#superhuman Steve?

[steddieas-shegoes]

Came back wrong Steve, but it’s so subtle it takes them forever to notice.

It doesn’t help that he didn’t actually die. No one assumes you can come back wrong if you never went away.

But after everyone’s healing, and Eddie is definitely back wrong, there’s little things that start to add up.

Like he can see at night way better than ever.

He prefers his steaks rare now, but thinks it’s disgusting when Eddie needs to drink blood.

He had a slight tremor in his hand after the first run in with Vecna, but it’s gone now.

He doesn’t get migraines anymore.

He rarely feels like he actually needs sleep, but he can sleep if he lays down and closes his eyes.

It’s all just shrugged off.

Until they’re downtown shopping, him and Eddie and Robin and Max, looking for some new clothes for Robin’s internship. They’re on the sidewalk talking about which store to try next out of the few options they have, when a car’s tires screech and they hear honking and yelling.

Before anyone realizes what’s happening, Steve’s got the car stopped with his hands.

It was only a foot away from hitting all of them on the sidewalk.

Everyone’s looking at him like he’s grown two heads, including the driver of the car.

He wipes his hands on his pants, waves at the driver, and turns back to his friends and boyfriend.

“I think I’ve got whatever Eddie’s got but in a lower dose,” Steve says with a smile.

———

Later, after the chaos of explaining everything to all the kids and Hopper, who insisted on keeping an eye on him for the next few days, Steve and Eddie are in bed and talking about things that Steve can do that isn’t normal.

“Oh my god.”

“What?” Steve asks, suddenly nervous.

“That’s why you don’t need a break!”

Steve rolled his eyes.

“No seriously! I just thought it was your body’s way of keeping up with me. It’s just that you’re also at least a little inhuman,” Eddie kissed him. “This is great!”

“Is it?”

“Yeah! We can go all night if we want. Actually, we should see if there’s a limit-“

Steve rolled over and ignored Eddie’s rambling, but smiled fondly at the thought of sharing something with him like this.

Tomorrow they could test whatever Eddie wanted, but tonight, he was gonna let himself be grateful that whatever humanity had been lost was replaced with plenty of space to love Eddie and protect his family.

[cantsayidont]

February–March 1974. I said it before, but it bears repeating: Batman stories are sometimes dumb or ridiculous, but when he's cool, he's really cool. In this story from DETECTIVE COMICS #439, these three bank robbers have shot and killed two innocent bystanders in Gotham, orphaning a young boy — and making themselves targets for a very angry Batman.

This is an unusual story for '70s DC because it was done "Marvel-style": Artists Sal and Vin Amendola came up with the plot ("from an incident as described by Neal Adams") and did the pencils (which are extremely stylish throughout, with a lot of neat little layout tricks), with Dick Giordano inking and Steve Englehart scripting the captions and dialogue. Interestingly, Batman doesn't say a single word at any point, leaving his quarries to panic and emote. For my money, the story's real standout is the following scene four pages later:

I'm not sure what to make of the credits' statement that the story was "from an incident as described by Neal Adams," except perhaps that the above scene is very reminiscent of this 1969 Neal Adams cover for DETECTIVE COMICS #392:

(Adams didn't do the interior art for that issue, whose Batman story is drawn by Bob Brown and Joe Giella from a Frank Robbins script.)

[valentinerose529]

Privilege and Control

Not that Captain America: Civil War hasn’t been dissected to death by now, but I think a major difference between Tony and Steve is privilege and control, and how that affects their choices. Obligatory “haven’t touched the comics” forewarning, this is purely based on the MCU movies. I also haven’t seen the movies in a year or two, so bear with my plot memory here.

Tony was born into money, fame, and privilege. He’s a rich, cishet, middle-aged, white man, the son of a rich, cishet, white family. He always has money, he always has security, and he always has freedom. Even in his own movies, when he’s put on house arrest by Fury and SHIELD, he’s got a ridiculously loose leash, sneaking out on joyrides and such.     When he’s under fire from the media, he’s allowed to play the part of a childish playboy, and his reputation isn’t overly damaged from it. Even when he causes damage, he uses his fame and fortune to cushion the blow, like buying buildings in the seconds before he throws Hulk into it to avoid the legal fallout.   Yes, this man built his own superhumanity, his tech and his weaponry from scratch, but he’s also coming from a position of privilege, wealth, and freedom that his allies and enemies don’t always have.     When he breaks rules, often it’s for his own gain and wants. He steals SHIELD files, defies and ignores authority and instruction, and is admittedly narcissistic and manipulative when it comes his plans for and treatment of his coworkers and allies, and the assertion that he can be and is the smartest person in a room. He rarely owns up to his mistakes and problems, often attempting to put the blame on someone else.

In comparison, Steve was born into poverty, disability, discrimination, and war. He was the disabled son of a widowed, immigrant(?), lower-class mother, and was regularly sick, hungry, and regularly bullied and attacked. (Yes, I know he started a fair few of those fights, but I’m willing to bet there was bullying and unprovoked harassment for his family and his extensive disabilities.)    He was suddenly elevated in health, strength, and status with the superserum experiment. He fully consented to the procedure; not all enhanced humans can say the same. He was born and raised in a time where racism, discrimination, and government control of freedom and autonomy were rampant. He spent the majority of his first movie battling a corrupt and fascist government organization.     He also breaks rules and often defies his superiors, yes, but typically, he does it with the safety of other (innocent) people in mind. Often, the contextual reason for his rebellion against authority is his presumption that the authority is putting other things before the safety of innocents. When reprimanded, he typically owns up to his actions (although he often reiterates the reason being the safety and protection of the innocent and helpless).

When Tony argues for the Accords and for loss of autonomy, he’s viewing it through the lens of his own freedoms and privilege. He’s used to being allowed to do what he wants, and assumes that the Accords is a positive change for him. His driving factor for the Accords is his guilt and trauma, and he also seems to assume that all the Avengers are like him, both in power, control, mindset, and privilege.     He expects, and gets, a far looser leash than any other superhuman does. Registering his true identity isn’t a problem for him, because he’s been proudly carrying the title of “Tony Stark, the Iron Man” ever since the first Iron Man movie. Registering the full limits of his technology isn’t a problem for him, because he can always take off the suit, or put on another suit with smarter tech and bigger guns. Giving up his freedom and bodily autonomy to a corrupt government organization isn’t a problem for him, because he can and does do exactly what he pleases, regardless of who he claims to be working for.     He doesn’t even suffer for other superhumans using his technology against the Accords (e.g Spiderman), unlike Hank and Hope Pym, who are forced to run and go underground after Ant-Man steals their technology during CA:CW.

When Steve argues against the Accords and for personal autonomy, he’s viewing it through the lens of his own struggles against authoritarian control and loss of freedom. He’s used to being undermined and micromanaged, used as a showpiece and a weapon instead of a human being with opinions and autonomy. He’s well used to a time period when people are criminalized for birthrights and appearances they can’t control, and are forced to register themselves to higher authorities.     Based on all this, he assumes that the Accords are a negative change for himself and the Avengers. Registering his true identity isn’t necessarily a problem for him alone due to his status as a revenant war hero, but he knows the invasive damage it can cause others. Registering the complete measures of his abilities is like requiring normal humans to state how much they can lift or how fast they can run; it’s also a violation of an enhanced human’s privacy and autonomy. Steve can’t simply turn off his powers; he’s always going to be stronger and faster than other humans. He knows that giving up his freedom and bodily autonomy to government organizations he knows to be corrupt and not necessarily trustworthy (see: the launch of a nuclear missile on a major American city still packed full of trapped and innocent civilians; the long-time infiltration of a fascist organization in a supposedly secure government body) is a slippery slope to a familiar government state of profiling and oppression.

To summarize, I think the stances each man takes is due to his privilege, or lack of it, and his power, or lack of it. Tony comes from a position of privilege, and this colors his decisions. Steve was born with and raised in a time with little privilege for many people, and this colors his decisions.

[graphicpolicy]

People's History of the Marvel Universe, Week 20: The (Mutant) Registration Act(s) Analyzed

People's History of the Marvel Universe, Week 20: The (Mutant) Registration Act(s) Analyzed. @StevenAttewell delivers another history lesson in the #marvel universe! #comics #comicbooks #marvelcomics

In his sixteen-year tenure of the X-line, Chris Claremont put his own spin on the mutant metaphor any number of ways, but one of the longest-lasting and most influential has been the idea of a Mutant Registration Act. In the original Days of Future Past storyline, Claremont first mentions the Mutant Control Act passed by a “rabid anti-mutant candidate…elected president,” as a reaction to the…

[dynamobooks]

Warren Ellis & Garrie Gastonny: Supergod (2011)

[theseprezelsaremakingmethirsty]

not me standing in various parts of my apartment at 1AM writing a Steve Rogers/John Egan angst for angst fanfic on my notes app

[nooomagnus]

just woke up from a nightmare where i was living in a tv show where my new roommates and i lived on the third floor of a house with old ladies on the first two floors and one of them disappeared. it was clear to me that she had been murdered in a grotesque way, possibly in connection with my roommates’ coke smuggling, but i wasn’t sure and i needed to figure out in order to stay alive. so i kept trying to google how the show would end but imdb was behind a paywall

[oceanusborealis]

She-Hulk Attorney at Law: Superhuman Law – TV Review

She-Hulk Attorney at Law: Superhuman Law – TV Review

TL;DR – She-Hulk continues to be a delightful and fun romp ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ Rating: 4.5 out of 5. Disclosure – I paid for the Disney+ service that viewed this film.Post-Credit Scene – There is a mid-credit scene She-Hulk Attorney at Law Review – One of the significant issues that the MCU has had when making the jump to Disney+ has been finding the right tone and setting. Shows have struggled to land…

[gh0stsp1d3r]

I have an idea for the next part in teenagers:

Miles and Gwen and Hobie and reader go on a double date/just hangout. Reader tells them about everything that happened with Miguel. Later when they’re hanging out at reader/Miguels place, Miguel gets a little lighter on all the rules for you all (door still stays open though)

𝐓𝐞𝐞𝐧𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬... 𝐏𝐭 𝟖

I had to add onto how you were dangerous so this is a lot 😭

“Yeah, and the file said she was dangerous, how can this cute little thing be dangerous?” Hobie said, ruffling your hair as you explained what happened to you and Miguel, because they noticed it was a little awkward.

