#and how tony steps up to fill that hole left by her loss

[whumphoarder]

hii !! i recently found your account and i wanted to just say thank u it’s helped me a tonne :) i was also wondering if you know of any fics where may dies and tony adopts peter, n they have to navigate the whole son/father thing together? either way i hope you have a wonderful day !!

Hey! I definitely do—this was one of the first tropes I ever read in the fandom:

All the Devils are Here by @yellowdistress

Peter knows deep down, in the glass that is his mind, that he couldn't have stopped it. He couldn't have known that on a freezing night, May Parker would step out in front of a moving vehicle and die. All the while, he was laughing with Ned, their voices carrying through the streets of Queens.

Peter knows deep down, he couldn't have fathomed the events that would follow. An abyss of never-ending ache and the disorderly behavior that grown men weren't supposed to exhibit, but Tony Stark would manage to display anyway.

Peter knows all of these things, but still manages to be eaten alive, every single day.

Accepting the Tides by Emma_Anacortes

Tony had dragged Peter from the depths of despair after May's death. It was normal that he'd grown to care a little about him, right?

Yeah, okay. He freaking loved the kid.

So naturally he would feel a little weird when Richard Parker randomly shows up in Peter's life. Naturally he'd feel protective, nervous, and confused because where has Richard been all this time? And why does Tony feel sick every time he sees him around Peter?

All he knows is if Richard hurts his kid, Tony's gonna give him hell.

The darkest hour is just before the dawn by @starryknight09

“Is this Peter Parker?”

“Yes…”

“This is Dr. Nguyen. I’m sorry but your aunt’s been in an accident and we’re going to need you to come to Queens Memorial as soon as you can.”

Peter's life shatters with a phone call. The last person he expects helps him pick up the pieces.

And You'll Blow Us All Away by @losingmymindtonight

Peter Parker had had everything: a mother, a father, an uncle, an aunt. He'd lost them all.

All he had left was Tony Stark, and all Tony Stark had left was him.

And in the wake of their insurmountable losses, they go about trying to find a family within each other.

what you were then I am today by @madasthesea

Tony likes giving gifts to prove his love, but they don't usually have four paws and a tail.

AKA: Tony, Peter, and a dog named Maggie learn how to be a family.

Aunt May Dies by Jumpp

And Peter think's he's dying, too.

5 Times Peter Thought Tony Was Mad by @caraminha

... and one time he actually was.

Set a few months after Aunt May's death where Tony is Peter's legal guardian.

Navigating a new life together and settling into being father and son is a rollercoaster - falling in love with the kid? Easy.

Dealing with a grieving teenager, and trying to figure out how to do this whole parent thing? Uh... not so easy.

Make Way For Tomorrow by @tonystarkstan

Before Ben died, Peter won a booth to present his project at the Stark Expo. But even on the run from the foster care system, he can't pass up the opportunity to attend and show the world his project. It all goes so well, until it doesn't. Trying to avoid being caught, Peter runs out on Tony just as the man is about to make him the offer of a lifetime.

Bold of him to assume Tony won't try to find him.

Oh Christmas Lights, Keep Shining On by @ciaconnaa

Tony isn’t one to hash out the differences between a house and a home. Those kinds of cheesy sayings are better left to soccer moms and Hallmark cards. But standing in the middle of Peter’s kitchen with his sleeves all sudsy, surrounded by pictures, evidence, and history of a house well lived in, Tony can easily define that this is not a house, it's a home. Peter’s home.

There’s no way he can take Peter away from his home for Christmas. Not when he doesn't have his aunt anymore.

He makes a decision. A split decision, really. All the details explode in his head like a supernova, like they always do, but it’s a plan. And he’s gonna stick to it.

The Guardian by @justme--emily

When a terrible accident claims the life of May Parker, Tony Stark steps up as Peter's guardian. But it's not just a traumatized super-teen he'll have to worry about when he receives a transmission from Thor.

[ptergwen]

hi could you do a fluffy blurb where the (stark)reader and peter have to babysit morgan so they go to the park and have a picnic while she plays? could you also make it a little angsty with mentions of Tony’s death? thank you <3

i went a little hard on the angst in the beginning idk what came over me but i hope you like 😭

when the news was broken that tony stark took his last breath, the whole world went into mourning. he was loved by so many, looked up to and raved about worldwide.

they say his death was an act of selflessness, that saved everyone except himself. you don’t see it that way. it’s simply a tragedy in your eyes. that a hero’s destiny is to sacrifice their life for the greater good, it’s just complete bullshit. what about the greater good of you? your mom? morgan? a father and husband are missing from your lives now.

the father who taught you how to use the extraordinary mind you were blessed with, and encouraged you to do whatever you want with it. he turned the simplest of mishaps into silly life lessons, like when he spilled a pot of coffee down the front of his louis vuitton and went on about the importance of knowing a good walk-in dry cleaner.

you’re obviously aware that people around the whole world are grieving your dad, but his absence is a heavier hole to fill for you and everyone who was in his life. this has fundamentally changed who you are, and only a couple of things can help you cope.

one of them is peter.

he’s experienced more loss and pain than most people ever will, tony’s fate only adding to it, so he understands completely what you’re going through. he comforts you while also dealing with his own grief. you not only need, but deserve the support, and only peter can give it to you in the ways you’re looking for. even his presence by your side throughout the day makes your heavy heart feel a little lighter.

what also helps is your family, mostly morgan.

she doesn’t quite get what happened to tony because you all agreed not to tell her yet. she’s smart and strong and extremely capable for a five year old. still, it’s a lot for anyone to handle, especially when you’re as impressionable as morgan. she knows that tony is gone and won’t be coming back, that’s it.

since she doesn’t have to carry the weight of her dad’s passing, she’s living in blissful ignorance. she’s the same ray of sunshine and hope, of everything good, and being around her is refreshing. she makes each day feel normal again.

pepper isn’t home because she’s on a work trip, so you and peter have the job of watching morgan. she’s thrown herself into her ceo responsibilities more than ever as a distraction. to lift your spirits a bit, peter suggested the three of you go to the park. morgan insisted that you also have a picnic, which leads you to now, halfheartedly packing a cooler in the kitchen.

“we need the juice pops!” morgan beams, going to grab the box from the freezer. “you love those things,” peter chuckles and takes them from her outstretched hands. she’s quick. tony got her into them not too long ago, and it’s an obsession now. you crack a small smile as you lean against the counter. you’re only watching them pack.

“ok, what’s next?” peter asks himself, rubbing his hands together. “sandwiches because that’s all i can make. cool.” that earns a playful scoff from you. “sounds promising.” “hey, i do a great peanut butter and jelly,” he defends and leans over to peck your cheek. you hum in content of his soft lips on your skin. “we’ll see about that. don’t forget drinks.”

after morgan demands that you two stop being gross and you finish packing the cooler, you head out for the park. it’s one you’ve been to a few times. unlike the parks in the city, this one has less going on, more isolated and peaceful.

“why not the movies or something? why this?” you ask peter as the three of you step onto the grass, morgan trailing along in between you. you’re holding one of her hands, and peter is holding the other. “because it’s nice out,” he hums in response. there’s a warm breeze and blue sky above you. “and, some fresh air might make you feel better,” he adds more seriously.

you haven’t left the house much recently, so he’s probably right. leaving it at that, you settle on a spot with a lot of open space surrounding you. peter lays out the blanket while morgan digs into the cooler. she goes right for a juice pop, an orange one that she takes a big bite out of.

“aw, man. doesn’t that hurt?” you giggle at your sister, whose answer is to happily continue chomping on the freezing cold thing. “she’s a wild one. we better hide the rest,” peter jokes, then places the cooler down in the center of the blanket. morgan gasps and rushes over. “stay away!” she gestures to peter with her stick. “or i’ll blast you.” “and how’s that gonna work?” he tests her with a small smile.

your heart speeds up and falls into the pit of your stomach. “um... dad gave her one of his old blasters a while ago,” you explain, avoiding peter’s eyes as you take a seat on the blanket. morgan finishes off the rest of her juice pop and goes in for another. “well, she technically found it. she got to keep it, though,” you continue and pull the cooler away before she ruins her appetite. she sticks her tongue out at you.

“that’s nice,” peter murmurs, sitting down next to you, putting a hand on your back. you were in a pretty good mood until the reminder that tony isn’t here to join you hits. he can see that. “hey, morg? why don’t you go play while we set everything up,” he tells her sweetly and hand her one of the many toys she insisted on bringing. it’s her luke skywalker action figure. you blame peter for that one.

“ok, bye!” morgan is gone without a care in the world, on a pretend space invasion. once she’s out of hearing range, peter checks in on you.

“you okay? i didn’t mean to bring that up,” he says quietly and fully wraps his arm around you. clenching your teeth into each other, you let your shoulders drop. “it’s okay. i just...” you feel your throat getting tight. “i can’t believe he’s gone, peter. it’s not fucking fair.” tears cloud your vision, peter pulling you into his chest. he presses his lips to your hair.

“i know, baby. it isn’t,” he coos, a muffled whimper escaping you. you grab onto one of his biceps and let out a breath. “i wish i could move on, be more like morgan. i hate having this at the back of my mind.” peter nods as you speak while cradling you in his arms. “you get there when you get there,” he encourages and kisses your forehead for good measure. you wind your arms around his torso.

he’s so good at telling you exactly what you need to hear.

“you’ll have me through all of it.”

[hunterartemis]

Media Bias (Avengers X Alien!Reader)

It was a request from anonymous reader and since I have limited experience with tagging, I am going to quote the person’s request here:

“ Hi can you please do Avengers x reader where the reader is like Starfire from og teen titans (but the reader is green and the blasts are blue) and the Avengers go on a talk show and the host is being very mean to her. Thanks”

So, dear anonymous. I hope you enjoy!“

Words: a whopping 4100

Y/n, open the door” I heard Sam thudding away on my door as I buried myself in the layers of blanket and put the air condition humid enough to cause a mini monsoon.

“Go away Wilson and leave me alone--” I bellowed on top of my voice.

“Y/n it’s been more than 7 hrs, you got to come out... whatever happened in the morning you gotta let it go--”

“I don’t wanna let it go... I am a national embarrassment--”

You must be thinking, what is the situation you’ve been dragged into. Let me pause there and rewind 17 hours back to give you a complete understanding which lead to this complete mess.

People think our story ended and sealed with Thanos never got to see what we go through in the New York penthouse. With the ongoing Pandemic on board, people are desperate to see us even more, as if it is the new Thanos and we are to defeat it. There is no greater sense of helplessness than playing the puppet of courage without doing anything. So whoever wrote that “after the defeat of big bad, the heroes rejoice” was a big idiot.

And thus, I found myself awake after hours, sitting alongside the broad glass panel that showed the completely stopped-in-time, shining in the dark cityscape of once bustling New York. A fleeting sense of desolation plagued me as I remember my own world in the verge of extinction. My breath almost stopped in the great worry of my fellow living being in this planet; the one who saved me from destitution--

 “y/n, is that you?”A calm and concerned paternal voice broke the train of my thought. I sharply looked behind my shoulder to see a disheveled figure of man standing in the dark. By the tousled curls and the slouched hem of the sweatpants, I knew was Bruce.

“Urh, you startled me!” I said with a dismissive voice. I felt almost embarrassed to realize what I was thinking moments ago. I took a deep breath and tried to compose myself.

“It’s you who startled me y/n, what are you doing up so late?” Bruce said with a groggy voice rubbing his eyes rather irritatingly. “We have an important event to attend tomorrow first thing in the morning” he slowly moved towards from the shadowy part of the room to the path of dimmed light from the glass panel and spared a long glance at my face. The way he looked at me sometimes irritated me, because it was an inalienable fact that he fell into the same category of humans who express an unhealthy obsession with my kind: a scientist.

“It’s not like I enjoy staying up like you Lowly Human...I am as stressed for tomorrow as you are!” I tore my face from his ken to express my displeasure. In reply, he sighed disappointedly, which sounded patronizing in my already agitated mind.

“I wish you’d stop insulting my specie whenever you get upset...” he gently put his hand in my shoulder, but soon he withdrew and stepped back. “And what is that god-awful smell?”

Any female whether she is human or not is very sensitive to criticism, especially about how she appears, thus Bruce’s comment was not only offensive but hurtful as well. I could not restrain my anger and annoyance anymore, and I stood up sharply to face him “I just happen to wet myself in the rain yesterday at my detour downtown and it turns out it has too much sulphuric acid and it is peeling my skin away... right before when I am about to go up close on television.”  My hand subconsciously moved up to my cheek, where flakes were forming in my otherwise jade smooth skin. “And you are telling me to stop insulting your specie... I will when you unicellular cretins will stop ruining your own environment—“ I folded my arms defensively, gazing away from Bruce’s face “--as if I don’t get ridiculed enough for my chrorophyllic skintone, and now I am shedding like a common reptile.”

“Alright alright I am sorry...” Bruce threw up his arms defensively, and his small paces back and forth showed his discomfort more than anything, “do you want something for your skin, CeraVe or something? I can fetch you some ice if you want?”

His apologetic gesture made my whole effort defeated; but my pride disrupted me from being apologetic “Forget it... as if those human manures would work on my skin—“ I heaved a sigh and looked at him again “must we do the thing? I mean I am not the only alien that set foot on earth in this decade, why must I be walked around like a showdog in front of all the people?”

For some moments Bruce did not answer me. I almost thought he was ignoring me, but then I realised that he must be contemplating on every word he wanted to say and every word that was running through his brilliant mind. Out of anyone in the team, Bruce was the visual hole, the less than heroic material: even with the Hulk. And for this, the society made sure that he would be self conscious for the rest of his life for his other identity. My annoyance almost melted to sympathy when I heard him speak in a rather frustrated voice.

“Y/N, I know that you are stressed about this and frankly I hate this stuff too, but this is very important for the people: for your people as well as ours. Not all things that come from the space are benign and people need reassurance that you are not hostile. I hate this too, but it is for the greater good!”

“Greater good, greater good... it is always for the greater good!”  The same old daily whining of lofty agenda made me sick “I am sick and tired of these Brucie, I don’t want to do this anymore... I am tired about people asking me weird questions and cretins posing as scientists trying to push probes on me the first chances they get-- I wish I could just disappear with the portal that brought me in this cursed place!“

Bruce came closer and grabbed my shoulders gently “Don’t say that y/n... otherwise we wouldn’t have the means to counterattack all those aliens—“ my silence might have given him the cue that he wasn’t doing a very good job at convincing. His wavering eyes fixed on my face once again as he spoke “okay, here is a deal: how about it is the last time you appear in public, hm? Once you satisfy them that you are part of the team, I swear people will leave you alone... they left the Hulk alone too once they understood that he is one of the good guys!”

“No but...“

“No ifs and buts... go, and have some sleep. Let me look in the lab if we have some squalanes and peptide solutions lying around—“ he said with a paternal affection and disappeared into the dark passage which lead to his room

“Thanks Brucie you are the best—“

I couldn’t help but to smile a little. Humans!

...

“This is a bad idea I am telling you--“ I told Bruce with an hushed tone as the makeup artist went on with a puff on my face for the millionth times. The rest of my team was behind me, getting the same attentions to their dismay. I could tell Bucky was downright uncomfortable as his makeup artist had a hard time getting not distracted by his bionic arm; and Wanda was downright glaring at the man who kept flicking the brush on her nose.

“relax y/n, you are smart and you are friendly, you are going to ace this and trust me people are going to love you--“ Bruce said with gritted teeth to make sure no one could tell what he was saying. He almost flinched as some of the powder made into his nose and the makeup artist followed him up with a q-tip.

“My face is itchy...“ I whispered again, trying not to gouge my face out with my nails as the powder sat on the flaky part of the cheek. If this wasn’t a studio I would have scratched my face like a lunatic and ended up as someone who was attacked by a bear in the mountains. And I was glad that I was standing beside Bruce who knew how not to go overboard with the things. Clint would have brushed them off, Wanda and Bucky would have panicked, and Sam’s gestures no matter how genuine would have made me laugh.

“Wanda already told the makeup artist to spray you with Squalane, your face isn’t half as bad as it were yesterday night“ Bruce then went on politely gesturing the makeup artist to spray the stuff Bruce brought from the lab in a clear bottle, and the look on the Makeup Artist’s face was between annoyance and bursting into tears.

“Brucie...“ “I don’t wanna mess it up--“ I said nervously as we walked into the couch and settled with the others.

“Trust me you won’t... “ Bruce graciously consoled me.

The cameraman cued and we were all gestured to look into the main camera as the lights in front of us adjusted accordingly. Within all hustle and bustle, the host walked in like a royalty, and by the looks of his face and those following him with makeup and refreshment, he had a really bad morning.

“We will go on air in 3, 2 and 1”

“Good Morning America, this is your host Justin Fallon and welcome to another episode of The Early Show. Today we have with us some really special guests. You might know them from News, the murals, the comics and the Merchs please welcome our own global superheroes: The Avengers. Welcome to our show” the host said with an uncomfortable friendliness and turned towards us.

"Thanks for having us with you" Sam answered graciously, with a little awkwardness. I could understand why; it was always Tony, Steve and Natasha who spoke in public. After such a terrible loss, he is struggling to fill up their shoes for the sake of our public image. He had been wrapped up into a pretty bad controversy recently for succeeding as Captain America and it had a pretty bad toll on him—to the point his speech kind of went from cheerful to composed in an unnatural way.

 "It’s been way too long since our morning couch looked so colorful and it surely brightens up the day.” The host said with an obligatory politeness. Although the term was innocent enough but it seemed not so—I instantly froze up and million things started flying inside my head: was I looking good enough, is my patches showing under the layers of power and squalane. Turns out it was not me alone. From the corner of my eye I could sense the tension behind me from Clint and Bucky and I know it was different than mine. The host must have wanted the old team, and looked like he was stuck with the mediocre leftovers.

“Thank you...“ Sam replied.

“So here you guys are after averting the big wipeout crisis, in the quiet and chilling, so how does it feel to be in the pensive from being hyperactive all the time?“

“Well, at first it did feel kind of boring and lack luster, but slowly we are adjusting to it. With the ongoing Pandemic crisis I think we just have to adjust to the situation. In a way, I think we are all helping each other by staying inside and recuperating.” Sam answered diplomatically.

“That’s so nice” the interviewer said quite curtly and then changing the topic he sharply turned to Doctor Banner “I know of all you people Dr. Banner will find this Lockdown Leisure slightly more comforting, isn’t that so Doctor Banner?”

Wait, what was that? Was that even normal? Sam was sitting in the front and after him Bucky, then Wanda and then Bruce. Should not he come gradually? Breathe... maybe I am reading too much into this. Keep a friendly face, don’t think too much... the entire nation is watching... this is the one time I have to do things right! It’s for me, my team who housed me and my people.

I had to give props to Bruce for managing things calmly despite his claims about public speaking. He politely replied “Well theoretically it should be but it’s not like causes of anger cannot exist within the so called peaceful environment if you think about it, but I am glad you showed your concern” and like a pro, reached out to the glass in front of him to sip some water—like some real celebs in talk shows.

“Isn’t that true! So Solaris, how does it feel to be surrounded by the icons of the earth?”

I wasn’t really ready for the sudden attention. For a second I blanked out completely and gaped my mouth like a complete idiot. My stupefied face must have been quite prominent because the host tried to laugh it off lightly to divert the attention. I am still wrapping my head around the fact how some humans work so beautifully under so much attention—If I could choose between blasting off alien armies and speaking in talk shows, I will take the aliens instead.

“I..I--It’s quite fun... there is never a dull moment with them--“ I manage to utter, and thankfully it wasn’t a gurgling sound from a deep abyss.

“The thing is, being the most newest member, you sort of have a mystery around you, the kind of a Blue Comet sort--“

“Oh thank you— “ great going me, like a real talk show celeb—keep it up!

“So why don’t we break that down... Solaris, is that true that you came from a whole another galaxy which is not Milky Way?” the Talk show host asked, reading from a small piece of card.

Finally, something I can talk about all day: stars, planets and galaxy. I will have to slay this, I chanted inside and replied after drawing a breath “Yes that’s true. I am from Planet Auriga from Pleiades system. Our Sun is Alcyone, the second brightest star right after Aldebaran. You people call our system Taurus Constellation--” 

“--so much astrophysics, take notes kids they might ask you at the NASA interview.“ the talk show host interrupted. It annoyed me greatly because I could finish the words I worked so hard to speak confidently. So that’s how Bruce must feel all the time when people interrupted him when he explains things. However the host went on as if nothing happened “For a near human creature in this planet, do you identify more with the Professor X’s troop or with the Avengers?”

Near human creature? My race is literally the most Superior in all of galaxy.

“I don’t really understand what you mean...” I said as politely as I could manage.

“I mean isn’t it hard to fit in when you are the only alien in the group--“

The flippant remark was rude and I tried not to wrap my head around it. I recalled Bruce’s words to keep cool and maintain a neutral face replied : “I mean I am not the only one, Thor is also not of the earth and he is a darling to be around. Alien or not I think I have learned a lot about myself and the ways of earth by spending time with this wonderful people?“

I could hear the audience clapping and cheering with my reply. A surge of pride swept across my chest and I smiled slightly at the audience.

“How sweet--“ the host said, keeping with the cheerful mood “as the outer world people are coming into the planets, we think a lot of things are shifting, do you find it hard to cope into the earth from where you come from--“

Finally, a thoughtful question, I made a solid eye contact with the host and replied “No, the atmosphere is pretty much the same in Auriga, but I think humans can do a lot better taking care of the environment. I know for a fact that millions of planets and their lifeforms were extinct because of excesses I see on earth.”

The thoughtfulness of the host was only for so long “The girl’s been around... if you know what I mean—“ he commented with a little wink, and from the audience’s laugh I knew he didn’t mean something polite or mildly positive. After the laughter subsided, he turned again to me “I dig the midnight blue hair... it is so contradictory and yet it works“ he complimented “because you know scale and hair are not something we see very often in our planet--“ 

Excuse me, what was that supposed to mean?

“--so tell me are the lapis cascades all natural? I mean they are not dyed at all?”

“No they are not... the special keratin bond that reflect the blue pigment of the natural light but they are actually transparent—“ I added objectively.

“So that means in the right lighting you don’t need to mow the bush—“ the host said with a curved smile on his lips, and the audience went on laughing in the same manner they did moments ago.

