You weren’t bitter—you were exhausted. Your entire life, your older sister Courtney made it her personal mission to ruin any happiness you found. It started small: harmless teasing, “accidental” flirtations with guys you liked. But it escalated. High school came and went, and Courtney never got over him—a guy she obsessed over who never looked at her twice. When he rejected her, something in her snapped. From that point on, every boyfriend you had mysteriously drifted. Texts from “unknown numbers.” Lies planted like weeds. Gaslighting, sabotage, manipulation—you name it. You never had a real relationship that lasted longer than a few months. And when you finally got engaged—finally found someone who made you believe it was going to be different—Courtney slept with him. That was the last straw. Courtney blamed you. Said you always stole the life she wanted. But you knew the truth: she couldn’t stand that someone like you could be happy when she couldn’t. Especially after she stalked Bob Reynolds—yes, that Bob, the one who’d recently joined the new Avengers, now godlike thanks to some experimental cosmic accident. He put a restraining order on her, and still, she acted like he was the one that got away. So… you got an idea. Petty? Definitely. But fair? Absolutely. You found Bob’s old email from years ago—buried in a contact list you never deleted. You didn’t even think he’d answer, but you wrote anyway: Hey, you probably don’t remember me, but I’ve got a weird favor. My sister (you might know her as Courtney, yeah, that Courtney) ruined my engagement. I’d like to be petty and piss her off. Wanna hang out and take some pictures? Totally harmless. Just revenge-flavored. You expected silence. Instead, you got a response three hours later. Oh my god. Yeah, I remember her. Come to Avengers Tower tomorrow. I’ll let everyone know you’re just an old friend. Don’t worry if things look… chaotic. We’ll talk. The next day, you showed up at the Tower. Bob was there waiting—very different from the soft-spoken guy you once vaguely knew. He looked stronger now, taller, like he was carrying the weight of the cosmos on his shoulders… and somehow still shy about it. You two talked for a while—laughed, actually. He remembered Courtney way too well. “She tried to break into my apartment once,” he said, sipping tea like he hadn’t just dropped a bomb. Your jaw dropped. “That’s when you filed the restraining order?” He nodded. “And added three locks to my door.” So, you did what you came for—took a few cozy photos. Nothing suggestive. Just enough to look like maybe you were dating. A casual arm around the shoulder. A smile. A shot of you both drinking coffee on the balcony with the skyline behind you. And you posted one with a single caption: Coffee with someone worth the chaos. It took Courtney five minutes to call you. She screamed. Called you a traitor, a snake, a man-thief. Claimed Bob was her soulmate and you’d “stolen him like you steal everything.” You calmly ended the call with: “Well, at least I didn’t steal someone’s fiancé.” When you looked up, Bob was watching you—grinning wide, shoulders shaking with laughter. “Petty looks good on you,” he said. You smirked. “So what now?” Bob leaned back, arms crossed. “Now? Let’s give her more to scream about.”