#marvel x gn reader

[prismuffin]

A/n: Sorry this is a bit specific- I wanted to write smth for myself that I personally relate to and am dealing with. Made the reader gn so anyone at all can read this if they also relate!

Normal

Steven Grant x asexual(spectrum)!gn!reader

( summary: Steven and you had been together for a few months and he always wondered why you often pulled away from him whenever he tried to get explicitly touchy with you during intimate moments so he decides to ask ) warnings?: angst, pre-established relationship, talks of sex (no actual sex), reader is specifically portrayed to be both placiosexual (meaning they have no problem sexually pleasuring their partner but don't want their partner pleasing them) and cupiosexual ( meaning that the person often wants to experience a sexual relationship but can't for whatever reason) , reader being confronted about their sexual orientation, reader not being completely ok with their sexual orientation! !-!more under the cut!-!

You and Steven had been together for a few months now and everything had been perfect. You knew about Marc, accepted his flaws and quirks, were kind and loving, you were everything he'd needed.

Not too long ago he'd decided to ask you to get a little more intimate, it was clear that you were previously waiting on him to be ready which he appreciated. When the night finally came where you two were intimate it was a bit more one-sided than Steven had thought. It's not like he wasn't satisfied or anything, quite the opposite actually. You'd focused all your attention on him, making him feel good and completely disregarding your own satisfaction. He at first thought it was because it was your first time but now after being intimate with you for a while he realizes how uncomfortable you get with him when he tries to reciprocate any sort of intimate action towards you. Sure things like little love-bites are accepted by you but anything past that you shut down for the most part. It's gotten to a point where he wonders if its just him that you don't want to be intimate with, but the way you treat him, please him contradicts that entirely. So as you sat on the couch in your newly shared apartment he couldn't help but wanna ask.

"Y/n...?"

You hummed as you turned away from the random cooking show that played on the TV to focus on Steven. "Yeah?" You watched Stevens eyes fill with hesitancy as he looked at you. "Uhh, I just- I have a bit of a question.." He stated, speaking a bit quieter as he eyed you cautiously. You nodded, grabbing the remote and turning down the TV. This was obviously important if he's acting this nervous so you decided to give him your full attention. "What's up? Is something wrong?" You turned a bit so that you'd be facing him fully. "Not really, I've just been wondering about something for a while," He fidgeted with his hands before continuing. "I mean, we've been intimate for some time and I love it, I really do, but how come you never really let me..." He trailed off, gesturing between you and him a bit. "Let you...?" You questioned, you had a hunch where this was going but thought it'd be better if he clarified before you jumped to conclusions. "Let me touch you..." Your heart dropped a bit at the question, yup it was what you thought. You suppose that this was gonna come up sooner or later.

You usually only performed oral or manual sex on Steven, never really fully going all the way for your own comfort but you guess it can seem a bit weird after a while to perform only those things. "I...uh..." You hesitated, unsure of just how to go about answering this. You knew you were on the ace spectrum, placiosexual to be specific, but still there was something inside you yearning for a sexual relationship and though you technically have one you want to really feel it. But the thought of letting that happen sickens you. It's been an ongoing battle in your mind for years, you hope you'll eventually "grow out of it" but you haven't had many opportunities to try, anytime you do something in your mind just shuts the whole thing down. "I-I'm sorry, that was insensitive of me- it's ok you don't have to answer-" Steven stuttered out but you were quick to dismiss his worries. "It's fine, it just caught me a bit off guard ya know?" You chuckled dryly, nervously as you swallowed thickly and sighed. "It's uhhh, I'm sorry I'm just a bit...asexual..." Stevens eyes widened at the confession as he inhaled sharply. "Oh bloody hell- I didn't like make you do those things right?"

"No- Steven it's fine I was fine with all of that I swear." You smiled though your eyes held a bit of sadness to them.

"Are you sure? Don't asexuals not like to perform sexual acts like that?" He asked and you nodded. "Some don't sure, but asexuality is a spectrum Steven, I'm not completely uncomfortable with the idea of sex its just uhh it's a bit hard for me to receive any sexual favors." He nodded slowly as he took in your words, not entirely sure on how to respond. "So, how much are you comfortable with?" You hummed at the question, for some reason it made you want to cry though you bit back the thought before anything could show. "Well I'm Placiosexual, which means I'm completely fine with doing sexual acts on my partner, you." He smiled, grabbing your hand as you continued. "But when it comes to receiving those same acts from others I get a bit uncomfortable.." You looked down and he nodded, moving his head lower to catch your eye again. "What's wrong?" "It's nothing I-" "I accept you ya know? This isn't gonna change anything between us I swear." You were silent for a few seconds after that, you'd expect nothing less from Steven but that wasn't entirely the problem. "I know that." "Then what is it?" He rubbed the back of your hand with his thumb and you sighed, not being able to hold yourself back from tearing up a bit. "I just- Sometimes I really envy you." "Envy me?" "Yeah, you can just be ok with stuff that makes me extremely uncomfortable at times." You paused, trying to decide how you wanted to word this to get your point across. "I don't want to be this way all the time, I want to feel comfortable in those moments, to connect with someone like that but I just can't and I've always hated myself for it." You couldn't help the tear that escaped your eye, deciding to just let it fall. "I just wish I was...normal,"

"You are normal." Steven was quick to shut down your negative thoughts.

Looking at him directly you were shocked to see him tearing up a bit. "Steven..." "You're completely normal Y/n, nothings wrong with you, you just have a harder time getting comfortable with those things and that's ok, everyone's different love," "But I don't want to be different!" You choked out, more tears streaming down your face at the confession and he paused. Moving closer to you, he grabbed your face in his hands using his thumbs to wipe your tears as you shut your eyes. Leaning in he softly placed a kiss to your nose before sighing. "Who you are is completely okay love, and if you really want to we can try and take things slow for you alright? But you can't be mad at yourself for feeling the way you feel about something as futile as this." You sniffled, slowly opening your eyes though not looking at him directly. "What you do for me is enough already, I don't need to have sex with you to love you." That seemed to really hit you as you started crying again, moving to hug Steven. He stroked your back as you cried, whispering comforting words to calm your ragged breathing as you held back sobs. "I just don't wanna feel this way forever." You mumbled and Steven hummed, pulling back from the hug to look at you. You tried to wipe your tears but Steven had beat you to it. The small amount of affection making you smile briefly before you sighed. "Like I said before if you really want to try and change it we can take it slow," "I-I don't really know, I mean I want to try but I don't because I know I'll just feel disappointed." Steven offered you a smile as he continued to caress your face, ready to wipe away any stray tears that still fell. "Then we won't. Not unless you're 100% sure you want to try. And even if that day never comes it'll be alright." You were quiet as you took in his words.

Part of you hoped that one day randomly you'd just start to feel ok with it all but you know that's most likely never going to happen. But with Stevens words on your mind you feel a little less bad for feeling this way. Maybe you're not some weirdo after all, maybe you are just a normal person. Even if you never change the way you feel, Steven will still love you and at the end of the day isn't that all you really need?

----!----

( This was once again quite personal to me so I'm sorry that it's like so specific but I needed some comfort so I decided to make my own comfort fic LMFAO )

Thanks for reading! Have a great day/night!!

My requests are CLOSED !!

See my DIRECTORY for upcoming fics!

Masterlist

[randoms-fandoms]

Nebula x reader hc!

Headcanon list for Nebula <3 a little canon divergent but whatevs

Warnings: some slightly suggestive ideas near the end; nothing explicit or descriptive.

You knew each other for a long time before you started dating— mostly because the two of you were so busy with canon typical world-saving stuff

But also, Nebula was wayyy too shy to make the first move

She’s the type to ignore her feelings for as long as possible. She really doesn’t know how to deal with it

You’d probably be her first real relationship— she has had hookups and stuff before, but you’re the first person she’d ever had feelings for

She had felt drawn to you ever since she met you, but the two of you really grew close during the blip

You became her best friend, and she fell hard and fast.

Rocket used to tease her about this. Nobody else noticed how she would get all quiet when you hugged her or got too close, but he did

The events of endgame kinda took her mind off of it, but when you were all thrown back into battle, she was noticeably more protective of you

It wasn’t even intentional. It was second nature. She wished she could stop, she could see how you looked at her, picking apart her every action to understand her. She hated how you knew her so well, but also reveled in it

She was almost careless with her own life in favor of protecting you— however nearly indestructible she may be— so much so that she ended up getting badly injured

You were right there, so of course you were the one to help her. She refused help at first, but she was so fucking tired, and it felt good to finally let you be close to her

Tension was high, Nebula was angry with herself for being sloppy and leaving herself vulnerable to attack, you were angry at her for putting herself in danger

There was a moment in the middle of the battlefield, where you were desperately administering first aid, and finally confronted her— why are you doing this?

Nebula had always been an outwardly selfish person. She fought for herself with no exceptions... but you. Now she had fucked up and she was gonna die.

She finally admitted it. Her eyes were incapable of tears, her face was limited in expression, but she cried anyway. I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t know.

You understood, of course. You understood her better than anyone.

She had always hated feeling vulnerable. Weeks ago she had been cursing herself for feeling so full of love. She had been wishing she could stop.

When you held her in your arms, tight hug causing pain to seep through her every vein and muscle, it was worth it. It hurt, her body and her heart, but you were with her, so it was okay.

Of course Nebula survived. She didn’t remember how or what happened, but when she woke up she felt like shit.

You were with her. So was Rocket, so was Peter, so were the rest of the Guardians— but you were what mattered.

Things felt strangely normal for some time— normal for her at least. People avoiding her out of fear, spending her days mostly alone, and of course her constant pain. The pain was the worst.

She had to face the reality that she didn’t want that to be her normal anymore.

She had had a taste of allowing herself to be loved, for just a second, and because she expected to die. But she didn’t. And now she couldn’t go back to normal.

She kept it to herself, mostly. She bided her time, healing, helping the Guardians buy and fix up Knowhere, slowly but surely she eased into it. “It” being having friends, and letting them love her.

But what about you?

Since that day, Nebula hadn’t heard a thing about her confession from you. For months, she agonized over it, until you finally asked her about it.

Do you remember anything before you blacked out in the fight?

Vague. She didn’t need more clarification, though. That was all she had been thinking about since it happened. She just nodded.

…Did you mean it?

She spoke this time. Yes.

The rest of the evening was nice. The two of you didn’t talk much— just spent time together. Nebula spent the night at your house. You ate together. You bathed together. You slept together. You woke up together.

Nebula had never felt better. She felt raw and shaky and emotional, and sometimes she wished she could build those walls back up and get back to her comfort zone, but truthfully… she felt incredible. She felt like a person again.

You talked more after that of course, when things were easier. You became a thing. You negotiated which of your friends you should tell first. You laughed, and teased each other, and hugged, and kissed, and loved each other.

