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The warm glow from the ceiling lights bathed the common room of the Avengers compound in a cozy amber hue.
A large screen took up one side with couches and recliners strewn with blankets and cushions taking the other—the rustle of popcorn bags, gentle clatter of soda cans on tables.
Vision had meticulously set everything up for the bi-monthly movie night; and it seems his insistence (in the name of strengthening team camaraderie) on these was paying off.
Sounds of muted conversations filled the area as the group decompressed from the chaos that often defined their lives.
Peter bounced in place as he settled himself onto the couch, his eyes gleaming with excitement.
“Aunt May actually let me come this time since I’ve been doing great in school,” he declared, his grin wide and unabashed.
Tony, lounging back with a glass of something suspiciously amber in color, raised an eyebrow and smirked. “Kid if great means a C in physics, we need to talk.”
Peter’s face flushed slightly as he stammered, “H-hey! It’s an A-minus actually.”
Sam, lounging comfortably with a bowl of pretzels balanced on one knee, snorted and added, “Don’t worry Parker. We’ll make sure to remind you of that every time you pause the movie to point out what they got wrong.”
Peter looked even more embarrassed. “I only did that twice....” He weakly tried to defend himself causing the two men to laugh.
Sitting on another separate furniture was Thor.
“Enough of this school talk! Let me tell you of the time I faced the mighty frost giant of Jotunheim!” The God of Thunder waves a drink in the air as his booming voice echoes.
His unoccupied arm was draped across Loki’s shoulders, a silent reminder to the trickster god that mischief had its limits tonight.
Loki rolled his eyes with a scoff and folds his arms. “Must you always tell that story brother?”
Vision, oblivious to the banter, hovered near the screen, adjusting the settings for optimal viewing quality.
Wanda sat near him, her fingers idly flicking through the air making small shapes out of glowing red energy, her expression relaxed.
Bucky, quiet as ever, had hesitantly settled into an armchair next to Steve. Though the wounds of the past had scarred them all, a fragile truce held in place.
Steve’s blue eyes softened as he caught Bucky’s glance, offering a subtle nod of reassurance.
Bruce approaches the ex-Winter Soldier and hands over a can of soda with a small smile of understanding as he sits next to Clint.
Bucky timidly accepts and nod in thanks, his shoulders slowly relaxing as he took in the scene—it felt almost normal.
Almost.
“I can’t BELIEVE THIS!” A rageful yell pierces the air causing all conversations to hush mid-sentence.
Eyes turn towards the source of interruption. And there, before them, stood a seething Natasha.
The color of her red locks were no match for the fire that were blazing within her eyes.
Steve, ever the voice of security, gaze search hers. “What’s wrong Nat?”
Natasha crossed her arms. “Have any of you guys noticed anything weird happening lately?”
“Uh...” Peter awkwardly raised his hand almost as if for asking permission to speak. “Actually now that you mention it...people have been asking for pictures with me more than usual.”
Her lips press tightly together. “Exactly.”
Tension crackled in the room as the rest exchanged looks of confusion.
Tony groaned, leaning his head back with a dramatic roll of his eyes. “PR issues? What’s new?”
Natasha doesn’t spare him a glance. Instead she turned to face the ceiling. “FRIDAY. Pull up the video.”
“Right away Agent Romanoff”the AI responded as the room’s lighting dimmed.
The movie setup on the large screen disappeared, replaced by a polished brightly colored advertisement.
Serene music played as heroic shots of the Avengers in action appeared: Tony soaring through the sky in his Iron Man suit, Steve deflecting a hail of bullets with his shield, Thor summoning thunder and the others saving civilians—all framed with flawless cinematic glory.
A voiceover, warm and honeyed, filled room. “The Avengers: Earth’s mightiest heroes, defenders of humanity.”
Tony leaned back and sighed in a mix of irritation and smugness. “A fan-made promo? Really Nat?”
The corners of Steve’s mouth quirked up in polite agreement, his eyes soft with an almost paternal pride. “It looks positive so far. Is there something we’re missing?”