Even under the blowing airconditioner, I started t feel really warm around my neck “I really don’t know what you mean; you are making any sense at all! Do you guys need special light to mow the bush, do you do in the solstices or during the eclipses—“  this time I didn’t hide the fact that I was annoyed.

“--she is really really funny you guys--“ the host again smiled and acted like I was a stone wall and my reaction didn’t register in his mind at all. “So you are saying you don’t mow your bush at all?“

“I live in a New York Penthouse, there is no bush--“ honestly if this wasn’t a dumb talk show, I would have taught this impudent human a lesson.

The host looked a little uncomfortable as our eye contact lasted for several seconds. He cleared his throat and went on “Okay you guys, she just clarified that there is no bush, so let’s move on to your...your look... I am so fascinated by it, it’s so reptile chic--“

What’s your fascination with cold blooded animals? Are you asking to die like one?

“Um, thanks...?!”

“So how do you manage to maintain this--“

That was honestly the last straw. This host is impolite and rude and he leeches off the discomfort of his talk show host. When this realisation hit, all my self-control and self preservation went out of the window. The vacuum was replaced by the sheer annoyance towards the host who deliberately mistreated us since the beginning.

“Do you think that’s how I live, maintaining my skin and mowing the bush--“ my pitch rose from my previous composed tone “I mean what kind of questions are these?“

The host was still wearing his phony smile on his face, but I could see the colour slightly draining off his face “No I was just asking, because the audience wants to know--“

“I think the audience is smart enough to understand that they cannot get the green skin on natural blue hair, so can you move on to a more sensible question?“ I answered heatedly and defensively at the same time, and as I spoke I felt the aura of tension shifting from discomfort to sheer panic.

“Y/n... don’t do this--” I heard Bucky whisper very faintly from above.

“Solaris, don’t get me wrong, but we don’t always get a green-skin hottie on the morning couch, don’t be offended!” he said while he gestured covertly to cut the camera on the other side. I have to give this man an applause , I could tell he had busted all his courage but he kept the face of nonchalance too good to be true—no wonder he sat on this chair for so long.

“What’s your obsession with the skin colour?—“ I said heatedly as I stood up from my seat “Don’t you dare cut the camera... don’t you dare! Do you think you humans are the epitome of beauty from which point everyone in the galaxy should confirm? I am sick of this... Everyone, I am so sorry for your wasted time but no more of this!”

“Solaris--“ this time it was Sam’s voice that implored me from the sides. For a split second I felt bad for him, because as Captain America, he would have to take the heat from the public. But I was at the point of no return. If I back out now, I would be called a pushover and I would have to endure that image for the rest of my life in the earth.

“You know what, as you are so obsessed with my looks, I would love to show you another thing of mine that is blue--”

Blast

So long story short, Solaris goes to a morning talk show, Solaris encounters a rude host and Solaris blasts him with her Blue Sun Beam. Biggest disaster ever!

The thudding outside the door would not stop, and honestly their over attention was getting on my nerves “honestly, why don’t you go away... what are you, my royal nanny?”

“Very funny Solaris... now come out and get some food--” this time it was Bucky who spoke. Although he was the shortest to reply, but it made me well up. He had the shittiest history amongst all of us: hunted, betrayed, manipulated and now sidelined—how can I see my problems bigger than him.

 “How can I... I ruined everything, all the reputation you built throughout the year, I blew it up within 3 minutes, how can I show my face to you guys! I was supposed to be the superior being--“

A moment of silence followed. But then the old familiar calm voice spoke from the other side

“y/n... It’s not about superior or inferior, you were just very very honest with your feeling! sometimes it’s good for the public, sometimes it is not. I mean look at me--I have struggling with my anger all my life and god knows the stuff I have wrecked in Hulk state. It’s okay to make a mistake... no one blames you!”

“Ha ha right...“ I replied sarcastically, feeling mad about how well Bruce understood my situation.

“Honestly, the way you acted today... Tony would have been proud!”

I could not hold myself anymore. All the feeling that has been plaguing me until now: embarrassment, guilt, confusion, sadness... all came down like a thundering rain with that one statement. I rushed and slammed the door open and jumped on Bruce to embrace him into a tight hug. At first I could tell Bruce was taken aback, but soon his firm arms snaked under my back to hold me tightly.

“I am so sorry... I ruined you all--“ I hid my face in Bruce’s shoulder. Suddenly I felt a gentle pat on my back, I straightened up and looked, it was Sam. His awkward cautionary expression was gone and he looked cherry as the old days “As Captain America, I cannot condone your behaviour, but as Sam... well, that jerk deserved it--“ he reached for his pocket and took out his cellphone “and hundred thousand people in New York agree with you“

I looked at him with a curious expression as he gave me his phone. When I looked at it, it was a tabloid video that had the clip of me blasting the host and it had—

“Stars in galaxies!... 100K likes?” I exclaimed

“And look down, there are comments too--” Bucky scrolled down from behind my shoulder to descend to the white space.

That jerk deserves it, he was literally harassing her...You go Solaris #MeToo

Solaris is so cool, I wish I was as cool as her.

Ugh, I hate that morning show host, if I was in her place I would have thrown him off the stark tower, #SunQueen

Racists never change, and We stan our color positive hero #SolarisRocks

Humans...

...

Okay, that took a lot of time because at first I didn’t know how to work on the request, then I had to go back and forth and rewrite most of it two times because I wasn’t convinced it was good. So I sincerely hope it’s good because I am freaked out as hell.

I also gave reader a name because she is inspired by an alien character in TeenTitans called “Starfire”. So I call her Solaris, and was constantly reminded of Solar of Mamamoo (TMI)

I don’t hate on Fallon, I just used his name because it is recognisable by American public and I also had to see a lot of Jimmy Fallon’s show to write about the Talk Show plot. I was also greatly inspired by Naomi Campbell, RDJ and Nicki Minaj’s interviews.

[capstoverogers]

A Soul for a Soul - Chapter 2

Pairings: Past Natasha Romanoff/Black!Reader, Eventual Carol Danvers/Black!Reader

Genre: Grief/Angst

Warnings: Mention of Characters' Death, Cursing, Lots o' Sad

Word Count: 3,016

Chapter 1

-----

There was a party raging on the battlefield, because no one didn’t know what else to do, except you all knew Tony would want you to celebrate. But maybe everyone just wanted to put off mourning till morning, didn’t quite yet want to deal with the consequences, for better or for worse.

It was an easier concept to swallow when Thor and his pretty warrior friend with the flying horse disappeared for a moment, then came back in minutes with as much Asgardian beer and liquor as they could manage (which, between the two of them, was a whole damn lot). A friend of Rocket’s - Star Lord - then took the charge, cracking open the first beer and finishing off half it in a single gulp before blasting some mix tape of 70s tunes from his space ship that soon turned the battlefield, this graveyard, into an all-out function.

The largest fire you’d ever seen raged where the compound once stood, courtesy of Zoey, and bodies started to move under the moonlight, freely to the music, helped of course by the copious amount of liquor that helped bury down any sense of sadness in favor of this celebration.

You couldn’t focus, though. You still hadn’t managed to find Nat in this swarm of familiar and strange faces, and she was the only one you wanted to see. Once you had her in your arms, then you could let yourself celebrate - or at least you could try. Even as everyone slowly started to let loose, there was this permeating sense of sadness, as prevalent as the cascades of smoke soaring upward from the fire, as no one could escape the thought of the sacrifice that allowed you all to celebrate like this.

It was like everything was in the way, though, and you supposed you could give a few minutes to these friends who you hadn’t seen in years before you found your wife.

“I can’t believe you’re married!” Zoey was gushing as you stood in a small circle with Bucky, Sam and Steve; the superpowered were wielding Asgardian drinks while the rest of you eyed their bottles enviously. You couldn’t help but grin, showing off the simple, but sleek vibranium band on your finger as Sam pretended to squeal like a valley girl with a hand to his chest and Bucky shot you a simple grin as he held out his metal arm.

“We match.”

You beamed at him, though not with the fervency of Steve, who hadn’t pulled his eyes from the Winter Solider for a second since the battle had ended. Well, except to urgently meet your eyes, seemingly desperate to pull you away for a private moment. You didn’t know why - didn’t know if you wanted to know why - and found yourself avoiding his gaze as it drifted to the crowds of people, hoping to catch the one face you wanted to see above all else.

“I feel like I know no one,” Zoey murmured beside me, also taking in all the people around her. “It’s weird to think that it’s been five years. It felt like…a malfunction. One second I was gone and the very next second, I was here, like nothing happened. Like the world had just…glitched.”

“Like a blip,” Bucky said knowingly. Zoey nodded with a frown, then perked up when the Jackson 5 started blaring from the speakers. She turned eagerly to you, already drifting to where Star Lord had started up a makeshift dance floor.

“We gotta dance!”

Sam was nodding fervently, a little grin playing at his lips as he started to move easily to the beat. You grinned a little, but you were still so distracted, especially as you could sense Steve about to interject, his eyes once again set on you, and you couldn’t get caught in a conversation with him. As much as you truly loved him, they tended to be endless.

“I’ll meet y’all out there,” you assured, backing away before their protests could fully reach your ears. “Gotta find Nat.”

“(Y/N)…” Steve started, but Zoey beat him to it as she nodded with a grin.

“Oh, I bet you do,” she said, eyebrows waggling ridiculously, and man, you missed this. You laughed heartily, then turned away, starting to feel desperate the deeper you got in the crowd. It had been over an hour - where had she been?

You finally caught a glimpse of Clint, who had seemingly changed into his civilian clothes, your heart spiking when you saw that he was talking to someone who his body mostly obscured, but you could tell it was a woman shorter than him. Of course your best bet would be to find Nat with Clint; she’d probably got caught up in the crowd and reunion just like you did, but just like he’d promised before he left, Clint was still looking out for your girl.

Before you could make my way over to them, though, you found yourself colliding straight into Peter’s strong chest. He stumbled back, the profuse apology already tumbling off of his lips, only slowing down when he noticed it was you. All thoughts of making your way to Natasha fled from your mind as you took in your friend’s red eyes, half-empty bottle of aged Asgardian liquor in his hand and the sway in his step.

“How are you, Pete?” You asked, stepping close so he could hear your voice, soft with compassion and concern.

“Drunk,” he hiccuped with a brief, bright smile that reminded you of the fifteen year old boy you had met years ago before it quickly faded. “And sad.”

Peter was always the type to wear his heart on his sleeve - one of the things that hadn’t changed about him, along with his forever gentle and earnest brown eyes. Even as he sprouted up - shoulders broader and jaw firmer and covered in the scruff he hadn’t gotten a chance to shave off yet - he was still Peter. Just a wearier, more mature one, but still always filled with a hope that had helped fuel you all.

As much as your own heart hurt over the loss of Tony, it hurt even more seeing clearly how it was affecting Peter. You’d never seen him drunk before. Granted, it took a lot of Earth liquor for someone like him to even get a buzz, but the way his words slurred off of his tongue was telling.

“I’m sorry, Pete.”

He shrugged, eyes glazing over for a second before his attention drifted to the music. He perked up slightly.

“Hey, is that Zoey?!” He smiled a little in wonder, eyes honing in on The Flame as she figuratively burned a hole in the makeshift dance floor. She had attracted the attention of a drunk Star Lord, who was laughing as she showed everyone up. “Wow. I haven’t seen her in…”

You couldn’t help but chuckle as he struggled to count.

“Five years,” you supplied, your smile more soft than mocking as he turned back to you with an eager nod. “You go say ‘hi.’ She’ll like that. I’m gonna find Nat.”

“Okay!” Peter chirped, seemingly drunk and distracted enough by Zoey to let his sadness fall to the wayside, at least for a moment. He began to stumble towards her, but stopped, something pensive crossing his gaze. “It’s not weird anymore.”

You furrowed your brow at him, “What’s not weird?”

“If me and her went out. S’not weird anymore ‘cause I’m grown up.”

You chuckled fondly at how ironically boyish he sounded. Peter’s crush on Zoey back in the day had bordered on infamous with how completely obvious it was, but of course she had seen him as nothing but a little brother, with the nine year age difference and all.

But you guessed that was a four year age difference now.

“Better get on it before that Star Douche dude does,” you said, nodding to how the aforementioned space punk was dancing a little too closely to Zoey in a way that was almost rhythmic and would have maybe been charming if you weren’t already decidedly Team Peter Parker. You clapped Peter on the back, and you grinned at each other. He started to sway towards the dance floor, his shoulders bouncing to the beat, and you watched him for a second.

“Hey Peter?”

He looked at you curiously over his shoulder. You offered him a small smile.

“We’re gonna be okay,” you said. “I know it doesn’t really feel like it now, but…we’ll get through this too.”

You were happy to see his smile sincere, no matter how small it was. He nodded once, then turned back towards Zoey and the dance floor, finally leaving you to make your way to Natasha.

Except as you got closer to Clint, you realized that he wasn’t talking to Nat, but his wife, who he must’ve fetched from their home - along with their kids - and brought back to the celebration. You furrowed your brow at how even from across the way, you could notice how red his eyes were as his shoulders seemed permanently slumped. Tony meant a lot to everyone, but you hadn’t expect to see Clint that affected.

“(Y/N)!”

You let out a sigh as you recognized Steve’s voice from behind. In a second, his long steps led him right in front of you, this striking mix of urgency and tragedy saturating his blue eyes as he gazed down at you.

“I need to talk to you,” he said in a quiet, serious tone. He took ahold of your wrist, firmly but gently, and you knew you had no chance of pulling away from his grip.

“Can it wait?” you pleaded, your head started to crane around again. “I just really want to see Nat.”

When you looked back at him, something had completely crumbled in his gaze as he stared down at you, and you knew immediately. You think you knew the second you’d stepped foot on the battlefield and hadn’t seen her, hadn’t felt her, but had buried the feeling down deep, because it couldn’t be true.

“(Y/N)…”

“No,” you said, shaking your head as you tried to step back, though Steve’s tightened grip held you in place. “Steve, no.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“No.” Your voice stretched and cracked as your eyes started to sting. This wasn’t happening. You were misreading this. Nat was about to come up to you at any second, wrap her arms around your waist, assure you that she was there, that everything was okay.

“To get the soul stone, it required a sacrifice,” Steve said, voice strained and eyes pained, and slowly you started to feel everything crumble around you. “A soul for a soul. Clint tried to stop her, tried to give his life, but you know Nat…”

He tried to smile; it didn’t hit.

You did know Nat. How she always felt like she wasn’t doing enough. How she never felt like she had fully atoned for the darkness of her past. How big and noble her heart was, how she would do whatever it took to complete the mission, if it meant it would save you all.

It’s why you loved her so much.

It felt like your chest was about to collapse on itself. You couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t see through the mess of tears streaming down your face. This couldn’t be real.

You could feel Steve’s arm start to come around you, but you pulled away, shaking your head as he stared at you helplessly. He was one of the greatest heroes Earth had ever known.

But there was nothing he could do about this.

-----

One shot of Asgardian liquor, and you were done. Thor wasn’t kidding about that shit.

You didn’t know how much time had passed. Could’ve been ten minutes. Could’ve been three hours. You sort of wished that it was the rest of your life, that Thanos would’ve managed that snap before Tony snatched the glove away from him - then you wouldn’t have to feel.

The next best thing, though? Being fucking drunk. The ache was there, but it was more numb. Your head unconsciously swayed to the music, fainter from where you sat in the dirt, yards away from the party. You fingered your wedding band and felt so fucking empty, but somehow it was okay, because you were drunk.

You wanted to kill Clint. He told you he’d look out for her. You trusted him to fucking look after her.

Then you remembered how broken he looked when you’d caught a glimpse of him and realized that if there was anybody who could understand how you were feeling, how you were trying not to feel, it was him.

You were rooted to the spot, though. Maybe you’d never move again. Why did it have to be Nat who went to that dumb planet to get that stupid stone? It couldn’t have been anyone else? No one knew what you’d have to lose in order to win?

You heard footsteps approaching, and usually your reflexes were sharp (you hadn’t climbed your way up the S.H.I.E.L.D. hierarchy by being slow, after all. You wondered what your job would be now that Fury and Hill were surely back. You wondered if you’d make it past this night), but it took you a long second to pull your head up from where you had been staring at your ring.

You squinted at the strong-stanced blonde hovering carefully a few feet away from you. Her figure was imposing, but somehow you could tell that her eyes were soft.

“Hey,” you coughed up a hiccup, “hey, Carol.”

She looked amused and pitying at the same time as she nodded, taking a slow step closer.

“Hey (Y/N),” she said softly. She glanced down at the bottle perched in the dirt by your feet, chanced a small smirk. “I don’t think that stuff’s made for people like you.”

“You mean us mere mortals?” You slurred with a stupid, bitter sort of grin followed by a hollow chuckle.

Her own grin was drowning in the pity now.

“Yeah. No offense.”

You shrugged. You didn’t care. Nothing like spending the past decade with a bunch of super-humans to make one deeply confront their own mortality. You’d reckoned with your normalcy a long time ago, the fact that you’d never be as great as them, no matter how hard you tried.

“How about sad people?” You said after a moment.

Her brow furrowed, puzzled.

“Sad people,” you reiterated with a slur. “This shit made for sad people? ‘Cause I’m…” You frowned for a moment. “Not sad. ‘Cause sad’s a feeling, and I don’t think I have those anymore.”

You were kind of confused by the understanding in Carol’s eyes, and you realized you knew next to nothing about her. You knew she’d saved Tony, Peter and Nebula from space five years ago, and she was possibly the most powerful being you’d ever seen. You knew she’d known Fury since you were a child and that you liked her. She felt safe without trying, was witty and to-the-point and was really easy to get along with. She’d swing by the compound to check in, every few months, and it was always nice when she did.

“I heard what happened.” You don’t know when, but suddenly Carol was sitting next to you, and you think she was trying to drown you in sympathy as she looked intently, but gently at you. “I’m sorry.

You peered at her for a long second, then shook your head.

“You can say her name, you know,” you announced, strangely angry at the vagueness of her statement, like you were fragile, like your entire childhood hadn’t been marred by loss and struggle. “Natalia Romanova. Natasha Romanoff to us dumb Americans.” You gave a laugh that came out more as a hiccup. “Black Widow. My wife.”

You ran your fingers across your wedding band as Carol watched quietly. You couldn’t really read her gaze, didn’t really care to, but she’d stopped looking at you like you were the most pathetic creature in the world, so that was nice at least.

The two of you were silent for a moment. You kept playing with your wedding band. You and Natasha had been married for one month, two weeks, three days. You thought you’d have forever. Everything burned. Your eyes, your throat, your chest.

“I lost a wife too.”

Your head snapped up. Carol was staring off towards the party, the fire still going strong.

“The same one, three different times,” she continued with a dry chuckle. “I won’t lie, it’s different than your situation, but…”

She shrugged, turning her head towards you with a slight smile.

“I know what it’s like, feeling like your entire life has been ripped away from you and there’s nothing you can do about it. I’m the biggest bad ass in the universe,” she gave a self-aware smirk, and it actually made you grin a little, “but I still couldn’t get her back.”

Helpless. That’s exactly how you felt. You’d always been able to get what you wanted, even against the most seemingly insurmountable odds - you had grown up an orphan in the hood, for Christ’s sake. But now there was this, and you knew you couldn’t get what you wanted this time. As hard as you tried, as much as you worked, what could you possibly do in the end?

You wanted to cry. You just hiccuped instead, then appraised Carol curiously.

“She didn’t die three times, though,” you said with drunken certainty. “Your wife.”

“No. Just the last time,” Carol said simply. Her words surprised you; you’d assumed maybe Carol’s wife had been snapped away but was back now. “I lost her a long time before that, though.”

There was steadiness, a resignation to the sadness that tinged her otherwise cool voice.

“Oh.” You shifted a little. “Sorry.”

She shrugged, meeting your eyes again.

“Me too.”

Taglist: @afuckingshituniverse

[just-dreaming-marvel]

Out Of Time ~ 115

MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 3,010ish

Summary: Y/N is struggling to cope with everything. (Hopefully this chapter makes sense.)

Needing to get back to Talbot, Coulson took Fitz-Simmons with him, leaving Y/N in the hands of Mack and Yo-Yo, while May started searching for a place where they could keep Y/N safe. Simmons had given Y/N something to help her sleep before she left, allowing Y/N to get some rest. 

Talbot wasn’t happy that Coulson had left him but willingly listened as Coulson and Fitz-Simmons fully explained the situation with Hive and Daisy. As they did so, Talbot’s phone buzzed. He glanced down at the message, unhappy with what he was reading.

“I need you to cut the shit now, Coulson,” Talbot interrupted. “I’ve just been informed that Y/N Rogers is missing. And having not signed the Accords and being enhanced that means she’s a fugitive, like her brother. Where is she?”

“We don’t know,” Coulson quickly lied, holding a steady poker face. “She hasn’t reach out. And if she’s smart, like I believe she is, then she won’t.”

Talbot stepped up into Coulson’s face. “If I find out Rogers here, SHIELD’s done for.”

“She’s not. All cards on the table. Besides, our focus should be on stopping Hive, not searching for Y/N. She wasn’t even apart of the fight in Germany. I saw the footage myself.”

“Okay then, what do you have for stopping him?”

“We’re exploring some options.”

“Options? That’s what you’ve got? You told me this thing could take out an entire planet. I got an option for ya, a preemptive strike. This isn’t a job for SHIELD. This a job for the United States military.”

“You want to make that call? Go ahead. But you’ll probably lose them at ‘devil’.”

“Do you think I’m an idiot?” Talbot signaled for Coulson to not answer that before turning around and sighing. “Wouldn’t tell them the truth.” 

“Even if they could be convinced, by the time we dealt with all their second guessing and red tape, whatever Hive’s planning would already be done.”

“We shouldn’t act without knowing the last piece of the puzzle,” Fitz said. “Hive and his hole-in-the-wall gang recently stole something from an ATCU facility in Indiana. Till we find out where that is…”

“Acting without all the information could make things worse,” Simmons added. “It could be what Hive wants. He was the only thing to survive on that planet, and he survived for a reason.”

“So what do you want me to do?” Talbot asked.

“Trust us,” Coulson replied. 

Fitz’s tablet beeped, causing all of them to come around and look at it.

  “Oh, Daisy’s back in the system,” Fitz stated. “She circumnavigated the anti-subversion code and gained access to Lincoln.” 

Fitz quickly pulled up the feed to Lincoln’s cell. He was seemingly asleep.