It felt so natural. It felt so normal. Nebula couldn’t stop smiling all day.

The two of you live together on Knowhere now. People are still intimidated by her, but Nebula smiles often.

A/N: hey guys :3 I take requests, both for headcanons and oneshots <3

[kingofvipers]

Marvel Incorrect Quotes #3

Thor: Oh, we’re now one big family! And I’m the dad, and Bruce's the mom

Bruce: Why am I the mom? What gender rolls are we pushing here?

Teen!M/n: I know they're probably thinking I'm like the son, but I'm not. I'll be the gay emo cousin.

Korg: I'LL be the son, the hot shot, who's only dream.....is to be a star.

Valkyrie: I think a pretty, fresh out of jail aunt.

Loki: And I'm the sassy aunt....who talks shit about everybody.

[vampkillr]

Scars — Matt Murdock

Tw: Self harm, description of relapse

gn! reader — 1.1k words — hurt/comfort — this fic was written true to my personal experience with self harm. i am not romanticizing this topic. do not read this if you are trying to have some deranged fantasy of it. the descriptions in this fic may be triggering to some readers. please do not continue reading if this topic will impact your mental health. your health and safety are of utmost importance to me.

My scars were different than his. They told the tale of a different battle. A different addiction. I wasn't a hero like him. He couldn't see the war I was fighting. In a way I was grateful for it. The safety his lack of vision provided. I didn't have to hide myself. There weren't words to describe why I did it. A pain so deep in my bones I had to dig for it. To let it bleed out and let the pressure build once more, only to start the process all over again. With Matt I had to be careful. I had to make sure he couldn't hear it. Smell it. Taste it. This, of course was just a matter of making sure he wasn't there. Everything else was secondary so long as my arm was covered.

It became a ritual. Every night after work to come home and fight the urge. To wait and wait— maybe make a few days clean only to ultimately cave in to that voice in my head. To fill the emptiness on my skin. Once again I found myself staring at my wrist. Blade in hand. Guilt beginning to whisper my name, but the voice louder. How they looked too shallow. How they were all starting to heal. Picking apart the empty spaces and shaming me for not having filled them. It was almost artistic, the lines I placed on myself. Picking and choosing exactly where it was I wanted my blood to spill— and as I started to bleed, I remembered why I loved it so much. I felt warmth. Comfort. My skin cried in a way I couldn't. It dripped. Beaded. It gave me an ache that reminded me I had a heartbeat.

A knock at the bathroom door and the frantic shaking of the doorknob brought me to reality. To regret and disappointment. Ripped away from the peace I had created for myself. “Open the door!” Matthew's voice cut through the wood that separated us. Shit. I took my time getting up, pressing my already bloody cloth onto my arm and going to let Matt in. The second the door was unlocked he barreled through, grabbing me and holding me as tight as he could. “I thought—” His cheek against my head, lips brushing against my ear. “I thought you were trying to kill yourself I couldn't—” I could feel the panic in his chest. In the way he couldn't finish his sentence. “All I could smell was your blood.”

I felt gutted. I scared my only sanctuary. I ruined the safety I found in his normalcy. He knew now the very thing I was trying to hide. “Matthew,” I spoke low, gently trying to coax him off of me. “I'm alright.” I dreaded the possible conversation this would spark. I didn't want him to try to make himself my saint. There was nothing he could tell me that I haven't already heard. He backed away only to hold my arm out for him to analyze. He shut the toilet lid and sat me down, washing his hands and taking the time to pick a thick enough rag. For a minute we stayed silent as he put pressure against my arm, the air of disappointment choking us both. I could see how upset he was. I was upset too. "I'm sorry.” I whispered.

“I didn't know how to talk to you about it....” My eyes trailed his form, the way he towered over me like this. “I didn't know if you wanted to talk about it.” He sighed. “I just want you to be okay.”

“I am.” I tried to reassure him. To reassure myself. We both knew I was lying. I had an issue. A problem that has rooted itself so deep in my brain that I didn't see an end to it. It clouded my vision. My judgement. He let go of my arm, placing both bloody rags in my sink and going on a journey to find my bandages. “I'll get them.” He moved away and I reached for everything I needed, rinsing my arm off and drying it first. Three big band-aids later and I was good as new. I walked over to the couch while Matt made his way to the bar— the light from that god-awful sign outside being the only thing illuminating my path. A purple hue seeping through the vaguely clouded panes, painting the entire room and everything in it. I sat down and he placed a glass of water on the coffee table before sitting across from me. Silence consumed us. Nothing could fix what just happened. There was no space for the conversation to change. A stagnation that neither of us knew how to address. “So you knew?” My voice low.

“The whole time.” His confirmation made me want to sink into myself. Going this long without talking about it, it was no wonder he thought I was trying to die. There was no reason to believe otherwise. “I didn't want to upset you.... I thought you'd come to me when you were ready.” Every time he'd touch me. Every time he'd graze my wrists. Pretending to believe my lies about how they were all old scars. With each question of ‘they're still old?’ he gave me the chance to come forward. With each ‘yes’ I let him know I didn't want to.

“I don't know why I do it.” My arm ached. It hurt worse than before because of how tight Matt was gripping the rag to my arm. “I'm hurting..... I just can't explain how.” I sighed and he got up, coming around to sit next to me on the couch. “A suffering I have to show myself just to know it's real. Maybe I do it just to see myself heal in a way that my brain can't. I don't know.” His hand went to my back. The pressure soothing. “I just can't help myself sometimes. I can't stop.” I leaned over, head in my hands. I just wanted today to be over with.

“Let's go to bed.” Matt gently pulled me off the couch and led me to our room. I didn't have the fight in me to try and stay up any longer. He stripped himself of his black outfit and got under the covers. I followed shortly after, relaxing into his arms as he held me. “I love you.” I didn't have to say anything for him to know that I loved him too. He could feel it. The heat on my skin. My heartbeat. The warmth he covered me in was enough to lull me to sleep. I drifted off surrounded by him.

u definitely do not have to reblog this !! please don't unnecessarily trigger anyone. i wrote this pretty much to comfort myself so i definitely understand if it doesn't get many notes.

[ynscrazylife]

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

Sick Days 

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

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

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

Main Masterlist | MCU Masterlist

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

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

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

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

“Hey, Y/N?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Natasha forced a smile. “I hope so,” she said, and gave her best friend’s hand a small squeeze before leaving to suit up. She couldn’t afford to waste any time.

When she left, Clint had F.R.I.D.A.Y call the team down to the living room. It took a couple minutes, as they were all in various parts of the building, but eventually everyone was gathered. Clint refused to tell anyone the purpose of this impromptu meeting until everyone was there, which was a little frustrating for people.

(People as in Tony)

“Will you just tell us already, Legolas?!” The billionaire exclaimed, as he and the others stood watching Clint pace back and forth, occasionally checking his phone in case Natasha had texted any update.

Finally, seeing Wanda and Vision walk in, who were the last to arrive, the archer explained. Shooting Tony a glare, he said, “Something happened to Y/N on patrol,” he repeated the words Natasha told him. “We’re not sure what, but Nat’s going to find out.”

Everyone’s faces softened. “Something happened? Like an injury?” Wanda inquired, frowning.

Clint glanced over at Natasha’s computer, which still displayed your stats. “Maybe . . .” he trailed off, his eyes catching something on the screen. “Wait - it looks like they’re sick or something. See? Y/N has a high fever.” The rest crowded around him.

As they all watched the screen, Bruce said, “I’ll go get the medical bay set up. Dr. Cho should still be here,” before briskly exiting the room.

“Y/N displayed no signs of illness this morning. In fact, they seemed to be quite well and excited for patrol,” Vision noted.

“They did say they were blasted with something,” Clint murmured, trying to connect the dots.

His phone’s ringtone interrupted the team and Clint scrambled to answer the call. Seeing that it was Natasha, he put it on speakerphone for everyone to hear.

“Y/N’s sick. It’s bad. They’ve already thrown up on our way back and I’m carrying them,” Natasha rushed out almost as soon as Clint accepted the call. They could all hear her controlled breaths as she was walking as quickly as she could.

“Bruce has gone to get med set up for when you arrive,” Steve said.

Remembering how you sounded on comms, Clint asked, “Is Y/N conscious?”

“They’ve been slipping in and out for now. They were passed out when I found them,” Natasha answered.

The team exchanged looks of worry. “Whatever it is, we’ll figure it out,” Tony tried to answer confidently, but his concern overshadowed his tone a bit.

Minutes later Natasha had burst into the tower, you still in her arms. She made a beeline for medical and the rest of the team were hot on her heels. As Natasha had said, you were definitely awake, but unaware of your surroundings nor the state you were in. You were still sweating and shivering profusely and would occasionally mumble something incomprehensible or let out small whines of pain. It broke everyone’s hearts to see you like this - if not for the pressing danger, they weren’t sure they could stand it.

Once at medical, Natasha gently laid you down on a bed where Dr. Cho quickly got to work. The Avengers were allowed to stay in the room (they surely would have put up a fit if not), but needed to stay back so Dr. Cho could work. They all watched as she hooked you up to monitors and assessed you. 

“Y/N’s defiantly gotten very sick quite quickly,” Dr. Cho confirmed as she worked. 

“It must be that damn blast,” Natasha muttered. “We need to figure out what that was.”

“I can get the storage unit’s company to send us the security cam footage,” Tony offered, but didn’t wait for a response before dashing out. 

“Can someone get some cool compresses? We need to bring their temperature down, it’s dangerously high,” Dr. Cho requested as she set up an IV. 

Sam and Wanda immediately complied, rushing to get the compresses. They returned and draped them on your forehead, neck, arms, anywhere they could. Up close, they could see how pale and fragile you really were, eyes half-closed. It was scary. 

“I’ve given them an IV with fluids and medicine,” Dr. Cho said, letting out a huff. “That and cool compresses is all we can really do for now except to continue monitoring them.” With a gesture of her hand, the Avengers all flocked around you, drawing up chairs to sit. No one wanted to leave your side. “Let me know if their condition changes.” Dr. Cho smiled sweetly at them before leaving and letting them have some privacy. 

No one said anything for a little while, stewing in their concern as they watched you. You had fallen asleep, but it didn’t seem restful, with your pinched eyebrows and scrunched up nose. Wanda continued to dab your forehead with the compass while Steve and Sam would occasionally go to get more. 

After some time, you woke up a bit and let out a whine. “What is it, hon?” Wanda asked softly.

“It’s cold . . . Can I have a blanket?” you croaked, voice hoarse. You squirmed a bit, pouting. 

“I’m sorry, darling, you can’t. We need to get your fever down,” Natasha explained. 

Tears at how awful you felt came to your eyes. You curled up on the bed. “Please . . .” you said. 

This shattered everyone. Natasha frowned, gently petting your hair. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered. 