“Just watch.” Natasha hisses, her expression still tense.
“But what happens when the protectors become the cause of destruction?”
The serene music cuts off abruptly—replaced by a hollow somber chord. The visuals were no longer heroic, no longer triumphant.
Instead footage showed of crumbling buildings, shattered streets, smoke billowing into a gray sky as civilians looked on in shock and despair.
A ripple of unease went through the team, some recognizing a few scenes from their latest mission.
Tony sat up straighter. “What the hell is this?!” he snarls, clearly unamused.
The montage continued; the aftermath of battles, people sifting through debris, the sound of distant sirens before the camera cut to a series of sidewalk interviews.
A man in a dark suit appeared—his expression stoic. “I watched the Hulk throw my car at a villain...and miss.”
Bruce shoulders hunched as a grimace flickered across his face.
Another clip showed a driver next to a half-destroyed Sedan, gesturing to it wildly “Captain America used my door as a shield. Now how da HELL am I supposed to drive this to work?!”
Another shot showed an older woman wearing a pink fuzzy robe with slippers to match. “Five times...FIVE TIMES that lanky ass spider boy done come and tore up the block. This week alone! I finally paid off my car and now look at it!” Her lips curled as she took another sip from her glass of red wine.
Peter pales recognizing that exact neighborhood.
“Uh...is this the kind of press we usually get?” Wanda asked quietly, half-joking. Vision tilted his head. “Based on the tone I would say no.”
Loki’s delighted laughter erupted from the corner of the room. He tossed his head back, savoring their discomfort.
“Mortals and their misplaced faith,” he began, but his glee was cut short as the screen suddenly shifted to a familiar face: his.
The headline Special Edition: Loki Lawlessness Insurance Package appeared under a clip of him cackling maniacally mid-chaos.
His smile faltered into an offended scowl. “That’s not even my best angle,” he muttered.
A final gut-punching clip played out on the screen: a little girl—no more than six—standing amongst rubble as she clutched a half-burnt teddy bear.
Tears streaked her soot-covered face as she spoke into a reporter’s microphone. “The heroes who saved us...killed our home and puppy.”
The words echoed leaving a gaping silence in the room. But before anyone could break the quiet the screen flickered back to life.
This time there were no chaotic images or bleak interviews.
The camera steadied on a young woman standing outside a modest, unassuming office building.
Braided hair flawlessly styed into an updo, the well-fitted blazer and knee-length skirt that matched in color was simple yet elegant.
And her eyes...a beautiful shade of [eye color] so fierce with determination, yet her features were gentle—a disarming contrast that made the delivery all the more captivating.
Peter Parker’s eyes went wide as he nearly jumped from his seat. “____?!” the shock vibrated his voice.
Tony's eyes darted to the teenager. “Who's ____?”
“Hello my name is ____, founder of Avenge-Yer Life Back Insurance,” Your voice (the same one that narrated the video so far) was voice steady and clear.
The camera panned out a little more revealing the logo of your company posted on the building behind you.
Eyebrows shoot up as heads swivel almost in unison to fix their attention on Peter. The sophomore hero’s face pales and he shrinks under the sudden scrutiny.
"I too, like so many others, once admired the Avengers." Fortunately for Peter your voice continues, reclaiming focus. "But admiration can turn when reality hits home."
“Years ago an incident involving the Avengers changed everything for my family. We lost our business, our home, our livelihood—everything that made life stable. But instead of succumbing to that destruction, I decided to do something. To create a solution for others like us—those who were left to pick up the pieces after the Avengers saved the day.”
The scene now changed to you walking confidently through an aisle in the office building as views of smiling employees and distressed citizens signing documents played in the background. “At Avenge-Yer Life Back Insurance, we ensure that those who suffer from collateral damage have the means to rebuild. With proven evidence that a hero was present during the damage to your property or accident, we offer comprehensive coverage. From homes reduced to rubble to livelihoods disrupted overnight, we ensure that you’re not left in the aftermath without hope.”