“If anything she’s the least dangerous person here.” Gwen laughed, and pointed a fork at you.

You rolled you eyes. “Okay, okay, fuck all of you.”

“Even me?” Hobie gasped and feigned offense.

“No.” You kissed his cheek, and miles and Gwen both rolled their eyes at you guys.

Hobie laughed as he saw their faces.

“Anyways, you all comin’ with?” Hobie asked.

“Yeah.” Miles and Gwen said at the same time.

Then you guys went into an alley, and hopped into the portal.

“Hey, Mr. O’Hara.” Gwen said when she saw him on the couch.

“Hi.. you didn’t tell me they were coming.” He looked at you.

“Right.. sorry. I didn’t kn-“

“It’s fine. Just don’t forget to leave the door open.” He said.

“We won’t. See you.” You said.

He’s been quiet ever since you both fought. He’s let you do whatever, and you didn’t mind.

“Hey, once they’re gone, we need to talk.” He looked at you before you entered the room. He was done with the secrets.

“Alright..” you said, a little confused, he just avoided your gaze and looked back at the TV.

You all talked and hung out for a while, throwing popcorn and pillows at each other.

“Alright, I’ll see you guys.” You said to miles and Gwen, as they both opened portals.

“Bye, thank you for today. It was fun.”

“Yeah.” Miles agreed, and they both left so it was now just you and Hobie.

Miguel walked in the room, looking at Hobie.

“Should I go or…”

“You can stay. I think you should hear this.”

You looked at Miguel confused, as you went on your bed.

Hobie looked at Miguel then you, then Miguel again.

“So, you read the whole thing right?”

“Not the whole things.. just the part about how I was taken by you, and how I was dangerous and had to be watched.”

“Do you know why your dangerous?”

“…no.”

Hobie leaned back, interested.

Miguel sighed. “I didn’t wanna tell you this, but, you remember how I told you about the doctor strange guy from earth 19999?”

“Yeah.. why..?”

“Basically, when you were younger, you had powers, nobody thought you could control them, until he came by, and hid them away. In this file, it tells you exactly what powers.” He handed you it.

Type: Superhuman individual.

Sex: Female.

Parents: Unknown, it is believed that a parent dropped her off on earth 712 for someone else to pick her up, to which they never did.

Potential parent/s: Pietro Maximoff because of their similar powers, Stephen Strange

Guardian: Miguel O’Hara.

Age: 4 years old.

Powers/abilities: Superspeed (Estimated to be about as fast as quicksilver from earth 616). The ability to change time, she does not know how to control it.

“The fuck..? You’re joking.” You looked up at Miguel.

“I wish. You were a pain in the ass when we tried to catch you, always running away. And accidentally turning back the time over and over. Dr strange had to step in.. and hide them.”

“Well, I want no part in whatever the fuck that is…” you threw the file at him.

Hobie just stared in amusement.

“Don’t know why but that makes you even hotter.” Hobie mumbled.

“What?”

“Well, I just wanted you to know… you don’t have to.” Miguel shrugged, picking up the file.

“Goodnight, Miguel. Thank you..”

“No problem.” He said, smiling softly, before leaving.

“Well, look at my girl, you’re more powerful than me.”

“Was I not before?”

He snickered “Definitely not.”

“Hey! I could be totally scary!” You hit his chest.

“You punch like a baby.” He yawned.

You huffed and rolled your eyes.

“Love you though.” He laughed, and wrapped his arms around you. You smiled and laughed as he started to tickle you.

“Stop! Stop! Hobie!”

[randomshyperson]

One For The Road - Heart Shaped Series

Chapter Summary: Wanda's first mission as an Avenger was also marked by the first time she met you.

Warnings: typical canon violence, fluff and Avengers working together but nothing major | Words: 2.501k

A/N-> This is an extra chapter (can be read separately and doesn't impact the current plot of the fic). It's just about delving a little deeper into what happened before the main story and I plan three of them in total (the other two will be their first kiss and their first time). Good reading!

General Masterlist | Wattpad | AO3 | Series Masterlist

-&-

Before.

They were there to observe. After all, what criminal in their right mind would let the Avengers attend an event where half the guests were wanted by Shield?

But even on the outside, and accompanied by Barton, Steve and Natasha who were basically the most protective members over her, Wanda was nervous.

It was her first official Avengers mission. Not only that, but she had what they called a perfect disguise consisting of an old American football team cap and sunglasses, and Wanda was having a hard time thinking that it would work. Maybe so, because she had only appeared a few times on television, and wasn't exactly the most popular Avenger among them. 

But there was also Captain America in all of his glory of an enchanted big body wearing the same outfit. So ignoring Steve's warning about keeping it on the down low, she was forced to use her skills when she noticed that the waitresses were whispering about him - One peek and Wanda could read their suspicion. The blonde among them was sure of who he was, but a little influence from the witch and that certainty vanished. She could go back to serving coffee without further doubts.

Steve could thank her later for that.

Wanda's first mission was simple. To observe, to provide support. It was more about seeing Steve in action than anything else. Learning how the more experienced ones acted or something. She knew that Clint was somewhere high up, perhaps in one of the buildings away from the main square. 

In any case, they were all surrounding the large Italian-style mansion on the edge of the island. And Tony in his iron armor was taking care of the offshore area, in case the targets escaped by water.

Everything was going well, and almost tedious to be honest, for hours on end. The gala party was happening loud and clear into the night, but Wanda and the others had the excuse of dinner time to stay at the tables in the cheap corner restaurant. 

"We have our first celebrity guest, Captain." Clint's warning over the communicator almost took her by surprise - but Wanda was paying attention to the mansion's large iron door, where she could see the movement in and out of the party. The equally bored security guards finally got something to do - Opening the door to the visually drunk man heading towards the limo waiting for him.

Steve left some cash on the table, standing up before the drunk man had even finished insulting the staff for taking so long to open the door for him. She knew the captain was heading towards the parked motorcycle to follow the car since that was the plan. But she noticed - felt - something different.

The target was an Italian mobster who had attracted Shield's attention by being quoted in a human experimentation scheme. All those involved in the Hydra project, which created people like her and Pietro, were being hunted down one by one. It was an Avengers-level operation because little was known about how far Hydra had managed to go. How many superhumans they manage to create? It wouldn't be smart to send ordinary agents who would probably be up against people as powerful as Wanda.

And well, there was another detail about the target; he had two daughters. According to the files, the girls didn't take part in their father's work. They just enjoyed the money from a crime like two foolish socialites.

Although the two figures were identical to the photographs in the files, something in Wanda clicked when she looked at what was supposed to be the mobster's youngest daughter.

"Steve, there's something wrong." She gasped into the communicator. The waiter looked surprised - he thought she was talking to him.

"Mi dispiace, signorina, cosa ha detto? (Excuse me, what did you say, miss?)" But Wanda muttered excuse me in a very bad accent and got up. At her warning, Steve hesitated and instead of going to the motorcycle, he stopped at the bar. 

The mobster didn't leave the scene either, confirming Wanda's suspicions that things were very wrong. 

From inside the mansion, two security guards ran out - they shouted that something had been stolen from the sale. And the gate was closed again.

The man, drunk and confused, was searched. The presence of a pearl necklace hidden in his jacket was enough for him to be dragged back by the thugs, who ignored the foaming protests of him and his eldest daughter, who ran inside after her father.

"What's the saying again, thief who steals thief...?" Clint joked over the communicator, clearly from wherever he was, he had witnessed the whole scene.

Although he laughed, Steve began to move forward. "Change of plans, guys. Let's break up the party." He announced, and it was no surprise that the positions of the remaining team members quickly began to reveal themselves.

Everyone left their hiding place to invade the party - Tony's armor was the first to act to hack open the iron gates. Most of the security corps surrendered on seeing the Avengers there, but there was still conflict. Steve just wanted to act quickly before the mobster they had come to capture was executed for stealing a pearl necklace.

And Wanda, well, she followed her instincts.

The mobster's daughter fled the scene - She was supposed to go after her father, but she snuck into the parking lot. Wanda had to run a little to avoid losing sight of her.

The confusion of the party invaded by the Avengers was loud enough to drown out her footsteps, and Wanda managed to hide behind some pillars when the figure reached a parked car. She thought she was about to discover that the mobster's daughter was actually more aware of her father's business than she let on when something much more shocking happened.

Before her eyes, Wanda watched the figure change completely. From the original appearance, only the coat and expensive dress remained.

A shapeshifter? What an incredible thing to witness, Wanda thought. She had only heard stories about Loki and had never seen anything other than Natasha's tools of disguise. This here was truly remarkable.

You hummed low, pulling out a closed suitcase from your coat. The Italian mafia symbol made Wanda understand the whole thing quickly - The necklace was just a distraction. The real theft was what you were carrying.