You moaned before letting out a few coughs that shook your entire body. Clint went to grab you a glass of water while Steve glanced at the clock. “Shouldn’t the IV and meds have kicked in by now?” He whispered. 

Clint helped you drink some small sips of the water while Vision answered, “yes, it should’ve.” 

Everyone looked around. “I’ll get Dr. Cho,” Sam decided, keeping his voice low so as to not disturb you. 

A couple minutes later, he came back with the doctor in tow. You were still curled up, looking miserable. “Hi, Y/N,” Dr. Cho said. “How are you feeling?” She was pretty sure she knew the answer, but still wanted to ask. 

“Hot and cold at the same time . . . My head, throat, and stomach hurts,” you said, voice so small that the others had to strain to understand you. 

Dr. Cho nodded and looked over the monitors, frowning. “The meds should have kicked in by now,” she muttered. 

Everyone felt defeated and even more worried. What the hell had you been blasted with?! 

“Maybe a bath might help? My mom always had us take warm baths when Pietro or I got sick,” Wanda suggested. 

The rest nodded. At least it was something. “You feeling up for that?” Natasha cooed, seeing how tired you were. 

“I want to try,” you mumbled, trying to sit up. 

Natasha and Wanda helped you. They wrapped wrapped one of your arms around them and one of their arms around you, half-carrying, half-leading you to the bathroom. Clint followed behind to be able to open the door. 

You leaned against the wall, supported by Natasha, while Wanda started the bath and Clint returned to the rest. The redhead had to keep you from dozing off a few times which worried her a bit about leaving you alone. When the bath was ready, Natasha said, “We’ll check on you every ten minutes or so, okay?” 

You nodded, although it was a small nod so as to not aggravate your headache. Wanda and Natasha then left you alone, walking back to the medical bay. When they returned, they saw that Tony had come back, too. 

“Did you find anything?” Natasha asked anxiously as she and Wanda resumed their seats.

“There was nothing much the footage could tell us,” Tony admitted, standing in front of the team and Dr. Cho. “We saw Y/N using their powers to make themselves invisible, but it seemed like the guy who attacked them knew that or something because he turned around and blasted them while they were invisible. I’ve talked with S.H.I.E.L.D. about it - Fury says it might have something to do with Y/N being an inhuman.” 

This got everyone’s attention. You being an Inhuman had never interfered with anything before, so what was the problem now? “Fury had some of his agents look at the rest of the tech and stuff from the storage unit the guy had been lurking in. Apparently - it’s all tech that belongs to the Kree. It would make sense why it’s effecting Y/N, since the Kree sorta invented the Inhumans. He’s contacting Carol now to see if she might know anything about it,” Tony continued, and then grabbed a chair and sat down while everyone processed this. 

“Let’s hope she does,” Bruce said, receiving murmurs of agreement. 

They sat around until the ten minute mark hit, when Natasha went to check on you. She returned a couple minutes later, her arm wrapped around you. You looked quite sleepy, and the Avengers would of aw’ed if you weren’t so sick. Your hair was still damp but you were wearing Avengers-themed pajamas.

“They fell asleep in the bath,” Natasha told the team, before helping you get situated back in bed. 

Seeing as the sickness wouldn’t be contagious if it was indeed an Inhuman once, a couple of the Avengers gladly cuddled you, wanting to prove some comfort. Really, they all would’ve, if the bed had been big enough. Natasha and Wanda laid down on either side of you and Clint sat at the end of your bed. 

Natasha pet your hair while Wanda simply had her arms wrapped around you. Sam was waiting with a glass in his hand in case you got thirsty. When you dozed off for a little bit, Tony couldn’t help but snap a picture. “Sorry, they’re adorable,” he said, not sounding apologetic at all and shrugged.

After waiting with you, Carol drew everyone out of their thoughts by walking in. She was wearing her usual suit, but held a vial in her hands. 

Hearing her footsteps roused you and when you could make out the blonde, you smiled. “Carol!” You said, having missed her. 

Carol smiled warmly at you. If there was anyone who could break the space captain’s tough exterior, it was you. “Hey, little one,” she greeted. “Long time, no see. I’ve got something for you that will help.” She handed Natasha the vial. “It’s the cure to your sickness. The sickness was invented by the Kree to infect the Inhumans. From what I can gather, the guy was a Kree man who had a device on him that could detect Inhumans - that’s how he knew you were there.” 

“Interesting,” Steve mused, as Natasha handed you the vial. 

Not caring about how bad it might taste and just wanting to feel better, you gladly drank the entirety of the vial in just a couple gulps. 

“It’ll make you quite sleepy, but-” Carol cut herself off as your eyes quickly fluttered shut and you fell into a deep sleep, head falling against Natasha’s shoulders. “They’ll wake up in a few hours feeling better.” 

She turned around to grab a chair. “You’re staying?” Sam asked, as they watched her. 

“Of course,” Carol said, scoffing as she sat down. She looked at the Avengers. “What, is anyone planning on leaving?” 

They all smiled at each other as a series of “no’s” went around. They were more than happy to sit with you and comfort you. 

“That’s what I thought,” Carol said proudly, smiling. 

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[defectivevillain]

tentative acclimation

pairing: Steve Rogers/Reader

summary: When Steve Rogers wakes from his near 70 year coma, he’s surprised by a lot of things. Perhaps most surprising, however, is the visit that Phil Coulson pays him—and the subsequent encounter with you, his new “tutor” and guide to twenty-first century life.

reader’s pronouns: they/them

Freezing. Painfully cold. Shivering, teeth chattering against chapped lips. Trapped in walls of ice. Voices can be vaguely heard through the barriers. Shadows rise and fall in the glassy surface of the ice. Numbness spreading down, down, down. Purplish blue skin, aching fingers.

Suddenly, the voices grow louder. There’s a harsh cracking noise and light seeps through cracks in the ice. The shadow on the other side of the ice morphs and, after a sickening moment of terrible anticipation, a pickaxe breaks the ice apart in one fell swoop.

Steve Rogers wakes with a gasp, breathing hard. He moves his arms to the side, half-expecting to find the freezing icy surface that kept him entrapped for so long. Instead, his hands find the rumpled sheets on his mattress. Steve takes a shuddering breath in and heads to the bathroom to splash some room-temperature water on his face. The first time he woke from the nightmare, he tried to use cold water—and nearly caused himself to panic all over again.

Safe to say, he can’t fall asleep after that. The sun is rising on the horizon; Steve has grown accustomed to rising with the sun, thanks to his nightmares. He takes a deep breath before going through the motions and making himself breakfast. After eating, Steve makes his way to the living room—only to hear the doorbell ring.

Steve walks to the front door and looks through the peephole, only to see a familiar face. He swings the door open and greets the visitor. “Phil.” “Captain Rogers,” Phil Coulson responds with a slight nod. Indeed, Coulson has been a frequent visitor since Steve first found himself in this S.H.I.E.L.D. safehouse. “I’m here on official business, unfortunately.” He then steps aside to reveal someone standing behind him: you. Steve can’t help but wonder what Coulson’s game is here. Perhaps you’re an undercover operative that he’ll be working with in the future? Steve’s misgivings must show on his face because Phil sighs and gestures to you. “Please, introduce yourself.”

“Hello,” you remark casually, before introducing yourself. “I’ll be your… tutor, I suppose. I’ll be assisting you with reacclimating to life in the twenty-first century.” Steve stares at you in disbelief, waiting for the punchline. You simply stare back. He gives in after a few moments of tense eye contact and turns his attention to Coulson.

“Surely, this isn’t necessary-” Steve tries to object.

“I’m afraid it’s TVA protocol,” Coulson interjects, as if he’d been anticipating the argument. Steve frowns at the unfamiliar acronym. Coulson doesn’t give him any time to think about it, as he continues speaking. “Relocation to a different time period is jarring; we need to make sure you’re functioning properly and have all the necessary intel before we send you out into the field.”

“Are you joking?” Steve asks, just barely suppressing a laugh. He knows Coulson wouldn’t appreciate the gesture. Despite that knowledge, however, Steve can’t help but resist the proposal. He doesn’t need to be tutored like a schoolboy.

“Do I look like I’m joking?” Indeed, Coulson’s lips are pressed in a firm line and his arms are crossed over his chest. Steve remains silent, knowing when there’s no avenue for argument. For whatever reason, Coulson is not budging in the slightest.

“Now, then, I’ll leave you two to it.” In typical Coulson fashion, the conversation is cut short before it can really begin. The agent sends Steve a parting glance before stepping out of the room. Steve is unable to hold back an annoyed sigh. He takes a moment to survey you: his supposed tutor. You look like a typical citizen. Your outfit is a bit different than what he’s used to—you’re wearing a sweatshirt with lettering across the front and blue jeans. Steve supposes that your time—his time, now, he thinks to himself—isn’t one of war. Otherwise, he’d likely be seeing war uniforms similar to the ones that dominated the 40s.

“We don’t have to go through anything major, today,” you compromise right out of the gate, clearly sensing his frustration and apprehension. Steve feels his shoulder slightly loosen at that. “I figure it’s already pretty overwhelming to wake up in New York City nearly seventy years later… and in Times Square, no less.”

“How do you know that?” Steve frowns, thinking back to how he broke out of his containment and found himself standing on the street in Times Square. Nick Fury had confronted him in the middle of the street, where he received the devastating confirmation that almost seventy years had passed since the crash.

“I was briefed back at the TVA,” you respond. There’s a long silence. Steve doesn’t have the energy to try to fill it. Plus, what if his diction is misunderstood or incomprehensible? If clothing has changed so much in the years, everything else probably has too. There’s also the question of the TVA. He’s pretty curious about it—considering it sounds like the TVA (whatever that is) is the reason he’s going through this tutoring.

“Well, tell me about yourself, at least,” you prompt, before he can simmer in the quiet for too long. Steve squints at you in suspicion. You roll your eyes. “Just so I can get to know you better. I’m not allowed to share confidential information.”

Steve doesn’t take the provided opportunity to talk about himself. He’s hesitant to disclose anything to you—a complete stranger. Coulson brought you in with him, but that doesn’t mean you’re trustworthy in Steve’s eyes. The awkward silence continues to drag on.

“There are other people like you,” you say eventually, breaking the tension. “Gifted individuals. Superheroes. However you want to word it.” You break off for a second. “And you’re not alone, Mr. Rogers. There are… more people displaced in time than you may think.” Steve raises his eyebrows at that. There are other people like him—people that woke up to find themselves in an entirely different century?

“What I mean to say is… I’m able to make a living in this position—guiding victims of time and helping them adapt to current culture. I’ve met people who have been displaced centuries ahead, and they adjusted just fine. You’ll be alright.”

“Well, thank you,” Steve says, strangely reassured by the vote of confidence—albeit by a total stranger. “But I just don’t see how this…tutoring will be helpful to me.” He admits. Thankfully, you don’t seem to take offense to the statement.