“That boy sure sleeps a lot,” Talbot commented.

“Unless…” Fitz muttered, playing with the video.

“It’s a pre-recorded loop,” Simmons stated.

~~~

“I didn’t know we had an Avenger on the team,” Yo-Yo commented as Mack watched over Y/N.

“Yeah…” Mack sighed. “Coulson likes to keep that on the down low. For her safety and ours.”

“When was the last time any of you saw her?”

“It’s been months with no contact. Honestly, I thought she was doing better than this. Guess I was wrong… no one should know how it feels to lose a child. No one.”

Yo-Yo watched Mack carefully. She knew that he was hiding something but wasn’t ready to pry just yet.

“I’m going to go get a drink,” she said. “Do you want anything?”

“No,” he shook his head. “I’m good.”

She nodded, watching him a little while longer before taking her leave. Mack sighed again before slowly setting his hand on top of hers. 

“I don’t know if you can hear me, Y/N/N, but I lost a child too,” he said quietly. “Her name was Hope. She lived to be four days old… so I understand a bit of what you’re going through and I’m sorry.”

Suddenly, the base’s emergency alarm started sounding. It was loud enough to break Y/N from her sleep.

“Wh-what’s happen—ing?” She croaked, unable to focus.

“I don’t know, Y/N,” Mack said, standing. “But I’ll find out.” He went to leave and that’s when Y/N realized he was the only one in there with her.

“No! Please… don’t go…”

“If the base is in trouble, I have to see if they need help. I’ll be back as soon as I can or send someone for you, alright?” He turned again to leave.

“Mack…” He paused at the door, waiting for her to continue. “What happened to you?”

He sighed as you continued to take in his bruises and arm in a sling. “Daisy happened.”

~~~

Y/N was struggling to stay still, the alarm had just stopped and she wanted to see if her friends were okay. Getting out of bed was the easy part, it was walking that took a lot of her energy. She stumbled out of the room and walked along the walls, leaning into them. Following her gut, Y/N made her way to the common room. There she saw General Talbot, Coulson, Fitz, Lincoln, May, Simmons, Mack, and a new girl standing around the table. She leaned against a pillar, out of sight from the others.

“We knew Daisy was listening and monitoring our every move,” Lincoln explained. “So we couldn’t tell anyone. She had to believe it was all real.”

“I communicated with him by leaving messages on his food trays,” May stated.

“You forgot the message about not hurting his friend,” the new girl said.

“Sorry, Mack,” Lincoln said. “I didn’t have any other option.”

“Mack wasn’t supposed to be there,” May replied, giving him a knowing look.

“Excuse me for doing my job,” Mack said.

“The plan depended on Daisy listening to everything so that she’s trust me and believe that I really wanted out,” Lincoln continued. 

“You had me fooled,” Talbot commented.

“Even though I wanted to, I never trusted Daisy… not under Hive’s control. I knew that she wouldn’t be the one to greet me, no matter what she said.”

“But what about the other risks? Lash could kill Daisy,” Mack stated. “Did you stop to think about that?”

Hive? Lash? Daisy under someone’s control? All of this was confusing Y/N, but really only because she couldn’t really focus fully. Her brain was all a mess.

“It’s a risk we had to take,” Lincoln said. “But he had the opportunity once before, and he let her go. I don’t think he’s meant to kill her.”

“Who put him on the Quinjet?” Talbot asked.

“I did,” May answered, “while Coulson was keeping you distracted.”

“You knew about this?”

“I run a tight ship,” Coulson replied.

“Why do you think this Lash can defeat Hive? And who in tarnation names these things?”

“Every Inhuman is here for a reason and serves a purpose,” Lincoln explained. “I believe Lash’s purpose is to kill Hive.”

“Now, we just wait and see what happens,” Coulson said.

“Right,” Talbot agreed with a nod.

Everyone began heading out. Y/N, too weak to form a portal, slid down the pillar, slowly losing consciousness. She heard footsteps coming towards her.

“Shit,” Mack muttered as he found her like that. “I need a little help over here!”

Everyone, including Talbot raced over.

“Oh my—“

“I thought you said you didn’t know where Y/N was, Coulson?” Talbot said. “You’ve been lying.”

“I’ve had to,” Coulson defended. “Look at her. She’s not a harm to anyone.”

“She needs to be in government custody and to—“

“She needs to be here! She’s been through—going through a trauma. She is staying here.”

“You don’t get to make that call, Coulson.”

“But I do. Because, right now, I’m pretty sure I’m the only family Y/N has left.” 

Fitz lifted her off the ground, with Lincoln and Simmons checking her over. Talbot looked over and watched.

“Do you know what happened?” Talbot asked, eyes not leaving Y/N.

“Not much,” Coulson answered. “Only that she lost her child.” Talbot’s head snapped to look at Coulson. “Y/N was pregnant, but she—“

“Isn’t anymore. I got that.” 

Talbot looked back at Y/N. Fitz was still holding her close as Simmons and Lincoln fretted over her. The rest of them watched Talbot, wondering what he was going to do.

“I only have one kid,” Talbot said. “My wife has had 6 miscarriages…. You can take care of her, but once she’s back to full health, she’s the governments.”

“Let’s get her to the med bay,” Simmons suggested.

They rushed Y/N to the med bay, quickly getting her set up and comfortable there. Coulson took his spot at her side. If Tony, Steve, and Bucky weren’t allowed to be here, he was going to make sure that she knew someone was on her side. Coulson observed her and wondered what could have happened in the last week. There was a light bruise of a handprint on her neck and dark purple bags forming under her eyes. It pained him to think about what she was going through, with the loss of seemingly her whole life.

“We still haven’t heard anything about Daisy,” May stated, entering the part of the lab Y/N and Coulson were in. “How is she?”

“Stable,” Coulson answered, keeping his focus on Y/N, “for now… I keep wondering… what the hell happened? The team fell apart and it left her like this. I don’t know if I want to know exactly what happened.”

“She’ll bounce back. Y/N always does.”

“But what if she doesn’t this time? What if this is the thing that breaks her? She lost her child, May. Then found her way here instead of with Tony or Steve.”

“Y/N knows she’s always welcome here. She was smart to come here.”

“What do you think—“

“Ragtag base, come in,” Daisy’s voice came over the bases PA system. “This is Agent Daisy Johnson… I’m coming home. Repeat… I’m coming home.”

~~~

Coulson ordered two agents to greet Daisy in the hanger and cuff her, just in case. They all, except Y/N, waited at the base’s door to the hanger. When Daisy walked in, they could tell she had been through a lot. She didn’t look well and she was leaning on one of the agents for support.

“Welcome back, Agent Johnson,” Coulson greeted, solemnly. Daisy glanced up, her eyes filling with tears.

“It’s good to see you,” Lincoln said.

She breathed shakily, letting a tear run down her cheek. “Lash died trying to save me,” she stated sadly, unable to look anyone in the face as she said it.

“Did he manage to kill Hive?” Talbot asked. Daisy shook her head.

“Get her to the med bay,” Simmons directed. The agents led her away.

“What if Lash wasn’t here to kill Hive?” Fitz asked.

“He was here to save Daisy,” Lincoln said.

“That wasn’t Lash,” Simmons said. “That was Dr. Garner.”

The group followed after Daisy and the other agents. They watched at Daisy’s steps faltered as she entered the med bay.

“Y/N?” Daisy gasped. “Wh—what happened?”

“You need to sit down,” Simmons directed, guiding her to a separate glass room.

“But… when? I—I didn’t notice….”

“May found her in a closet,” Fitz responded as Daisy sat on the bed and Simmons started working. “She… she, uh…”

“She’s been through a lot,” Simmons said. “She’ll be fine after some heavy rest.” She turned to a lab tech. “Prep for immediate blood transfusion and full cranial scan.”

Outside of the glass room, Coulson, Talbot, Yo-Yo, and Mack were watching.

“How do we know this isn’t a trap?” Talbot asked. “That she isn’t under Hive’s voodoo spell?”

“We’ll know soon enough,” Coulson answered. 

“In the meantime… have a little faith,” Mack added.

~~~

Coulson waited for news about Daisy at Y/N’s side. When the results were back, Simmons called him out into the lab.

“Daisy is completely sway free,” Simmons stated. “Her brain is back to normal. But she is suffering withdrawal symptoms from the effects of the sway. It’ll take some time. She’s resting now, recovering from that and the blood loss, but we do expect a full recovery.”

“Nobody goes in there until I say,” Coulson ordered. “But that’s good news.” He watched Simmons. “I know that look. That means there’s bad news, too. What is it?”

“Dr. Fitz?” She turned to him.

“Well, this is purely hypothetical,” Fitz began, “and there are a lot of unknown variables, but…”

“Based on what Daisy told us about Hive’s new pathogen—“

“We think we know what he plans to do with it.” Fitz pulled up a simulation on the computer. “If he can create some short of shock wave, then Hive could potentially infect a significant percentage of the human race, turning them all into the swayed Primitive Inhumans that Daisy described—“

“If and only if he finds a way to disperse it high enough in the atmosphere.”

“Yeah.”

“He has a way,” Talbot stated quietly. “That thing he stole from the ATCU in Indiana. It was a warhead… a fully operational warhead.”

~~~

Simmons walked into the containment module that was connected to the cell Daisy was being kept in.

“I’ve told you everything I know,” Daisy said quietly.

“I’m here to provide progress updates based on the intel you gave us… nothing more,” Simmons responded.

“And they only send you. Why?”

“If anything I tell you jogs any memories, any pertinent information at all, I'll ask you to divulge.”

“It’s because you’re the only one I didn’t hurt… personally, I mean. That’s why. You and… Y/N. How is she?”

“Have you thought of any new pertinent information?”

Daisy sighed, leaning back into the couch she was sitting on. “As I said, Hive’s followers tell him everything, but he rarely returns the favor. I’m sorry that’s not enough to act on.”

“Well, we are acting on a new lead.” Daisy turned her head to look at Simmons. “We’re located a US missile silo in the Pacific. Seems like a good fit.”

“If that’s where they plan to do it, they’ll be there ahead of you.”

“Yes. The silo’s staff went silent five hours ago.”

“Even if you infiltrate, you can’t shut down the launch… not without government Kill Codes.”

“We are aware."

“Had-delivered by a DOD official. It’s not hackable. You won’t be—“

“We are aware. The only thing you gave us that didn’t pan out was that word. You said he mentioned ‘absolution’. Any idea what he meant?”

Daisy barely shook her head with a shrug. “He thinks he’s the savior…. Just… answer this one question for me, Jemma. Please… how is she?”

Simmons sighed, debating on whether or not to say something. “Y/N… she’s awake, but… she’s not really here. She hasn’t said anything since she woke up. She won’t eat. She just stares off into space and sleeps.”

Daisy stood up and walked over to the windows Simmons was standing at. “No one will tell me what happened.”

“Cause we don’t know the full story… it’s also not our story to tell.”

~~~

Nothing felt right to Y/N. Even just being in her body felt completely awful. And she had no energy, to talk, to eat. She knew that she was being fed through the IV’s connected to her. But, to her, there was nothing left to fight for. Y/N had lost everything… and it was her fault, just as much as it was everyone else’s. At least, that’s what she thought.

She could tell that there was a mission going on, another end of the world scenario. But she didn’t have any more fight left in her. There was nothing left. So Y/N slept and stared off into space, beating herself over the life she knew, the life she lost. She didn’t even know how long it had been since she arrived back at the base and she didn’t care.

The team had captured Hive, but were still tracking down his people. His people were still planning to release a substance over most of the earth to turn people into Inhumans. Every member on the team was busy, but they each made an effort to check in on Y/N every now and then.

“Hey,” Coulson came into the med bay room, “I brought you some things.” He held up a bag, but Y/N didn’t bother looking his way. “Your favorite snacks, a few books I’ve bought but have had no time to read, a tablet for you to whatever you want with.” He set the bag on a table beside her bed before sitting next to her. “Is there anything I can help you with?” No answer.  “Or at least tell me what self deprecating thoughts are running through that brain of yours?” No answer, yet again. “Y/N, this isn’t your fault. Nothing of what happened is your fault. You didn’t—“

“I killed my baby….” Y/N replied, just above a whisper. “How is that not my fault?” She finally turned her head to face him. “My baby’s dead… because of me…”

“That’s not true.” Coulson shook his head. “You were under a lot of stress. More than anyone should—“

“Doesn’t matter. It’s still my fault… I should have tried harder to protect my family…. It’s always my fault…” She turned her head away again.

“Y/N, I need you to listen very carefully. Nothing of what happened to your baby and to the Avengers is all your fault. That’s not out things work… you didn’t force anyone to sign or not sign the Accords. You didn’t force them to fight. That stress was put on you, that’s not your fault.”

Tears filled her eyes. “I wish I could believe you… but, I’m sorry, Phil…. It is my fault.”

next chapter >

NOTES: from now on the taglist when be added by a reblog. I will reblog it using my second account, @just-dreaming-marvel-2​. Just so that my main page doesn’t get too cluttered.

If you want to be added to the tag list, please dm me or send in an ask.

[3pirouette]

Fic: The Honey Trap (12/12)

Title: The Honey Trap

By: TriplePirouette/3Pirouette

Disclaimer: They're not mine.

Distribution: AO3 Anyone else please ask first :) 

Story Summary: Peggy’d lost count. She wasn’t sure if she was a double or triple agent at this point, and in the end, it didn’t matter. What mattered was getting out of this alive.

A/N: See END for all AN for this chapter. 

Chapter 12/Epilogue: Just One More Minute

The beeping was incessant, mechanical, and right at his ear, pulling him from sleep. He groaned, moaned, tried to move but couldn’t.

He heard a sigh, and settled.

~*~

The beeping was louder this time, and he could hear hushed voices in the room. He didn’t want to wake up: his body was still screaming for rest and even he had limits, but he wanted to know what happened, wanted to know how long it had taken them…

It was when he’d remembered exactly what had happened, exactly who he’d been with… that he fought to open his eyes. He needed to know how Peggy was. He needed to know she was alright.

He needed to know she was still alive. He struggled to move, his eyes fighting to open.

“Hey!” A warm, familiar voice greeted him. It was rough, and not as he remembered, but still unmistakable.

Steve’s tongue was thick in his mouth. His eyes finally blinked open, and even though the focus was fuzzy, he still couldn’t trust what he was seeing. “Buck?”

“Yeah, yeah pal.” Bucky smiled, but it was rimmed with wrinkle lines, even though eyes were just a the same under a flop of salt and pepper hair. Steve would have thought it was Bucky’s father staring at him, tears gathering in his eyes as he took his hand, except for the voice. He’d know his best friend anywhere. “This must… this must be a shock.”

Steve felt a headache coming on, and couldn’t quite get the words out. “What… why are you…”

“It’s been a long time.” Bucky swallowed hard, sadness and loss filling his words. “You were missing for a long time.”

The machines to his side started beeping, matching his elevated heartrate as he tried to do the math. Ten years? Twenty? He couldn’t have been missing for so long that Bucky had aged so drastically, could he? In a second, a young man who seemed more familiar than not rushed in, beckoned by the incessant beeping. “Uncle Buck, what did you—” He stopped halfway to the bed, surprised. “He’s awake.”

“He’s awake,” Bucky smiled, nodding at the man.

“How- Howard?” Steve blinked again, sure that the man looked more like his friend than not, but being far less sure in the assessment even though his vision was nearly clear now.

“Half right,” the man said, moving forward and reading over the displays to the side of his hospital bed. He turned, smiling as he shoved his hands in his pockets. “Tony. Howard’s son.”

Steve was baffled, looking between both men. Tony had to be nearly forty on his own, looking more like Bucky’s contemporary. “How long, Buck?” He finally whispered, fear growing deep in his belly. “How long has it been?”

Bucky tried and failed to answer, the words catching in his throat, so Tony stepped in, soft and serious. “About 70 years, give or take a few months.” He nodded gently, looking back towards the door. “Dad never stopped looking for you, but you didn’t make it easy.”

He was confused, but the answer was all he needed to know. The serum had saved him, but she had nothing to stop the icy water from taking her. The heart monitor beeped faster and faster as he felt the grief swell in his throat. His eyes snapped shut tight, trying to keep the well of emotion inside him.

“Steve?” Bucky leaned forward, holding his hand tight as Tony started reviewing the monitors, yelling for a doctor. “Tony, what’s happening? What’s wrong?”

“Dunno,” he looked between the man and the monitors, concerned. “I don’t- I don’t think it’s physical but we’ll have to get Doctor Cho in here.”

Steve shook his head, grasping his friend’s hand. After a second, he opened his eyes, tears falling down his cheeks. “Peg,” he whispered.

Bucky slowly sat, nodding. “We don’t know, Steve.”

He closed his eyes again, tight. “After all that,” he choked out, “I still lost her.”

“Huh?” Tony snapped his head around, surprised. “Lost her? No. No no no no no.” He moved to the side of the room and pulled at the sliding curtain, revealing a glass wall that showed an identical room on the other side, gesturing wildly to the figure in the bed and the elderly man sitting next to her. “We found her, too. Right there with you- holding on for dear life. Dad’s been sitting with her.”

Steve tried to push himself up out of the bed, but Tony and Bucky both pushed him down. “You just said—"

“I meant we don’t know if she’s gonna make it, still, Steve.” Bucky pushed his friend flat while Tony moved to push away the glass divider. “You recovered faster. She’s not out of the woods.”

Before the partition was even opened all of the way, Howard was up and out of his chair. “Steve?” He smiled, clapping his son on the shoulder as he passed him. “Holy shit, Steve, you’re awake!”

“Holy shit, Howard, you have a son,” Steve retorted, exhaustion starting to make itself known.

“Probably the least surprising thing for you right now, huh?” Howard chuckled, stopping by the edge of his bed. “Yeah, I uh- guess that’s not something you would have guessed for me.”

Steve tried to fight the heaviness of his eyelids, but it was a losing battle. “Peg?”

“Slow. But encouraging.” Howard smiled, and that was enough reassurance for Steve. “We’ll move you two lovebirds together.”

“Questions…” Steve mumbled, sleep pulling at him hard now.

“We’ll have answers,” Howard replied, moving to help Tony start to sort the monitors. “Sleep. We can talk more later.”

He didn’t need any more permission than that, and sank away from consciousness.

~*~

He was up and walking a day after that, feeling more and more like his old self by the hour.

He’d been sitting by her bedside for three days now, his own recovery deemed full and miraculous. Bucky often kept vigil with him, and when Bucky wasn’t there Howard was. It hurt, to see his friends so different, to hear the stories of lives they’d lived without him, to hear that Bucky had received a bastardized version of the serum from Zola and it took them longer than not to figure it out, but it was an ache that was tempered by the fact that they both still lived, that they were both still alive and well and underneath it all still the same sarcastic friends he’d left behind.

Peggy lay in the bed, the heart monitor beeping steadily away and her chest rising and falling with each breath. She didn’t quite look like herself with her hair straight and flat, not in the meticulous curls she worked so hard for, and with the bright red varnish cleaned from her nails for the monitors they clipped on her fingers.

“Tell me one more time,” Steve gently demanded of Howard, breaking the silence of their watch.

“I can write it down for you,” he joked lightly, closing the small laptop he was working on. “The army found you, not on purpose but by accident. A glacier had shifted and the snow fell away in an avalanche, revealing the wreckage.” He sighed, setting the laptop on the floor below his chair and pulling his glasses off. “That’s where I went wrong. I just assumed you sank. You didn’t: you landed in what was probably a thin spot on the glacier back then. It was enough to crack through and let the water up and in, but it stopped you from sinking. The snow covered you up and that was it.” He shrugged. “Arial recon all came back just icy white glaciers and clear water. I was looking on the bottom of the ocean for you. Didn’t even think maybe you’d been covered by snow already.”

“You can’t beat yourself up about that,” Steve whispered, taking Peggy’s hand. “We both knew exactly what we were doing when we got on that plane.”

Howard huffed a laugh through his nose. “Never could stop the two of you from doing anything.”

Steve did laugh then, shaking his head. “No, not you or Phillips.”

“He’d be happy,” Howard nearly whispered. “He felt horrible, too.” Steve moved to reply, but Howard cut him off. “You know, that was the only time I ever saw him cry? At the memorial the Commandos had.” Howard sniffed, emotion welling up in him, and he tamped it down with a cough. “You can ask Barnes about that, though.”

Howard sat tall and cleared his throat. “At first we thought we just found you, but she was hiding.”

He let his hand slide up and down her arm. Her skin was still cool, but warmer than it had been the day before. “Hiding? How?”

“Under you.” Howard shook his head. “It’s the damndest thing. She was just… under you. Like somehow between the two of you you’d managed to make this perfect little air bubble cocoon that just…” He laughed. “It almost looked like you were dancing, the way you two had your arms around each other.”

Howard scrubbed his face, looking back and forth between Steve and Peggy, then glancing around to make sure they were alone before he continued. “There was this… hole. In the ice.” He dropped his voice. “I didn’t tell anyone else, and I destroyed it, but there was this spot, right at your feet. A square hole.” He waited for Steve to meet his eyes. “Water doesn’t make perfect squares in nature, Steve.” He looked at him seriously. “It was the cube you found that day, wasn’t it?”

“It was called the Tesseract.” Steve looked over at Howard, hand still holding Peggy’s tight. “It was blue, and glowed like those energy weapons- but it was the source, the thing Schmidt and Zola used to make all those weapons.” Steve shook his head. “I’d never seen anything like it.”

Howard waited, but Steve didn’t continue. He rubbed his hand across he jaw. “We’ve still got those little blue bits and energy weapons locked away in Alamogordo,” Howard confessed. I’ve been trying to learn more for years, but… I don’t think it’s… I don’t think it was from Earth,” he nearly whispered.

“It’s not,” Steve replied evenly, as if he were talking about the weather. “The things I saw it do… it wasn’t.” He kept to himself the suspicions he had about Peggy, the thoughts he had about how the two of them had survived. Those were for another day when she was awake and talking to him and they could tell Howard together.

They were quiet for a moment before Howard took a deep breath and moved to grab his laptop again. “Tony will be here in a few hours with that tablet for you. Access to anything you want.”

Steve raised his eyebrows. “I have a lot of news to catch up on.”

Howard opened his laptop and smirked at his friend. “We’ll get you the highlight reel.”

They were quiet for a while before Howard leaned over and held the laptop over to Steve. “You should start with this, though.”

Steve gently undid his hand from Peggy’s, taking the laptop. “What is it?”