The coat was discarded on the pavement in the parking lot, but before you could stow it in the trunk, you froze. Wanda had half a second to hide behind the pillar, holding her breath and hoping you hadn't seen her.

Well, worst case scenario, she'd use magic on you.

She risked a peek, but you were no longer near the car. Gone, like the suitcase.

Wanda sighed in defeat, feeling pathetic. Her first mission would be marked with the escape of an enemy. How embarrassing.

But then she was suddenly grabbed and restrained. Wanda gasped in shock, imagining that it was one of the building's security guards. Her magic acted faster than the panic in her system - it went through her body and hit the attacker in the chest, who was thrown to the ground.

"Wow, how did you do that?" The voice that came out was definitely not that of a brute like the party security guards. Wanda turned around panting, ready for another attack, but you were sitting on the floor, back to your original appearance, looking at her as if you had just seen the most incredible creature in the world.

Wanda opened her mouth, but couldn't think of anything to say. She was sure she had been grabbed by a security guard, but then she understood: You had changed to look like one. But her magic forced you to return to your real appearance, and Wanda had to convince herself that the way her heart raced and her stomach did two flips was because of the fright, and nothing more.

Her lack of reaction didn't intimidate you. You tilted your head gently. "You're the new one."

You started to get up, Wanda swallowed dryly, taking another step away.  Her hands glowed as red as her eyes. "Stay back."

But you looked at her carefully, as if you were studying her. And you didn't seem afraid of your powers, even though a minute ago you'd been thrown to the ground for it.

"Oh, I remember you from television." You suddenly declare, a glint of recognition in your eyes. "The girl from the country who fell from the sky."

Wanda tried to steady her trembling hands. "I'll take you into custody. I know you stole something."

But you didn't pay any attention to the statement - You advanced against her and she backed away instinctively until Wanda was pressed to the pillar again. One hand against your stomach and the other on your shoulder, keeping you at a safe distance.

She could have just hit you with the magic, but she didn't. Just like you, she didn't attack.

"What... are you doing?" She gasped in a mixture of curiosity and fear, both hands controlling your distance were expelling her power. One of your hands moved up and grabbed her face gently - Wanda had to bite the inside of her cheek at the way her skin burned at your touch. Was it attraction she was feeling? No, it couldn't be. You were a complete stranger. She had to convince herself that this was fear.

You turned her face to one side and then the other, your eyes so focused that you seemed to be trying to memorize every aspect of her appearance.

"I've never met another one of us before." You say, and Wanda frowns in confusion. Your hand remains on her chin, and she swallows dryly before taking a chance:

"Us? Like... another Baron Strucker experiment?" She deduces, and you nod softly before letting go of her face.

You move your hand down and hold the one she has against your stomach. "It's so warm. What is it?" You ask tenderly about her magic. 

Wanda can feel her cheeks burning but she managed to stammer: "Hm... it’s a form of energy, I think." Jesus, Wanda pull yourself together. Well, who could really blame her for feeling out of place about the whole thing? She was literally on her first mission, being pinned against a pillar in the parking lot of a mafia party by some random thief, blushing under the worshipful gaze of that same shape-shifter while her team blew stuff up in the background. It was too much for anyone. 

She tries to gain a little control when she evades your touch, slipping to the side and putting distance between your bodies again. She also ignores how her hand is tingling, as if she was missing your touch from seconds ago.

"How did the Baron manage to give you energy?" You asked curiously but frowned in a worried way.

Wanda sighed. She really was having a conversation with a jewelry thief.

"It was a stone... um, a special kind. It may sound ridiculous, but it was a magic one. It came from outer space, the Avengers actually have a lot of work protecting them. And well, it now sits on the head of one of us and-"

But you suddenly moved - You lifted the hem of your dress just above your thigh, and pulled out a small, hidden pistol. Wanda's heart leaped to her throat. She barely had time to think about reacting, and you had already pulled the trigger.

There was still an arc of magic protecting her when she risked opening her eyes again. You were both out of breath, staring at each other before you lowered the gun.

The shot wasn't aimed at her, as Wanda realized the next second. But behind her, to one of the party guests who was trying to escape the Avengers by running into the parking lot. And well, catching one of them, off guard was quite an opportunity. The man now was writhing in pain on the ground, bleeding from the shot to the neck that you had hit him with. His own gun, loaded to shoot Wanda, rolled off his hand to the grass next to his body. 

Wanda should move. Criminal or not, trying to murder her or not, he needed help.

You raised an eyebrow at the magical protection disappearing around her. "You’re full of tricks aren’t, you?” You teased while hiding your gun again, now on your belt. “This was fun, Wanda Maximoff. Unfortunately, I must leave."

She shallows, knowing she really should move her feet. "You can't go... I have- I should arrest you."

You glance towards the man on the ground, practically unconscious now before looking at the girl again. "But he needs your help, and what kind of superhero doesn't help a bleeding victim?"

Her body reacts to your sarcastic words; she rushes to reach the assaulter and stop the bleeding. You don’t miss the opportunity to walk away to your motorcycle.

Wanda is too busy with the guest to notice you are escaping - Her magic do the hard part to patch up the bleeding and she’s stuck there with this man, at least for the necessary time for you to escape.

Wanda bites her tongue when she sees your motorcycle flee out the back exit, hoping none of her colleagues saw her letting you escape.

It doesn't even take five minutes for Natasha to find her, worried about where she was hiding during the shooting.

“What the hell happened here?” Asked the widow but as soon as she saw the gun on the floor, she assumed that Wanda was defending herself. She sighs before the witch can come up with an explanation. “Fuck, I’m just glad you’re okay, Maximoff. Pretty hardcore for your first mission, huh?” Nat jokes, and somehow, she manages a little chuckle from Wanda. The redhead gives her shoulder a soft tug. "Come on, witchy, i’ll take care of this one. Go find the others."

Natasha offered her a hand to help her up, but Wanda didn't want to take it. Her own were stained with blood.

"I think I'll go back to the quinjet." Said the brunette with a sour stomach. A lot had happened in a very short period of time. Natasha nodded quickly.

"Yeah, sure, go ahead." Said the widow, forcing a smile when she noticed the way the witch was shaking with adrenaline. "And Wanda. You did alright, okay? More than that, to be honest. You caught the hint that something was wrong very quickly. I’m proud of you.”

Wanda just nodded, taking the opposite path from all the confusion.  Completely unaware that a few kilometers away, at high speed, a shapeshifter left the motorcycle's handlebars to press against their own chest. Trying to understand why their heart was racing so much and the feeling of doing something wrong if the robbery had been a success.

[artbyblastweave]

I've never made any connections between Worm and the Captain America mythos before. Spill some ink?

Okay, so from a purely aesthetic perspective, the gimme is Miss Militia. She's the most obvious "Captain Patriotic" in the roster, she has the power of GUN, she's the only one who actively buys into the mythology of America specifically. She's a Kurdish woman occupying an aesthetic niche generally held by a rugged squinty white guy. She's an output of the melting pot narrative. She's sort of a rendering of what a grounded superhero who somehow became very aesthetically into America might look like. Not in the craven marketing-driven way of Homelander or Comedian, not in the jingoistic maniac way of USAgent or Peacemaker. She buys it in the broadly left-liberal (USamerican connotation of that term) safe, friendly, reclamative way. Why, what a great rehabilitation of the archetype!

She's also deeply, deeply afraid of rocking the boat. She's got a deepseated childhood trauma related to the bad things that happen when she puts herself in a leadership role. She goes along to get along. When she's proactive, it's usually to point a gun at Tattletale to stop her from upsetting the status quo. She sits through a lot of situations where Steve Rogers, as commonly modeled, would probably plant himself like a tree by the river of truth and go, "Hey, this is fucked up." She more or less capitulates to Undersider domination of the city, in a way that predisposes us to think of her as a voice of reason after all these total nuts that Skitter's been up against- but would Taylor "to relinquish control is a form of ego death" Hebert really be willing to leave someone in charge of the local Protectorate branch who she thought couldn't be corralled? She looks like a beacon, but doesn't- indeed, probably can't- ever truly behave like one. I mean, you can debate the on-the-spot morality of any given one of her judgement calls, that's actually one of the less exhausting Worm Morality Debates to have- but in aggregate, a person in American flag garb who actually meaningfully criticizes the paramilitary organization they're part of is not gonna survive long in that role!

So again, she's the gimme from an aesthetic standpoint. But what I don't really see a lot of discussion of is how Cauldron plays into the riff.

Captain America is institutional, but in a comically morally uncomplicated way. The serum was originally mana from heaven, granted to a living saint, conveniently divorced from any nitty-gritty sausage-making process and even-more conveniently divorced from the horrible consequences of giving the, uh, the U.S government a replicable super soldier process. And in fairness to Captain America, this is 100 percent something the overall mythos eventually patched to my satisfaction; the sausage-making process eventually revealed as prototypical government fuckery driven by human experimentation on black servicemen, the overall Marvel Setting littered with failed attempts by the U.S. Government to recreate that golden goose so they can have their fun new jackboots. (In Ultimate Marvel, this is how almost all contemporary superhumans were created, and this is a state of affairs with a body count in the millions or billions.)

Cauldron draws you in with the same noble rhetoric about greater goods, the same one-off proprietary irreplicable formula- but you don't get the luxury afterwards of representing nothing but the dream. You aren't partnering up with a plucky crank scientist with a heart of gold. You're selling your soul to an organization with an agenda. The narrative makes no bones about the fact that everything you do is fundamentally tainted by the fact you opted into an end product created through torture, kidnapping and human experimentation. You don't get to pull a Kamen Rider by going rogue or opting out or making good use of the fruit of the poisoned tree; you are owned, and everything you do has this Damocles sword hanging over your head- when are the people who bankrolled this going to come to collect?