“You may have been trapped in ice for seventy years, but the rest of the world was not,” you answer, clasping your hands. You seem to be avoiding his gaze now. “You’ll need to learn about history, technology, and even popular culture. Our society functions differently than you remember.”

“...Fine,” Steve acquiesces, albeit unhappily. He senses that you won’t be giving in any time soon. If he were to refuse, Coulson would likely visit every day until Steve gave in. Ultimately, he’s come to realize that this is unavoidable. If this is what it takes to get back to fighting for peace, he’ll do it.

“Good,” you sigh in evident relief. You tap your fingers restlessly against your leg, before pulling out a small device with a keypad and an even smaller screen. You’re looking down at it with rapt attention. “Now, I think that’s all for today. I’ll be back tomorrow, same time. Okay?”

Steve almost manages to suppress his curiosity, but he finds himself blurting out his question before you leave. “What’s that?” He asks, looking down at the device in your hand. You follow his gaze.

“Ah, this?” You motion, holding the device out. “It’s a phone.”

“That’s a telephone?” Steve asks, unable to quite keep the fascination out of his voice. The telephone he’s accustomed to comes to mind—a large, awkward, stationary object. It looks nothing like what you’re holding.

“Yeah,” you respond, sensing his interest. You hold the phone out to him so that he can take another look. It’s rather small—pocket-sized—and it has several different buttons. “The mobile phone’s great—you can call anyone right from here. It’s got a bunch of other features, too. There’s emailing, which is like sending a digital letter. There’s also texting, which is like emailing but more informal. Phones can even play music, too.”

“That’s… cool.” Steve admits begrudgingly.

“Right?” You smile amicably. “Hey, I’ll see if I can get you a phone before tomorrow.”

“That’s not-” That’s not necessary, Steve means to say. Unfortunately, you’re gone by the time he spits the words out. Steve stares at the door for a while after your departure, feeling a bit as if his world has been flipped upside down.

Steve spends the rest of the afternoon thinking over his encounter with Coulson and his conversation with you. Despite his apprehension, you seem down-to-earth and kind. Perhaps the lessons won’t be as torturous as he expects them to be. He falls asleep quickly that night and, to his surprise, he isn’t roused by nightmares. Steve wakes up the next morning feeling refreshed for the first time since his return. It’s curious, he thinks to himself as he makes breakfast. He almost has to wonder if his conversation with you aided his psyche, but he quickly dispels the thought.

The doorbell rings, not long after he finishes breakfast. He supposes it matches the time you visited yesterday. Steve walks over to the front door and, after glancing through the peephole, lets you in.

“Great news,” you say brightly, foregoing a greeting. Steve feels his posture straightening and his negative feelings receding. You’re dressed in similar attire as the day before, although it looks a little more formal. You’re holding a paper bag in your hand. When you notice him staring at it, you smile.“I got you a phone.” Steve’s eyes widen and he falls in a shocked haze as you make your way through the house with unexpected ease. Eventually, you sit down on the couch and he finds a seat next to you. You hand him the bag and he looks down at it cautiously.

“Go ahead and open it,” you encourage him. Steve pushes past his irrational nerves and reaches down into the bag, only to find a nondescript white box with a cellphone pictured on the front. After a wordless nod from you, he opens the box and finds a brand new phone. You’re looking at him in thinly-veiled anticipation and Steve finds a smile growing on his face.

“Thank you,” Steve feels the need to say, even if his wariness hasn’t entirely diminished. It certainly seems as if you went out of your way to get it for him. “I hope it wasn’t too much trouble.”

“Of course,” you respond without hesitation. “And it wasn’t any trouble at all. Coulson seemed pretty open to the idea; it probably has some S.H.I.E.L.D. programming in it, but…”

“It’s great,” Steve cuts in, before you can evidently beat yourself up about it any further. He holds the phone delicately—secretly afraid that he’s going to break it. You notice his careful grip and laugh, before showing him how to use it.

The phone is truly amazing. Steve never thought communication would’ve grown so much in his absence. The telephones from his time aren’t even comparable to the lightweight device he’s holding right now. Indeed, his new phone has the capacity to play music, write emails, make calls, and more. It feels like an unnecessary luxury for him to possess, but you’re quick to reassure him that nearly every working person has one.

He fiddles with the phone for a bit longer, exploring the different programs installed on it. To his surprise, there’s already a phone number listed under the name “Foxtrot.” That must be Nick Fury. Steve sighs. There’s one more number, listed under the alias “Agent 10.” Steve doesn’t think that can be anyone but Phil Coulson.

“Your contacts list is a little sparse, I’ll admit,” you remark, glancing over his shoulder at the phone. “Here.” You extend your hand and Steve places the phone in your hand. He watches as you quickly type in some numbers, before handing the device back to him. “I added my number, too. In case you need anything.” Steve nods and promptly pretends that the thought doesn’t provoke yearning in him—yearning for you in the quiet hours of solitude in this house that isn’t his.

Learning how to use his new phone is incredibly enjoyable and enlightening, but, unfortunately, that is only the first of the many lessons Steve has with you. And the next lessons aren’t nearly as fun. Steve learns that World War II wasn’t the last war the U.S. battled in. Steve learns about the current state of the U.S. government and the travesties that occurred in his absence. Somehow, he is reminded of what should have been obvious from the outset: the world continued to survive and thrive in his absence. It’s hard to accept that, despite all his efforts to keep the peace, the world continued to see war, strife, hunger, and suffering. Things may be better, but from what he’s seen, they’re still a long way from true order.

Steve grapples with these facts for longer than he’d like to admit. Some of your subsequent tutoring sessions don’t actually involve any tutoring. Sometimes, Steve can’t find the energy or motivation to do anything except for stare ahead silently, blankly. In these moments, you’ll tell him about all of the good things that have happened in the world. You tell him about news stories where people save each other. Sometimes, you’ll tell him about a television show you’re watching or a book you find interesting. Steve can’t help but feel grateful for your unwavering compassion. Even in the moments when he can’t push words past his lips, you are a steady presence at his side. You’re perhaps the only person that doesn’t seem to expect anything from him. It’s rather refreshing—to be regarded as a regular human being instead of a superhero or a solution to the world’s problems.

Today is one of those days—the days in which he can’t bring himself to move. Everything feels hopeless. He is lost in this world and there is no one here that cares about him. Even your presence isn’t enough to shake him out of it. You start to speak aloud to fill the silence and Steve wonders. He wonders why you’re really here, why you’re even bothering to try when so many others abandoned him.

Time drags on. You’re moving from recounting your weekend to speaking about one of your favorite books. Steve feels the words crawl from his lips of their own accord. He doesn’t intend to interrupt you—it simply slips out.

“I had a date,” he murmurs, so quietly that he can’t even tell if he’s spoken aloud. Steve turns to look at you, only to find that you’ve frozen in place. There’s a bewildered expression on your face for a moment.

“What?” You ask quietly. The clock on the opposite wall ticks forebodingly.

“I had a date,” Steve says again. “I missed it.”

“I’m sorry,” you remark. There’s a tortured expression on your face and it almost looks as if you’re going to cry, too. Steve pulls his gaze away, his eyes burning. Everything feels as if it’s crashing down on him. The clock creates a methodical rhythm that rips through his head, reverberates in his skull. It’s not just about his date with Peggy—not anymore. It’s about the near seventy years he spent entrapped in ice, unknowing of the world aging around him. It’s about all his friends getting married, growing old, and dying without him. It’s about the old wounds from his war, being hastily covered with new scars from newer wars and newer conflicts.  

“I missed it,” Steve repeats, his voice sounding foreign to his ears. “I missed all of it.”

“Steve,” you remark with an uncharacteristically worried tone. You’re staring at him now. Steve can’t bring himself to tear his gaze away from the blank wall in front of him, even as his vision blurs with unshed tears. He feels a chill roll down his spine and suddenly, he’s shivering. Steve wraps his arms around himself, unable to see past the walls of ice obscuring his vision. He’s freezing. Painfully cold. Shivering, teeth chattering-

“Steve!” Your voice cuts through the static ringing in his ears. Steve flinches as you embrace him. You move back as if to pull away and he feels himself reach out to keep you next to him. You hesitantly wrap your arms around him and Steve buries his head in your shoulder. “You’re safe, Steve.” You’re almost exuding heat and Steve leans into it, allowing your heat to thaw the frozen ice around him. His fingers clench the fabric of your sweater.

There’s a hand on his cheek and kind eyes meeting his. Steve allows himself to lean into your touch, if only for a fraction of a second. “You’re alive, Steve,” you say. “You’re not trapped anymore. You’re free.” Somehow, that is what breaks Steve out of his trance. Free. He’s free. The ice around him is melting into a puddle. The water is seeping into his clothing, but he’s not trapped anymore. He’s free of his cold confines, free of the frigidity that clung to his skin for so long. Steve slowly exhales, his breath fading into the air before he can see it rise in a puff of vapor. He isn’t cold anymore.

Some time later, you break apart. Steve momentarily mourns the loss of contact, before beginning to feel deeply and profoundly embarrassed. He hates the idea of anyone seeing him like this—especially you. He almost wants to apologize, but he knows you’d just stare at him incredulously. The rest of your scheduled time, the two of you sit next to each other in silence. This silence is different from normal, though. It’s not uncomfortable or tense; rather, it’s comfortable. Steve feels relaxed by the time you get to your feet and declare that you have to leave.

“Give me a call, if you need someone to talk to,” you murmur, before leaving Steve to his uncertain silence. He stares at the space you occupied for a little while, wondering why he deserves your compassion. He can’t help but think back to last week, when he was so guarded about you and your intentions. Steve takes a deep breath and rubs a hand over his face. His head is pounding. He gets some water before beginning to pace about the room. Just before he can summon the courage to dial your number, he realizes that he’s getting a phone call from you. Steve answers immediately and hopes that you can’t tell how relieved he is.

As time goes on, the tutoring gets easier. Steve feels less burdened by his past. He’s slowly adjusting to twenty-first century life and he’s starting to find that he actually likes it. Steve knows things aren’t perfect, but, then again, they never are. And there’s no use agonizing over what has already happened—that can’t be changed. The future, however… Tomorrow is in his grasp. He focuses on acclimating to this new technology that surrounds him, because he knows it’ll help him in the future. Steve even finds himself beginning to enjoy your meetings. He finds himself looking forward to your conversation, looking forward to the friendly smile you arrive with. He finds you in the most mundane of things—in the glimmer of sunlight that stretches through the window in the kitchen, in the simple elegance of the flowers swaying in the wind outside.

The moment he starts to enjoy your presence—long for it, even—the sessions approach their end. It’s been weeks since he first met you and, since then, he’s learned nearly everything there is to know about the twenty-first century. Steve doesn’t know everything, but he knows much more than he could have ever hoped to know. He realizes that he could never have learned everything he has on his own. It would’ve been impossible.

