always an angel, never a god

I don’t see much edits/fanfics about him💔

And personally I think he’s one of the finest actors

HOW DID I MANAGE TO FORGET JUST HOW FINE THIS MAN WAS? LIKE, HONESTLY, HE LOOKS LIKE A BIG SOFTIE AND I WANNA CUDDLE THE FUCK OUTTA HIM...Anyway, I get what you mean and I hope you enjoy how it turned out :) Even if it is kinda short...

You Can't Badmouth Yourself

pairing: bruce banner x gender neutral reader tags: short work, but I really like how it turned out, kind and supportive bruce, comedic elements, you can't badmouth yourself, bruce doesn't let you

You’re sprawled on the lab floor, knees scuffed, surrounded by a crime scene of fallen circuit boards and scattered micro‑screws. The prototype gamma sensor you and Bruce spent two evenings building lies in pieces between your sneakers, still blinking in pathetic little sparks.

“Great,” you mutter, rubbing the bridge of your nose. “Way to go, dumbass—can’t even hold a screwdriver the right way.”

From behind you comes the soft scrape of loafers and the gentle jingling of Bruce’s ID badge. “Hey,” he calls, voice light but firm, “let’s cool it with the name‑calling.”

You shoot him a sheepish look. “I’m not calling anyone names but me.”

“Exactly,” he says, crouching beside you. His cardigan sleeve brushes your arm, warm even in the AC‑chilled lab. “And that’s not allowed around here, remember?” He plucks a resistor off your shirt like lint. “You’re my partner—you don’t get to bad‑mouth my favorite scientist.”

National Eyewear Day is a perfect day for another Bruce’s Glasses Appreciation Post!

bruce banner x f!reader prompt: morning theme: smut/fluff (tags beneath the cut)

“Y’know, we really should work on syncing our schedules,” you suggested laughingly, straddling Bruce’s lap. His hands came automatically to your waist, a boyish blush flushing his cheeks. You leaned down to catch his lips in a kiss, and you felt him sigh softly against your mouth. It was gentle, careful. Despite your current position, you were cautious, wary of the other guy. You took hold of his shoulders, fingers curling in his shirt. “I’ve missed you.”

Bruce smiled, bumping his forehead against your own. “There are cameras in here.”

“You really know how to romance a girl, Bruce.”

He chuckled despite himself, kissing you again. “I’ve missed you, too.”

You felt excitement pooling in your middle, and you trailed your hands down his chest, your fingers teasing over the buttons of his shirt. “So… just how many cameras are there in this place?”

Bruce’s eyes widened for a moment, his hands tightening on your waist. He swallowed, his eyes dipping down over your torso for a second before he pushed back with his feet, sending the chair and the two of you sliding across to the shelving unit a few feet away.

You laughed as the two of you came to a stop in the cramped corner between the shelves and the wall, breaking off as Bruce wrapped a hand around the back of your neck and pulled you into another kiss.

He was hesitant the way he always was, but you could feel that underlying thread of desire in the way his hands moved to squeeze at your hips, the way his tongue begged entrance to your mouth. You smoothed your hand back up his chest, fingers dipping beneath the collar to feel the warmth of his bare skin beneath it.

Bruce’s breath caught and he pulled away from your mouth as you rolled your hips slowly over his lap, his hands tightening almost painfully on your flesh. You paused, letting him adjust to the sensation even as you felt him harden beneath you. When he nodded, bringing his lips back to yours, you did it again.

You rode his lap slowly, grinding down against him purposefully. Bruce buried his face against your chest, his hands sliding up your back. The warmth of his breath teased down your chest, and you shivered.

Each roll of your hips made the two of you moan and sigh; Bruce’s hand left your body to clutch at the wall to stop the chair from sliding from the momentum of your thrusts.

“Oh, God…” Bruce whispered, his lips touching your neck. His nose bumped against yours before meeting your mouth, his teeth grazing your bottom lip. “God, you’re so beautiful…”

“Bruce, I’m—” your eyes rolled back as you came, your entire body shuddering. Bruce’s lips brushed over the underside of your jaw, your chin, hands suddenly grasping at the swell of your backside as he came too. “I… I said I missed you, didn’t I?”

Bruce smiled, breathing a quiet laugh. “If you didn’t before, I think you just did.”

Tony: Good morning.

Bruce: Good morning.

Clint: You all sound like robots, why don’t you spice it up a bit?

Let me remind you that he’s been on the run for all that time, shying away from human contact for fear of hurting people. Let me also remind you that he was in love with Betty all that time. Even if he could be intimate with someone, he wouldn’t. But he can’t.

Just think about how starved for affection Bruce is. How starved for human touch. When was the last time you think he was hugged, let alone kissed or cuddled? How much do you think he wants it? Needs it? All the shit he endures, guy’s gonna need some comforting.

Let me remind you about Bruce’s panic attacks. The way he remembers bits and pieces of what the Other Guy goes through while he’s being shot at and attacked by military-grade weaponry, and how the Hulk makes it through it, but it haunts Bruce even when he’s not the Big Guy. He’s got no one to lean on even then. He’s been alone with himself all these years. Imagine having no emotional support through all the shit he goes through.

Now imagine when he joins the Avengers. Suddenly there’s people always around, and I imagine he would be flustered and overwhelmed at first. Because these aren’t just passing acquaintances or employers and this isn’t just a place to stay while on the run, these are friends and this is home. How long has it been since Bruce had that? (At that point it would have been nine-ish years)

But it must have felt like so, so much longer. He hasn’t been living, he’s been surviving. He’s been scraping by and continuing to move so they can’t find him.

Imagine the other things; imagine Bruce getting reacquainted with living again instead of just surviving. He’s been on the run, he hasn’t had time to check up on the news or technology or catch up with the times. When he comes back, when he steps into that lab for the first time, imagine how good it must feel to be back in a lab again, a nice one without second- or third-hand or thrown-together-with-materials-he-had-to-scrounge-up-and-piece-together equipment (like he had to in Brazil, and I imagine everywhere else too), but how out of place he must feel because what the hell, everything’s touchscreen and holographic and so goddamn shiny and how the hell is he supposed to use this shit?

Imagine Bruce getting up to date on scientific news and discoveries and advances since he’s been away. Imagine Bruce getting Facebook and maybe catching up with old friends a bit (though he’s still wary of too much attention). Imagine Bruce trying to figure out smartphones and discovering memes and catching up on movies and music and news that was big but not quite big enough to reach him wherever he was at the time.

And imagine when he finally finds someone. Whether you ship Bruce with Betty or Tony or Natasha or whomever, imagine how he will finally have someone. Imagine how he will be so afraid at first, how everything will be small and tentative and hesitant, and he’ll be afraid he’s going to fuck it up or hurt someone or have to leave again—

And imagine his partner, whomever you ship him with, comforting him. Imagine when he has a panic attack (and just their presence has been helping with those now), now someone is there for him, to hold him and hug him and make him feel safe and reassure him and calm him down. Imagine Bruce breaking down because it’s so much, it’s too much after all this time and he never thought he’d be able to have this again and he can barely believe it’s real and he’s afraid it’s all going to slip through his fingers.

Imagine soft kisses and exploring hands and lazing in bed together—intimacy, but not sex. Yeah, Bruce misses sex, but this, this, is what he’s been craving.

Imagine the way his eyes will close contentedly at the feel of a gentle hand carding through his hair. Or lips and warm breath against his skin. Holding someone, being held.

This really hits different when you remember -