Howard grimaced as he looked over at Peggy, her color getting pinker by the minute. “For about 20 years Peggy’s disappearance was classified. You were publicly mourned, but they couldn’t say she was with you, or why. According to public record, she was your scorned lover and hadn’t been on that plane but rather just disappeared into Nazi Germany to never be seen again, listed as a traitor. At least, that’s what the government wanted everyone to believe.” Howard held up his hand as devastation fell over Steve’s face. “I know, believe me. But she was a spy. She knew the risks to her character if she died under deep cover. The information Peggy got us, and some of the names and places she supplied, helped us topple the regime from the inside out after that day you guys went down.” He smiled as he continued the story. “Phillips helped me and the Commandos petition to get her last mission declassified.” He tiled his head at the website on the computer. “That’s the write up the Smithsonian did on her. It’s nice. They call her a hero.”

“She was.” Steve looked up, eyes pulled away from the screen.

“She is,” Howard agreed. He sighed. “She’s coming back to us, Steve. You just need to give her more time.”

“Operation Honey Trap?” Steve asked, eyes drawn back to the article.

Howard tried not to let his amusement show as Steve gingerly touched the keys, trying to scroll the page. “That’s what they called it after the fact. Phillips hated it.”  Howard kicked back his legs to and after a few seconds reached over and showed Steve how to scroll on the touchpad silently. “The CIA was the biggest pain in the ass about getting that declassified. Apparently, they’d modeled several operations off of what she did and thought we’d be outing them.”

“She’d hate this.” Steve smiled, reading the words.

Howard shook his head, standing. “She’ll have to get over it. She was one of the best spies during that war, and maybe ever. When you two are feeling up to it, there are going to be a lot of people who want to talk to you, who are going to want to get you back into the saving the world business, myself included.” Howard lifted his eyebrows and tipped his head. “But you get to decide. Whatever you need, we’re here for you.”

Steve looked up at him, genuine gratitude in his eyes. “Thank you, Howard. I mean it.”

“Eh, least I could do.” He clapped him on the shoulder, leaving it there just a second longer. “Damn, I forgot just how solid you were.” Howard poked his arm a few times and smiled, turning to leave. “I do good work.”

~*~

It was dark when she fluttered her eyes open, and the plain white ceiling baffled her.

Berlin.

No. Switzerland.

But it didn’t smell right, and the bed wasn’t quite the same as the last bed she could remember.

What could she remember?

She closed her eyes and took stock of her body. Everything seemed to be in working order, but she felt heavy, fuzzy. She felt like she was swimming through a fog and all she wanted to do was go back to sleep.

She fought, but the pull was too strong. She was about to let herself fall into the void of it when she felt a hand take hers.

A large hand.

A familiar hand.

“Peg?”

She smiled. Eyes closed, confused and lost, she’d know that voice anywhere, and it made her feel safe.

Safe.

She let sleep claim her again, knowing she would be alright.

~*~

She dreamt. She dreamt of the light of the Tesseract surrounding her, cradling her, making her feel warm and fine and irrationally calm as Steve held her in his arms, the cold water rising up around them.

Wallace. Zola. Schmidt. The plane.

It flashed past her thoughts in a second: months of work that left her battered and bruised and nearly lost in her own mind.

And Blue.

Everything was tinged blue.

Blue, like Steve’s eyes. Blue, like the sky on a warm day when she was a child.

Blue, like the glow of the Tesseract when she touched it, fearing for her life, but instead feeling instantly calm, like a higher power had taken her hand and commended her for a job well done.

Blue, like the cold water welling around them, touching them but not, staying far enough away that she could still breathe, that she could still smell the sweat on Steve’s skin as she took what she thought would be her last breath.

Blue, like space and time standing still, holding her close in its power, letting her know that her time in this world wasn’t done yet.

She could feel herself swimming to consciousness. She could feel it pulling at her, but she was afraid. She was afraid to see where she ended up, afraid to open her eyes and find that it was just a dream, that she was still in occupied territory and her mission was far from over. Afraid to find she wasn’t with Steve, but with anyone else.

She took a deep breath and blinked open her eyes.

She was alone.

Two slow breaths, and nothing about the room changed. It was dimly lit, giving her the feeling of night, and she was surrounded by three walls and one heavy curtain. The bed was like no bed she’d ever seen before: sleek steel and plastic, stylized buttons, and a mattress that felt too soft and too firm all at the same time.

Slowly she sat, looking at the stack of machines next to her. They seemed almost fake without levers or buttons, but flat glass screens displayed readouts from the leads attached to her. She worked hard to keep her breathing slow, to keep her heart rate down as the machine quietly kept time with her.

Nothing about it made her think it was Hydra, which was a comfort, but nothing about it seemed familiar, which was not.

She heard the door start to creek, and didn’t have enough time to lay down and feign sleep before it swung all the way open.

It didn’t matter.

There he was.

Steve.

He dropped the thin screen he was holding and took big strides to her, wrapping her up in his arms before she could even comprehend that he was actually, really there. She let herself sink in his embrace, in the familiarity as he held her, whispering her name over and over.

He smelled different: the sharp hint of frontline lye soap was gone, but her head fit in that nook against his shoulder just the same, and the tiny hairs at the back of his neck felt exactly right as she let her fingers run through them. Every muscle was in the right place and his voice was smooth as honey and wrapped around her like a cocoon. Even the way he hugged her, soft at first then slowly tighter until she felt completely engulfed by his frame, was exactly the same.

He pulled back, eyes soft and worried and somehow so sad and so elated at the same time. “Peggy, please tell me you’re alright? Do you feel okay?” He let his hand run over her cheek, thumb brushing gently across her jaw.

Her tongue was thick in her mouth and she couldn’t quite get the words out, but she nodded. “Fine,” she croaked finally. “Just fine.”

He laughed, a light happy sound that came out as he smiled, looking happier than she could ever remember seeing him. “Yeah, you would be, wouldn’t you?”

“What happened?” she managed to scratch out, her throat dry.

The smile faded. “What do you remember?”

She looked him over, the dark feeling that something was terribly amiss creeping up on her again. She swallowed, saliva starting to coat her mouth and throat, making the words come out just a little gentler. “The plane. And Schmidt. I—I shot him.”

He nodded. “Anything after that?”

She looked at him, the crisp blue of his eyes reminding her of that feeling, that safe feeling that was so foreign. “You. Falling.” She paused, unsure but not willing to hide it. “Safe. I felt safe. I don’t know why.”

Steve nodded, pausing. He couldn’t quite find the words, but then, she really didn’t need him to.

“How long has it been?” she asked softly, taking his hand tightly in hers.

“Peggy…”

She pressed her forehead to his, closing her eyes. “How long, Steve?”

“Too long,” he whispered, the pain evident in his words, a pain he hadn’t shared with his friends who were still around, but far, far different from how he’d left them. “Seventy years.” The words hung in the silence between them, heavy. “I’m sorry, Peggy. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.”

She leaned forward, closing the inch between their lips. She kissed him softly, his lips unmoving under hers for the barest of seconds before he kissed her back. She pulled away and snuggled herself deep in his embrace. “There’s nothing to be sorry for. We did what had to be done.” She sighed, her eyes fluttering closed at the feel of his hands in her hair. “We always knew there might be consequences.”

“Not like this,” he whispered, reveling in the feel of holding her close. He waited another breath, squeezing her tight before starting to push away. “I should get the doctor.”

“Not yet!” She clutched at him, feeling panic rise in her. He immediately stopped, pulling her closer again as she let out a shuddering breath. “Just… just not yet.” She felt tears start to well in her throat, the enormity of everything hitting her at once. “I need a minute. It’s…”

“It’s a lot.” He held her close, hand rubbing up and down her back. “It’s a lot.”

She nodded, her heart slowing just the slightest bit. She still couldn’t wrap her head around what had happened, or how they’d ended up here, but there was time for understanding. There was time for explanations.

Right now, the war was over, Hydra was gone, and she was in Steve’s arms, safe and warm. Things might be a little different than she’d imagined, but she had all she wanted and she wasn’t about to let the opportunity to live her life the way she wanted slip through her fingers.

She just needed one more minute in his arms, something she’d lacked for too long while they both faced down their enemies, and then she’d be ready to face whatever was on the other side of that hospital room door.

Just one more minute.

~*~

A/N: Thank you all for taking this journey with me. This has been a really funs tory to write, even if it has given me fits and starts here and there. Yes, I know this opens up an entire new world to play in, but I don't plan on exploring it any further, at least not right now. This story, and I'm still not exactly sure why, always ended with Steve and Peggy together in the future, courtesy of the Tesseract. (Oddly, Wallace was always meant to be a good guy, too, but we all see how that went...) Again, thank you for all your comments and replies. They truly do mean the world to me, even though it takes me a while to get back to you. 

[heli0s-writes]

Ugly Christmas Sweater Party

Summary: Bucky (sort of) agrees to wear an ugly Christmas sweater, but what he ends up wearing is much worse. This is for @holy-captain‘s 1.2k writing challenge! Congratulations, Liv and thank you for hosting! I’m so sorry it’s late!! 

Pairing: Exasperated!Bucky x ChaoticDumbass!Reader

Warnings: Swearing Word Count: 1.8k

It’s supposed to be a fun and light-hearted thing—a season full of shiny-glowing-fantastic-twinkling excitement and ruddy red noses and misty breath in the chilled air. A season of joy and celebration, of spiked eggnog, fuzzy striped socks, and sliding down the compound hillsides on Steve’s shield.

And he’s screwed it all up.

It sinks in like the swollen marshmallows in his now cold cocoa, drooping to the bottom where the rest of the sediments lie. Outside, snowflakes gust and whip, blanketing the pine trees and skeletons of shrubbery in white flurries. Red holly berries peek out where they can and glare at him with their crimson eyes.

His phone lights up with picture messages of Steve and Sam, hurriedly trying on a cluster of sweaters in preparation. Horrid renderings of cats on ornaments. Oversized slouchy sleeves flecked with tinsel. Santa’s dreadful ass-crack peeking out of a chimney.

Bucky grumbles and turns his phone face-down, leaning back in his chair to stare at the Christmas tree in the corner. He wants to scream and put his leg through the damn thing.

Soft footsteps draw his attention to the hallway when you emerge, blinking slowly as you stifle a yawn from behind your hand until you see him. Then, you scoff and disappear back down the hall.

“Wait!” Bucky calls, leaping from his seat and nearly knocking the tepid mug from the table, “Damn it, wait!”

You’re gone. Stomped back to your room and even if he starts running now, he wouldn’t be quick enough—only getting the slamming door on his nose. He’ll try anyway.

Bucky slumps against the panel, pushing his chest against the cold metal of it and his cheek until his words come out smushed into his teeth.

“C’mon!” A pathetic whine of your name before he sticks his fingers underneath the slit of the door like a cat, wiggling the bent tip back and forth. Incredible. The Winter Soldier sprawled out all over a corridor, begging for forgiveness over this.

Only silence replies; you’re probably on the bed, thinking about scratching his eyes out. He can practically see you flicking him off with both hands. You’ve never been this upset before, and it deeply troubles him considering the dynamic of your very friendship spun on the axis of one single truth: Bucky’s the annoyed one. You’re the fuck up.

And now he has no idea what to do.

One week of it and he’s completely lost; the start of it all—December 1st when Tony announced: Ugly. Christmas. Sweater. Party.

Two days before Christmas, the team will be gathering in the common area for a white elephant gift exchange, and sweaters will be judged based on ugliness. What a stupid idea.

The winner will be awarded with “no team meetings for a month” and Tony’s personal stash of bourbon as long as no one touches his whiskey.

Upon the proclamation, you had clapped your hands together and grinned, “We’re gonna win this damn thing.”

And Bucky, being regular Bucky who ignores your half-witted ideas and short-sighted fixations, muttered, “Whatever,” and went back to thinking normal-person thoughts.

For the next several weeks, you dove into your knitting, the needles clicking together faster than he’s ever seen, weaving sparkling black and bright cherry red. The rows were tightly bound, looped and coiled expertly until he could finally make out the shape on the front of it.

He really did love your sick sense of humor—although he’d never admit it—funny, twisted, always brought him a bit of joy.

“Fuck no,” he had laughed at the image of a mutilated deer, antlers dangling silver ornaments showcasing his sigil. “I am not fuckin’ puttin’ that on. It looks like hell.”

“You agreed!” And then the needles and yarn hit him right in the nose.

On your way out, a low chuckle came from the corner of the living room where Steve sat sipping a cup of steaming chai. “You know Christmas is her favorite holiday?”

A snorting laugh bubbled the surface of Steve’s tea, “Good goin’, Buck.”

-

“Last Christmas” is on, blaring synth beats through the halls. George Michael croons sweetly, longingly, grieving an unrequited love before jingle bells ring in the scattered percussion.

Bucky hears your voice as you carol along to possibly the cheesiest song of all time—infuriated and baffled that you won’t speak more than two words to him but will sing your heart out to this crap. George Michael, Wham! and all of England can eat his whole ass.

He trudges from his room and into the den where the lights are dimmed and the table is set with snacks and a crock pot of hot chocolate. A dish of pine cones sits in the middle, flanked by a merry snowy village filled with little ceramic teddy bears and reindeer. On the edge is a deflated Santa Hat filled with paper scraps and pens for the voting process at the end of the night.

It is seven-thirty and you are standing next to Sam with bent elbows, wiggling your hips to the chorus, sliding back and forth on the polished floor in fuzzy socks. The two of you are facing the window, pointing at the flurry and a mountain of sludge that was previously a horrid misshapen lump of Snowman Steve.

Bucky squints a little, alert when he sees two matching sweaters—black on the back. Hell no, he thinks.

Sam turns around and Bucky’s worst holiday fears are confirmed. One innocuous “Oh hey, man,” and all the warmth drains from him.

On Wilson’s chest is that terrible disfigured deer you constructed, its antlers spearing out from its head to reach all the way up to his shoulders.

Bucky flies across the room and before either you or Sam can do anything about it, he’s peeling the hem of it over Sam’s head, kneeing him in the groin, and taking him down onto the floor. “What the hell!” Sam yells, struggling to get out of his grasp. “Shit—get off—Barnes!”

“A red star isn’t even your fucking symbol!” His hair is in his eyes along with Sam’s elbow, their limbs and joints knocking into each other in the wrestling bout. The sleeves and front are being stretched terribly, but neither of them seem to notice.

“Hey,” Your calm voice calls from above them—falling on four deaf ears. “Hey,” You try again, and when it doesn’t seem like two grown men can stop aggressively fondling each other over a damn pullover, you raise your hand and decisively land it across the back of Bucky’s head in a deafening crack.

A swell of multiple shocked gasps rises from behind you and when Sam and Bucky freeze, they see the rest of the compound’s inhabitants staring at the scene like a disfigured Nativity display. They also see your palm, at the end of your motion, resting next to your shoulder.

Bucky gingerly rubs his wound. “Ow,” He grumbles.

“Room… now.” You command, pointing your finger down the hall. Wilted, he shuffles away dutifully, saying nothing to the others as he passes. When he’s gone, you look scornfully at Sam and your beloved jersey, loosely hanging at the edge of his torso, pulled nearly apart.

“Voting starts in twenty, kid,” Tony mentions breezily.

“Yeah,” You reply through gritted teeth, “Don’t worry, we’ll be there.”

-

Steve coughs behind his hand awkwardly when Bucky steps back out, the once snugly-fitting sweater around Sam hanging collapsed and loose on Bucky’s right side. You’re close behind, bouncing on your heels and smiling as if nothing had gone wrong. Steve’s not sure which is worse: your wrath or glee.

“You, uh, you alright?” He calls quietly.

“Oh yeah, absolutely. Right, Buck?”

Bucky swallows, “Uh. Yeah.”

He has no fucking idea; when you shut the door behind him, the sweater in your hand was calmly unfolded and held up to his shoulders, damage assessed by a calculating mind. Bucky still has no clue what possessed you not to scratch his eyes out that very second.

Then, you looked him up and down and said, “Put it on, Barnes. Show’s about to start.”

And if he was a weaker man, he’d be shaking in his goddamn boots at how calm you are.

The team gathers around the tree, various colored pens and torn scraps in hand as they evaluate each other’s attire. Natasha is boldly displaying a patchwork kind of cardigan with what looks like the Michelin man ominously hovering behind a tree. Tony, of course, has custom-ordered a perfectly sized wreath knitted around his arc reactor heart. Steve has completely missed the Christmas memo (or is perhaps the politest Grinch on Earth) wears blue, the tiniest hint of gold tinsel woven through.

And Sam -- stupid, stupid Sam-- who didn’t plan on being robbed of a perfectly knitted sweater five minutes before the voting process, is out of the game.

Bucky is about to write your name down, because a medium part of him feels guilty for hurting your feelings while a much larger part of him feels apprehension about what exactly might happen if you lose, but you suddenly dig your hand into his pocket.

All five fingers shove deep until your fist is gripping tight and your knuckles stab his thigh.

“Hey! No hanky-panky during voting!” Tony is scandalized.

A vicious snap of his pocketknife swings open and before he knows it, your left hand is fisting the yarn on his chest and your right is ripping it straight through. The room falls silent when you do it a second time and Bucky’s at a loss for words until the breeze hits.

Chills.

A tendril of AC sneaks through the two open holes you’ve carved and goosebumps bloom all over his chest. Dread settles in his tummy.

His nipples are pebbled and exposed for everyone to see and with a quiet click of the blade retracting, you tuck it back into his pocket. 

“Let the voting begin.”

No one moves. No one makes a single sound and the whole place is quieter than a crypt until a shrill wheeze squeaks out of Sam’s nostrils. Through the choked snickering and the slowly building crescendo of everyone else’s laughter, Wilson admits, “They’re browner than I thought they’d be.”

There’d be no need for a voting process, Bucky knows. You’ve stolen the show – or rather, his nipples have stolen the show, and the once-worthy prize is now his Sisyphean burden to bear. He closes his eyes and counts to a million.

Screw exemptions from team meetings, Bucky thinks, praying desperately that when the bourbon is bestowed to him, by some miracle of sweet baby Jesus, he’d be able to get shitfaced again.

-

perm tags: @whothehellisbucky @serpentbaby @badassbaker @alagalaska @cake-writes​ @crist1216​ @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan​ @infinity-saga @jamesbarnesthighs​ @pinknerdpanda​ @xoxabs88xox​ @imsoft-barnes​ @momc95​ @typicalangel​ @wretchedgoddess​ @readeity​ @iwannasail​ @ya-lyublu-tebya​ @geeksareunique​ @wildefire​ @satanxklaus​ @jhangelface0523​ @wkemeup​

[star-spangledstud]

Like You

Pairing: Steve Rogers x (Female) Reader.

Word Count: 2800-ish.

Summary: Steve has a really shitty way of saying goodbye. 

A/N: My friend sent me the prompt: “If I knew then what I know now.”. I decided to play around with it and then this happened. 

Warnings: Angst at its finest. Such brief mentions of sex you hardly notice them. Heartbreak. 

You didn’t understand why he didn’t come back to you like he was supposed to. 

It wasn’t like the two of you didn’t have a solid relationship. You complemented each other when you walked into the room, the perfect blend of two different people that had come together as one. You hardly argued, barely even disagreed on matters that concerned the both of you and you never got sick of each other’s company. You were complete, whole when you were with him and he was with you. 

You ate together, trained together, slept together in the same bed night after night. Even as the world burned after the big Snap, you stayed together, thankful every day for the fact that the both of you had made it out alive. You mourned the loss of friends together, tried to overcome the holes in your hearts together. It was an obstacle in the road that paved the way for your lives and you faced it together. When everyone was brought back, you couldn’t have been more grateful, because five years of learning how to rebuild everything had made the two of you stronger, more aware of how much you needed each other to survive. Most importantly, it made you aware of how all you needed to survive was each other. 

A power couple, that’s what they called you. Sun and moon, yin and yang. The perfect balance of work and play, of fun and professionalism. You kept each other moving, kept one another going with words of encouragement and wisdom, forced each other out of bed after half the world had literally vanished in the blink of an eye. It hadn’t been easy, but you expected the strain on your relationship to have been much worse. You got off easy compared to many other people. 

When the two of you first caught wind of the possibility to bring everybody back, of course, you jumped on the bandwagon. It was the opportunity of a lifetime, a chance to see your best friends again, for things to go back to the way they were. You knew it would be hard because people had moved on, started new relationships, new careers and had moved house, but you had faith that humanity could overcome it.

You still got chills when you thought of the orange portals that signaled everyone’s return. The distant memory of seeing the people you thought you’d never see again in the flesh for the first time in five years still brought prickly tears to the corners of your eyes, as did the knowledge that Natasha and Tony had given their lives to make it happen. They sacrificed their lives so you could have yours.

You hardly had time to notice the sudden change in Steve’s behavior. You were so busy trying to reintegrate half the population into the current day, that the two of you spent less and less time together. You were in charge of bringing back the positions of SHIELD agents that had vanished and offered your help to them both professionally as well as privately. Some of them had lost their families because they’d moved on and it was very hard on them to realize that five years of life had simply passed them by. 

Steve had been talking about retirement for years. You knew he wanted to finally lay down the shield once and for all and the two of you had been talking about it more and more as time progressed. Finally, he decided to bring the team back to its former glory, to rebuild the facility and to find new possible recruits, before he’d finally call it quits forever. 

Before that could be done, the Infinity Stones had to be returned to their respective timelines. Of course, he was the one to suggest to do it. You’d honestly be surprised if he didn’t offer to do it himself. You told him it was okay because you trusted him and trusted his judgment and if he felt like he could complete the mission successfully, you would stand behind him and support him because that’s what good girlfriends did. 

You remembered the way he gently kissed you before stepping onto that godforsaken platform all too well, the way his hand caressed the side of your face and hair, the squeeze in your shoulder. It was a kiss unlike any of the ones you’d ever shared before, not even the ones he gave you after Tony’s funeral, filled with grief, sadness and need. No, this one was different. You didn’t know it at the time, but you did know it when looking back. 

He was telling you goodbye.

“No,” you cried, “no, no, no!” 

Your arms and legs flailed miserably, chest heaving rapidly up and down in irregular motions. Bucky cringed with how horribly upset and distraught you were, unsure of what the hell he should do about you crying beneath him.