Just before your last meeting, you suggest that the two of you dine at a nearby restaurant to celebrate. This is how Steve finds himself sitting at a rickety iron table on the uneven sidewalk, bending his knees under the rather small table to avoid brushing against you. Stark Tower sparkles from its position in the near distance. The sunlight is warm but pleasant. There’s a gentle breeze wafting through the air. Steve is possessed with the mundane urge to sketch the tower in front of him. The urge fades when he sees the gleam in your eyes and the excited gestures you make as you speak to him.

The waitress here is friendly—almost too much so. She leans into Steve’s personal space and reads him the specials, as if he’s unable of doing so on his own. Steve glances at you for assistance, only to find that you’re steadily averting your gaze to somewhere on the street. Perhaps this is one of the few things that you’re also unfamiliar with.

Once the waitress leaves, you seem less tense. The two of you talk about any recent developments in your lives, anything that may have been neglected in your past lessons together. Steve is happy to hear anything and everything you have to say, and he finds himself captivated by your every word.

Before long, the waitress comes by again to deliver your drinks. After she places Steve’s drink in front of him, she winks at him and walks away. Steve feels dread rising in his chest when he realizes that the napkin she gives him has writing on it.

“Did she just give you her number?” You ask. Steve nods with a frown, turning his attention to the waitress who is now walking away. “You should put her number in your phone. She’s clearly into you. You could ask her out.” Your gaze falls to his phone on the table, as if waiting for him to input the number into his contacts list. He swears that he sees a slight strain to your smile at the suggestion, but he puts it down to his own imagination.

There’s a long silence as Steve remains still in his seat. After a few moments, you evidently realize that he isn’t interested. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to dredge up bad memories,” you grimace. Steve blinks at you, confused by the remark. It takes him a few seconds to realize that you’re referring to Peggy. Admittedly, he hasn’t thought about her in a while—not since he first told you about her.

“No, it’s not that,” Steve answers honestly. He’s felt restless for most of the day but, now that he’s sitting across from you at this restaurant, the finality of it all is starting to kick in. If he doesn’t say anything, the two of you will part and he will never see you again. Does he really want that? Steve contemplates the question, despite already knowing the answer.  He subconsciously reaches out and crumples the napkin with the waitress’s phone number, before getting up and throwing it in the trash can nearby. He returns to the table to find you with an apologetic look on your face.

“Sorry for pressuring you.”

“It’s okay,” Steve replies. His heart is thumping in his ears, creating an unsettling rhythm. It suddenly feels as if the city around him is sinking in on him. The skyscrapers above are curving and reaching out to him. Your expectant gaze is enough to convince him to keep speaking. “Actually, I think I may already have someone I’m interested in.”

“Really?” You ask before he can stammer on further. Steve nods stiffly. “That’s great! Do you want to ask them out?”

“Maybe,” Steve answers noncommittally. More than anything, his traitorous mind supplies. He takes a moment to look out at the street for a moment. Pedestrians walk by quickly. Cars honk and beep on the nearby street. The lights are dazzling. Admittedly, it had taken Steve several days to get used to all the blinding lights in NYC. Even now, staring for too long gives him a headache.“I’m not quite sure how to do it.” “Oh, I see,” you hum. “Well, fortunately for you, things haven’t changed much since the 40s. You can just approach them and ask if they’d like to go to dinner with you. It wouldn’t hurt to say that you like spending time with them or something like that.”

Steve takes a deep breath. His heart is racing in his chest. He can’t remember the last time he felt such intense fear. Time seems to drag on with infinite slowness. Somehow, he manages to get the words out. “I really like you, and I enjoy spending time with you. I was wondering if you’d want to get dinner with me sometime.”

“Just like that,” you smile. “You’re a natural.” Steve’s heart drops to his stomach. You think he’s practicing—rehearsing this proposal for the other person he’s in love with. What a twisted irony.

“No, I mean-” Steve breaks off. He looks you in the eyes again, hoping that you get the message this time. “Would you like to get dinner with me?”

“The first time was better,” you recall with a frown. Steve resists the urge to facepalm.

“No, that’s not what I mean,” Steve responds, struggling to keep himself from getting frustrated. “I mean, do you want to get dinner with me?” He tries to place as much emphasis on “ you” as possible, so that you will understand that he’s referring to you.

“Um,” you break off, looking slightly uncomfortable now. Perhaps he’s being too forceful. “I think you’re good, now. You don’t need any more practice…”

“No, I’m not practicing,” Steve sighs defeatedly. “I’m trying to ask you out.”

“ Oh.” You remark with wide eyes, comprehension evidently hitting you all at once. “Oh, you’re asking me. I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize.” Your lack of a definitive response is enough of an answer.

“It’s okay,” Steve says, forcing himself to push past the heartbreak clawing at his chest. “Just forget it.” He moves to get up, only for a hand to fall to his wrist. Steve barely manages to resist the natural reflex to throw off the sudden grip. Thankfully, it’s just your hand on his arm.

“Wait, Steve,” you remark, an unreadable expression on your face. “I never gave you an answer.”

Steve stares at you in disbelief, still not allowing himself to hope. He wants to think that you stopped him because you do want to go on a date with him, but he can’t dare to let himself believe it until you’ve verbalized the sentiment.

“I’d love to go to dinner with you,” you smile. Steve meets your eyes and feels a similar smile growing on his face. He clasps your hand and you squeeze his reassuringly. Relief floods through him, coupled with some long-forgotten feelings: giddiness, excitement, appreciation.

Perhaps there’s a place for him in the twenty-first century after all.

[mediocre-daydreams]

peter parker x avenger!reader who can speak to flowers and plants, EXCEPT peter parker is oblivious to the way flowers just seem to grow at his feet and how daisies just lean towards him every time he smiles at r, and when r starts giving everyone in the compound flowers from their hand with a shimmering smile, peter can’t help but wonder why he hasn’t been given one yet, and why his heart seems to hurt when r spends a little bit too much time in thor’s arms.

— 🏄🏻‍♀️

ughhh this was such a cute, fluffy req and i ended up turning it into a mess of angst and insecurities and isabella madrigal but thank u 🏄🏻‍♀️ for sending this in! maybe i'll make some happier follow ups?

𝐝𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐞𝐬

peter parker x plant powered! reader

summary: you feel useless; you grow flowers while the other avengers fight battles. peter sees so much more in you, but it seems like you only have eyes for thor.

w/c: 3.0k

notes: gn! reader, angst w/ a happy ending, insecurities (feeling inadequate/reduced to looks/underestimated, etc.), jealous!peter, bestie!thor, flower symbolism that i spent a long time researching and i'm hoping it's accurate

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

being a superpowered avenger with a crush on another superpowered avenger while living in a multimillion-dollar compound that had its own walk-in ice cream fridge was pretty damn awesome. the only thing that could ruin the experience is if your aforementioned superpowers were absolutely useless and thus subject to constant (yet creative) mockery.

(hint: your aforementioned superpower was, in fact, stupid and ridiculed.)

“i feel stupid and ridiculed,” you huffed dejectedly. you and thor were sitting in front of a beautiful picnic spread complete with cucumber finger sandwiches and flasks of asgardian liquor.

“it is alright, midgardian. my brother, loki, is also stupid and ridiculed, but he is a god.” thor paused. “well, you are not a god, but you are—what is it that you little ones say these days? ah, you are W.”

you chuckled sadly, digging your toes into the soft tufts of grass that had sprouted when you’d laid down your picnic blanket. you were grateful for your gift, you really were, but compared to earth’s most powerful, dangerous, and influential people (and also aliens and gods), you were more like a glorified family pet.

“you contribute greatly to the avenging family,” thor reassured, placing one large hand on your shoulder with unintentionally strong force. you felt your body tilt under his strength. you sighed; you must’ve voiced your thoughts out loud.

“if by contribute, you mean reviving sam’s succulents every two months and supplying tony with emergency flower bouquets when he’s upset pepper, then yeah, i guess.”

“do not distress! you are also capable of growing poisonous mushrooms! my brother, loki, enjoys them. they are cute but deadly, like him. and you are sometimes an exterminator! the venus flytrap you gifted me remains in my asgardian throne room. it is very effective. i have not seen a single fly since.”

“that’s because there are no flies in asgard, thor.”

thor patted you on the back twice, forcing you to bend forward with each heavy-handed tap. you looked up at him, watching the man with long, golden hair and piercing eyes look down on you sympathetically. despite him being literally all-powerful and worthy of wielding a crazy magical thunder hammer, you had formed an unexpected bond with thor.

“you know, there was a time in my life when i was unsure of if i was worthy of mjolnir. i only played video games and drank asgardian hard lemonade. however, just because you may not see your worth at the moment does not mean it is not there. i was still as worthy and devilishly handsome. i just needed to shower.” thor looked up at the sky wistfully.

you smiled fondly, recalling the old pictures of thor with a beer belly and untamed beard. even when the team had poked fun at his ragged appearance, thor knew it was superficial and not a determinant of his character. the jokes were not a determinant of your worth or importance.

“thank you, thor.” your eyes crinkled and you blinked back your emotions, never having felt so understood. you looked shyly at your toes, admiring how the grass swayed and danced to the beat of your heart. “i never expected to relate to you so much.”

thor laughed heartily, slinging an arm around your shoulder and for the third time, crushing you with his inhuman strength. he pulled you close to his side, and for a moment, you let yourself enjoy the comforting pressure that grounded you.

unbeknownst to the two of you, a sneaky and jealous spider had come searching for you with a certain question in mind. peter knew how much you enjoyed spending days rooted in nature and connecting with your element, so after searching the compound, he figured you’d be in your favorite spot.

but when he reached the rolling bluff at the edge of the compound property, his heart sank at the sight of you and thor cuddled up on a romantic outdoor lunch. and when you pointed to something and giggled, followed by thor pressing a sweet kiss to your head, peter’s heart fully shattered. he left wordlessly, dropping the stop ‘n shop bouquet. it was pointless; you could grow your own flowers anyway.

“orange chrysanthemums,” you nodded towards the small patch you’d summoned, “for you. they symbolize friendship and clarity of mind. thank you, thor, for being here for me and allowing me to see my worth.”

thor gasped with childish delight. “the young spiderling bestowed upon me incredible knowledge the other day!” with deft fingers, thor plucked the flowers by their stems and wove them into a haphazard flower crown. “the five-minute crafts ‘tube film is truly revolutionary.”

“you’re a genius!” you squealed, jumping to your feet and giving thor a hug which ended up being you squishing his head into your torso. “how come i’ve never thought to make flower crowns before?”

the rest of the day was spent closer to the main compound grounds, lounging in the sun with thor as you flipped through a farmer’s almanac for flower meanings and growing them. thor proved to be a talented flower crown crafter, weaving intricate patterns and structures with flower steams and leafy vines. a couple of your teammates stopped to say hello, but nobody was particularly interested in your mindless, trivial afternoon activity. they had more pressing meetings and missions, after all.