So that's the question of "who would willingly dress like that" covered, and the question of who creates a serum like that. What about the question of who takes a serum like that? I'd argue that Eidolon is the examination of that. Pre-Cauldron David reads to me like pre-serum Steve Rogers viewed through a significantly bleaker lens. They're both sickly kids desperate to serve, rocketed to the pinnacle of human capability by an experimental procedure. But for Steve Rogers, the crisis was that he had a specific vision of the world and was frustrated by his inability to carry it out. Before the serum he picked fights over what was right and wrong and got his ass handed to him; afterwards he picked those same fights and just started winning instead. The serum neatly solved a problem he had, and to the extent that his mindset is influenced by his pre-serum experiences, it's generally constructive; a desire to protect the weak, help the helpless, an appreciation for people who stand up for what's right even when they're clearly gonna get pancaked for their trouble. So ultimately there's no dark side, downside, or underlying neurosis ascribed to his initial impulse to take that serum.

But with David, it's not a tragic case of the spirit being willing but the flesh being weak. He isn't a preternaturally-noble soul, out to represent the best elements of the American ideal- he kind of represents the inverse, a guy who's been failed at every level while utterly convinced that he's the problem. He's actively suicidal because he's a wheelchair-bound epileptic in an economically-depressed socially-backwards rural town in the 1980s, and he's spent his 18 years of life internalizing the idea that he's worse than useless unless he can somehow find a way provide value to something larger than himself. Doctor Mother finds him in the aftermath of a suicide attempt spurred by his rejection from the army- and he didn't even want to join the army specifically, necessarily, he just needed his situation to be literally anything else, and he took what he thought he could get. And then he finds himself in a position to become a superhero, so he does that, molds himself into that, subordinates himself to that, builds his entire sense of self and values around the value he can provide in that role. No grand design or sacred principles carried over through the metamorphosis. Just relief at finally, finally having something that looks like an answer to the question of what he's supposed to do.

And you know, you know that if Steve Rogers was facing down the barrel of being depowered, he'd smile and nod, he'd Cincinnatus that shit. It's happened before. But for David, the emotional trauma and self-worth issues that caused him to roll the dice on a Steve-Rogers treatment never really went away. When would it? He's been Providing Value as a ten-ton Hammer Against Evil for thirty years. No family, no social life. Certainly, no incentive on his handler's part to lance his Atlas complex. So he barrels towards atrocity in the name of remaining useful. Admittedly, this is where the comparison breaks down in a significant way; Captain America is much more of a symbol than he is an irreplicable powerhouse, so it's not catastrophic if he's taken off the board. Eidolon is so unbelievably powerful that his myopia and self-centeredness actually do align with a real problem everyone else is gonna have if he loses his powers. But in terms of the starting points- I think that Steve Rogers embodies the myth about why you'd want to join the army that badly. Eidolon is, I think, much more closely modelling why you'd actually want to join the army that badly.

[bettyfrommars]

Might be too much in line with I'm on fire.. but what about classic a classic motorcycle riding drifter.. that is more than meets the eye... maybe more monster than man and that's why he drifts... idk if that's enough maybe he's drifted into small town USA and he meets reader at like a Truckstop/ Diner that's across from the one hotel in town and over days of her waiting on him (EDS) they strike something up... spicy.. if you will.. maybe he finds her delectable and she finds him mysterious & charming idk just spit ballin

The Drifter

missed connections

out on the highway

monster!drifter!Eddie x dinerWaitress!Reader

18+ONLY, smut, blood, oral (f receiving), mention of drug and alcohol addiction, mention of physical abuse by an ex, mention of PTSD, emotional trauma, 2 lost souls finding each other, a killing, monsterfuqqing, but it’s also a really sweet, fluffy story if that makes sense. wc: 4.2

A/N: I was so excited to get this ask! I had to really pull back on the length of this story because I could've kept writing it forever and will most likely bring back Eddie The Drifter again in some oneshots. I did a quick re-read, but sometimes I just need to post these before I obsess over them for too long.

(Also, when Eddie is thinking about how "damaged" they both are, that is his perception, not mine. I think they are both perfect.)

Eddie had been drifting for a while.  He didn’t want to know anyone, and he didn’t want anyone to know him.  He hadn't been the same since the physical and emotional trauma he’d suffered in The Upside Down.  Steve took him by the arm once and told him he understood what he was going through—that they all understood—and that he wasn’t alone.  Eddie knew Steve and the rest meant well, but they couldn’t understand, and he was convinced no one ever would. Trauma affects everyone differently and for Eddie, it started to turn him into his father, and that was what scared him more than anything.  Dark and brooding with a short fuse, there was a beast living inside of him that had not been there before the ordeal with Vecna; or perhaps, it had just been sleeping.  

He lost his temper with Dustin once, and at the time, he thought he was having a very normal reaction to the situation.  It wasn’t until he recognized the fear in his younger friend’s eyes–the way he backed away from Eddie and put his hands up as if he needed to protect himself—that Eddie knew he had to go.  After years of silent struggle and becoming a hermit more and more, he decided to hit the road.  

He started out in his van, sleeping in it, getting odd jobs wherever he went, staying in town just long enough to make some money, and then he was in the wind again.  He called Wayne from payphones and sent postcards back home to Hawkins once in a while, but not often.  In his mind, they were better off without him.

The second year he was on the road, he ended up getting involved with a biker gang and doing some jobs for them that paid well but were on the wrong side of the law.  Before the Upside Down, he’d been more of a lover than a fighter.  Sure, he had to defend himself a few times, especially from his old man, and he never took shit from people without giving it back, but ever since he almost died, he’d acquired some type of superhuman strength.  There was a transformation that happened in him now, fueled by the adrenaline of his rage, and in the past decade, he’d been paid to hurt more people than he could count. The problem was—he’d started to like it. 

Eventually, he was able to trade in his van for a Harley FXS 80, and he carried most of his early possessions with him.  He put the rest of what he owned in a storage unit in Oregon, and he’d planned to circle back there again one of these days to get it all when he decided to settle down—but years later, he was still on the road.   He’d been using his bedroll to sleep out under the stars the past couple nights, but the clouds told him it was about to rain, and he decided he could use a shower and a real bed for the night.

Red River Junction was less than a dot on a map, a truck stop town with a place to eat, a place to sleep, and a place to pump your gas, set right plop in the middle of nowhere.  You’d grown up in a town not too far down the highway, and you were still there, in the same trailer your mother left to you when she passed.  You worked at both the Sundown Motel part-time, and at Margie’s Diner, and in your free time, you dreamed about leaving town and never coming back.  

You heard the rumble of his motorcycle before you saw it; chrome pipes growling to a stop as the rider found a place for his bike in the lot.  A motorcycle, or even an entire MC, pulling into the junction was nothing new.  You were the only stop for gas and food for a good fifty miles.

You were staring for so long out the window as he dismounted and took his helmet off, that you overflowed the coffee cup you were refilling and the elderly customer scoffed at you.  He had long, curly hair tied back in a ponytail and bangs that had grown out just long enough to tuck behind his ears.  Black leather jacket, and leather chaps over his jeans. Your attention was immediately drawn to his jewelry: the small hoop piercing in his ear and the chunky rings across his knuckles.  My Boyfriend’s Back by The Angels played softly from the jukebox while you made your way to the front to greet him.  The kitchen was slammed with only Big Joe behind the grill, and Leslie was the only other waitress, but she was on a smoke break.  

You fumbled the big plastic menu in your hand when he took his sunglasses off to nail you with those star-flecked eyes.  “Just one for lunch?”

He tucked his sunglasses into the front of his shirt and looked around.  “You still serving breakfast?”

“All day long,” you assured him.  Seats at the counter were all full, so  you offered him a booth, and he slid in without another word or glance in your direction, taking the menu from you with a grunt. You tried not to stare at his scars: the angry, purple one on his neck, and the deep white slash across his chin.  His hands were also flecked with scar tissue from various fights, and punching through mirrors every time he hated his own reflection.

50 year old Leslie was tying her apron and chewing gum when you moved behind her to grab a cup and saucer for his coffee.  “Another grumpy one,” you whispered over the sound of clinking silverware and scattered conversations.  

Leslie raised her eyebrow a few times, resting her elbow on the counter.  “Hell, he can get grumpy with me any day.”

Eddie didn’t say much while you waited on him, and you didn’t think he was paying any attention to you, but he saw the way you splashed a bit of vodka into your soda can behind the counter.  He also caught the way you used that same liquid to toss back a couple pills you scooped out of your apron pocket just before you turned to grab some hot plates from the kitchen hatch.  He didn’t judge you for it or think it was odd being that he’d spent the past ten years trying to find ways to dull his pain.  

He thought you were too beautiful for this deadbeat town; too sweet, too kind.  He noticed the bruise on your forearm and the vacancy in your eyes and he felt an instant kinship with you: the damaged recognizing the damaged.  

When you came to clear his empty plate, he asked you if the Sundown Motel was a decent place to stay.  It was the only motel for miles and he didn’t care how decent it was, he just wanted a reason to keep talking to you.

“Sure, it’s great,” you shrugged.  “If you like bedbugs and carpets that look like a violent crime took place recently.”

He met your eyes, and there was a moment of levity there that lightened both of your spirits if only for that moment.  