He was sitting on the edge of your bed, rubbing your back in soft, circular motions while you hugged your pillow tight to your chest. Your face was red, tip of your nose glowing and your cheeks were so puffy you looked almost like a clown. He didn’t say anything, he didn’t think words could suffice or make you feel any better. He was probably right. 

“Why?” You choked out, “Why did he leave me?” 

You could hardly breathe without Steve. 

Bucky could hardly understand what you were saying. Every word came out in hiccups, forced to the surface by the tension in your lungs and contracting chest. For a long moment, you stopped breathing. Bucky panicked immediately. His pulse quickened and grip on you tightened. Then, you took a deep, panicked breath of air with a high pitched cry.

All you could think of was Steve, how he glanced at you from his spot in the dead center of the platform. How his lips tightened into a sad line, how his brow creased and his eyes closed just before he disappeared on you forever. You should have fucking known, but how could you? He was everything you ever wanted and you thought you were the same to him. He never even gave you the indication that he was unhappy, that he didn’t love you. That he was going to leave you for her. 

“Shh,” Bucky cooed, “It’s gonna be okay.”

Sam showed up at the door, which stood slightly ajar. His head peaked in, eyes following your heaving body and Bucky’s slouched form before resting on his face. Bucky shook his head. Sam quietly left. There was nothing he could do to ease the pain one of his best friends had caused you.

“Get some sleep,” he told you quietly after your sobs had silenced.

“Don’t leave me,” you managed to whimper, grabbing hold of his flesh arm and pulling it down with you.

You needed human contact, couldn’t stand the thought of being alone after being left by the love of your life.  

“Of course,” he replied, biting the inside of his cheek, “I’m not going anywhere, sugar.” 

You slept with Bucky by your side that night, still dressed in the clothes you’d put on while Steve was still lounging in bed that morning. The make-up you’d put on while Steve was in the shower had mostly come off on your sheets and on Bucky’s left shoulder. You clutched his shirt while you dreamt of Steve in short bursts, the desperate need for comfort so dire that you refused to let the man leave when he tried. He was angry too, angry with his best friend for putting the woman he loved so much through such pain. 

You cried as soon as you woke up the next morning, hand sore from fisting Bucky’s shirt all night. Your head hurt terribly, a pressure had built up behind your eyes overnight and it worsened as the day continued. Bucky eventually managed to leave you alone so he could get changed and talked to Steve, who was now an old man instead of the man who’d taken you to Paris on your first anniversary. 

You became indifferent to the saying ‘time heals all wounds’, because it no matter how many days passed you by, it never seized to hurt. Every little thing that reminded you of Steve would send you in a downward spiral. People recognizing you on the street for once being the most beloved Avenger began to walk around you with a wide arch because even they could tell something was terribly wrong with you. Soon enough, they all knew what had happened.

You hardly slept, because images of Steve dancing with Peggy haunted you all night long. Images of him, telling you he’d chosen her instead of you would flood your mind, along with pictures of the two of you when you were happy. You began to question it, all of it and wondered often what would’ve happened if you had been the one to join Tony on his journey back to the 70s instead of him. You wondered if he’d still be here, sleeping soundly next to you with his arms engulfing you in warmth. Now, there was only cold. 

You didn’t have the energy to be productive anymore. Life without Steve was no life and the void of his existence had taken away the importance of everyday tasks for you. Literally, everything you came in contact with reminded you of him, from the cereal you used to eat together to the movies you would watch. You couldn’t go to your favorite coffee place anymore, because that’s where you went to get his morning cup on the weekends. You couldn’t even stand to look your fellow teammates in the eye. They’d become afraid to be around you, walking on eggshells when you ventured out of the depths of your room for food because they were scared of saying the wrong thing. It happened once when Bruce made a comment towards Sam’s shield. His shield. 

“Shit, shit, shit,” he said as he watched Bucky carry you back to your room, “I fucked up, didn’t I?”

“It’s not your fault,” Wanda assured him, “She’s in a lot of pain right now. It could’ve been any of us.”

“Can’t we do something?” Sam asked, hands on his head. 

Wanda shook her head, “We can support her, but she needs time to heal.”

You never knew heartbreak could cause physical pain, but the constant strain on your heart was exhausting. You went through entire boxes of Ibuprofen to ease the constantly looming headaches, but they did very little to ease the dull throbbing of the back of your head. Your eyes were red constantly and your skin didn’t glow anymore. Everything had dulled like Steve had taken your life light with him back to the past, engulfing you in complete darkness.

You’d never find someone like him again because nobody compared to him. 

You often reminisced the good times you experienced with him by your side. The fun you had while sparring in the gym room, climbing on his back as he tried to push you to the floor. You thought back to the many dates you had, fancy candlelit dinners inside of expensive restaurants that involved your favorite flowers at the beginning of the night and passionate sex at the end. You remembered holidays, Tony’s extravagant parties that were mostly just you and him eye-fucking each other in fancy clothing with champagne on your breaths until it was late enough for you to bail so you could fuck for real. 

It was holding his hand, kissing him hard and long on his beautiful mouth before he had to leave for missions that sometimes lasted far too long for both your liking. Placing fingers on his thigh while he was driving and toying with the soft fabric of his jeans higher and higher until he couldn’t take it anymore. It was walking on the beach early enough to see the sunrise and long drives back on the back of his motorcycle, safely hidden away from the world behind tinted helmets.

Now, there was nothing. No hand-holding, no joking around, no fucking each other in the storage closet because you couldn’t wait to get back to your room on the top floor. Nothing but emptiness, cold and dreadful and tiring like a weighted blanket made of snow that refused to thaw under your own body temperature. 

Even when you finally decided to become more active again did the emptiness not leave you. It followed you around like a ghost, always lingering in every corner of every room you entered. Bucky felt sympathy for you, but even he couldn’t help you. You had to pull yourself from the depths of the ocean by yourself, had to swim back to the surface without a life vest or oxygen tank strapped to your back and you constantly felt like you were going to drown. Maybe you already had and this was your purgatory. 

You couldn’t help but regret it sometimes. Getting together with him. It was when that looming darkness engulfed you that you allowed yourself to regret ever getting to meet him. You’d lay in bed at night and pray to the Gods to turn back time just once, allow yourself to make the choice that would’ve prevented you from getting to learn who Steve Rogers was because that choice ultimately led you to fall in love with him.  If only you knew then what you knew now.

You sat by the fireplace alone now, staring at the smoldering embers and the flames that licked slowly burning wood. You watched the trees move in the wind by yourself now, watched the rain drip against the window panes with your knees pulled up to your chest. How could loving Steve Rogers hurt so fucking bad?

“How you holding up, kiddo?” Bucky asked, taking a seat beside you on the couch that directly faced the window. 

“I’m alright,” you responded, voice raspy and dry. 

He offered you a glass of water, which you took gladly. At least someone cared about you despite your efforts to push everyone away.

“I talked to him this morning,” he said finally, “he misses you, I think. Might even regret his decision to leave.” 

Your eyes flicker to Bucky, then fall back on the fireplace, “I miss him too.”

“He asked how you were doing,” he said carefully.

“What did you say?”

Bucky exhaled, “I didn’t lie.”

A comfortable silence fell over you, allowing you to listen to the crackling of the fire and Bucky’s breathing beside you. Sometimes, no words needed to be said for them to be exchanged. You toyed with the shaggy blanket over your lap, twirling the fabric between your fingers. 

“I don’t think he has a lot of time left.” 

You scooted closer to him, allowing your head to rest on top of his torso. He patted your head and drew circles in your hair while you rested your eyes for a moment. You hardly slept the night before and were beginning to feel drowsy. You started napping frequently, finding sleep wherever and whenever you could because your bed was too empty and too large at night. 

“Will you come with me?” You asked, voice barely above a whisper.

“Of course I will,” he said, nodding although you couldn’t see it, “I’ll come with you.”

“When?” 

Bucky’s shoulders rose, “Whenever you’re ready. I’ll make time.” 

Maybe you should’ve known that he’d go back to her if the opportunity arose. You’d heard stories, of course, Bucky had told you enough. Steve didn’t talk about her much, except for after her funeral, which he attended alone without telling you. You should’ve known it then with how messed up he was after her death. Should have known that he’d never been able to really get over her. You couldn’t even really blame him, either. She’d been ripped from him when he went into the ice and was already on her deathbed by the time he woke up. For her, a lifetime had gone by. To him, it felt like seconds. It’s how Bucky must’ve felt when he came back after the Snap.

Sitting with him on the couch, you weren’t sure if you would’ve changed things. You had a lot of good times with Steve, they largely overshadowed the bad. He’d made you a stronger person, made you appreciate your talents and weaknesses for what they were and he never made you feel less than your worth. He was a good man, you knew it deep down, but accepting that you might not have been good enough for him was a wound that would never heal, not even as you took your last breath.

Still, a small shimmer of hope began to grow somewhere deep within your chest like a seed had been planted. Laying with Bucky in silence, watching the rain pitter-patter against the window, made you think one thought before sleep engulfed you properly for the first time in months.

Maybe things were the way they were meant to be. 

[starlordsandrockets]

My Babysitter’s a Guardian

summary: (Star-Lord x reader) Y/N had fought alongside the Guardians and watched as they slipped away after Thanos snapped his fingers. But watching Peter slip away was the hardest of all. When Tony tells you there’s a way to get Peter back, you butt heads with the strong headed Stark.

a/n: i tried so hard to write a quick fluffy imagine that was requested. also i’m not sure if i will start taking requests but my brain created this plot & it was all i could think about. i hope you enjoy (even though it’s a little sad)

“Pew pew, pow,” You shouted to a giggling Morgan Stark. The two of you had found yourself playing Guardians for the second time today, “How are you so strong,” you call out in your best villain voice, your tone was nasally and irritated.

“Because I’m the legendary Star-Lord,” the small brunette beamed as she pretended to fly around the lakeside cabin’s living room.

The sound of rocks under tires directed your attention off of the mini hero and onto the familiar silver car that waited outside. Your eyes found Tony’s as you both gave each other a look. Confirming that both of you knew exactly who would be on the front doorstep, “Oh, Star-Lord, you win,” you shifted, back into Morgan’s make believe space battle, “let’s go retrieve your prize from mommy in the kitchen,” you coaxed her into your arms, scooping her up. Nodding, you left Tony alone in the living room. The large armchair he sat in felt small under the cabin’s high ceiling.

Five years ago you would have told the world your hostility towards Tony Stark. How out of all the Guardians, you and Stark butted heads since the moment he met you. 

After Tony, Nebula and you had almost perished in the Milano, your relationship with the hard headed Stark had changed. But you guessed that any near death experience could make you see the good in a person and that same logic applied to the, small, heart of Tony Stark. At times, the two of you still find your way into many arguments, but you push it aside for his daughter.

Morgan Stark was Tony’s cliche ray of sunshine in the looming years of darkness that sat over your and Tony’s heads. Tony had asked you to help out around their new cabin when they moved in and not long after he had asked you to babysit their new daughter. Tony finally found his purpose and hoped to give you some purpose as well.

“Time heals all wounds” Pepper would tell you night after night with a nervous smile, knowing that she was lucky. Her and Tony did not lose each other to the snap. They did not have to watch each other slip away, to feel their loved one physically leave their touch like dust in the wind.

You could still hear your desperate voice playing in your ears like a bad recording as your hands grabbed at Peter Quill’s worn jacket, pulling him close to you. Almost hoping to escape with him, unable to fathom a world without him in it.

“Where’s Tony,” Pepper’s voice brought you back to your post-snap reality. You found yourself studying a small vase of forget-me-nots that you and Morgan had picked by the lake. Morgan was sitting by your side, a cookie entering your vision as it sat in her small hands.

“Natasha and Steve are outside,” you spoke under your breath as you stared at the baby blue flowers as if they were Peter’s blue eyes, “and I think,” you paused as you tried to recall the third individual that stepped out of the car, “Ant-Man, maybe,”

“What about Star-Lord,” Morgan giggled as she pretended to fly your cookie around the kitchen from where she sat. You felt your heart sink as the small girl spoke of the man you missed more each day that he was gone, “I want to meet Uncle Star-Lord,” Morgan whined before she was cut off by her mother’s short voice.

“Morgan H.,” her tone made the girl jump, “why,” her voice softened as she met your eyes, “why don’t you save your father from Aunt Natasha and Uncle Steve,” she smiled, “and Scott,”

“But, Aunt Y/N,” Morgan frowned, her bottom lip plumping and her brows furrowed. She watched her mother point her finger and she obeyed. Setting down the cookie that sat between her fingers, she climbed out of the adult kitchen chair and headed outside.

“Y/N, I’m sorry,” Pepper started to speak, unable to meet your gaze, “you’ve filled her head with stories about the Guardians and she’s ecstatic,” Pepper smiled as she folded a stray towel that sat on the countertop, “I even caught her trying to turn herself blue, I’m lucky she didn’t try shaving her head,” she laughed, allowing your lips to attempt a smile.

“You’re a lucky woman, Pepper Potts,” was all you could muster, jealousy laced each word that fell from your lips. The Starks had it all and they had each other, and part of you hated them for it.

“I know, Y/N,” Pepper spoke, her hand setting down the towel on the counter with force, “how many times do I have to say I’m sorry,” she was tired of your stubbornness, “I’ll say it as many times as you need me to Y/N, but it won’t bring him back,” she almost shouted, her eyes finally meeting the blank expression that sat on your face.

Placing your hands on the table’s cool wooden surface, you pushed out the wooden chair. Without a response, you left Pepper alone with her lingering words that still seemed to bounce around in your head.

Making your way into the living room you heard Tony close the door as Morgan’s small feet tapped against the wooden floor, “They didn’t even stay around for a hello,” you asked Tony, meeting his tired eyes. His hand traveled down his face from where he rubbed his temples.

“Time travel,” Tony laughed as his eyes found Morgan as she ran to your side, “those idiots want to mess with time travel,”

“Idiots,” Morgan snickered from behind you, making you smile.

“And it’s possible,” you asked with a spark of hope. Hope that began to claw its way up from the pit that weighed down your heart.

“I can’t risk it,” Tony whispered, his voice tense, “risk, this,” he gestured towards you and Morgan, “This was my chance,” he watched as you placed your hand on Morgan’s back, pushing her towards the kitchen, which she ran to willingly.

“Where’s my chance Stark,” your voice matched his tone but rang a little louder in the silent cabin, “my chance was left behind, when we let him snap his fingers,”

“Really,” Tony laughed, “because last time I checked, your chance,” he emphasized, recalling Peter’s outburst that he claimed was responsible for your loss, “did this to himself and half of the population,” Tony watched as you ran your fingers through your messy hair. Approaching him you almost laughed.

“You should be damn glad that you have Morgan,” you spoke through your teeth as you looked up at him, closing the space between the two of you that stood in the large room, “because if not, I’d kill you,” Turning, you left Tony and put on your best act for Morgan, telling her an early goodbye.

**

He did it.

You stared at Tony over an early cup of coffee by the lake. Tony Stark, the man who was famous for not having a heart made your heart begin to race.

“And if it doesn’t work,” you blurted, words spilling into your coffee. You met Tony’s tired eyes, his dark circles kept the two of you company.

“Well I can only hope you die trying,” Tony toyed. A pause fell between the two of you. The still lake rippling by your feet, “then again Morgan wouldn’t talk to me if you did,” he smiled against the thick rimmed mug, “so it looks like it has to work, because if it doesn’t,” Tony took a deep breath, the natural air filled his lungs, “she’ll never get to meet Uncle Star-Lord,” he breathed out, “and thanks for that,” Tony spoke cockily, brows furrowed. He had lived through countless months of Star-Lord’s name spilling out of Morgan’s mile-a-minute mouth.

“That’s just karma, Tony,” you smiled, this time your smile was genuine.

***

Suddenly your world came crumbling down.

Wiping your arm across your broken nose, blood stained your skin as tears began to wash it away. For once in your life, you were tired of fighting. Letting out a scream, you squeezed your way out of the building that came crashing down, and that is when you saw him. Standing besides all that was left of the Avengers, your eyes locked onto Thanos as he sat on the battlefield, almost looking defeated. 

Tony took in your current appearance. Your black shirt sporting more holes than usual as it sat under your black leather jacket. You had ripped the right sleeve in your attempt to free yourself from the Avengers Compound that had been destroyed around you, by Thanos, trapping you all inside. Your bare skin was covered in blood and bruises, “Where’s the stones,” Tony heard you ask, your throat trembled as you met his eyes.

“Somewhere under all this,” Tony gestured, “All I know is he doesn't have them,” he watched your chest heave, a sigh of relief flaring your bloody nostrils.

“Let’s keep it that way,” you told the three men that stood by your side, “are the others,” you swallowed, not wanting to accept the loss of anyone else you surrounded yourself with.

“Clawing their way out, they’ll be okay,” Steve assured you, attempting a smile as Thor placed his hand on your shoulder.

“They’ve seen worse,” the god spoke as a thunder crack echoed his words, “and I know for a fact, so have you” he joked, attempting to lighten the mood.

You and Thor had always gotten along since he struck the Milano. His charm and way of life captivated you, filling endless nights with interesting conversation. Nothing would have ever come between you and Thor, you were Peter’s and his alone. But something about the god sparked all of Peter’s insecurities.

“Let’s kill him properly this time,” Thor spoke, his cape draped against his armored skin. Heading towards Thanos, you were right by his side.

“As long as there are those that remember what was, there will always be those that are unable to accept what can be. They will resist,” Thanos laughed as he met your eyes, his head shook in disagreement.

“Yep. We're all kinds of stubborn,” Tony spoke, glad to have you by his side.

***

“On your left,” a familiar voice breaks the ringing of your ears. Lowering your shaking blaster, you turned your head to meet Cap’s eyes.

Behind Steve a golden portal appears. Its glowing motion captivates your attention as three figures appear through it. Okoye, Shuri, and Black Panther meet your eyes with relief as their gaze rises to Falcon who flies above their heads.

Falcon is illuminated by dozens of opening, golden rings. Tears sting your eyes and cut skin as they search desperately for your Star-Lord. Locking eyes with Doctor Strange as he descends through a large portal, and suddenly you feel your feet dragging you across the battlefield. Joining Strange, Drax, Mantis, Spider-Man appear, followed by Quill. Stumbling forward, you trip over your own two feet as your tears cloud your vision.

“Is that everyone,” Doctor Strange announces before a giant Ant-Man erupts through the fallen Compound. The ground shook as you looked up to find Professor Hulk, War Machine, and Rocket safe in Ant-Man’s grasp. A relieved laugh broke through your tears as you rose to your feet, your body and heart aching.

Your eyes found Tony as he approached Peter Parker. The two of you locked eyes as you smiled at him, tears cleaning your face of blood and dirt. Tony returned the smile as Parker began to ramble to him, but Tony’s gaze was still locked onto you. As if the world around you slowed down, you watched as Tony pulled Peter Parker into a tight hold.

Turning your head, you watched as Quill’s head turned in every direction, searching for any sign of you, dead or alive. 

Slowly, you backed away from the warm embrace that unfolded feet in front of you. Turning on your heels, you ran towards the back of the fight, forgetting about your aching limbs. The world around you turned into blurred shapes as your eyes stung from dirt and tears, “Peter,” you muttered, out of breath, only loud enough for you to hear. As if he could hear you, his blue eyes found yours.

Your pace slowed as Quill flew towards you, dropping to his feet as he neared your shaking figure, “Y/N,” he shouted. His words rang like a question, as if he was making sure this was not all a dream.

“Peter,” you cried, but for the first time in years, the tears you cried over him were filled with joy. His name was pushed out of your lungs as he embraced you, his body knocking you backwards as he held you in his strong arms.

His hands traveled across your body, as if he was making sure you really stood in front of him. His palms rested against your bruised cheeks as he took in how broken you really were, “Oh sweetheart,” he sighed as he peppered your skin in delicate kisses.

Each kiss hurt more than the last but your heavy heart lightened as you felt Quill in your grasp once again, “Please don’t go,” you whispered as you looked at him. The battlefield around you began to stir, danger approaching the two of you with every passing minute.

“I’ll be right by your side darling,” Quill whispered, planting a kiss on your bloody lips. He felt as you relaxed in his hold, your body melting against his own, “I’ll be fighting by your side, like always,” he assured you. Releasing your cheeks, he raised his hand. You watched as his blue eyes smiled at you before they were concealed by his mask, the glowing red eyes illuminated your face. This time, as Quill stared back at you, all of your wounds disappeared under the red lighting. He felt as you still tugged on his jacket, afraid to once again let him go. You wanted nothing more than to leave the others and to run off with him. Then you remembered all that Tony risked for you to have Quill standing before you after half a decade of him being gone.

“Okay,” you smiled, tears once again clouded your vision. You would stand your ground because in the end, you would be able to see Tony’s face as Morgan met Uncle Star-Lord.

***

You held Morgan in your arms as she buried her head in your neck, the black lace of your dress tickling the small girl’s face. You rubbed her back as Pepper spoke about the legacy and family Tony Stark had left behind, and how he had saved those who he had brought back. Turning your head you found the Guardians who stood farther back on the cabin’s lawn, meeting Quill’s eyes he gave you a soft smile.

On the day of Tony’s death a range of emotions flooded you. Being reunited with Quill fell short as soon as Tony snapped his fingers. Quill’s strong arms held you back as you watched Pepper pull Peter Parker away from Tony. Turning, Parker had found your eyes, falling against your chest he let out heavy sobs. 

Watching as Pepper spoke to Tony with a smile, regret replaced your sadness, Pepper Potts was no longer a lucky woman.

The clearing of a throat brought you back to reality, making you jump, Morgan bouncing in your grasp, “Peter,” his name escaped your lungs in a nervous tone, “sorry,” you smiled shyly, a few tears threatened to trail down your cheeks, “Morgan,” you whispered at the shy girl, her face still hidden, she was confused and almost too young to process what was going on, “Someone’s here to meet you,” you laughed, the threatening tears began to fall, “It’s Uncle Star-Lord,” you whispered in her ear. Suddenly, Morgan perked up, her head escaping your neck.

“Uncle Star-Lord,” Morgan questioned as she met Quill’s blue eyes, her hold tightening from where her arms draped around your neck. Shyness fell over the girl once again as Quill smiled back at her, approaching the two of you, knees bent, meeting Morgan at eye level.

“I heard someone has been pretending to be me when I was away,” Quill huffed, “it wouldn’t be you, now would it,” he watched as Morgan gave him a shy nod, a small smile pressed her lips closed, “so Star-Lord’s your favorite hero, huh,”

“Uhuh,” Morgan smiled, “Y/N’s the villain, and Star-Lord beats her,” she spilled, pretending to shoot her blasters.