“so,” tony said, walking around the counter to set down a luscious chocolate cake that he’d custom ordered on the dining table. “i know we just got back from a mission and two of our agents are in like, critical condition, but that’s booooring. let’s think halloween costumes,” tony announced, rubbing his hands together excitedly. “i was thinking the madrigal family; like, i’m obviously the house, since you’re all living on my compound and in my tower, etcetera… pepper can be pepa—duh—also because she’s always stressed… ooo, we could loop strange in and have him be bruno; plus, nobody likes him anyway so it fits…”

you and thor entered the dining room giggling maniacally, holding your completed flower crowns behind your back. thor was on his tippy toes, pretending to sneak around silently, as you tried (and failed) to stifle your chortles. when you came into view of the entire team sitting around the table with tony rambling about animated movies, the two of you silenced.

tony pointed at you excitedly. “perfect timing! you can be isabella, the one that’s really boring and makes all the eldest daughters cry because they relate to trying too hard but never being enough.” tony grinned proudly. “oh, and you both do the whole flowers thing, so that works.”

the air froze momentarily as you furrowed your brows, laughing breathily in disbelief. the table of avengers—tony, bruce, wanda, natasha, and steve—didn’t even notice. peter, lounging nearby, was the only one who seemed to have noticed your reaction.

“but has anyone watched she-ra?” wanda interjected. “i could totally see perfuma. she’s like this princess that… talks to plants or something.”

bruce raised a finger as if he’d just had a eureka moment. “snow white! doesn’t she grow flowers?”

natasha slapped her forehead. “she picks flowers to distract her from the executioner sent by the evil queen, duh.”

as natasha and bruce bickered about the magical limits of the snow white universe and wanda and steve argued over the coolest character in she-ra, peter just sat there, disengaged in conversation, watching as thor bent down to whisper something in your ear. you nodded, moving away from him, and peter jumped from his seat at the opportunity to catch you alone.

you caught peter’s eye and he smiled nervously at you, wondering if you intended to approach him first. instead, you ungracefully scrubbed at your eyes with your arm, presumably to wipe away tears, and then ran off, the sound of your footsteps bouncing off the empty hallway.

peter shuffled uncomfortably. the person he liked took one look at him, started crying, and then literally ran away from him. way to go, romeo.

“what happened to flower power?” tony stopped his brainstorming at the sound of a sob followed by the meek closing of a door. “are they like, okay?”

“they didn’t even stay for cake,” steve worried. “and it’s chocolate.”

peter cracked his knuckles, a habit he’d picked up whenever he was anxious. he opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by another barrage of theories.

“maybe they were weeding the lawn and got tired?”

“nah, we have a robotic gardner for that-”

“did sam land in one of the flowerbeds again?”

“sam’s not even here right now-”

“stung by a bee?”

“foot run over by a tractor?”

“found a corpse in the fertilizer-”

“ENOUGH!” thor boomed, his usual joviality turned into fuming eyes and deep, angry breaths. “you midgardians are pathetically shallow-minded and incompetent. was it not evident that your hapless conversation was—how do you midgardians say it—creating uncomfortable energy in the studio?”

the table of avengers looked at thor, confused.

thor moved his hands from behind his back and displayed them. on his arms hung the flower crowns you and thor had spent all afternoon creating. thor carefully laid them on the table, smoothing out any wrinkles in the petals and fluffing the leaves.

“in asgard, we revere nature and its gifts. flowers, plants, trees: they are sacred. we could not breathe, nor eat, nor survive or exist without greenery—without powers like theirs. you foolish midgardians… have you not considered the unlimited power that your superfriend wields? the power of life, creation, and growth. to manipulate the natural land, which is what holds up this very building and the entirety of human creation.” thor sighed, shaking his head like he was scolding a classroom of silly kindergarteners.

thor pointed to the flower crowns, distributing them to the person they were meant for.

“for tony: dark, blood orange tiger lilies and golden yellow jasmines to represent wealth, pride, and elegance”

“for bruce: a circlet of green to celebrate the part of him that he tries to hide. green hellebore and envy zinnia, symbolizing peace, serenity, and endurance.

“for wanda: a crown of purple, made of verbena, crocus, and clematis. to attract butterflies and honor her youthfulness, creativity, and limitless capability.

“for natasha: white and yellow, because she deserves softness; chamomile for her patience in adversity, black-eyed susans for her sense of justice, and edelweiss, for her courage and devotion.”

there was only one more crown on the table, but two avengers left. red, white, and blue flowers—it was clearly meant for steve.

“they put their heart into these, and for steve especially. bluebell, for his humility. white gladiolus, for his integrity and strength. finally, red nasturtium, which they spent hours searching for, to represent his victory and patriotism.”

thor watched as each avenger admired their respective crown before noticing peter, hands empty, standing in the corner looking despondent. thor bit back a knowing smile, approached the frowning boy, and beckoned him closer. peter grimaced as he caught sight of thor’s subtle amusement, scoffing bitterly. was the god here to rub it in further; that he’d won over the object of peter’s affection who he’d been pining over for months?

“they are in their room,” thor whispered loudly. “they will probably want to see you, small and short arachnid child.”

peter elected not to ignore thor’s passive-aggressive insults and nodded determinedly, making his way to your door with his mind racing. thor had said you’d wanted to see him, yet you’d barely acknowledged him and hadn’t bothered making him a crown. he’d be fine with sticks hot glued together, if it meant you’d thought of him. which, he supposed, you hadn’t.

he didn’t get the chance to knock before your door swung open and you waved him inside. “sorry i got all dramatic back there,” you sniffed. “i didn’t mean to ruin the moment.”

“what? you didn’t- no, what everyone was saying was just… wrong. cruel. you’re- well, you’re incredible.” peter cracked his knuckles, the bones popping loudly and drawing your attention. he shook his hands out and looked at you bashfully. “sorry. nervous habit.”

“don’t be nervous,” you smiled sadly. “i’m harmless. literally.”

“y’know, thor showed us those crowns you made. i thought they were really cool, really beautiful.” peter hesitated. “beautiful like you. a-and i don’t want to push anything, ‘cause i know you’re upset and stuff, but i just… thought you should know.”

you clicked your tongue against the roof of your mouth and let out a dark chuckle. “yeah, they are quite pretty. thanks for saying that. i get it a lot, but it’s nice to hear it from- from you.”

“i hope you know that beauty isn’t all there is to you. you’re thoughtful—thor explained all the meanings behind the flowers and you even matched the colors up for everyone… you’re crazy smart—you read a farmer’s almanac and i don’t know anyone as good as biology as you; i suck at bio. and you’re really, really strong.”

you looked up at peter, bewildered.

peter’s face fell when he saw your expression of confusion. how could you not see your own power and endurance? timidly, he stepped forward until his chest was a foot from yours and brought his hand up to straighten your tightened eyebrows. 

“don’t look at me like that. don’t look at me like you can’t comprehend your own capability.” peter’s thumb traced down your face—starting at your eyebrows, down to your eyes, where he wiped the remnants of your tears, gently circling over the curves of your cheeks, down to your jawline and trailing to your chin, where he took it between two fingers and tilted your face upwards so he could admire you properly.

“the rest of the team might make jokes, but they’re being close-minded. they talked about isabella, right? well, she grew these stems that encircled the entire house; so strong that they could carry both her and mirabel and it was like they were flying, y’know? a-and perfuma was like, a warrior princess that could choke people out with her vines and whipped them unconscious and could stab people with thorns—i’m kidding, it’s a kid’s animated series. but you get the point. there are possibilities, and just because you can create beautiful, delicate masterpieces doesn’t mean you’re shallow and fragile.”

as peter rambled, you had to bite your lip to stop the beam that was fighting to escape. you wanted him to talk forever, and you were scared that if you looked like you felt better, he’d stop with his words. admittedly, you loved the praise. but you loved the sound of peter’s voice and his loving caress and the way he seemed to believe in you—maybe even more so than yourself. 

“peter,” you whispered hoarsely, letting yourself smile. “thank you, peter.”

peter swallowed thickly, having not thought ahead to what would happen after he spilled his guts out about his admiration of you. “uh, you’re welcome?” his voice cracked embarrassingly.

you gave no reaction. instead, your eyes seemed to soften. “i’m sorry i didn’t make a crown for you. i didn’t mean for it to seem like- like i didn’t care.”

peter’s eyes flickered across your face, looking for any sign of a lie. he didn’t want you to reassure you out of pity or because you felt obligated to after he’d complimented you. he cracked his knuckles, feeling the confidence he’d exuded a minute ago begin to die.

you grabbed his hands and forced his fingers to unclench from his palms, your own fingers running over his skin. your fingers were calloused from the time you spent outdoors, tending to your variety of plants, and it only heightened his belief that you were more than just pretty, that you were just as durable and strong.

“i didn’t know what flowers to use,” you said lowly, unable to meet his eye. “‘cause red roses are cliché; well, roses in general, and tulips and lilies have been overused, and baby’s breath seemed kind of bridesmaid-y, and- and carnations remind me of mother’s day, and you’re not my mother, so i just-”

“hey, it’s okay,” peter reassured. “i won’t lie, i was worried at first. i thought you just completely forgot about me, which is ouch. but it means a lot that you cared… so much.”

you squeezed his hands tighter. peter felt something tickle the fleshy inside of his palms and looked down curiously. slowly, your hands moved away from his and he watched in amazement as little buds began sprouting from your hands and falling as they made their way into full bloom.

daisies and their stray petals littered the floor beneath him, and peter tried his best not to move in fear of crushing one of the flowers. you looked equally surprised, but quickly caught your bearings, and when peter looked back up at you, you were holding a little bouquet of misshapen, droopy daises with a shy smile. 

“so you don’t crack your knuckles,” you explained. “and because they represent new beginnings and, um, true love.”

peter’s face contorted as he took the flowers from you, fingers brushing over yours. you examined peter’s expression intensely, heartbeat skipping as you followed the way his face seemed to twist and morph into something similar to disgust.

but when peter held the daisies up to his nose and made a big show of smelling them, bringing them down from his face to reveal a huge, bright grin, you allowed yourself to indulge in one of your own.

“i take it you like it?” you muttered, shuffling closer as petals shifted beneath your shoes.

peter nodded, wrapping the arm that held his flowers around your back to pull you even closer. it was like you could feel the warmth emanating off him. he was like sun.

“i like it a lot. not as much as i like you, though.”

“i gave you a gift, didn’t i?” you breathed, eyes bright with anticipation. “do i get anything in return?”

peter hummed. “well, what would you like?”

you rolled your eyes at his game. “surprise me.”

neither of you was surprised when your lips met, initially brushing against each other like hesitant spring sprouts, before exploding into colorful, passionate blooms.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

peter parker masterlist | main masterlist

taglist:

@bambamwolf87 @yourallihave @im-a-slut-for-fluff @cowboibeepbeep

[simp57blog]

The void

You showed up at the void and all of the Loki variants were confused and emotional as hell.