“I’m cool with bedbugs,” he brushed his tongue between his lips.  “It gets lonely on the road, it’s nice to have some company.”

He told you his name was Eddie after he read yours off of your name tag, and when you came back from seating a table full of seniors who were on a bus tour to the casino, he was gone.

He left you a generous tip, though, and after hours of getting tipped in quarters and loose change, it felt good to have some solid cash in your pocket.  His motorcycle was gone too, and you wondered if he’d decided to hit the road or stay the night.  

You told yourself to forget about him, that he was just another drifter you’d never see again, but the evening had other plans for you.  

You were supposed to have the night off from both jobs, but Susan at the front desk of the motel begged you to come down and work the check-in desk for an hour while she went to pick her kid up.  You wished you could say you had some big plans, but that was absolutely not the case, and so you rolled your car up to the back lot behind the dumpsters and changed out of your orthopedic shoes and into something less drab.  

You thought it would be an easy hour to space off and read a book, but ten minutes after you clocked in, two guests locked themselves out of their room.  It was a two-tier motel, and as you made your way up the concrete steps with the husband and wife in question behind you, fumbling with the keys, you caught sight of Eddie a few rooms down, and your heart jumped into your throat.

He was sitting in the plastic chair in front of the door to his room, smoking a cigarette, stripped down to jeans and a wife-beater.  His hair was still wet from his shower, hanging down his shoulders, showcasing the patchwork of scars that covered his flesh.  

He didn’t make eye contact, but he saw you. In fact, he knew you were on your way a few minutes before that, because he heard your voice, and it made him stay and light another smoke.   He flicked his ash and waited for you to let the couple into their room.  

On your way back to the stairs, the soda and snack machine blocked your view, but once you rounded the corner, there he was again.  

“Is your room satisfactory, sir?” You put the keys in your pocket and stood tall, pretending to act professional.  

Eddie met your eyes then, staring up through his lashes, and one side of his mouth lifted in a smirk.  “Disappointed I haven’t found any bedbugs.”

You coughed a laugh, swaying on your feet.  “Give it time. They come out at dark.”

Eddie didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, but he’d also learned never to miss an opportunity with how transient his life was.  His attraction to you was not purely physical, which was a rare occurrence for him. 

He shifted in his seat, a silky curl of gray smoke passing from his lips.  “Are you free later tonight? Can I buy you dinner?”  

Suddenly shy and baffled as to why he’d have any interest, you lowered your chin and shuffled your foot. 

 “I-I’ve got a boyfriend,” you cringed as you said it.  Tony had cheated on you and left you more times than you could count.  He took off a couple days ago after he knocked you around, and you had no idea where he was, but you continued to hold onto this strange sense of loyalty for him.  Perhaps it was because you were convinced he was the best you could do.  

“Did the tough guy do that to your arm?” Eddie asked in a low mumble, his eyes lingering on your bruises.

You covered the marks with your other hand, reflexively.  “He’s been under a lot of stress lately,” you always felt like such an idiot when you defended that loser, but you didn’t know how to stop.  

“Well,” Eddie smashed the butt in the ashtray by his chair and stood up to full height. One nipple under his white tank was hard, but the other one seemed to be missing.  “If you change your mind, you know where to find me.”

You were too stupefied to move, you just stood there holding your arm, waiting for him to go back into his room.

But Eddie paused in the doorway and turned to give you one last look.  “You deserve a lot better, sweetheart. If he puts his hands on you while I’m around, I’ll fucking kill him.”

—------

You thought about Eddie’s words for the rest of your shift.  When it was over, you drove the ten miles back to your trailer, took a shower, and found yourself driving back to the motel, as if your will was no longer your own.  

“What are you even doing?” You hissed aloud to yourself as you parked behind the Sundown in your usual spot.  It was dusk now and you accepted the possibility that he’d probably invited a different woman out to dinner by then, but any amount of reasoning couldn’t stop you.  You checked the scene first, looking up from the main parking lot to catch the flicker of the tv in his room to let you know he was, indeed, still up there.  His motorcycle was safe in its place, too, and you realized you hadn’t even prepared what to say.  You were an anxious mess, but you were also hungry for him in a way that was foreign to you.  

You hadn’t known much comfort or safety in your life, but you felt those things when you were around Eddie.

After standing at his door for a good 5 minutes, you finally found the courage to knock.

Eddie opened the door while your knuckles were still on the wood.  His eyes looked you over, offering a buck of his chin in appreciation. “Well, well. You are a gorgeous bedbug.”

Your cheeks burned hot at the complement.  “I had some free time, so I thought I’d just check and see how you were doing, if you have everything you need.”

Eddie braced his shoulder against the door jam, giving you a squint. “So, you came to check on me while you’re off the clock? Damn, that is good service.”

You flexed your hands, forcing a laugh, trying your best not to just turn around and run away.

“Are you hungry?” Eddie raised an eyebrow.  “Do you want to come in? Cause we can —”

“I’m not hungry.” You answered, bolting inside of his room when he extended his arm as an invitation, before you lost your nerve.

“Neither am I,” Eddie agreed.  But, he was craving something else.  

He locked the deadbolt and made sure the curtains were closed.

—-----

There were very few words left to be spoken as your lips collided with his, meeting with equal levels of urgency.  You kept trying to kiss him deep and desperate while your hand palmed him through his jeans, but he held you off a bit with soft pressure.  He cupped your face and caressed your cheek with his thumb while he kissed you, giving individual attention to your top lip and then the bottom one.  He kissed down your neck, flicking his tongue out every so often to taste you, making you gasp—you’d never been worshiped with someone's mouth before.    

Breathing heavy, he started to unbutton your shirt.  “Is this okay?” He asked, wondering how far you wanted to take it.

“Yes,” you gulped.  “Please.”

Once you had his shirt off, you bent down to kiss and lick his scars—it was an unspoken act of acceptance that made Eddie’s cock twitch.  You weren’t used to being cared for in bed, and Eddie could tell by the way you hurried to push your jeans down and bend over so he could take you from behind.

“Not like that,” he whispered, using strong arms to lower you to the bed while he shimmied your jeans off.  He got on his knees and scooped up your hips, nudging your pussy through your underwear with his nose, and then he planted kisses across the wet spot and along your inner thigh.  The animal inside of him loved your scent; he wanted to bury himself in it, and he couldn’t help the growl that escaped him.  

You fell back on the bed and covered your face with one hand.  “Wait, I’m—not many people have done that—I’m not sure how to—”

Eddie finger pulled your underwear to one side, exposing your slippery lips for his tongue to flick.  “Do you want me to stop?”

You arched back at the sensation of his mouth on you.  “No, no, please don’t stop,” you urged, putting your hand on his head to gently cup his ear, the one with the silver hoop.  

He moved away just long enough to pull your underwear all the way down your legs and off, maintaining eye contact with you.  He didn’t rush, he took his time, and kissed his way back up your legs to the prize.  

The gentle and precise way he swirled his tongue on your clit had you stammering his name with a few curses in between.  As his attention to your bundle of nerves built your arousal and it spilled down your slit, he dove his mouth down a few times to taste it and drink you, shivering at the pleasure it gave him.  He couldn’t help it, he had to reach down to grab his cock so he could fist it while his mouth brought you closer.  The taste of your hormones in your slick had pre-cum wetting his tip already.  

Tony had only gone down on you a few times, and he never really seemed to enjoy it.  But Eddie was one of those who could eat a peach for hours, as they say.

“Right…there…” you hushed, startled as you felt the wave of an orgasm rise.  Eddie zeroed in on that spot with just the right pressure, fluttering his tongue as he sucked.  His other hand milked his cock in long strokes, taming the beast from cumming too soon, moaning warm breath against your cunt.

“Eddie!” You cried out just as the release took you and wracked your body, like a spring popping out of a tight coil, unraveling.  Eddie pressed his mouth closer to lap you up, feeling your body vibrate as he held your hip in place.

He only broke the seal made by his mouth once you were too sensitive, and your limbs dangled off the bed for a minute, unable to move. 

It didn’t take long for you to start coaxing him up on top of you, spreading your legs out, begging for him to be closer.  He met your kiss with deep, soul-searching need, and you whined at the sensation of his tip sliding up and down your slick.  But, then he hesitated, and pulled up to meet your eyes.

“Inside of me,” you begged, nodding.  “I need you inside of me.”

And yes, that was what Eddie wanted too, but now there was another problem.  

Eddie’s ears pricked at the sound of footsteps outside the door.  He sniffed the air, trying to identify the presence.  He slid off of you and stood, watching the door while he pulled his jeans up and zipped his stiff, aching cock into place behind the denim.

Shuffling up onto your elbows, you were about to speak, to ask what was wrong, but Eddie silenced you with a finger to his lips.  He tossed your jeans over and motioned over his shoulder for you to put them on in the bathroom.

There was something about the whole situation, and Eddie’s sudden silence, that unnerved you, and so you scampered off the bed as quietly as you could and did as he asked.

There were no lights on in the room, except for the infomercial on the mute TV, but the bright moon illuminated the walkway outside enough for him to catch sight of someone pacing out there.  

Finally, there came a heavy knock and a voice.  

It was Tony, and he shouted your name.  “ARE YOU IN THERE? HUH? You fucking whore!”

You buttoned your jeans and all of the blood ran from your face.  Eddie turned his head to look at you.  The adrenaline of pure fear pumped through your body as you froze in place. 

Eddie put his hand out, motioning for you to stay right where you were, behind him.  

Tony pounded on the door again.  “YOU CAN’T HIDE FROM ME! One of my guys said he saw you go in here with some fucking dude.  IF YOU’RE FUCKING SOMEONE ELSE I’LL KILL YOU, you goddamn bitch!”