“Y/N, a villain,” Quill asked with a smirk, his tone was sarcastic, “how did Star-Lord manage to get caught by a villain,” scooping Morgan out of your arms, you smiled, “Well if you’re Star-Lord, I guess I’ll have to be my favorite superhero,” Quill teased as he held the girl in his strong arms.

“Who’s that,” she asked, desperate to know her new Uncle’s interests. You sighed, knowing now that Quill was around, Morgan had a new favorite.

Quill looked at you, his eyes soft, a whisper left his lips, “Iron Man,” he spilled, “he’s the best superhero, no one can beat Iron Man,”

Morgan pouted her lip, “I want to be Iron Man,” she watched as Quill shook his head, “Uncle Star-Lord,” she whined.

“You win Iron Man,” Quill smiled, “Come on, let’s go get some snacks,” adjusting his hold on Morgan, he led her towards the house as Morgan pretended to fly. You watched as Quill disappeared, along with the others who stood on the cabin’s lawn. Suddenly, you were alone. 

The cabin sat quiet as you stood by the lake, remembering the moment Tony told you that saving everyone might just be possible. The moment he told you that Morgan would not know what to do if you did not make it back alive. Tears clouded your vision as you sat by the lake’s edge, at your feet floated Tony’s arc reactor.

In the distance you could hear Morgan and Quill’s voices as they called out for you.

[singtotheskiies]

an intervention was needed // thor x platonic!reader

request: Hey hey! I hope you're well & safe ☺️ can i request a fluffy but more platonic thor x reader, it's kinda specific: the reader is an asgardian and she's bff with Thor, basically like a sister. So he finally comes back to fight in Endgame after being depressed and shutting her out, and they reunite and there's a lot of feels and he just feels like a disappointment and a mess but she's like.. aw my sweet asgardian boi :( ill take care of u now, and oof i got carried away 😅 ty in advance hun!!

summary: after the fall of asgard, thor shut you out from his life completely. five years later, when that life is in danger, you take it upon yourself to fix things—if you are able.

words: 1497

warnings: infinity war/endgame spoilers, angst (sO much angst dude i never write it but this time,,,, i did), fluff at the end tho;)

a/n: i am SO sorry for the delay in writing this imagine—school has been very tough recently because teachers still feel the need to assign hours of work every day. however, this was a wonderful request, and i am absolutely loving writing, so please keep sending ‘em in!!! i love you all💕

✖✖✖

There were plenty of upsides to being Asgardian—increased reflexes and fighting skills, the ability to down enough liquor to make mortals stare, and of course your special power—the ability to heal physical wounds. Due to your fighting and healing abilities, the Avengers had taken you on as a valuable asset to their pursuit of justice. You had been on Midgard for a few years, now, and while it gave you great joy to be able to help, it was also the root of many of your problems.

You hadn’t been there when Asgard was ravaged by Thanos. Instead, you had been with the rest of the Avengers, discussing a possible threat in Seattle. You had felt the devastating pull in your gut that alerted you of something wrong in your home world. Instantly, you bolted to your feet, screaming for Heimdall to transport you so you could help in any way you can. You shouted your throat ragged, but you learned three unbearable days later that there was no more Bifrost tower and no Heimdall to defend it.

To make matters worse, you suffered not only the loss of your homeland, but also the presence of your best friend Thor. He had entered your room after those three days a broken shell of a man. You had tried to get through to him, to connect and mourn over your losses, but he had been nothing but cold to you.

“You cannot understand my grief,” he told you in a cold, distant voice you could barely recognize as his own.

“We are both Asgardians, Thor!” you cried. “We mourn for the same land—the land of our fathers and mothers before us.”

“And where were you when that land needed your help?” he snarled, turning and glaring at you.

“I screamed Heimdall’s name for an hour,” you spat indignantly, tears beginning to burn their way down your cheeks. “No one was there, it wasn’t my fault!”

“I had to watch my own brother die,” Thor choked, unable to control the tears welling up in his own eyes. “Thanos murdered him like he was merely an insect—but he was my brother. Do you have any idea—“

“Loki was also an acquaintance of mine, and I view his loss with no small sorrow. I cannot imagine the pain you must feel, my friend.”

“Friend,” Thor spat. “I hardly think so.”

“Please, Thor, rid yourself of this anger—I do not recognize you.”

“Perhaps it is for the better.”

With that, he spun Mjolnir and flew to gods-knew-where. You were so numb that it took you hours to notify Tony of the gaping hole through the building.

✖✖✖

You stood stock-still, emotions swirling from shock to embarrassment to pure confusion as you took in the man in front of you. He hadn’t shown his face on Earth the whole five years, and you were completely shocked at what he had done to himself. “Thor?” you breathed. “Why are you—um—well—“

He looked down his nose at you, tilting his sunglasses down with the hand that wasn’t holding a can of beer. Squinting, he tried to realize who he was speaking to. His realization was so slow that you could literally see it blooming across his features. When he recognized it was you, he merely turned around, mumbling something about wanting a Bloody Mary. You stared blankly after him as he stumbled out of the room, your mouth hanging open.

“Not sure what happened there,” Steve said as he came up behind you. “Clearly he hasn’t been taking things well.”

“Yes, I can see that,” you managed.

“Are you doing okay? I know you guys had a fight of some kind the last time he was here.”

“Yes, yes. I’m going to see if I can talk to him and find out what’s going on,” you decided. “He cannot fight like this.”

“I agree,” Steve said, wishing you luck as he left to confer with Natasha.

Although you tried, you had no luck throughout the day in getting Thor alone—mostly due to the fact that you were in meetings nearly constantly, and he seemed to be in a drunken stupor for every single one. It was sort of the elephant in the room for everybody, and you could tell more than a few of them were wondering if he was even capable of fighting in this state. Even you had your doubts about your former friend, so you decided to take matters into your own hands.

As it happened, you didn’t get your chance until late that night, when most of the Avengers were in their rooms thinking about the subjects of the day’s meetings. Taking a deep breath, you set your jaw resolutely and made your way through the numerous corridors to Thor’s room. Your heart pounded, but you furrowed your brow defiantly. You were Asgardian, and you definitely had the strength to help Thor out of—whatever this was.

At least, you hoped so.

You knocked on the door and were met with silence for several moments. Raising your knuckles, you were just about to repeat your action when you heard a faint mumble.

“‘s there?”

“It’s me.” You inhaled deeply, praying you wouldn’t be electrocuted on the spot. There was another, even longer silence, before—

“C’me in.” You were floored at his response, but recovered and turned the doorknob softly. The sight you were met with broke your heart.

Thor sat on the floor, leaning against his bed with tears tracking their way down his face and into his beard. Cans of alcohol littered the floor, and you could smell the sickly-sweet stench from where you stood. You forgot the five years of silence in an instant and rushed to his side, sitting down next to him.

“Thor?” you managed, and he turned his tear-filled eyes on you. As he took in your worried face, his own crumpled and he began to sob anew, nearly falling into you as you wrapped your arms around him. You simply let him cry for a while, rubbing soothing circles on his back with your thumbs. Eventually, he sat back up, his motions slow and sad. “What is it?” you ask.

“Seeing my brother die—my home laid waste—how do I move past that? How can I live knowing what has happened? I was unable to save Loki or Asgard,” he said, his words falling with deadly conviction. His voice lowered even more as he finished. “I couldn’t—I couldn’t even save myself.”

“Oh, Thor,” you whispered. These five years must have been pure hell for him. His eyes were tortured as they looked into yours, and without thinking, you took his hand as you spoke.

“What you have witnessed will no doubt haunt you for the rest of your life. I say now as I did five years ago that while I mourn with you, I cannot fathom how deep your sorrow must be. I can tell it has plagued you these last five years, and I only wish I had tried to fix things earlier. Thor, you could not have done anything more to save our world and everyone in it. You may be a god, but that does not mean you do not have limits. You fought hard, my friend. And I am proud of you. I am.” He was watching you intently as you spoke, tears renewing themselves as you went on.

“But this—“ You motioned to the alcohol scattered around the room. “This is not like you. You do not deserve to fade away into nothing, brought down by your own devices. Instead, you must take your grief and rage and use it as motivation, use it to heal. Only then can you find within yourself what you so desperately need. And I will be here every step of the way to help you through.”

Thor’s eyes overflowed again, but this time you could sense relief radiating off him. He drew you in for another hug, and you held him tight, knowing this is what he had needed to hear all this time. “Thank you, my friend,” he whispered in your ear.

“I am happy to do it, Thor. I would do anything to help you,” you told him sincerely.

“I must also apologize from the depths of my heart for shutting you out. The only thing my actions accomplished was create more hurt for both of us. I needed you by my side and instead I pushed you away.”

“It was only natural, Thor. You were grieving and were unsure of how to handle yourself. All is forgiven now,” you said, smiling at him. “Now, if you feel able, shall we go to the kitchen? I find that Midgardian food is most helpful in times like these.” You stood up, extending a hand to him.

And for the first time in five years, Thor felt hope coursing through him and found that he, too, was able to smile.

[moonstruckbucky]

Always Been Yours [one-shot]

Summary: In which Steve knows more than he lets on.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader, former Steve Rogers x fem!Reader

Warnings: Light smut 18+, some post-Endgame angst, sadness, heartbreak, fluff

Notes: I’ve been wanting to write something post-Endgame, and I know there’s a lot of these out there, but who cares? We all have feelings after Endgame. Enjoy, kiddos. There’s some light smut in the beginning, and some more further down the line, but this is not PWP. But still you should be 18+.

You’d known what he was going to do before he’d even uttered the words, “Can we talk?” Steve Rogers is nothing if not totally predictable in the most selfless of ways, and even as he sits you down, takes your hands with that resigned, contemplative look on his face, you figure he deserves a little selfishness after so many years of self-sacrifice.

“It’s her, isn’t it?” you begin before he can choke out the words he knows will break your heart. There’s no crack in your voice, no sign that you’re a breath away from breaking, but there is an ache deep in your chest. Your smile is sad but wistful when he nods, ducking his head to avoid your eyes. “That trip through the Quantum Realm really did a number on you, didn’t it?”

Steve sighs, keeps your fingers locked between his as he sits back against the couch of the living room.

“I’ve never felt like I belonged in this time, you know that.” You nod. His eyes glaze over a bit, lost as he is in his memories. “I thought when Peggy…died, eight years ago, that was it. It was easy to…move on, so to speak, and then I met you, and you only made it easier, and I’ll always be grateful for that, for you.

But…seeing her, when we went back to 1970, knowing there was a chance I…I can’t lose her again.”

But you can lose me, your mind fills in, embittered by the statement even though you’ve seen this coming. You brush it away; you’ll have time to mourn your relationship later. For now, you can’t be selfish.

“Then you need to do what’s going to make you happy.” Your voice cracks this time, pressure building fast behind your eyes as your heart seems to finally get with the program. Steve looks at you, and his own eyes brim with tears.

His fingers are warm and soft over the backs of your hands and they skim up your arms to your neck, pull you close so you can press your foreheads together and breathe the same air, one more time. He squeezes his eyes closed and a glistening drop slips free, trailing down his face in a slow river, and another one quickly follows.

“Come on now, Cap,” you murmur, thumbs brushing the wetness away even as you swallow back a sob. His jaw wobbles with the effort of holding himself back, eyes pinching even more tightly closed.

His mouth is firm, demanding against yours when he pushes forward that extra inch. He tastes of his tears, salty sweet, and his weight is welcome when it presses you back into the couch. It’s a slow race to lose your clothing, hands inching slow across naked torsos to memorize every last detail. His hair is soft where it glides through your fingers as he pulls you apart with his mouth, his fingers, and finally the heavy heat of his cock as he slides into you in one deep, slow roll of his narrow hips.

The entire coupling is slow, torturous because you know it’s the end, but no less earth-shattering when he drops his entire weight, tucks his arms under your legs and angles his hips just there. White light flashes behind your eyes, your sobbing moan swallowed by his mouth as he kisses you, open-mouthed, hot, wet, all-consuming. It’s always like this between you and Steve, electric like a rogue powerline, stagnant static electricity threatening to black out the whole city. 

You just click.

Sweaty and sated, you lay tangled together against the plush couch, Steve’s head on your chest. There are no words between you, no need for them in the stillness of the room. Under Steve’s ear your heart is racing; you know he hears it, super serum or not, but he says nothing.

There’s nothing to say to calm it down. It’s a resignation between you, a knowledge that while you’ll love each other always, you’re just not meant to be.

You go with him to the quantum platform. Sam and Bucky give the two of you a minute, and it’s hard to keep yourself together. You thought you’d done all of your crying the week prior, but it seems you still have tears to cry for your Captain. Dr. Banner stands behind the controls, waiting patiently while Steve gathers his gear.

He finally turns to you, a quiet sadness about him, but there’s peace as well. Excitement even, to reunite with his soulmate. And how could you possibly fault him for that? You discreetly wipe under your eyes when he closes the distance between you, tucking an arm around your back to pull you to his broad chest. Your fingers curl into the folds of his suit and you sigh shakily. Pinch your eyes shut when his lips touch your forehead softly, lovingly.

Again, no words are needed, as a million pass between your gazes.

You step back, shuffle your feet while Steve converses briefly with Sam, even more briefly with Bucky. He embraces his old friend, and you lock eyes with Bucky over Steve’s shoulder. Your heart thuds heavily; this is just as painful for Bucky as it is for you.

He’s solid beside you, his flesh hand clasped tightly with yours when Steve steps onto the platform. The QR materializes, stark white in the sunshine. Mjolnir in his grasp, he nods to the three of you watching, Bucky and you sporting similar wet, sad smiles.

When he’s gone, you turn to press your face into Bucky’s shoulder, hiccuping as his arm curls around yours. Sam and Dr. Banner bicker behind you, trying to figure out how to get him back when the machine only hisses, and Bucky turns to lead you away, still smiling sadly.

You stumble when he stops suddenly, his mouth next to your ear as he says, “Hey, look.”

Lifting your eyes, they find a lone figure sitting beside the lake.

“Sam,” you croak.

Your throat closes, chest tightens when Steve, a much older, more wrinkly version, passes the shield to Sam. He takes it, reluctantly at first, looking to Bucky and you for support. You smile softly as Bucky nods; Steve had informed you of his desire to pass the shield on. At first, he’d chosen Bucky, but after speaking to the former Winter Soldier, realized the shield would be better suited to Sam. He made you promise to support Sam as you had supported him, keep him in line but not let him buckle under the Captain America mantle.

It’d been all too easy to say yes.

Weeks later, the three of you have established a balance between one another. Bucky and Sam continue to bicker, but there’s a deeper respect and understanding between them.

The renovated Avengers compound is quiet now, despite the presence of the three of you, plus Wanda, Dr. Banner, Rhodey, and occasionally Peter. Tony’s absence is felt heavily every day, the lack of classic rock a sore reminder of the price paid for freedom, for life. Nat’s room hasn’t been touched by anyone, but sometimes you sit on her bed, talk as if she’s still there with you. The pillows have lost her fresh, spicy scent, but being in her space is comfort enough.

Sam has taken on the Captain America name well. He isn’t as bossy as Steve, but he keeps the rest of you in top shape. He’s reformulated your training routines, improved simulations, and insists upon Team Building Night once a week to keep morale up. It works, kind of. Wanda occasionally dips out and you hardly ever see Clint, not that you blame him. Everything about the compound reflects on the losses you’ve suffered, the people missing from your lives, the holes they’ve left behind.

You struggle to cope some days, the pain of missing Nat’s snark, Tony’s insight, egotistical and brash but no less welcoming, Steve’s arms around you, too sharp to ignore. He and Peggy live upstate, and though you’ve been invited, it’s been hard to go visit. It’s still fresh, and you know he doesn’t take offense to your reluctance to see him. You still need time. 

But not too much, considering it seems to have caught up with Steve.

Bucky and Sam visit him regularly, taking monthly trips out to catch up with him. They always bring your regards with them when they do.

Despite his best efforts, Bucky struggles with Steve’s absence too. Having been gone for five years, only to lose his best friend to their long-lost former lifetime, hasn’t been easy for him. You hear him sometimes at night, wailing and sobbing in his sleep, when you yourself can’t seem to find any rest. Most nights you will yourself to go to him, but you can’t bring yourself to move.

The two of you have navigated the road to recovery together, having lost in ways different from the others. Bucky is still weak under the weight of not having apologized to Tony before he… You know it haunts him still, despite your and Sam’s best efforts to alleviate it. But Bucky’s nothing if not incredibly stubborn, just like Steve, and he still holds himself accountable for the falling out between Tony and Steve, the rift that was never completely repaired.

The connection between you and Bucky has grown stronger, deeper, but still you can’t let yourself get too close. Not again. Least of all to Steve’s best friend. It feels like a betrayal, even though Steve had…left you. It sounds too harsh in your mind, insinuating you hadn’t had a choice in the matter. You suppose, if you flipped it, you hadn’t. Steve had his mind made up before having the respect to talk to you, and there would be no talking him out of it. 

God, you miss him. Had he been here, you wouldn’t be playing this balancing act of ‘should-I-shouldn’t-I’ with his best friend. The lingering touches under the guise of comfort, the furtive glances when the other isn’t looking. It’s there, you both know it is, but neither of you is brave enough to reach out and take it.

You don’t know if either of you ever will be.

Is this where you were bound to end up? Longing for your ex-lover’s best friend while the memory of said ex is still so fresh? The pain of his leaving still able to steal the breath from your lungs? More than once, these thoughts have triggered anxiety attacks, crippling bouts of rapid breathing, a racing heart, blood rushing in your ears, and white noise in your head. The others have found you in such states before, but you’ve kept quiet about the triggers. What would they think?

You set aside your Stark pad with a relieved sigh; finally, you’ve finished your latest mission report to hand in to Sam. It’s only ...six hours late. Oh well. You submit it, lock the pad, and crack your knuckles. Your back pops when you arch in the chair, groaning at the relief from sitting for so long. You could have been done earlier, but your mind had wandered, as it tends to when you’re feeling particularly fragile.

It’s three months today since Steve left. Left only to return having lived an entirely new life with a woman who wasn’t you. You run a hand through your hair. You’ve been seeing a therapist, at the advisory of Sam who claims it would be unprofessional to be both your counselor and your Captain. You’d feel more comfortable with him, but, Captain’s orders.

Your therapist, anyway, has told you it’s healthy to go back and forth between anger, hurt, grief, and denial of feelings. You’re still struggling heavily with that last one, but according to Dr. Hamlin, you’ve made progress. It doesn’t quite feel like it yet, but you guess that’s your denial talking.

It’s close to dinner time, and it’s you, Bucky, and Wanda in the compound. Sam has taken Rhodey and Peter off on a mission, strictly intel, leaving the three of you to wander about. You’ve barely seen Wanda; she hasn’t been doing so well with her coping as she lets on. Bypassing her room even now, you hear her quiet sniffles and you frown, heart hurting for your friend and her seemingly unending grief.

You knock lightly, and moments later you hear the lock slide into place. You don’t take offense; Wanda’s far less open with reaching out to people, though as of late you haven’t been feeling very personable either. You move on.

Bucky’s door is cracked open, and without thought you push it open, saying, “Hey Buck, you hungry?”

Your voice dies in your throat when you take in Bucky, standing with his bare, broad back to you. Your throat goes dry when he turns his head to glance at you over his shoulder, his chestnut hair falling in his face. His vibranium arm gleams under the lighting of his room, gunmetal grey streaked with shimmering gold. Where it joins with his shoulder is smooth skin. Still scarred, but no longer angry and red. His time in Wakanda had taught him of salves from plants that could, more or less, heal his scarring.

He’s a sight, and you wonder just why it’s taken you so long to realize it.

But he’s off-limits, or so you’ve convinced yourself.

Your face flames when he turns fully to face you, the sight of his bared, sculpted torso setting your blood on fire. You clear your throat quietly, avert your eyes in some semblance of dignity.

“Sorry, the door was open,” you mutter, praying he can’t detect the slight tremor in your voice.

“‘S’ok, doll.” You swallow, stomach clenching at the pet name. “What were you saying?”

There’s a rustle, and his pale, beautiful skin is hidden behind a dark t-shirt. Thank god. He’s dressed in dark jeans, feet bare, and there’s something so comfortingly domestic about it that it makes your heart melt. You know Bucky’s had a hard time adapting to life in the compound, in the building Tony built, but you’re glad he seems to be making headway in at least that regard.

“Was gonna ask if you were hungry,” you offer. As if it can hear you, Bucky’s stomach grumbles, and the tension that had just suffocated the room is gone. The two of you share small laughs.

“You cooking?” he questions, sliding his feet into a pair of slippers. It makes you grin, the notion of the once-feared Winter Soldier in slippers too ridiculous.

“Sure. What are you in the mood for?”

Dinner consists of all the Sunday fixings, at Bucky’s request. Roasted chicken, potatoes, green beans, gravy, and fresh biscuits over glasses of red. All the tension from earlier is gone, and if you let the wine get to your head, the closeness and intimacy of cooking and eating together almost feels like a date.

The way Bucky’s eyes glitter in the low lighting of the kitchen takes your breath away, and you have to busy your hands with pouring two more glasses before they do something stupid. But your fingers brush when you hand him his glass, and your eyes lock again. It’s back, that god awful tension that leaves you teetering on the edge of ‘do-I-don’t-I’. You can’t look away from him, the storm blue-grey of his eyes pulling you in like an undertow, threatening to drown you. 

Bucky’s movements are slow as he sets down his glass and rises from the island, stepping around it to press in close to you. He towers over you, but it makes you feel…safe, secure. Your heart is a wild horse in your chest, galloping a beat so fast it threatens to make you pass out. But then Bucky’s hands are on you, flesh on your waist and gunmetal grey gingerly cupping your jaw, and it grounds you again long enough to see his pupils dilate just a fraction.

His scent and warmth surround you as he leans in, movement still slow to give you the chance to back out, but you’re cemented in place. You’re tired of denying your feelings, so tired of it, but when Bucky’s lips are just a whisper away, you picture Steve in your mind’s eye, and whatever spell has fallen over the two of you is broken.

You know Bucky can see the minute he loses you, the wall that seems to go up behind your eyes as you clear your throat and force yourself out of his arms and out of reach. In return, his posture straightens, body going rigid as he attempts to ice you out too. It hurts more than you expect, but you’re the one at fault, putting distance between you when it’s obvious there should be none.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper quietly in the tense silence. “I-I can’t.”