You were wandering around and then all of a sudden there's a group of people around you.

The first one to huge you or show affection towards you is kid loki.

Kid loki comes up to you eyes watering arm's open wide walked up to you.

Next is crocodile loki waddling up to you resting his head on your foot while crying.

And the others do the same after the reunion they wipped away their tears.

Then you started to asked some questions about where you are.

Kid loki always near you if you went somewhere he would follow same with crocodile loki.

(ok your related to kid loki in his time line)

(In crocodile loki time line you were just a stranger who fed him over time you and him became friends)

(In classic loki's time line you were friends until the got took by the tva but he dead)

So your stuck in the void with different loki's.

You look after kid loki and crocodile loki in the bunker basically becoming mom/dad material.

You meet president loki your first impression was that he was a dick ngl.

In his time line you were his assistant you to were very close with one another

Also this is after tva loki plan to kill alioth

The end!

[sweetandabitspycho]

Natasha Romanova x Reader

Title: No matter what.

Warnings: none.

Tyler of fanfic: angst but every fluffy at the end.

Summary: Nat feel’s insecure.

It has been a week since Nat has been gone and I missed her so badly. I asked a friend to stay with me until she comes back to our apartment, the place we call home.

“How was work?” Y/BFF asked as I walked threw the door. “Yeah, it was okay nothing special,” I said sitting on the couch. “But Nick from IT said to tell you hi.” I heard a loud noise from the kitchen, I grabbed the gun that was under the coffee table that Nat put. I ran into the kitchen to see Nat standing there.

“Hi, my sweet love!” I pretty much shouted as I dropped the gun to run and hug her. “I missed you so much!” I said as if I was a child. “Since she is home I'll go,” Y/BFF said I couldn't even tell them bye. “Are you okay?” I question as I moved to get a better look at her. She shook her head no and walked to the living room.

Wow, that hurts. Maybe she needs a second to leave the mission. Yeah, yeah that's it. “Are you okay?” I asked walking in front of her. Her head was down. I bent down to grab her hand but she moved it.

“Okay, baby you are starting to scar me,” I whispered I saw a glimpse of her face she was crying. “No, no baby It's okay,” I said gently as I moved her face so she was looking at me. She was on the verge of tears. “What happened?” I question softly.

“I'm not good enough for you,” she said as if it was the truth. “I'm an assassin, I kill people, I'm dangerous.” she was shaking. How could she think that? “First you are not dangerous to me,” I moved closer to her, and kissed her head. “Second you kill bad people,” I kissed her chin. “You are perfect for me.” I kissed her soft sweet lips. “Thank you,” she said once we broke apart. “I would go crazy without you.” she laughed. “I know baby. I know, I will always love you no matter what. Now let's go to sleep.

[brianwashere]

Haha fooled ya with the title eh?

Time for some dumb HCs about Matt and a boyfriend who brought their cat to live with them.

Edit: randomly found this in drafts and was like “why not” so here it is

-Matt was skeptical to having a cat at first

-it’s not like he didn’t like cats he’s just worried about shenanigans

-he’s never really had a pet

-so he was just nervous about it

-he loves your cat.

-you brought your cat out of its kennel and lifted it to eye level with him where it just meowed at him

-Matt’s all like “…can I touch them?”

-and you laugh and tell him yes

-he’s very gentle as he pets them

-fast forward a few weeks and they are inseparable

-Matt will be laying down and the cat will jump up onto his chest, sit down, and gently paw his face

-Matt would buy matching red sunglasses for the cat

-he’s also the kinda guy to be like “don’t spoil them” and then make homemade cat treats bcc “they don’t like the ones from the store”

-Matt loves the cat.

-the cat loves tripping Matt.

-it’ll be early in the morning and Matt’s just trying to get coffee and the cat will just decide it’s the perfect opportunity to rub on his legs

-Matt always apologizes to the cat tho

[prismuffin]

Hiya! I hope you're doing a good day!

How would Miles' Morales act during a roof top date with another hero??

Hey anon, thank you for fueling my obsessions by sending in a Miles ask! Anyways I think that-

Because of both of your schedules it's more than likely that the date is at night. He probably stopped somewhere prior to pick up a nice hot meal for you both. New York can get pretty cold at night so a warm meal is a must.

During the actual date I see him trying to impress you with how much crime he stopped that day, cracking jokes, and throwing out silly flirty remarks he's either heard from his dad, uncle, or the internet. The date is overall fun with food and music, if a specific song comes on you best believe there will be dancing, whether you join in or not. (He's totally making you join him)

Overall a really sweet date, very nervous in the beginning but as time goes on he gets less and less awkward.

———

Directory

[burning-omen]

Loki Laufeyson x Royal! Gn!reader headcanons

(a/n: pretend I've posted more than once this year PLEASE! Also the request is over a year old at this point so uuuuhhhh)

Warning: mentions of stitches and blood, mention (1) of possible sex.

Requested by anonymous: Hey, I think you are taking requests atm? If you're not I'm very sorry, could I request being royalty and dating Loki would include headcanons, and gn reader maybe?

Your relationship with Loki was a secret.

Mostly because, as the current ruler of (kingdom), it was in your best interest to keep up a modest and disciplined appearance.

Dating a terrorist didn't exactly scream modest or disciplined.

recovered terrorist.

Well, with your current position, dating was completely off the table anyways so you might as well go all out.

You could have been dating the most normal, sainest person in the universe and they would have still called for your immediate removal.

Luckily, you and Loki could keep a secret

You met when he, very gracefully, crashed into the side of your castle. Having nearly broken your window, only to land- unconscious- on your balcony.

It was late, but as luck would have it, you were awake- reading of all things.

After calming your guards, who'd burst in upon hearing the massive collision, you went out to see what hit you.

When you saw the man you thought that he was an assassin, but the giant gash on his forehead (from hitting a massive, stone castle at 200 miles an hour) led you to think that the man was harmless- and probably going to die due the blood loss soon anyways.

You did eventually decide to bring him in, patching him up with a hand-me-down sewing kit and laying him in your bed.

He was enraged when he woke up, having been knocked out of the Bifrost by Thor roughhousing.

You didn't know who Thor was- or what a bifrost is- but the way he raved about his ‘moron of a brother’ made you laugh

He didn't stay long after that, letting himself rest in your bed and be dotted on by a sovereign (yes, he was royalty himself but being cared for by maids and servants just felt different, it felt static and practiced- you were different, your touches were elegant, but unknowledged in the act of serving- you were warm and caring- and still carried an air of hard earned superiority. It was odd), before leaving.

The next time you saw him was on the news years later, despite your family and your kingdom as a whole being old fashioned, you were still allowed some modern luxuries- like a television.

The knowledge that you'd rescued a god was rather jarring, but not as jarring as the fact that he was trying to take over the world.

Skipping ahead, the two of you met again over a decade later. For him, the time had passed like nothing, considering how long gods live, for you, that decade had dragged on longer than you could have ever predicted.

You met at a ball, despite being the current ruler for over a decade your parents, who were thoroughly retired, insisted that you'd still mingle with the lower lords and such.

After hours of small talk with various dukes and lords and princes, you met him again.

You talked, far longer than your parents had ever taught you to talk to a single person at a social gathering. You had other people to meet, other connections to make, yet you stayed with him.

The party ended in a blur, you were eventually pulled away from Loki to see the guest off.

By the time you got back to where you last saw him, he was gone.

A bit defeated, you returned to your room, the guards posted by your door wishing you a good night.

To your surprise, when you entered your bedroom- he was there, sitting at your desk, a book in hand and a gentle, yet focused look on his face.

“Lord Loki, what a surprise.”

“I don't think our conversation was quite finished yet, I figured you wouldn't mind me waiting here for you.”

Despite your last meeting being brief, the two of you were able to click together like old friends. Talking into the late hours of the night.

As you stood behind the dressing screen, tossing your royal party garnets- or “the itchy ones” as you so affectionately named them as a child, over the edge, running your mouth about all the current drama that has been accumulating within your court.

“Lord Isolles, the short man with the long, gray mustache, half of his children are illegitimate, born completely out of wedlock, and he's married too, their mothers are various other duchesses and princesses, I guess he's very popular with the older women in my court-”

Stepping from behind the dressing curtain, practically running for your wardrobe, quickly scavenging for something less uncomfortable to wear than your previous outfit, then running back.

“-I don't see what they see in him but 70 is a bit out of my age range.”

“You do know that I'm over a thousand years old, right?”

“Yes, but you're a god- so it's different.”

You did, eventually, end up in your bed (sexually or not is up to you).

In the morning, he was still there, his back facing you. Without much consideration, you wrapped your arms around him, pulling him closer to your chest. You felt his stir for a bit before settling. One of his hands resting over yours.

He is a surprisingly heavy sleeper. Though, after a while of dating, you kinda figured out that it was a biological thing, considering the other asgardians you end up meeting, including his brother, who just confirmed what you already thought.

The two of you stroke each other's egos to the point that it's concerning.

He will kneel at your feet and praise you in your (empty) throne room as long as you are willing to do the same for him.

Matching crowns, jokingly calling him your consort until it stops being a joke, Loki purposefully getting captured by your guards just so he has to stand trial before you, being wildly inappropriate the entire time, you enjoyed it- of course you did, he was a bastard but he was a lovable and entertaining one.

You wanted to kill him afterward, but he was forgiven eventually.

“Various” lords and lady’s visit you only for it to just be Loki in disguise

He likes to think that it's his way of giving you a break on your busy days.

If you wear Asgardian style royal attire he absolutely swoons, actually, if you wear anything he gives you he’ll swoon. Be it a pendant or a full outfit.

Taking you to little Asgard to meet his brother, because despite everything he does love him.

Telling you about his mother and how much you would have loved each other.

Eventually moving into a bigger room to make space for him so he can stay with you permanently.

[fabricated-misslieness]

pairing: matt murdock x gn reader

req: no | wc: 633

summary: For a man that can't see, he always seems to find your eyes.

a/n: he's so pretty. (is it "when does it not" or "when is it not")

“Hey.”

“Hey there.”

It was only a simple greeting. The words on their own give nothing away, but the tone that makes them means everything. It’s soft and whispered, spoken as if at the end of your sentence when your breath has been waning; muttered breathlessly, like the very presence of each other was enough to take your breaths away. 

Well, he was breathtaking in every way, and if he took your breath away you wouldn’t be in a rush to get it back.

But today, you are.

You take his cheeks in your hands, and admire him for a moment. Matt stays still, because if he leans into one hold he parts from the other. Then, you kiss him on the tip of the nose.

“You know, for the one who can see, I think you missed.”