“People have been exploiting it too,” Natasha said suddenly, her voice breaking through the tension. “They've been using loopholes—taking selfies with heroes and timing accidents to match the incidents. Spider-Man currently has the highest coverage rate.”
Peter’s head snapped up as his eyes widened in realization. “Wait...pictures?!” His voice cracked from a mixture of confusion and panic.
Steve’s voice cuts through. “Isn’t this bordering on defamation? Our honor’s at stake here. We could—”
Tony doesn’t let him finish, scoffing with a sharp laugh. “What do you think this is, the 1940s? Oh wait—my apologies, you probably did for a second there.”
Sam let out a laugh before quickly covering it with a cough in attempt to hide his amusement.
Steve just rolled his eyes but chose not to respond, his focus returning to the screen.
The advertisement ends with you looking directly into the camera.
You lean forward slightly, your eyes locking onto the viewer with compelling intensity.
“The Avengers. You know them as heroes who saved the world and lives of many...but how many have they destroyed?”
The room fell into a suffocating silence as the screen faded to black; the air heavy as everyone processed what they’d just seen.
Every eye shifted toward Peter whose face flushed pink.
He instinctively raise his hands in a gesture of surrender at the weight of their stares bearing down on him.
Bucky, who rarely spoke up unless necessary, was the first to break the silence. His voice was gruff, expression serious as he turned to Peter. “Explain kid.”
Peter’s mouth opened then shut before he took a shaky breath. “I...I think I know her...kind of,” his voice was barely above a whisper.
“She was a junior at Midtown High when I was a freshman. The only person who didn’t ignore me or—” he swallowed hard, “—bully me. Other than Ned. Defended me every chance she got...”
“I might’ve...”He glanced down, cheeks turning a deeper shade of red as he muttered, “...had a massive crush on her.”
But Natasha’s sharp gaze caught everything. “What was that last part?”
Peter’s eyes widened and quickly rushed to speak over her. “But yeah! You know she disappeared halfway through the year before I ever worked up the courage to talk to her.”
“I didn’t understand why she left. I thought maybe she’d just moved or something. But now...” He lets out an almost wistful, forlorn sigh as his shoulder slightly slumped. “Now I see why.”
There was a pang of something unidentifiable in his voice—regret maybe, or sadness.
The Avengers exchanged looks, some expressions softening, others hardening with simmering frustration.
Thor shifted on the sofa in displeasure.
“So mortals now speak ill of us for saving them?” his voice tinged with indignation. “Ungrateful wretches—should they not sing songs of our deeds as they did in my time?”
Wanda raises a brow. “Yes Thor, because their top priority is singing songs of your deeds while they fix their plumbing.” She says dryly.
Steve, however, straightened in his seat and interjected before the tension could boil over.
“Thor...they’re not entirely wrong.”
The God of Thunder frowned, his brow furrowing deeply. “Not wrong? Captain we fight for them. We bleed for them!”
“We also bulldoze their coffee shops,” Sam quipped under his breath. Thor shot him a sharp glare.
Ignoring the comment Steve continues. “Think about it: To us it’s a mission—we go into battle, we do what we have to, and then...we leave.”
Tony raised a hand like he was in a classroom. “Uh yeah because that’s what heroes do. You’re welcome civilians.”
Steve exhaled heavily but didn’t look his way. “We leave. But they stay. It’s their homes, their streets, their lives that got caught in the middle. They’re the ones who have to stay and rebuild.”
The room quieted. For a moment, it seemed like the team might actually be absorbing the gravity of the situation.
Clint snorted. “Maybe we should hand out gift cards after every mission.”
Steve couldn’t help the twitch of his lips from that. “My point is they didn’t ask for these battles, yet they got them anyway. It’s not ungrateful to ask why it happens or how it can be prevented.”
Thor looked taken aback, caught somewhere between confusion and frustration. “But we are protectors! Not destroyers.”
Steve gave a small nod but didn’t back down. “I know that, we know that. But to them it’s not that simple. They don’t see us cleaning up the mess—they only see the rubble we leave behind.”