Bucky barely manages a nod before he’s sweeping out of the kitchen in a dark flurry. You hear the sound of the elevator, and once you’re alone, your heart sinks to your stomach. The wine is tart as you gulp it down, cursing your stupid head and stupid heart for confusing you so all the time.

You get wine-drunk by yourself, making a split decision to spend the night in Nat’s room. More than ever, you miss coming to her when you can’t make sense of yourself. You sit against the headboard, cheeks shining with tears you’re tired of holding back. You hug her pillow to your lap, talking quietly into the empty room. The windows are open, ruffling her curtains and it almost feels like a weight settles beside you on the bed. She’s here in spirit, you know, but it makes you cry harder.

“I miss you so much, Natasha,” you sob, face buried in the pillow as your bottle of red sits forgotten on the nightstand.

You seek out Sam when he’s back from his mission. Bucky and you have spent the past two days awkwardly dancing around one another, never able to hold eye contact before one of you looks away. It’s painful, tearing into your heart like a blade and twisting until you’re gasping for breath.

Sam is in his office, and he waves you in with a grin, though it falters a bit when he takes in your expression.

“I need you, Sam,” you tell him honestly. “Sam the VA counselor, though, not Cap.”

He must see the toll whatever is on your mind is taking on you because any protest he might’ve had dies on his tongue. You tell him everything, your guilt, your feelings for Bucky but the betrayal you feel towards Steve. It sounds like nonsense when you blurt it all out, but Sam seems to make sense of it. Must be the counselor in him.

He understands, he tells you, has seen this coming a mile away and you’re confused. 

“It was bound to happen. The two of you share a loss that means a great deal to both of you. It’s natural for you to grow closer over it, to develop feelings. I know you think you’re betraying Steve by loving Bucky, but I assure you, you aren’t. Steve knew what he was doing, and even though he hurt you, he knew you were meant for someone else. Steve wants you to be happy, Y/N, so you need to let yourself be happy. You’ll always have your love for Steve, but you can keep him in your heart and make room for someone else.”

You eye him warily when he pauses. “Why are you all the sudden Bucky’s number one cheerleader?”

Sam huffs. “Look, Tin Man and I might not always get along, but we trust and respect each other. The two of you are my best friends, and I want both of you to be happy. If that’s with each other, I’m all for it. Y’all gonna have to keep the moon eyes on the low, though.”

You laugh wetly, your eyes having brimmed on their own accord with tears of both happiness and sadness. Sadness for letting go of Steve, or starting to, and happiness for having the support of your best friend. He hugs you tightly to him, kisses your temple softly, and wishes you luck.

Bucky’s in the gym, or so FRIDAY tells you, and you make your way there immediately. He’s wailing on a punching bag, hair tied back, and shirtless. Great. As if it wasn’t difficult enough admitting your feelings, you now have to face his Greek-god physique to do it.

He pauses mid-swing when he sees you enter the gym, slows the bag for a moment before his jaw clenches and he resumes his routine. You walk over to him slowly, shyly, feeling nausea bubbling in your stomach. He still doesn’t look at you even as you step up beside the bag.

“Bucky?” you question softly, but still he refuses to look at you. Gritting your teeth, you stop the bag and he just manages to stop his fist mid-jab. He glares hard at you, but you stand firm against the heat of the Winter Soldier. “Bucky.”

“What?” he snaps, whirling away from you to wipe nonexistent sweat from his forehead. He’s nervous, pacing back and forth because he can’t stand still.

“I’m sorry. The other night, I’m sorry,” you plead. Bucky’s pacing pauses and then resumes. You growl quietly. “God, will you stop pacing and listen to me?!”

“Why?” He rounds on you, voice rising in anger, in hurt you realize, and his eyes are blazing. “So you can reject me to my face? No need. I got the picture. Loud and clear.”

He spins away from you, vibranium hand diving into his hair to muss up the bun he’s tied it in.

“That’s not why I’m here,” you tell him thickly. God, you really need to stop crying all the damn time. “I shouldn’t have walked away, Bucky. Not from you. I was scared and confused of what I was feeling for you, what I feel for you.”

Bucky looks at you, finally, and any other words you may have wanted to say die on your tongue. The blue in his eyes is so rich, so bright, it pulls you in as if it has its own orbit. Of their own accord your hands reach up to lay on his bare chest, tiny coarse hairs tickling your palms. Beneath, his heart races, but he doesn’t look away.

Surprisingly, you feel no fear when you whisper, “I love you Bucky. I’m in love with you.”

There’s a moment where you worry, just for a second, but then Bucky’s kissing you and the world seems to right itself. He’s all-encompassing warmth, arms winding tightly around you to haul you up against his chest. You sigh into his mouth and the warm wet of his tongue slides along the seam of your lips. Willingly, you open underneath him, whimper in the back of your throat when he presses harder against you.

Your hands dive into his hair, winding the strands around your fingers and tug gently. He rumbles into your mouth and it brings goosebumps to your skin. His chest is hot against yours, and the longer he kisses you, the more you long to be pressed skin to skin. Your lungs burn, but you can’t bring yourself to pull away just yet. He’s far too addicting, and now that you’ve started, you’re not sure you’ll ever stop.

But he does, pulls away just enough so you can both pull in deep lungfuls of air. A silent conversation passes between you, and then you’re moving, taking the elevator to his floor, and he crowds you into his room. He kisses you softly but deeply, tilting your head back to fully devour you. It leaves your knees weak and you sag against him, brace against his chest to keep yourself upright. 

His hands come up to frame your face and he breaks away just an inch.

“Tell me you’re sure, doll,” he whispers hoarsely, eyes wide and shining and so full of need it shakes you. 

“I’ve never been more sure,” you reply honestly. You groan when he slams his mouth to yours again, heady and demanding and urging you to bend. You become pliant in his hands, allowing him to strip you away until you’re bare in front of him.

He can’t take his eyes off you, trailing them up and down in slow repetition, as if he can’t believe you’re real. A flush breaks out across your neck and down your chest, and you reach for him. Bucky hisses when your fingers dip into the band of his sweats, jerk down to pool them at his feet. He’s bare underneath, and by god, does he take your breath away.

Your heart pounds as you trace the lines of his body, relishing in his shuddering inhale when you circle his nipples with your nails. Eyes fluttering up to his, you lean forward and trace the same path with your lips, tongue, and teeth. At his sides his fists clench with restraint. He lets you explore his body, knowing he’ll have the chance to do the same.

He chokes on a breath when you lower yourself to your knees, eyes widening at his stiff cock nestled between those sinful thighs. He’s velvet over steel, hot and heavy in your hand when you wrap your fingers around him. He groans, hips jutting forward just a bit, and he thinks he’s going to come when your tongue swipes at his sensitive head, laps at the bead of precum at the tip.

“My my, Bucky,” you taunt, peering up at him from under your lashes. His jaw muscles work as he grits his teeth. “I’ve barely touched you and look at you.”

He nearly chokes on his spit. The mouth on you. A long, low moan rips from his throat when you take him into the heat of your mouth. He thinks he might’ve died and gone to heaven with how perfect you feel around him, taking him inch by inch. White-hot pleasure races through his system, sets his heart to pounding as you take him to the back of your throat and swallow.

“Christ.” His hands fly to your hair, stilling you momentarily, and he thinks you look so goddamn beautiful like this. Mouth stretched around his cock and eyes glistening.

Slowly he guides you back and forth along his length, his hips thrusting into your mouth. Your hands brace on his thighs, nails scraping along the skin, and when you moan around him, he has to pull you off before this is over before it’s even started.

You moan again when he kisses you, relishes in the tang of himself on your tongue. He hoists you into his arms and carries you to his bed. You flop against the pillows and sigh when he cages you in with his massive body. You’re warm, safe, secure, and so utterly in love you think you might cry. Especially when he stares down at you with a loving adoration that makes your heart stutter in your chest.

“Tell me again,” he murmurs, closing his eyes as he lowers his forehead to yours. “Tell me.”

“I love you,” you sigh, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I love you so much, Bucky.”

He kisses you hard but so full of love it threatens to burst your heart. His metal hand supports his weight as his flesh hand drifts down your body, plies your legs open to find you hot, wet, and ready for him.

“Jesus, doll,” he curses, dipping a finger just inside your opening. You sigh, drop your head back onto the pillow as he learns your body, figures out how to play you like a fiddle. It’s beautiful torture, the slide of his fingers inside you.

When he curls them, you keen at the jolt of pleasure that zings up your spine. “Bucky!”

With a new kind of vigor he brings you to the edge embarrassingly fast, stroking your inner walls until you’re clenching around his digits and seeing stars. He laps at the skin of your neck, finds your pulse point and bites down. Shivers when you moan lowly and reach for him.

“Please, Bucky,” you beg in a broken whisper. Your eyes are hooded in pleasure, a sight he’s not sure he’ll ever forget. “I need you.”

It’s all the reassurance he needs as he grips himself, slides his head through your wet and quivering folds. You shakily inhale and meet Bucky’s eyes when he looks up from where you’re about to be joined.

“I love you,” he declares and sinks inside you in one long thrust. Your mouth drops open and he drops his neck to your neck, gasping at the tight velvet of your cunt as he bottoms out. He has to take a minute to adjust both himself and you, and then he moves.

Bucky’s a softer lover than Steve, but it’s no less all-consuming. He surrounds you, laces his fingers with yours and hikes your legs up around his waist as he pumps a slow but hard rhythm. He could listen to your moans for the rest of his life, taste the salty slick of your skin where your neck meets your shoulder, feel you fluttering around him as you near your peak.

He thrusts harder when the heels of your feet dig into his ass, feeling that burning at the base of his spine. He’s close, but he wants you there with him. He shifts suddenly, sits back on his calves and pulls you into his lap so that you’re pressed chest to chest. You’re breathing the same air as he moves you over his length.

“Look at me, doll,” he moans, leaning forward when you do to kiss you deeply. He arches your hips to grind your clit against his pelvis, and you’re nearly there.

“Bucky, god, please!” you whimper, crying out when his metal hand cups your breast, thumbing over your nipple before it’s engulfed in the heat of his mouth. He laps at it with his tongue, and it sends you reeling, spiraling into oblivion with your mouth open in a silent scream.

He comes right behind you, a long groan of your name as he stutters his hips and spills inside you. It’s a long come down for the both of you. He lowers you gently to your back, drawing a hiss from you as he slips out of you. Immediately he pulls you into him, tucking your head under his chin and tightening his arms around you.

It’s quiet between you for a while, basking in the glow of your lovemaking.

“You think he knew?” you ask sometime later. Bucky’s trailing fingers on your spine pause and then continue. “When he was leaving, what would happen between us?”

Bucky sighs through his nose before nuzzling it against your hair. “I feel like that punk knew a lot he didn’t let everyone in on.”

You giggle. “He was wise in his old age, wasn’t he?”

“Careful, doll, you’re talking to a fossil, here,” he chides playfully. You lean back to look up at him.

“My fossil,” you murmur, pushing forward to press your lips to his. He hums contently.

“Always been yours, doll.”

[silverarmedassassin]

Come Back to Me // Part One

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 1760

Warnings: Mentions of a car accident, traumatic brain injury, and memory loss. this is going to be pretty angst heavy throughout. 

A/N: Here she is! A lot more people were interested in this than I thought there would be, which really helped motivate and inspire me to get some writing done! So THANK YOU! I also had a few requests to be tagged, so I’m starting a tag list for this series! Let me know if you’d like to be added! I’ve never done a tag list before, so bear with me as I figure it out. 

Thanks for reading! Feedback is welcome :) 

Come Back to Me Masterlist // Masterlist 

Waking up is unpleasant. The distant sound of beeping and deep breathing lure you into consciousness, and the sharp pain radiating through your head helps to clear the fog clouding your mind. There's a strong, sterile scent of antiseptic stinging your nostrils, and your right wrist is throbbing.

Despite the effort it takes, you manage to open your eyes just enough for them to be burnt by a blinding light above you. Turning your head slightly to your left, towards the breathing, you slowly open your eyes again. A softer, more pleasant sight greets you this time. Through groggy, unadjusted vision, you make out a broad mass of a man sitting close to the bed. His soft snoring was making the chestnut locks around his face sway with every exhale.

You sit for a moment staring at the sleeping man trying to make your brain catch up. Where were you? Why were you there? And who was this man? You’re about to open your mouth and try to speak when the door to the room opens.

Another man, blonde and just as broad, appears. His back is to you as he shoves the door open with his shoulders.

“Hey, Buck,” he begins to say as he turns. “I brought some coffee an-" He cuts off when he sees you conscious. "Hey! You’re awake!”

The brunette startles, then, and sits upright. The blonde deposits the box and cardboard cup holder he’d been carrying on the roll-away table next to your bed. “Why didn’t you call me, Buck?”

The blonde turns his attention back to you, a smile on his all-too-familiar face. “Hey, how're you feeling," he asks softly.

He seems kind and gentle, perhaps a little too caring towards someone he doesn’t know. You can tell by his clothes he's not your doctor, but you feel drawn to trust him anyway.

“Where…” You try, but your voice comes out like a croak, your throat scratching and burning from prolonged disuse. The blonde jumps to action immediately, pouring you a cup of water from the pitcher nestled on the counter across from your bed.

“You’re in the medical wing at the Compound,” he says as he hands you the cup. When you don’t have the reaction he was looking for, he turns to look at the brunette before continuing. “Do you know what happened? Know why you’re here?”

You shake your head, growing more confused and agitated with the questions and throbbing behind your eyes. Answers would be great, but all you want is to lean back and go to sleep.

The blonde crouches down to bed-level now, the lightheartedness of his features bunching up into concern. “Do you know who I am?”

You work to better focus your eyes so you can study his face. His blonde hair is cropped with military precision, worry lines creasing his once soft complexion. His blue eyes dance with worry and confusion, but there’s something soft there, too. You spend a few moments more studying his face when something inside your fuzzy brain clicks.

“You’re Captain America. Ste-Steve Rogers,” you say timidly.

Relief washes across Steve’s face as he nods and smiles brightly. “Yea! That's good. What about him?” He motions to the brunette, who's been motionless and quiet since Steve came in.

You look over the man’s features like you had Steve. You study the way his dark hair falls in waves around his face and how his face seems to be permanently turned down in a scowl. His eyes, blue like his companion’s, are cold, sad, and almost desperate. For you to remember? For you to not?

You shake your head when the face doesn’t trigger a memory or a name. He looks familiar, but not in the way Steve had. You’re sure you’ve never met this man.

“No, I’m sorry.”

At least, you don't think you know him. Not until you see it. The brunette shifts closer to you and reaches his left hand out. It’s metal and, when he moves, the plates shift and glide to adjust.

The Winter Soldier.

“Honey…” The words die on his lips as he watches your reaction to his movement. He follows your wide gaze down to his outstretched metal palm. You stiffen, shift away as best as you can among the wires and bandages covering your body. He closes his hand into a fist and brings it back to his body in an attempt to hide it from you.

“Wh-why is he here,” you ask, panic-filled eyes finding Steve’s. The Soldier, Bucky you recall Steve calling him, flinches at your words. You can hear the scraping of metal as he clenches his fist tighter.  

The incessant beeping that had fallen into the background is now stronger and a lot louder. You recognize the sound of the heart monitor as it keeps time with your increasing heart-rate.

"Captain Rogers," a disembodied Irish lilted voice chimes through the room, startling you even more. "Ms. Y/L/N's heart rate and blood pressure have risen to a dangerous level for her condition. Shall I notify Dr. Banner?"

"Don't worry about it, F.R.I.D.A.Y. I’ll get him," Bucky says as he stands. "I was on my way out."

"Buck," Steve says as he reaches out for his friend to no avail. As you watch Bucky's broad form disappear from the doorway, you feel yourself automatically relax back into the bed.

>>>

Bucky didn't stray too far from your room once you were joined by Dr. Banner. Much to Bucky's chagrin, Bruce had insisted he and Steve leave so he could ask you some questions and evaluate your wounds in private.

Steve had reassured Bucky that nothing was going to happen to you if he stepped away for a while, but he'd rather not risk it. That's why he spent the duration of your time with Bruce pacing back and forth in front of your room.

In hindsight, Bruce wasn't sharing any information Bucky didn't already know. Since it was apparent you didn't remember what happened to bring you to the Compound, Banner was most likely filling you in on the details. You'd been in a car accident caused by some asshole who decided that texting his girlfriend back was more important than watching the road.

When they'd got the call that you were en route to the closest hospital, it was Tony who’d insisted that you were immediately transferred into Banner's care at the Compound. There were very few dumb enough to fight with a Stark, so the president of the hospital agreed to release you into his care as soon as you were looked over by the trauma center.

On the surface, everything appeared to be intact. The fractured right wrist, broken ribs, and countless scraps and bruises up and down your body aside, you were in decent condition. But internally, things got tricky.

A CT scan alerted doctors to the real dangers of your accident - severe brain swelling and internal bleeding. It wasn't anything Banner hadn't seen before, but neither condition was necessarily a good diagnosis, even with Avenger-level treatment plans.

Bucky had to admit it was horrifying seeing all the wires, tubes, and cords coming out of you as you lay unconscious for almost a week. Bruce had promised that medically inducing a coma was the best option for you at the time, but Bucky began to question it when you started getting poked and prodded. It was a sight that was going to be forever burned into his already fragile mind.

"You're going to put a hole in the floor if you keep this up," Steve said from where he was sitting. Bucky knew his best friend was just as worried about you as he was, but it grated on his nerves how calm he was being in the moment.

"Steve, she doesn't recognize me. I'm pretty sure she only sees me as the Soldier right now." Bucky turned to his friend, wide-eyed and frazzled. As someone who dealt with the turmoil of having someone they deeply care about not remembering them, Bucky couldn't understand why Steve wasn't at least a little concerned.

"She's just waking up, pal. I'm sure once she spends some time with Banner and comes to a little more, everything will be okay. It's going to be fine."

Bucky huffs as he plops down next to Steve in the uncomfortable hospital-grade chairs. He buries his face in his hands and lets out a shaky breath. Steve had to be right. You were Bucky's tough girl after all. You'd put up with him almost every day for nearly two years. A car accident wasn't going to wear you down.

He feels Stever perk up next to him as the door just down the hall clicks shut. Bucky looks up to find Bruce walking towards them, a solemn look on his face.

"How is she?" Steve speaks first.

Bruce takes the seat on the other side of Steve and exhales. "Well," he starts as he looks at his interlaced fingers in his lap. "The good news is she's going to be fine. I want to do a few more scans and monitor brain activity for a while longer, but everything is checking out fine. But..."

Bruce takes a deep breath and Bucky thinks he might explode from the unnecessary suspense.

"I'm afraid she's suffering from amnesia. Retrograde amnesia to be exact. It's a pretty profound case. She remembers some things, knows who Steve and I are, is aware of the Avengers in general. But it seems like a good chunk of the past few years is gone."

"Well is it going to come back? Are her memories still there?" Bucky interrupts. Of everything that could go wrong, this is the worst in his mind. Not knowing who you are, who your loved ones are is the worst feeling he'd ever experienced. The thought of you having to suffer from the same feelings for any amount of time twisted his gut.

"I can't say. That's why I'm going to do some more tests. Only time will tell how she recovers from this. We just have to stay positive."

Bucky was a lot of things - efficient, honest, and loyal to name just a few - but positive wasn't at the top of that list. He could feel his blood pressure rising as he thought of his next question.

“Does she at least remember me?”

Bruce looked at him then, his face twisted up in pain. “She thinks...she thinks you’re still the Soldier.”

//

Tags: @numwoon44​ @wonderlandmind4​

[capsicle13]

Good For You (Stony/Omegaverse)

Summary: Steve didn’t think it was possible to go into heat, not after the serum. Perhaps a certain Alpha is to blame.

*******

Something was wrong. Steve woke up feeling off, like his body was knocked off its axis. Waking up in a cold sweat wasn’t that unusual; he still suffered from nightmares from time to time, and usually the dreams had been so intense that it left him waking up sweaty and flushed.

But the nightmares are ruled out when he becomes aware of just how warm his body feels. No, warm wasn’t the right word to describe it. His body was on fire, the sensation so extreme it made every muscle in his body ache.

The cold shower he takes does nothing to alleviate the scorching heat that radiates through him. He wonders if he’s coming down with something, although that should be impossible with the serum running through his veins. He was supposed to be immune to illnesses.

He shrugs off the feverish feeling and makes the decision to meet his teammates for breakfast. Their voices fill his ears as he makes his way up the stairs toward the communal living room, only for them grow silent when he steps into the large space. He shifts uncomfortably at the stares being sent his way.

“Good morning,” he greets, moving toward the small kitchen. His teammates return his greeting, but their stares still linger, following his every move. Natasha gets up from her spot on the sofa and joins him in the kitchen. “Hey.” Steve shoots her a smile, only for it to falter when she frowns. “What?”

“You-” Natasha hesitates and she gives the air a whiff, her nose wrinkling. That only confuses Steve more. “You smell.”

“I smell?” Steve raises a confused brow. “I showered-”

“No, not like that. Are you feeling okay?”

“Yeah, I guess so.” Steve frowns. He leaves out the part about his fever, not wanting to draw anymore attention to himself. Natasha doesn’t appear convinced with his answer and she leans in closer, giving him another sniff. When she pulls away he chases after her, keening softly from the loss of her comfort. “Nat…”

“I think you better go back to bed,” Natasha suggests, taking him by the hand and leading him out of the kitchen. Her touch ignites something inside of Steve and he whines low in his throat, craving more of her.

The rest of the team watches with interest and Steve doesn’t miss the way Natasha snarls in their direction, warning them not to get too close. Steve’s confusion only increases, along with the intense feeling of needing...something. Being near a familiar alpha appears to help, but he needs more.

They make it to the elevators, and now that it’s just them, Steve can’t help but lean in closer to his friend, her scent providing some relief to the itch he can’t scratch. “Nat…” Steve inhales, filling his nostrils with the strong smell.

“Steve, wait,” Natasha pulls back slightly, emitting another whine from Steve. “You’re in heat-”

“No,” Steve shakes his head. “I can’t...I’m not…”

“Well you are. I can smell it. Everyone can smell it, Steve. How come you didn’t say anything? We all thought you were a Beta.”