His remark devolves into a pleased hum when you kiss him again, though not on his lips. You mark each spot of his face with a kiss, from the forehead, to each temple, to the curve on the bridge of his nose and the part of his cheeks that is devoid of your hold.

Matt closes his eye, his left, but not his right; so you kiss his left eyelid. He closes his right eye, but not his left, so you kiss the other eyelid.

He chuckles at that because you’re able to understand his non-verbal pleading so well.

You kiss his cupid's bow and feel his scraggly facial hair against your lips. You linger there for a moment, and Matt has to fight everything in him to not lean up just the slightest bit left and kiss you; because he knows, even as you decide it, that you want to do more, but the bottom of your lips had kissed the very top of his and it was so tempting.

You take away the hand on his left cheek to kiss what’s left of his warm cheeks, and now free of something to hold, he takes it in his hand.

You kiss along the apple of his cheek, as if it were sweet like the fruit. In all honesty, his cheeks had grown hot and no doubt painted pink or faint red, so it wasn’t too far from real.

Impatient now, he brings your hand up to his lips and presses a kiss where your fingers meet your palm.

“Eager?” You ask.

“Impatient.” He corrects.

You laugh, seeing the desperation painted clear on his face that you’re sure he doesn’t notice. So, you finally bring your lips to his, forgetting his other cheek.

Matt exhales through his nose, and so you’ve got your breath back.

He uses his free hand to bring you closer by the small of your back, but much to his dismay, you part. He doesn’t protest though, knowing more is certainly to come. He was good at prediction in this way.

You smile down at him, Matt smiles up at you. For a man who can’t see, he always seems to find your eyes. 

He’s got that look on his soft brown eyes, the one that tells you he admires you deeply. You didn’t need it just to be sure of that, not when he spent much of his time making sure you knew, but the look made it so much more meaningful.

He stares up at you, eyes half-lidded, pupils sort of crossed in a way. It’s like you’re the only person in the world he’d ever pay attention to. As if his eyes were digging into your very soul.

“You’re giving me the look again.”

He chuckles, “Is it working?” He says, even though you both know it is not in any way a conscious action of his.

“When does it not?”

You lean in for another kiss.

[where-is-francis]

Dating Yelena Headcanons

Rules/Before You Like

Pronouns: Not Specified (NSFW stuff is left very very vague) 18+ ONLY

Request: No

A/N: HOW COULD YOU NOT LOVE HER UGH SHE’S SO CUTE. Also this has been in my drafts for so long, I just needed to post it. Blank blogs will be blocked if found interacting with this post. This post contains discussions of adult themes under the cut.

TW: None really, for the first two parts. NSFW-esque HCs below the cut; includes mentions of BDSM, healthy and calm communication during experimentation, etc.

How you met:

You had one of the most cliche ‘New York blossoming 20-somethings romcom plot’ type encounter

After the incident on Christmas, Yelena decided to stay in New York for a bit

Although there were still Widows that needed saved, the majority of the chunk had been helped during The Blip

The remaining ones that were blipped, like herself, were being helped by the others

She had no idea what to do with her time off

First things first, she went to all of the tourist attractions — Statue of Liberty, Rockefeller, Central Park, etc.

While on her walk back to the apartment she was crashing at — a fellow Widow she just freed — a certain smell caught her attention

It was a small bakery with all kinds of pastries

As soon as she stepped in, it was like a kid in a candy shop

You were on a coffee run and decided to get a sandwich, so you stood waiting in line

New York was filled with interesting people, but the blonde had something different about her

It started when she asked what you ordered — you explained the personalized menu item that had become your favorite

Once your food and drink were ready, you sat at one of the smaller tables

However, it was hard not to notice a certain Russian girl as she peered over the menu, carefully watching you from a few rows away

God, she had no idea how to approach you

When your food was nearly finished, you were startled when a menu was moved from your table

“You seem like a normal New Yorker. You live here, yes?”

“Yeah, I do. Um, thank you—?”

“I need to do fun things while I am here. I have seen the statue, I walked through the park, I saw the old Avengers tower, and Times Square.”

It was hard not to smile at her

You used the moment to finally get a good look at her — considering all of the staring she did at you

“Well, have you been to Chinatown? Or Little Italy? I know this really nice restaurant not too far—”

“Great! I will grab my bag and you will show me.”

Needless to say, you were taken aback — but you couldn’t tell her no

When you started dating:

Yelena was so excited

Due to her past, she never got to have real relationships, be it romantic or platonic

So when she was able to room with a few Widows and live in NYC, she was ecstatic

Although you loved your home, it was nice to have somebody who wasn’t used to everything

The way her eyes lit up when you went somewhere new, especially for a date, was incredible

“I feel like I am in Sex and The City — Natasha never told me how fun it is here!”

At some point she gets really into photography; which you encourage, considering she didn’t have any hobbies before

Her name is “Yelena Beloved” in your contacts

Oh my god, she finds it so cute and gushes to the Widows

“Ah, I see what you did there! Funny joke on my name, I love it!”

Quite literally anything you do is worthy of her gushing

Her trust issues didn’t go away overnight — she’s a trained assassin — but there’s something about her personality that kept you intrigued

She’s very communicative, though, and it helps

You became the one person she felt like she could tell everything to

That being said, she can’t keep a secret from you

If she gets you something as a surprise, you immediately know

She grins and bites her lip and just looks at you, trying to refrain from spoiling it

It’s adorable to you, so you go along with it

“Can we get a dog?” “What?” “Kate Bishop has a dog, he is very fluffy. I think we need a fluffy dog.”

She loved Lucky so much and would spend time sending you memes or pictures of dogs, trying to convince you

Her hot sauce addiction

Two full rows in the fridge door

Just for hot sauce

If you weren’t able to handle the heat before, you definitely can now, considering she puts it on everything

Her favorite thing to do after dinner is listen to music and cuddle with you

If your hair is long enough, she likes to add matching little braids in it when she does her own hair

If you have short or no hair, she’ll let you practice on her and make cute styles

Usually, she tells you about Nat or when they lived in Ohio as you just lay on the couch

It’s nice to hear her reminisce on the good times

SLIGHT NSFW:

Yelena is very big on experimentation, whether it be kinks, adding people, moves, etc.

She’s pretty fluid as well, but doesn’t really label herself or who she’s attracted to

Getting into the BDSM community was a good outlet for you two

It lets her relax and focus on the present moment, where she’s safe

Granted, there are very passionate and heated sessions, but practicing is more calm

If you dom: she’s pleased, and enjoys your attitude

It’s firm, but still caring

She also loves to tease you and battle for dominance

Putting up a fight — whether she wants to win or not — is a common occurance

If she doms: she’s very big on teasing (shocker) and can be mean, but in the best way possible

Not all of your encounters are like that, though, some are just regular people having moments

But things like bondage provide the outlet and experimentation

Letting you tie her up was a big deal; it was one of the first big steps in being vulnerable with you

Now she’s hooked on it

Her aftercare is very specific; you two calm down and then she immediately starts cracking jokes again

She always makes sure to tell you how she felt about things afterwards, and it makes you happy

“Oh trust me, I will be rougher next time.”

“I’m looking forward to it.”

Like my stuff? Let me know! Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated, as it helps others find my stuff. Check out my blog for more.

[pendragon-writes]

𝒟𝑒𝑒𝓅 𝐵𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓉𝒽𝓈

Deadpool x Gn!Reader

An: Sorry if it's a bit short but I hope you like it!

Requested: Yes

TW: Panic attack, anxiety, cursing, mentions of blood (Not Wade's or Readers).

No no no no no, this wasn't supposed to happen. You were standing outside of the bar you worked at when what was supposed to be a smoke break turned into a panic attack, well you called it a smoke break but really what happened was someone said something that triggered a panic attack and made you tell your co-worker to cover.

You tried your best to use all of the breathing methods you knew but it wasn't working, your eyes were getting blurry and the tears just wouldn't stop. So you called the only person you know who would be awake at this time.

"Hey if it isn't my favorite bartender!" You heard over to your right, with the voice came the blasting music of 'El Sonidito'. You didn't respond and you fell more and more onto the floor. "Oh shit, it's serious." He mumbled, as he quickly turned off the music and put the car in park, and jumped to you.

°。°。°。°。°。°。

You suddenly felt some ice in one of your palms and your favorite food filling the air. Then you slightly looked up to see the man you called standing in front of you, Deadpool.

"Alright, easy now, I'm here you're safe and no one is going to hurt you, let's try the 5-step method yeah?" You nodded slightly which signaled him to start. "Alright, what are five things you hear?" "T-the cars passing by, the bar music playing, your voice, people in the bar talking, and my breathing," "Alright alright, good start" He praised. "Now, how about four things you see?" "The building behind you, your mask, some blood, and the door behind you". "Great job bud! Only three more steps you got this" Already you started slightly calming down but it wasn't enough. "What are three things you can feel from here?" "I can feel the ice, my clothes, and the cold floor". "Two things you can smell?" "(Favorite food), and blood". "Yeah that blood isn't mine thankfully" he chuckled. "Now last step and then you'll get this bag of goodies," he said shaking the bag slightly. "What is one thing you taste?" "My saliva" you answered, finally calming down for good.

"How about we get off this dirty floor, go into my car for a bit, and eat this good? I'll even play your favorite songs~" You chuckled at this and agreed to his proposal. "Sure Wade, that sounds good".

°。°。°。°。°。°。

"So... You wanna tell me what happened back there?" He asked, taking a bite out of his pancakes, which he somehow got. "Oh it's nothing to worry about," You muttered, softly biting into your food. "Nothing? (Y/n) you had a panic attack not too long ago, I get not wanting to talk about these kinds of things but it's me, your pal, the one and only mercenary in red". "Alright fine, just stop listing off things will ya?" "Deal!" He smiled cheekily.

You took a deep breath before speaking. "In the back of the bar I overheard these two guys talking to each other and, I don't know, I guess they said something triggering because before I knew it the music started to blur out and my heart was racing". "Do you think you'll be able to go back to work or am I going to have to threaten your boss to give you a break?" "No, I'll be fine. But thanks for the offer," you laughed at the end. Wade smiled at this. "Good, in that case, finish up your food, I think someone back at work might get worried that you've been kidnapped or something,"

°。°。°。°。°。°。

"Thanks again Wade," "It's no problem! Now I should probably get going, the blind granny I'm living with might get worried and think I'm dead" "Alright, bye Wade" He responded back with a salute and rushed to his car.

°。°。°。°。°。°。

"Now, the person reading this, that's right, a fourth wall break. Betcha didn't expect that here huh? Well you should, it's me after all. Just here to send a public announcement, if you are having a panic attack and don't have anyone to talk to there is a hotline out there to help, that hotline is 1-800-64-PANIC (72642), remember, there are people who can help you. Now, what are you doing sitting around for, go find something new to read!"

[soadiablo]

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*requests are open, just a heads up*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