The tension in the room was thick as the unspoken truth settled over them like a heavy weight.
“Okay!” Tony pushed himself up from the armchair with a flourish, setting down his glass a bit too forcefully. “That was a nice guilt-trip speech n all...but seriously? Accidents happen, it's inevitable. We risk our asses day in and day out—and now they’re trying to cancel me over an insurance company I didn’t even create? I’ll be damned!”
Without waiting for a response Tony makes his way out the room.
Vision, who had been observing quietly, head tilts as he calls out, “What do you plan to do then, Tony?”
“To fix this. First thing in the morning.” The voice of Iron Man echoed back sharp with resolve.
Anticipation hummed through the common room like a live wire.
The Avengers had gathered once more—some leaning against the walls while others paced or fidgeted with pent-up energy.
One thing for sure, they all were filled with curiosity and mild apprehension as they waited.
The door suddenly swished open and in strolled Tony Stark with a face-splitting grin.
“Well?” Natasha’s voice cut through the buzz. Her eyes narrow, finding the billionaire cat-like smile unassuring. “Did you fix it?”
Tony’s smile grew wider as he clapped his hands together. “Even better. Pull it up!”
At his words, FRIDAY makes a holographic screen appear behind him, displaying a high-resolution image: you were standing next to Tony, a bright smile on your face as you shook his hand.
In the picture Tony was handing over an oversized check boring the Stark Industries logo with a number impossible to miss—$450 million.
The room erupted with a cacophony of reactions—exclamations, groans, and even a low whistle from Sam.
Natasha’s eyes darkened with fury as she whirled towards Tony.
“What happened to fixing it?!” she snapped, venom in her voice.
Tony raised his hands in mock surrender, the grin never faltering. “I know, I know—Tony You’re a genius! How did this go sideways?’ Well turns out she one hell of a talker. That’s for damn sure.”
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Gendry regularly brings flowers to his mother’s grave. One day he notices the near-by grave of an old man never has any flowers so he starts to bring him flowers too. Inspired by a twitter thread from @sixthformpoet about how he met his wife. Read it on AO3 here.
TW: There is a brief mention of drunk driving and a loss resulting from that
Gendry isn’t sure what about the grave caught his attention that day as he was leaving the cemetery. Maybe it was how bare the plot was compared to the flower filled ones around it, including the bouquet of daisies he’d just left at his mother’s headstone. He’d been coming to visit his mother every few weeks for the past few years and had never taken note of who her neighbors were. The name Walder Frey was engraved into the simple grey headstone, along with his birth and death years. He’d been in his early nineties when he’d died a few years past. No other information was written about the man.
The next time Gendry was at the cemetery, this time leaving a small cluster of miniature sunflowers on his mother’s stone, he again noticed the grave of Walder Frey was barren. All around him were families quietly laying flowers and having picnics in the early summer sunshine. It was then that Gendry decided the next time he came to visit his mum he’d bring Old Walder some flowers too. No one deserved to go unremembered, after all.
True to his word when Gendry came next to the cemetery he brought a few pale pink peonies for his mum and a small spray of white flowers for the old man next to her. He spent some time catching his mum up on what had been going on and as he stood to leave he bent and placed the other flowers on Mr. Frey’s grave. He stayed for a little while longer, contemplating the kind of man Walder Frey might have been before continuing on his way.
This carried on for the summer. Gendry would come with new flowers for his mum and every time would pick up a small spray for the old man next to her. He would stand at his grave for a few minutes at the end of his visit and think about Old Walder. He’d died near the holidays, that must have devastated his family, Gendry thought. He wondered if Walder had a large family, they must have all moved away or led very busy lives and not been able to visit their father or grandfather very often. He was probably a wonderful granddad, doting on his young grandchildren, buying them ice cream and taking them to ball games, playing teatime and attending ballet performances. Gendry had never had a grandfather, he didn’t know what they were like, but he imagined Old Walder Frey must have been a good one.