By “one of his guys” Tony meant one of the other drug dealers in town, who were generally crawling all over the motel, leeching off of the clientele.  Eddie looked deceptively calm as he stood at the end of the bed, breathing slow, and you walked over to grab his arm, to warn him that Tony was a crazy motherfucker, and you’d just go with him so Eddie wouldn’t get hurt.  

But Eddie motioned for you to hide, so you did.

“Hold up, man,” Eddie was moving now, heading to undo the deadbolt and you cringed, pushing back as tight as you could between the wall and the bathroom door.  

Once the door was unlocked, Tony stood there heaving, looking Eddie up and down.  Tony was big in a stocky way, but not big like Eddie, and he enjoyed that flash of fear that lit over his adversary’s eyes at first glance.  Sure, the guy had some obvious prison ink, but that didn’t mean shit to Eddie.  

“Where is she?” Tony demanded, pushing in.

“Where’s who, man?” Eddie was being so casual about it, and you were  trying not to scream.  

Eddie shut the door and quietly locked it behind him

Tony’s eyes darted around the room, and then he spun on his heel; his eyes were pinned and doped-out.  “Don’t act dumb, man.  My fucking girl.  Someone said they saw her come up here.”

Tony walked up to Eddie and started poking him in the chest.  “Tell me where that fucking whore is before I make you my bitch.”

Nothing could have prepared you for what happened next—for the transformation and the carnage.  You witnessed it all through the crack in the bathroom door as if you were watching a horror movie. 

Eddie changed, in an instant; the muscles in his shoulders and arms bulged, the teeth in his mouth turned jagged and sharp, and his eyes went completely black.  His massive, clawed hand wrapped around Tony’s throat, lifting him up so that his feet no longer touched the ground.

You muffle a scream with your hand, watching Tony gargle and spit, his limbs flailing.  

Eddie’s lips stretched to speak around his fangs.  “She’s not your girl anymore,” he growled.

Eddie strangled Tony with one hand  until he lost consciousness, and then he threw him to the bed like a rag doll, pouncing on top of him.  He proceeded to rip his throat open with his teeth; blood squirted on the wall and across the door where you were hiding, misting you in the face.  

When he was finished, you made your way out of the bathroom.

Eddie was still a monster as he got off the bed at the sight of your approach.  His clawed hands twitched at his sides, his hair dripped with blood, and his skin from nose to chest was bathed in crimson.  His black eyes assessed you, waiting for you to scream or try to run—-but you didn’t.

You got close enough to touch him, to run your hand up his chest to feel the blood between your fingers, and then brush some bloody hair behind his ear.

Eddie frowned, wondering why you weren’t afraid of him, wondering why your desire for him didn’t seem to falter.

You parted your lips, watching the red drool drip from his teeth.  “Are you okay?"

Your mouths found each other again, tasting the tang of your own blood as one of his fangs pricked your lip.  You each did frantic work of unzipping each other’s jeans as Eddie scooped you up to lay you on the floor.

While the last few pumps of blood shot from Tony’s artery, monster Eddie spilled his seed inside of you, throwing his head back with a howl.  

Now, there really had been a crime committed in that room, and Eddie would need to be on the road again, gone by daylight.  

Maybe this time, you’d be going with him.  

[somber-sapphic]

Snow Daze

〖Summary: Shoveling snow while sick is a nightmare combination.〗

〖Word Count: 2.1k〗

〖Pairing: Wanda x Sick Reader〗

〖Notes: Sorry it took so long to get this done, I got sick and couldn't write for the life of me. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this and feel free to send me an ask if you'd like to read anything!〗

☾Masterlists☽

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Waking up to fresh snowfall brought different reactions for everyone. Some felt joy upon seeing their ordinary world coated in white, they loved the whimsy that came with the weather. To others it was more frustrating. It was a chore that had to be dealt with as early as possible to make room for the day. You fell into the latter category.

When you woke up on what was supposed to be a lazy Sunday morning you were less than thrilled to see a blanket of snow covering the yard, driveway and cars. It wasn’t like you didn’t enjoy the snow, you loved watching it fall in large fluffy flakes and every so often you would have a snowball fight with the avengers. Really you loved the snow, but you hated the cleanup. You hated it more with a stuffy nose and a dull ache in your body that clearly indicated that you were getting sick.

There was this little competition among the heroes about who could shovel the most snow, it was their way of turning a chore into a fun workout. You didn’t find it nearly as fun as them. You would rather just get the damn job over with without all of the smack talk and teasing, but they insisted on it.

Wanda had gotten so tired of their antics that she’d dubbed herself ‘maker of the hot coca’ to get out of it. Natasha loved it, she felt great when she could beat the superhumans at anything and generally just enjoyed competition. You participated only because you were a relatively new member of the team (compared to the others) and didn’t want to make yourself look weak.  

Staring out at the vast expanse that was the Avengers Compound driveway you couldn’t help but feel a bit of self-pity. You had just woken up and you were already feeling awful. Your nose was so stuffy that you couldn’t breathe through it, but it was also running. Your throat burned every time you swallowed, and you were sure that the cough that would be coming would make it hurt even worse.

It wasn’t like you had much of a choice though, you could hear Steve beginning to yell at everyone to get up and dressed for 20-degree weather. With a harsh sneeze you began to get ready, pulling on the warmest clothes you could find which included doubles of everything. Even with the two layers you were shivering hard, unable to get warm.

You stared at yourself in the small mirror, studying the dark smudges under your eyes and the sickly pallor of your face. Your nostrils were already rimmed red from rubbing them and your lips were badly chapped. Whatever this was it was hitting fast and hard.

A loud knock startled you out of your daze and back into reality. You shuffled to your door, hindered by the extra layers and your own dizziness. Opening it revealed an excited looking Steve with a big smile on his face and wearing winter clothes.

“You ready Y/n? It looks heavy!” He greeted, grinning at you. His joyful tone was baffling, but you were determined to prove yourself as an individual with no powers and far less experience than the others.

“Lets do this.” You croaked, confirming that you sounded as bad as you felt. Steve’s eyebrow twitched and his expression morphed into one of concern, but you brushed it off with a quiet cough and a smile.

“Sorry, my throat is a little dry. I think I need to talk to FRIDAY about increasing the humidity in here.” You said, offering an easy explanation for what could easily be a fluke. The cough had done wonders to clear your throat and you didn’t sound quite as awful. A bit nasally, but not like death.

Cap nodded enthusiastically, too focused on the idea of what he was sure would be an intense workout to really notice the state you were in. If you said you were fine, he was in no place to question you.

“Lets do this!”

You grabbed your coat and followed the superhero out of your bedroom where you practically ran into a very tired looking Wanda. The witch wasn’t sure why it was so important for her to be awake as she was only making cocoa for everyone, but the boys had refused to give her peace.

When she saw you, her eyes went wide, and you couldn’t help the blush that spread across your cheeks. The way she looked at you with worry and love, it was just something you’d never seen before meeting her.

When you first joined the team, she had been incredibly kind to you, she’d understood your fear and done everything to make you feel welcome. It hadn’t taken long for you to fall head over heels for her. Thankfully she could read your mind otherwise you never would’ve gotten the courage to ask her out.

“Y/n, are you okay? You look…not great.” She said softly, not wanting to attract the attention of anyone else. You smiled again and nodded slightly, wondering if she could tell that you were lying. You had always been good at it, but you knew that she could sense emotions without trying if they were strong enough.

“I’m fine. I just woke up, that’s it. Will you put marshmallows in my hot cocoa?” You asked, leaning in to peck her on the cheek. The brunette hummed quiet concern, but nodded after a moment and squeezed your hand.

“Of course, baby. Come inside if you need a break, okay? No need to put yourself at risk for a chore, it will get done.” She kissed you, her soft red lips brushing gently against yours. You did the best you could to return the kiss, but it was everything you could do not to fall apart. The last place you wanted to be was outside in the freezing cold, you wanted to be with Wanda who was comfortable and warm. Later you’d find yourself wishing that you gave into that want.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

A chesty cough bubbled from your lips as you threw another shovel full of heavy wet snow over your shoulder, but this time you did nothing to suppress it. You no longer cared if someone heard you, you were tired and cold. It had been two hours of moving piles of incredibly heavy snow and you were barely halfway done.

Natasha glanced over at you but said nothing. She’d been watching you deteriorate for a while now but didn’t want to force you inside when you were being so stubborn. She had internally decided that if you didn’t go in soon, she would get Wanda to come get you.

 The boys were getting even more competitive as they got bored, and Clint had started throwing snowballs. You were thankful that you were on the other side of the driveway away from that nonsense.

One thing your slightly feverish brain hadn’t considered was that the others might retaliate. What had started as one man throwing a few snowballs had turned into a full-blown snowball fight in less than a minute. You tried to avoid your teams’ antics and just continue with the snow removal, but it was too late for that.

Before you could think to react one very well packed snowball slammed you in the face and another hit the back of your head. You froze as icy slush slid down your back and chest, bypassing your jacket to soak into your soft cotton undershirt. You stared at Steve who had thrown the one that hit your face with an expression of shock and anger that was barely masking tears.

You threw the shovel down and whipped around, a wave of spots dancing in your vision as you began to march back toward the front doors. You glared daggers at Clint who had thrown the other snowball and flipped them both off as you trudged your way through the snow, hot tears beginning to drip down your freezing cheeks.

When you got inside you didn’t even bother taking off your boots, you just stomped through the foyer and to the elevator, pushing the button you knew would get you to the kitchen and your girlfriend.

