred. However, the painting did lack the life that captured those features, so you decided to try something new to achieve that. 

- You created a new type of paint. It was something you had been working on before the start of your great project, but this time you decided to finish it and bring new life to the painting of the primes. It took many cycles to perfect it, as it required spiritual involvement, but you finally succeeded and it was time to use it. 

- You felt a little doubt and hesitation to use it because if something went wrong then the whole project would be ruined. But with Alchemist’s reassurance, you used it and finished the painting. 

- Everyone then watched as you used your abilities to activate the paint, making the great painting glow with marvelous colors. The bots and primes were enraptured by the beauty and life your mixture brought to the painting. You were glad that the paint worked and that the artwork had the life and magnificence it deserved. 

- Alchemist smacked your shoulder with a proud laugh, saying you had outdone yourself. 

- You received many compliments and the painting of the primes became one of your greatest works. 

- When you finished your training and Alchemist had nothing left to teach you, he gifted you a special paintbrush, especially made for you. It granted you the ability to manipulate your paint and colors at will, allowing you to utilize all your abilities with a single dip of the brush. It was a mystical gift— like you had your own magic wand. You made sure to promise you would use it wisely and only for good. 

- Alchemist had no doubts in your words. He knew the gentle nature of your spark, thus he did not feel hesitant to gift you such an item. 

- As time passed, you would come to be known as the legendary painter. Many bots would still wonder about the secrets of your paints and not come even close to discovering the elements and techniques you used. Your marvelous paintings would still exist even after hundreds of years--- even after the thirteen primes ceased from existence. What became of you was everyone’s guess. Some say you disappeared when the war arrived or that you left Cybertron to seek more inspiration or undiscovered colors. No one really knows. 

[httpvomitello]

Hii💗how are you?

Usually there's only joel miller x child!reader on tumblr when it comes to non-romantic fics, so I was thinking of something with tommy (I already liked his character in the games but now that he's gabriel luna I love him more than ever), and I came with a request on my mind: Can you write something where Tommy has toddler daughter reader before outbreak and how it would've been the outbreak morning and night on the first episode if tommy had a kid himself, a baby depending on him?

Ooh, i really like that one. And i hope you like too ~ ♡

(btw i'm also taking requests for the last of us now!)

When the Sky Fell Quiet .｡*･ﾟﾟ

Summary: Tommy Miller wasn’t supposed to be a single dad. But one mistake and a miracle later, he had a daughter. You. And nothing else in the world mattered. On September 26th, 2003, everything changes. But he still has one job: keep you safe. No matter what it takes.

tommy miller & daughter!reader

WARNINGS: Angst, panic and chaos, parent/child trauma, minor language, character death, bittersweet ending.

Morning — September 26, 2003

The morning started like most others.

You woke up in your tiny toddler bed—an old crib frame with the bars removed and cartoon sheets from a garage sale. You were rubbing your eyes, thumb stuck in your mouth, curls wild and messy.

Tommy was already in the kitchen, pouring burnt coffee into a mug that said #1 Dad, a Father’s Day gift you didn’t even remember giving him (you were still learning how to talk, after all). He was in his usual half-buttoned flannel and jeans with drywall dust on the knees.

“Bout time you woke up, sunshine,” he called softly as you padded down the hall in fuzzy socks.

You grunted.

He laughed. “That’s my girl.”

He picked you up and kissed your cheek, tickling your side until you squealed and kicked.

“Don’t tickle Daddy,” you warned with mock seriousness.

“Oh, is that so?” he teased. “Who makes the rules in this house?”

You leaned in close, finger to your lips. “Shh. Me.”

Tommy barked a laugh and kissed your forehead again. “Hell, I believe it.”

He dropped you off at the little daycare by the fire station—one of those rundown places where the toys were cracked and the paint peeled, but the teachers loved the kids like their own.

You didn’t cry when he left anymore. Not since last spring.

He looked back twice from his truck just to make sure you weren’t upset.

You weren’t.

You were waving.

And smiling.

Around 3:00 p.m., the sirens started.

At first, Tommy ignored them. Helicopters flying low over the suburbs, firetrucks screaming in all directions. One of the guys on site said something about the news—riots, maybe? People going crazy?

By 5:00 p.m., Tommy was already on edge.

He tried calling Joel. No answer.

Tried calling the daycare. Busy.

By 5:30, he broke every speed law in Austin trying to reach you.

When he burst through the front door of the daycare, the place was in chaos.

Children crying. Staff on their phones. A teacher holding the door shut while pounding echoed from the other side.

He saw you sitting on the floor, little backpack clutched to your chest like a lifeline.

Your eyes were wide, your cheeks flushed.

“Daddy!” you cried.

He ran to you, scooped you up in his arms, and didn’t let go.

“I got you, baby girl,” he whispered against your hair. “I got you.”

Back home, things were worse.

News reports said the virus was spreading. Airborne, waterborne—they didn’t know. Tommy shut every window, every vent. He grabbed the emergency bag Joel made for him after the Y2K scare. Loaded the pistol he hadn’t touched in two years.

He held you the whole time.

You weren’t asking questions—you didn’t need to. You knew something was wrong. You didn’t want your juice or your bedtime book. You just held his shirt and didn’t let go.

When night fell, the neighborhood lit up with fire and screams.

Joel called. Finally.

“Get ready to run,” he said. “I’m coming.”

When you arrived at your uncle's house, everything seemed to be happening too quickly.

Sarah cried when she saw you. She hugged you tight. You used to call her "Sasa" when you could barely speak.

You sat in the middle seat of the truck, clinging to Sarah's hand while your dad drove and she asked what was happening.

Neither of them had answers.

Helicopters crashed in the distance. Streets were blocked. People ran in the dark. Fires rose behind them.

Tommy wouldn’t let you go.

You didn’t understand it.

But you knew something was breaking.

Tommy ran, carrying you the whole time, trying to get to his brother and niece.

When the soldier pointed the gun, when Joel screamed for him to stop, when Sarah hit the ground—

You screamed too.

He couldn’t feel his legs. His throat was raw from yelling.

But you were warm and alive in his arms, and that was all that mattered.

Joel held Sarah’s body.

Tommy sat by the ditch, cradling you. You were shaking. He held your head to his chest and rocked you gently, even as the world around you burned.

You didn’t sleep.

He didn’t either.

Your hands clutched the collar of his shirt like you were afraid he’d disappear.

“I got you, baby girl,” he whispered again and again, like a prayer. “Daddy’s here. I got you.”

And even when the world ended, you believed him.

Because his arms never let go.