All his musings came to an abrupt end in the fall. He’d arrived as he usually did, this time with a small pot of chrysanthemums for his mother and a little bouquet of white feverfew for Mr. Frey. As he approached the pair of headstones a small, dark haired woman was standing there staring, no, glaring , at Walder’s grave. Gendry realized this must be one of his granddaughters, here to visit her grandfather. Maybe he could finally hear some stories about the old man, he thought. Old Walder must be missing something important for her gaze to be burning a hole in the headstone like it was.
The woman cut her gaze over to him as he approached, taking in the pot of mums one hand and the white flowers in his other. Gendry came to a halt next to her and knelt to place the mums in front of Ella Water’s headstone. He’d wait to have his regular chat with her until Walder’s granddaughter left, she’d understand. Standing, he turned to the granddaughter and held out the flowers to her, “For your grandfather,” he said. “I bring him some every time I come visit my mum.”
The woman arched a dark brow at him, turning her glare from the old man’s headstone on to him directly. Her eyes were the color of the storm clouds that gathered off the coast in the summer, Gendry noticed. Her pink lips pursed in a moue of displeasure.
“My grandfather?” she asked.
Gendry nodded, gesturing with the flowers towards Walder’s headstone, “Grandfather, great uncle, perhaps? You seem a little young to be his daughter,” she looked near his age, for certain. Maybe the old man had married late or again in his later years and she was his daughter after all.
The arched eyebrow was joined by its twin before both dropped into a fierce expression, “The old arse wasn’t my grandfather,” she spat.
Gendry was taken aback, “Oh, uh,” he didn’t really know what to say.
“You bring this miserable old shit flowers?” the woman was practically growling at him as she jabbed a finger in the direction of Walder's headstone.
“I just, just didn’t want him to be forgotten? I bring my mother flowers almost every week and it began to seem rude to ignore her neighbor,” Gendry tried to explain, realizing that he sounded a little silly. Here he was, buying flowers for a complete stranger. Someone incredibly disliked by the woman next to him for some reason.
The woman huffed but didn’t say anything.
Gendry tried again, “I’m sorry? It’s just. Did he do something awful? No one ever seems to visit him.”
“For good reason,” the woman sneered, “He was a drunk, miserable, old man by all accounts. Married about eight times, had more children than seems reasonable, was generally rude and miserly. Then come Christmastime four years ago he’d had a few too many and crashed his car into my uncle as he was headed home from the grocery store and killed him instantly before driving off. Old bastard didn’t even have the decency to face trial and justice for what he’d done, instead he died in his sleep a few nights later. My cousin turns five tomorrow and starts school this year. I came here to yell at the old bastard for all the things my uncle is missing out on because of him. It’s not going to fix anything but I feel better about it. His family tore themselves apart over his will after he passed, that’s probably why none of them visit.”
She seemed to run out of steam towards the end. Gendry stood silent next to her, now it was his turn to glare at the headstone marked Walder Frey. Here he’d been thinking that the old man was a kindly and generous grandfather when in fact he’d destroyed a young family and faced no consequences for it.
“Well if that’s the case then he doesn’t deserve any more flowers,” Gendry turned back to the woman next to him. He held out the small bouquet of feverfew to her and she stared down at the flowers blankly before looking back up at him. Her eyes had lightened considerably in the last few minutes and her face had settled from its grim disposition into a soft look of confusion. Gendry gently shook the bouquet at her until she took them, still looking unsure. “The old man isn’t going to get any more from me. You should have them.”
She took the flowers and held out her free hand to him, “Thanks, I think. Arya Stark, by the way.”
He took her hand, “Gendry Waters, it’s nice to meet you. Sorry for bringing flowers to a shitheel.”
Arya giggled and Gendry was entranced. “I forgive you,” she said.
He smiled, “Can I make it up to you?”
“More than the old bastard’s flowers?” she asked, still staring up at him. Gendry realized they hadn’t released hands after introducing themselves.
“Can I buy you a drink sometime?”
Arya smiled and gave him her number before turning away. Gendry sat down at his mother’s grave after a moment before grinning to himself, “Did you see that, Mum?”