“Mx. Y/l/n, your vitals indicate—”

“Shut up FRIDAY.” You snapped, coughing aggressively into your elbow as you waited the few seconds for the elevator to get to your floor. You didn’t care what the AI had to say, you knew that you were sick, and you were so angry that all you really wanted to do was scream.

When you finally made it to the kitchen the snow had begun to melt. You stood in front of Wanda dripping and shivering, doing everything you could to keep yourself from sobbing.

“Oh love, you’re freezing.” The brunette breathed, shaking her head as she rushed to comfort you. She began to take off your coat and you just let her. The tears coming faster as her aura of compassion washed over you, reassuring you that you weren’t alone.

The young Sokovian woman set your coat on a chair and pulled you in for a hug, giving you silent permission to break down. You did just that and buried your head in her shoulder as you began to sob out your frustration at the world. Wanda held you like that, crying coughing and sneezing for probably five minutes before she pulled away, seeming not to care that you’d ruined her shirt.

“Come on Y/n/n, let’s get you in bed.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

When she said that you expected to be brought to your bedroom, but instead you found her leading you to hers. Once there she helped you change into her softest pajamas and tucked you into her bed without a second thought.

The whole thing happened so fast that your fever clouded brain barely had time to catch up when Wanda left you alone only to return a moment later with a mug of tea.

“Here you go sweetheart. Drink this for me, it’ll warm you up.” Wanda said gently, pushing a mug into your hands. She had never made you any cocoa, she knew that you were getting sick and decided that tea would be best.

“Thanks.” You rasped, not sure what else to say. You’d never really been taken care of before and being sick around your girlfriend was strange. The relationship was still on the newer side, so you were worried about doing something wrong and messing it up.

The witch kissed your forehead and took her seat beside you on the soft bed. She wrapped a blanket around your trembling shoulders and made quiet noises of concern as she fussed, something you found yourself enjoying. It was nice to feel cared for and she did it better than anyone else.

“How about we watch a show while you warm up?” She suggested reaching for the remote on her bedside table. You nodded silently and wiped your nose on your sleeve, your throat hurt, and you weren’t really up to talking anymore. Wanda tilted her head at your action and placed a box of tissues in your lap with a little smile.

“Use these instead.” She directed, turning her attention to the TV. You obliged and grabbed a tissue to blow your nose which was definitely better than just wiping it.

Wanda flipped through channels and began to play with your hair as she did so, dragging her nails in patterns across your skull. The effect was amazing, you instantly felt calmer and settled against her even more, practically melting into her side.

You focused your eyes on whatever show she had put on; it was brightly colored and animated. It didn’t really matter to you what she decided to watch, you were too sick to pay attention to it.

You took a sip of the hot tea, relishing the way it soothed your throat and warmed your insides. The snow had been hell, but you were finally able to relax thanks to your amazing girlfriend. You vowed silently to repay the favor the next time she got sick and go above and beyond to take care of her the same way she was doing for you.

[talesofely]

— Desired Reality - Uno.

A Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader Series

Summary : Six people who claimed to be from another universe arrived at the Avengers Tower out of nowhere. The fact that the group of people—NOVA—are essentially Avengers clones only serves to further complicate matters. The only unmistakable distinction between them is that they are of opposing sexes. How will things play out for the two groups of superhumans?

Word count : 1.5k

Warnings : Nothing that I know of.

Next - Series Masterlist.

"Is this it?" A red headed male asked, looking around the unfamiliar yet familiar building in front of them. Nathaniel.

"If the smarties' calculations are correct, then supposedly, we are where we need to be." The youngest member of the team replied with a small sigh. Stephanie.

"Of course it's right, it's us. When are we ever wrong?" The richest member of the team snarked back, making sure to add a sassy eye roll. Antoinette.

"When you said everyone in our team is straight." The archer responded in a tone so flat that you could mistake it for a serious statement. Clarissa.

A chuckle erupted from the quietest member of the team. "She got you good this time." Brielle.

"Bite back, Ms. Snarky." The group's ray of sunshine egged on, wanting to see drama unfolding in front of her very eyes again. Theodora.

"You guys will seriously argue any chance you get, huh?" A white haired female said with annoyance. Everyone immediately stopped talking as if it was their mom scolding them. Y/n.

"Six people are exiting the building. Two on your right, Steph. Two on your left, Brie. And two directly in front of us." Everyone immediately went into full alert mode, ready to fight if necessary.

Just like you said, six people came out of the building. Surprise was immediately shown on the Avengers faces when they saw the six people standing outside the building.

Steve Rogers, Captain America, was the first to speak up. "Who are you?"

"Luke, I am your father." Antoinette said seriously, making direct eye contact with the super soldier.

"Luke? My name isn't Luke." Steve furrowed his brows in confusion as the group of strangers infront of them tries to stifle a chuckle.

"Idiot, it's 'No, I am your father.'" The archer of the younger team would never pass on an opportunity to piss the young billionaire off.

"No? He says 'Luke', you dumb bitch, not 'No'." Y/n let out a loud sigh once those words left Antoinette's mouth, knowing this will lead to a long fight again.

Thankfully, she wasn't the only one who didn't want to go through the banter between the two girls.

"We're you, from a different reality." Steph answered seriously and truthfully, stepping forward to hide the two girls arguing and ignoring the confused looks on the heroes faces.

Silence immediately enveloped them, the avengers trying to study the unfamiliar faces infront of them. You decided to break the silence, knowing that you all didn't have time for staring contests.

"I believe it's best if we speak about this matter inside." You said with a friendly smile, revealing your dimples on both cheeks. Your london accent also surprised everyone, but no one chose to comment on it.

"And how can we trust that you won't try to kill us?" Steve asked, stepping forward to try and intimidate the group.

"Cuff us then." A chorus of disbelieving 'what?!'s could be heard from the younger group. A raise of your right hand, however, was able to silence them.

That didn't stop the quiet cursing and swearing from your group however.

"So you're saying that, you're us, from a different universe?" Tony asked with furrowed brows. They were in the avengers meeting room, the younger heroes all had cuffs on their hands, much to their displeasure.

"Yeah. I'm you," Annie said as she pointed at Tony. "from another reality, wherein you're a gal."

"Wait, wait, wait. So what are your names then?" Clint asked reluctantly, crossing his arms as he stared at the cuffed heroes.

The Vigilantes all looked at you first, seemingly asking for approval from their 'leader' before revealing important information. When you nodded, Clint's counterpart broke the silence.

"I'm Clarissa Francesca Barton, they call me Claire. I'm you, Hawkeye."

"Stephanie Grace Rogers, Steph." Steve raised his brows in surprise at his supposed female counterpart.

"Roxanne Brielle Banner. Guess you can call me Brie." Bruce nodded at his counterpart who just raised a brow at him in response.

"I'm Theodora Odinson, you can call me Thea. Hi, Thor." Thor waved at the girl who smiled at him in return.

Everyone then looked at Annie, who raised a brow at them once she noticed their gaze. "What? I wanna go last."

She sighed before rolling her eyes. "The name's Antoinette Edelle Stark. It's Annie for short, not Toni, not Nette, not anything else."

Tony smiled in triumph when he confirmed that he looks good in every universe, despite being the opposite gender.

"I'm Nate." The only boy in the team said flatly, earning a huff of annoyance from you.

"He's Nathaniel Alister Romanoff." You finished for him, ignoring the look of betrayal on his face.

"I'm Y/n Dawn Maximoff, according to our research, I'm Pietro Django Maximoff. I also have a twin," Your eyes shifted to Wanda, a look of understanding flashed in both their eyes. "His name was Walker Marco Maximoff."

"Wait— I appreciate knowing your names, but that doesn't prove anything, much more being from another universe." Steve asked, still cautious against them.

You sighed in annoyance, you didn't appreciate being asked multiple questions, especially again and again.

You stared at the keys of the handcuffs on the table away from you. You frowned and shifted your gaze to the cuffs on your hand, and suddenly it disappeared.

The avengers looked at you in shock, immediately going into a fighting position when you stood up. You raised your hands in the air to show you weren't doing anything fishy.

"Care to help us here, Y/N/N?" Annie said sarcastically, raising her hands that are still in cuffs.

You walk over to them and touched each of their cuffs that magically disappear each time. You walked over to Cap who backed away slightly. You scoffed and held out your hand that somehow now had all the cuffs.

"Take it, then I'll explain." You threw the cuffs at him, which he caught easily.

Nathaniel walked over to you and frowned, seeing that your wrist had red marks around them from the cuffs being too tight for you.

"Who placed cuffs on you? They need training or something." He said, adding a soft 'tsk' as he examined your wrists. Steve brows raised in surprise, obviously taking offense from that.

"I'm fine, Nate." You pulled your hands away from him and gave him a subtle glare for touching you.

"Anyways, as I was saying-"

"Are you two dating?" Your words were cut off by Natasha's sudden question. You raised your brows in shock, before smirking in amusement.

"Interested in my dating life, are we, Ms. Romanoff?" You asked, smirking teasingly. You saw a few of your members letting out a huff of annoyance hearing you flirting again. You chose to ignore them.

"No. We just don't appreciate having a couple in the team." She answered flatly. You tried reading her even if you knew very well you couldn't.

"But according to our research, you and Mr. Banner over there, had a small thing going on." You countered, raising a questioning brow at her. You didn't know why you even mentioned that, you and Nate really aren't a couple anyways. Maybe YOU are curious about her dating life.

Bruce cleared his throat awkwardly. You didn't let the obvious awkward tension in the room deter you, instead, you sat on the arm rests of Nathan's chair, crossing your arms as you look at the team boredly.

"Being romantically attached to someone doesn't affect my team's performance in the field, don't worry." You saw Steph and Nate giving you a thankful smile, which you gladly returned as a teasing one once you saw them holding hands underneath the table.

Silence overtook the meeting room. The avengers were trying to read you and your team, while your team were just relishing in the fact that you guys know I'm something that the older heroes don't.

"As much as I like the confusion on your faces, we'll have to tell you why we're here." You paused, looking at Steph, a silent cue for her to explain.

"Our universe is fucked. Someone fucked with us a week ago, they wanted to destroy our reality. Luckily, we were able to somehow freeze the entire timeline there. We need to go back in time to fix this mess, to be able to prepare, to avoid our universe from disappearing."

"So you want to create a time machine in this universe to travel back in time to your universe?" Steve asked, his brows furrowing even more than before.

"Yeah."

"Why us?" Natasha asked, raising a brow— specifically at Y/n.

"Why not?" You answered with a shrug. "We have 2 years to do it."

Next - Series Masterlist

[specialagentlokitty]

Carol Danvers x teen!reader - just a teenager

Hiiii, could I request prompt 15: “why are you staring at me” with Carol Danvers and a teen!reader please? - Anon💜

15: “why are you staring at me?”

Sitting in the avengers compound, you swung your legs back and forth as you nibbled at the sandwich Nat had brought in your for.

“Hey Nat?” You asked.

“Yeah?”

You looked up at her, and you gestured for her to come over so she did.

“What’s wrong?”

“There’s somebody coming into the compound…” you whispered.

“Are they a threat?”

You stayed silent for a moment, and then you shook your head.

“No, they have immense power but no sense of threat. Just incredibly powerful.”

Nat ruffled your hair.

“Thanks kid.”

You hummed, picking up your plate you wondered down the hallway, and you walked into the room where Bruce was standing with Steve.

“Hello.”

“Hey kiddo, what’s up?” Steve asked.

“I’m not talking to you, there’s somebody behind me.”

They looked behind you and you felt Steve grab your arm, moving you behind him.

Standing with your back against the super soldiers, you carried on eating your food while resting against him.

“She’s not a threat.” You said.

“No offence kid, but you cant know that.” Rocket said.

You shrugged a little bit, and you made your way around Steve, wondering back into the room you were eating in.

Sitting on the table, you listened as they all came in and you glanced towards them before turning away.

“Who’s this?”

“Sorry, this is (Y/N), Fury was looking after them, (Y/N) this is Carol Danvers.” Bruce said.

“I know, Fury spoke of her sometimes.”

“So, they said that you can sense power, is that true?” Carol asked.

“Yeah, I can tell if somehow has a power, what it is and how dangerous it is.”

You set your plate down and you heard somebody getting up, they walked behind you, plating their hands on your shoulders.

Smiling a little bit you looked upwards.

“Thor.”

“What do you think of this woman (Y/N)?” He asked.

You hummed a little bit.

“She’s helpful.”

“Right get outta here kid, let us talk, go see if Tony wants anything.” Nat said.

You let Thor pull you up, and you left the room making your way to Tony.

When he left the compound you went with him, but when things started going south with everything and they were all dragged back together you couldn’t go with them.

You didn’t have the strength they needed, and nobody wanted to put you in harms way.

So, instead you travelled and explored, waiting for the phone call that would bring you back home.

When the call came, you were excited to be reunited with the man who was looking after you, and you knew he wasn’t alone.

“I need you to stay with Danvers for a while.” Fury said.

“Why?”

“Because there’s still a lot here we need to sort out and until it’s safe I want you out of harms way.”

“Okay, good enough for me.”

Carol didn’t really know what to do with you, she didn’t know how to interact with you or what to say.

Sure, she knew how to interact with teenagers but you didn’t seem like normal teenagers, you spent a lot of time listening to audiobooks, you played card games by yourself.

Sitting in her chair, she looked at you as you stared straight ahead and you smiled a little.

“Why are you staring at me?”

“Anybody would be thrilled to be out here, you don’t seem to care, how come?”

“Ah, I see Fury never told you everything.”

“Everything?”

You turned in your chair to look at her and you smiled a little.

“I was a hydra experiment, the side affects is loss of sight. I can’t see, but I have an incredible sense of perception and sense for superhuman powers.”

“I’m sorry…”

“It’s fine, not your problem not mine either. It’s why Fury looked after me.”

Carol nodded her head and she reached out with her hand only for you to slap it away.

“I can see the aurora of your power Carol, I know when you’re nearby.”

You stood up and stretched.

“So, can you sense this?”

You ducked as she slowly swung her arm towards you.

You laughed a little and turned around to face her.

“Do your worst.”

Carol laughed and did it again, watching as you easily evaded her pathetic attempts at an attack.

She could see that you enjoyed people not tiptoeing around you trying to be careful for no reason.

You had a natural talent for fighting, and clearly had made use if the powers you were forced to have, but deep down you were just a teenager.

You wanted to fight and cause trouble and she could see that in the pranks you kept pulling and mischievous look you had.

That’s why Fury asked her to take you in.

You needed somebody who could keep up with you and let you live a semi normal life, you needed a family and she needed that too

[sunshinesteviee]

for the domestic prompts (which are all so so cute!) how about dad steve? with

#8 - playing rock paper scissors to determine who's bringing the child(ren) to bed

I just think it’s the silly goofy thing steve would do with his partner 😭💕

oh pls this is so sweet 🥺🥺🥺 wc: 900ish, mom!reader

-

Being a parent meant you’d developed lots of special skills, but the one that was most useful was probably the superhuman hearing you’d evidently acquired. It was especially useful on nights where Phoebe couldn’t seem to stay in bed. Nights — much like the one you were currently experiencing — where she’d already gotten out of bed four times in the last hour, and you could already hear her tiny feet hitting the floor again. 

“I’ll rock paper scissors you for this one,” you murmured from where you were laying against Steve, cheek pressed into his shoulder as you watched TV together. You’d only just gotten comfortable with your husband again after the most recent trip to your daughter’s bedroom. 

“Huh?” Steve asked, drawing his gaze away from the TV to glance down at you in confusion, “What do y—”

The familiar sound of Phoebe’s bedroom door creaking open, followed by her small voice calling for you, cut Steve off, his jaw dropping, “How did you know she was up again?”

“Call it mother’s intuition,” you laughed as you pushed up off of Steve, holding your hands out for rock paper scissors. You’d each gone to tuck her back into bed twice by now, and while you knew that she was probably just feeling anxious and couldn’t help it, it was starting to get frustrating. The least you could do was make it a little less tedious. 

“Oh, you were serious?” he asked with a disbelieving laugh, a grin taking over his face as he shook his head in amusement. 

“Dead serious,” you replied, your smile matching his, “C’mon, we only have a few seconds before she comes out again. One game.”

As if on cue, Phoebe called for you again from down the hall, voice wobbling and thick with tears, “Mommy? Daddy?”

Steve gave in, turning to you for a quick game of rock paper scissors that he promptly lost. His face fell at the loss, he but  quickly accepted defeat by placing a kiss to your temple and then getting up from the couch as he called back, “I’m coming, love bug!”

He found his little girl standing in her doorway, eyes shining with tears, even in the dim lighting of the hallway. His heart ached at the sight, and he quickly hoisted her up into his arms, cradling her body to his chest, “What’s goin’ on tonight, Bumblebee? Can’t sleep, huh, sweet girl?”

Phoebe shook her head, burying her face into the soft fabric of the shirt Steve was wearing. She said something that Steve couldn’t quite make out, half because her face was pushed into his shoulder, and half because her words were laced with both sleep and tears. Pressing his palm to her back gently, he began rubbing his hand up and down her spine as he shuffled into her bedroom, “‘S okay, baby. I gotcha. C’mon let’s get you back in bed.”

The fact that his baby girl had outgrown her toddler bed never failed to break Steve’s heart, but it helped on nights when she asked one of you to stay with her. After being set back on her bed, Phoebe sniffled and looked up at Steve with her all-too-familiar puppy dog eyes, “You stay, daddy?”

Knowing he wouldn’t win this one, Steve gave in, gently scooting Phoebe over in her small bed so he could lay next to her, “Just for a little bit, Bee, not all night, okay?”

“‘Kay,” she nodded, immediately curling into Steve as he settled onto his back, nearly crawling on top of him. Just like you, she’d managed to take up most of the bed and invade his personal space. Not that he minded when it came to his girls. 

“Comfy?” he whispered, hand resting against her back again as she nuzzled into the crook of his neck. Her soft waves tickled his cheek and jaw as she nodded, but he didn’t dare to move her in hopes she’d fall asleep soon. 

Fingertips tracing along his daughter’s spine gently, Steve began to hum quietly. From the time she was a newborn, it seemed to do the trick. He’d cradle her in his arms and sing softly as he rocked her back and forth, and she was almost always asleep in a matter of minutes. Now that she was older, it happened less frequently, but never failed to put her to sleep in the same way. So it didn’t take long until Phoebe’s breathing evened out and she was fast asleep against Steve’s chest. 

She looked too peaceful to move, one chubby cheek pressed into the collar of Steve's shirt, tiny lips pursed as she breathed out softly. It always amazed him how perfect she was; the perfect combination of the two of you. It was hard not to stare.

That was how he fell asleep — and how you found him half an hour later when he still hadn't returned to the living room — one hand still on her back, the other stroking her hair, curled up together in Phoebe's twin-sized bed.