“The serum changed a lot of things…” Steve moves closer, a needy whine escaping him when Natasha refuses to let him get so close. “Please? Nat, I need...I need...something. I need you.”

“No, you don’t. I can help, but only just mild stuff okay?” Natasha presses the button for the top level again, cursing quietly to herself when the elevator refuses to arrive. Steve is growing more needy by the second, and his behavior along with the pheromones he’s releasing is starting to affect the alpha. Natasha has to take control of herself. Steve was her friend.

The elevator dings, indicating its arrival and the large doors open. “Dammit,” Natasha curses at the sight of the other alpha in the car.

Tony is taken aback by the greeting he receives. “Morning to you, too. What’s your prob-” Tony’s words are lost when the most exquisite scent fills his nose. It reminds him of cotton candy; sweet and sugary. Absolutely delicious. “Holy shit...is that-is Cap-”

Natasha growls at him. “Don’t get any ideas. I’m taking care of him.”

“What ideas? Oh you think that I’d...no, no way. Not interested.” It’s a lie. Tony never knew that anyone could smell so good, and he’s been around a lot of omega’s in his lifetime. But there was something about Steve’s scent that was so intoxicating. “Are you sure you got him?” Tony asks when Steve whines softly. He wonders if his own scent is affecting the super soldier.

“Yep,” Natasha replies and she moves past Tony to get Steve and herself in the elevator.

“Wait,” Steve stops her, gently pushing her away. A part of him hates the distance he’s put between them, but the other half urges him to get away. “You don’t have to help me. I’m not in-” Steve tries to explain, but then he’s losing his footing, swaying slightly. Someone is reaching out to steady him, their touch sending sparks of energy through him. He needs more of their touch.

“You okay?” Tony asks, his hands still holding Steve up. They’re closer now and Tony has to fight back the urge to lean in and scent the omega.

Steve doesn’t have that same control and he does what Tony holds off on, closing the small space between them and inhaling the musky scent. He can smell the familiar scents Tony usually gives off: grease, coffee, expensive cologne. But there’s a new one filling his nose, one he’s never smelled before. It’s a smell he’s been deprived of for so long. Tony smells like mate.

“Tony,” Steve whines the alpha’s name. “You smell so good.”

“That’s just my shampoo, Cap.” Tony has to force himself to get away from Steve, even though his instincts are screaming at him to care for the omega. Despite his best efforts, he can’t hold off and he gives into those urges. “You know, Romanoff, I think I can take it from here.”

Natasha bares her teeth, a low growl rumbling in her throat. “I know what you’re up to.”

“Relax. I’m not gonna do anything. Trust me I’m not affected one bit.” It's another lie, probably the biggest one he’s ever told. Steve was doing something to him...something no omega has ever done before.

Natasha can clearly see through the lie and she steps closer, releasing another warning growl for the other alpha to back off. Tony heeds her warning, not wanting to get into an unnecessary fight. “Fine, fine,” he holds his hands up. “I’m going.”

Steve whines when Tony moves away. He’s tempted to chase after the alpha, but he stops himself. He wasn’t in heat. He didn’t need anyone.

“Come on,” Natasha gently urges and Steve shakes her off again.

“I’m fine,” he insists.

“Steve-”

“It’s okay. I’m fine.” Steve presses the button for his floor and the doors shut on Natasha’s face. He backs himself into the wall, letting out a heavy sigh and running his fingers through his slightly damp hair. He tries to convince himself that he was fine, but that inner voice is quick to remind him that something was wrong. Steve ignores the voice.

It just wasn’t possible for him to be in heat. He hadn’t had a heat since he was 18. Growing up a sickly and frail omega made experiencing a normal heat cycle impossible. His heats were always irregular and that along with his medical issues made him unworthy of finding a mate. No alpha wanted an omega like him.

He was promised that his heats would disappear completely after Project Rebirth. That hadn't been an issue, though. Steve knew that taking on the role of Captain America meant sacrifices needed to be made. Heats would only slow him down, something he couldn’t risk.

The elevator doors are opening again and Steve steps out, making his way to his apartment. He thought being back in the comfort of his own space would ease his discomfort, but it does the complete opposite. His body is still too hot and aching for something he can’t figure out.

Alpha. Mate. That inner voice is back and Steve has to fight back the urge to listen. He doesn’t need any of those things. He wasn’t in heat.

He staggers toward his bedroom, tugging and pulling at his clothes; the fabric suddenly irritating his sensitive skin. There’s still a hint of Tony’s scent lingering on his clothes and Steve can’t help but bring his discarded shirt to his face, inhaling the intoxicating smell. He whines when it’s not enough. He needs more of the alpha.

His jeans grow tighter and a wetness pools between his legs. He knows exactly what this means. He was going into heat. Natasha had been right.

Now that he knows what is wrong with him, the only thing he can do is hide away in his apartment and wait until his heat ends. It’s something he’s done before, back when he would go through a heat and had no mate to share it with. It was unpleasant without an alpha, but it wasn’t like Steve had many options. He didn’t have a mate.

Or maybe he did. Tony gave off that comforting scent; the kind only a mate could give. The urge to be near the alpha again becomes too much, but Steve knows he can’t give in. It was just the heat talking.

Steve reaches down to open his jeans, hissing from the friction he creates when he brushes against his hardening cock. More slick flows from his aching hole, and he’s tempted to touch himself there too.

A knock on the front door is what stops him from going any further. He knows better than to answer the door when he gets like this, but he can’t help but rush to the door when a familiar voice calls out from the other side.

“Hey, Cap? You okay?” Tony asks, followed by another knock. “You’re kinda freaking me out, buddy.”

Steve cracks the door open. “Tony, go away,” he tries to be stern, but his tone fails him and instead it comes out like a whine.

“You sure? You look horrible,” Tony winces when he takes in the flushed and disheveled appearance. He’s never seen Steve like this before. He never knew he was an omega, either.

“Please?” Steve begs, not sure if he’s asking for Tony to leave or come in and fuck him.

“Are you sure?” Tony asks again, silently hoping Steve lets him in. “I can help you out, Cap.”

Those words seem to get the reaction Tony had been hoping for and the door opens a few inches more, giving the alpha a clear view of Steve’s naked upper half. He’s no stranger to seeing Steve shirtless, but with the combination of him half naked and the strong pheromones, it’s overwhelming. Tony presses himself closer to the door, eyes growing dark from the intense scent of an omega in heat. He snaps himself out of it when Steve opens the door the rest of the way.

“You would help me?” Steve asks, sounding a little unsure. He had never been asked that question before. Usually alphas stayed as far away as they could from him. Or if they did offer assistance, their intentions were never good.

“Yeah. We don’t have to do anything sexual. I can let you scent me and cuddle if you want. I won’t take it any further than that.” Tony is being honest, but there’s still a part of him that hopes Steve would let him help in other ways.

“Okay,” Steve finally gives his consent and he steps aside to let Tony in, fighting the urge to rush up to the alpha and press his nose against his neck.

Being inside Steve’s apartment reeks of his heat; the smell only makes Tony want to mount the omega and breed him. He can’t though, not when he promised they wouldn’t cross that line.

“Bedroom’s this way yeah?” Tony makes a gesture down the hall and Steve nods his head in response. “Okay,” Tony says, “lead the way, Cap.”

The sweet, sugary smell only Steve can give off smacks Tony in the face when he enters the bedroom. It’s overwhelming in the best way possible.

“How long have you been a uh...oh! Hey there, buddy.” Steve has pressed himself up against Tony, trying to get as close to the alpha as much as possible. A low whine escapes him when Tony gently pushes him away from his neck. “Don’t worry we’ll get to that part,” Tony assures, feeling guilty for depriving the omega from what he wants. “I’ll let you clean up.”

Steve whines in protest when Tony backs off and leaves the room, shutting the door halfway to give him some privacy. He quickly works his jeans open and slides them down his legs along with his soaked underwear. He doesn’t bother putting on a fresh set of clothes, knowing he’ll make a mess of those, too.

“Hey, Steve?” Tony calls out after a few minutes. When he doesn’t get a response, he gently pushes the door open. “Holy shit…”

The sight that greets him steals his breath and sends all of the blood in his body down south. He had already been affected by the strong scent Steve was giving off, but now it was like his arousal had been amplified.

Steve was on the bed, legs spread and working a hand between them, soft whines and moans slipping past his lips. Tony tries and fails to keep his eyes on anything but the fingers Steve has started thrusting into himself.

“Fuck…” Tony says, his words slightly breathless. His jeans feel impossibly tighter and he has to fight back the urge to release his cock and touch himself. “Cap-”

At the sound of his nickname, Steve is snapping his head up. “Tony,” he whines. “Please? I need more.”

He increases the pace of his fingers, cries of frustration leaving him when it’s not enough. He needs something else. Something only Tony can provide.

Steve removes his fingers, a pink hue appearing over his features at the wet sound it makes. Tony isn’t embarrassed at all by the sounds Steve makes, in fact he wants to hear more.

“Tony, please?” Steve begs, emitting a whimper when the alpha refuses to move from his spot.

“I got you,” Tony assures and he finally makes his move toward the bed. And when he’s in arms reach of the omega, he finds himself being pulled even closer. Steve offers his neck and Tony has to resist getting too close to the sensitive glands there.

“Please?” Steve begs again, fingers gripping the soft fabric of Tony’s t-shirt and using his incredible strength to pull the alpha closer. “I need you, Tony.”

“I know, I know.” Tony’s hands fly up to grasp Steve’s wrist. “And I’m gonna help out, but you can’t tease me like this. Otherwise…” Tony trails off. He knows exactly what will happen, and maybe it’s not such a bad thing. Being this close to an omega in heat is doing something to him. But being this close to Steve, well, that was a different story.

Steve had a new effect on him, one he never thought possible. Being an alpha meant he’s been around a few omegas, but none of them have ever smelled so...so comforting. Steve smelled like something Tony thought he’d never smell on an omega. He smelled like a mate.

With that on his mind, Tony is tempted even further to claim the needy omega in front of him. But he’s still holding off.

Steve is making that very difficult, though.

Tony manages to free himself from Steve’s firm grasp and gently lies him back on the bed. Steve is reaching out for him again, this time with getting Tony’s jeans off as his goal.

“Steve, stop.” Tony tries to push the omega’s hands away, but Steve is persistent and he works Tony’s jeans open. He leans forward, nuzzling where Tony’s scent is the strongest. “Steve, sto-Omega!”

At the stern tone, Steve is backing off and releasing his hands from where he’s been holding Tony in place. The wounded look that crosses his face is hard to witness; Tony never intended to use his ‘alpha voice’.

“I’m sorry,” Steve quickly apologizes. “Tony, I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s come over me. I’m-”

“You’re in heat. This is normal. Haven’t you had one before?” Tony questions, realizing he’s missed something.

“Not like this. My last one was when I was 18.”

“Yikes. Okay but you’ve been with an alpha before right? Been knotted and all that jazz?”

Steve is blushing again and Tony wonders if it’s because he’s ashamed or his fever is getting worse. Perhaps both.

“Not exactly,” Steve answers, his face heating up even more. “I’m a um…”

“A virgin?” Tony finishes and when he receives a nod in response, his cock twitches in his pants. “Wow...um...okay.”

“I know.” Steve groans.

“Hey, it’s okay.”

“It’s not. No alpha has ever wanted me. I thought after the serum my heats would disappear and I wouldn’t have to worry anymore. But something’s changed.”

Tony hums. “Do you think it’s because we’re-” he trails off, making a gesture between the two of them. It was obvious by their scents alone what they were, only no one has voiced it out loud.

“Mates?” Steve finally says it. “Is that possible?”

“I’ve heard about it. Honestly, I didn't think it would be you. Hell I never thought I’d ever find one.”

“So do we…”

“Kinda have to now.”

“Thank God.” Is all Steve says before he’s pulling Tony closer and crashing their lips together.

Tony can’t help the moan that escapes him from the feeling of having Steve’s lips pressed against his and the way his tongue is exploring his mouth. It’s tempting to let Steve take complete control, but the alpha in him isn’t having any of that, and with a growl he pushes Steve off.

Steve complies this time, not wanting a repeat of the scolding he received earlier. “Tony…” he whimpers, and trails one hand down between his legs, the motion catching Tony’s attention and he glances down, eyes darkening at the sight of Steve’s leaking cock.

It’s a struggle to fight back the urge to push Steve back and fuck him into the mattress. He has to remind himself that this was all new to the omega, and Tony wasn’t going to be like every other alpha out there and take what was his. He was going to take care of Steve and show him what he’s been missing.

“I’m gonna make this good for you, sweetheart,” Tony promises, leaning down to connect their lips again. Steve whines into Tony’s mouth, the desperate sound making Tony’s cock throb. “Lie back,” he orders and Steve does as he’s told, lying back on the bed and spreading his legs invitingly.

“Tony, please?” Steve whines, bucking his hips in an attempt to get the alpha to touch him.

“I got you,” Tony assures before connecting their lips again. Steve grows impatient and wraps one arm around Tony’s head, pulling the alpha down until he’s between his legs. Tony growls when Steve grinds against him, and he buries his face in the crook of Steve’s neck, swiping his tongue along the swollen gland he finds there. It’s tempting to bite down and mark Steve, but Tony holds back. He has other plans.

The soft kisses along his sensitive neck is too much and Steve emits another desperate cry, needing the alpha to bite and claim him; the omega inside him demands it. “Tony…” Steve pants, fingers threading through the short hair of the alpha and tugs, pulling another growl from Tony’s lips.

“I know,” Tony murmurs and he presses one last kiss against Steve’s neck, then he’s trailing open mouth kisses along Steve’s chest and torso. Steve’s back arches when Tony gets closer to the place he wants him to touch. Tony knows this and trails even lower until his face is hovering over Steve’s cock. “So beautiful,” he says before lapping at the head, moaning at the taste that explodes over his tongue.

He wonders what else Steve tastes like and he pulls off of the omega’s cock, and pushes his legs further apart, exposing the tight, wet hole. Tony doesn’t waste anymore time and he drops down onto his stomach until he’s at eye level with Steve’s hole. The smell of his slick is intoxicating, but it doesn’t compare to the taste.

“Tony!” Steve cries, one hand flying down to hold the alpha’s head and the other twisting the sheets. He grinds himself against Tony’s mouth, needing to feel more of the tongue that’s sending jolts of pleasure through him. But it’s not enough. He needs more.

Sensing the omega’s frustration, Tony rubs one finger along the tight ring of muscle, gently pressing against it until the tip of his finger is dipping inside. Steve whines and Tony’s head snaps up, noticing the difference in the sound. “You okay?” he asks, feeling a pang of guilt for hurting the omega.

“Y-yeah…” Steve gives a quick nod and shifts his hips, urging Tony to keep going. More of Tony’s finger enters him, the slight sting he felt before diminishing and pleasure taking its place. “More...I need...more..”

Tony doesn’t hesitate to follow through with Steve’s request and he drags his finger out before pressing it back in. The pace of his finger increases and then he’s adding another and thrusting them roughly, searching for that spot that will make Steve scream.

The heavy pants Steve is emitting is a clear indication that Tony was getting close to finding that spot. “Ah! Tony!” Steve cries out, back arching when Tony’s brushes against something inside him. Tony thrusts his fingers harder, plowing through the slick that continues to flow from Steve’s hole.

Tony can tell by the way Steve clenches around him that he’s close. He presses harder against Steve’s prostate, pulling more sounds of pleasure from the omega. “Cum,” Tony orders and Steve screams, his body growing taut and spilling an abundance of slick. Tony rips his fingers free and licks up the mess, humming at the sweet taste.

“P-please…” Steve begs. That ache is still present, only growing more intense despite the pleasure Tony has already given him. He needs a knot.

At the sound of the omega’s pleading, Tony works quickly to shed his clothing, no longer able to contain the urge to properly breed and fuck Steve. With a growl he yanks Steve closer and pushes his legs apart. He takes his cock in his hand and guides it to Steve’s entrance, rubbing the leaking head against the pink rim and smearing the slick before pressing forward.

“Ah!” Steve gasps when Tony enters him and he wraps his legs around his waist, trying to bring the alpha closer, deeper. “Please! Alpha, fuck me!”

“Fuck.” Tony growls and drags his cock out until just the tip is inside, then he’s thrusting back in, no longer able to hold back, and he fucks Steve at an unforgiving pace. “Fuck, you feel so good...so tight, so wet.”

Steve whimpers and holds onto Tony tightly, blunt nails digging into the flesh of Tony’s back. He leans forward and buries his face into Tony’s neck, breathing in the musky scent the alpha gives off. He drags his tongue along the gland, licking up the sweet sweat. “Alpha...need more. Need your knot,” he whispers, nipping at the sensitive spot on Tony’s neck to urge him on.

“I’ll give it to you.” Tony grunts, increasing the pace of his hips, each rough thrust punching out more moans from Steve’s parted lips. “Gonna breed you. That’s what you want, isn’t it?”

“Yes!” Steve cries, back lifting off the bed from a particularly hard thrust of Tony’s hips. “Please, Alpha!”

Tony growls and pulls Steve closer until their bodies are pressed against each other, fucking into the omega even harder. Being surrounded by Steve's tight heat is overwhelming, and it’s not long until the base of Tony’s cock begins to tingle, his knot forming to lock inside the needy omega.

“Fuck, Steve I’m gonna knot you so good. You want that, sweetheart? Want my knot?”

Steve can only nod his head in response, his ability to speak lost from the intense pleasure coursing through him. All he’s ever wanted was to properly be knotted by an alpha, and now he was getting that chance.

“Please…” Steve whimpers when he feels the knot expand and rub against his sensitive entrance. With another hard thrust, Tony forces his knot inside, locking them together. Steve whines from the stretch, the burn and pleasure unlike anything he’s ever experienced. This is what being knotted felt like. And Steve wanted more. He needs to be claimed. To belong to Tony. “Bite me. Claim me.”

The animalistic growl that the alpha produces makes Steve keen and he offers his neck. Tony can no longer resist and he bites down, sealing their bond. Claiming the omega as his.

Tony continues to fuck into Steve, grunting at the sensation of his knot swelling larger. “Gonna fill you up,” he promises. The only response he receives is the feeling of Steve clenching down on him. Tony’s cock pulses with each spurt of cum he releases, his promise to fill and breed the omega fulfilled.

Steve whimpers at the rush of warmth that floods through him, the feeling of Tony’s release bringing him over the edge. His own cock twitches, shooting ropes of cum against his belly, though nowhere near as much as the amount Tony produces.

Tony continues to move inside of him, the pace of his hips slowing down until they’re nothing but shallow thrusts. His knot is still going strong, filling up the omega, and only time would tell if their mating succeeded.

“So good,” Tony praises, lapping and kissing at Steve’s fresh bond mark. “You did so good, Omega.”

Steve keens at the praise from the alpha, that itch finally scratched and the ache diminishing. It would return though; his heat was far from over, but at least this time he had someone to spend it with. He had his Alpha.

[avengerscompound]

Start Over

Start Over:  A Black Widow Fanfic

Buy me a ☕

Character Pairing:  Natasha Romanoff x F!Reader Square: @ladiesofmarvelbingo​ - M4 Temporary Death/Presumed Dead

Word Count:  2524

Rating: M

Warnings:  Canon compliant alternate ending.  Angst.  Grief.  Hurt/Comfort.  Mentions of the extremely bad consequences of both the snap and the blip.

Synopsis:  As you try and pick up the pieces of your life after the blip and the death of your girlfriend you discover things aren’t as they seem.

A/N: This is kind of a fix-it fic but not really...  Just an extended ending to Endgame.  I’m apparently emo for Nat this week.

Start Over

The world was supposed to be better.  After everyone had turned to dust things had gone downhill really fast.  Thanos had taken out half of all life which hadn't actually changed anything.  There was just half as much of everything.  But it wasn't just that.  Planes had dropped out if the sky and crashed into populated areas killing hundreds.  Power Plants were suddenly left unmanned.  Some caught fire.  Some went thermonuclear and wiped out entire areas making them uninhabitable.  Babies and small children were left without parents and starved in their homes.  People disappeared while cooking creating house fires and because the emergency services were all overwhelmed all of a sudden whole city blocks burned.

In the end, what was supposed to be half was actually two thirds.  It took a long time to recover.  But slowly things seemed to start to.  Humanity was struggling but the planet seemed to take a moment to breathe.  The air was cleaner and you started to be able to see the stars at night even in the middle of New York City.  You met Natasha Romanoff.

Things were pretty far from perfect.  Whatever you had been before everyone had turned to dust, you weren't any longer.  It was like that for everyone.  There was before the incident and after.  They were separate.

Immediately after people began to turn to dust, you’d heard the cries of your neighbors baby.  Thankfully your landlord hadn’t been one of the ones dusted.  You and he had gone through every apartment looking for children or pets left alone or appliances left on.  You’d then gone to the next building and the next.  You collected a police officer on the way and a volunteer firefighter that helped you break into the places you didn’t have keys for.  By the time you physically couldn’t move your legs anymore you had gathered 23 children under the age of 10 and another 3 teenagers who were home alone after seeing their parents disintegrate along with more birds, fish, cats, and dogs than you could count.  The next day you had gathered more people to help.  Until there was a team of people taking turns looking after the kids you had found and going around finding ones you’d missed.

Thankfully you’d had your head together when you had started the process.  You’d taken pictures from each place you took the children from and written down addresses and any other personal information you could find.  You knew that whether the disappeared people came back or not there would be family who would look for some of the children at least.  You needed to make sure you weren’t making it harder to find them.

When the word had gotten back to the Avengers about the group you’d coordinated Steve Rogers and Natasha Romanoff had come to provide help.  Initially, they’d just done the initial sweeps of the city following the very protocol you’d started.  There was something about both of them  Of course, they were hurt like everyone else.  Everyone had experienced loss.  But for them, there was more.  They blamed themselves.  It was guilt and loss and fear that no one else seemed to carry with them the same way.  They were determined they fix things but they seemed to have no idea how or where to start.

They moved the whole thing into the old Avengers Tower.  The building had mostly been empty since it had originally sold and with what had happened a lot of businesses had downsized.  Stark Industries didn’t own the building anymore, but one of their subsidiary charities now rented out the ten floors of apartments and dorms that used to be used for the Avengers and the other employees.  It was now housing for displaced children and carers.  Many of the carers had lost their own children and were trying to fill that hole in themselves by helping the kids you’d found.

Having the use of the AI Friday to clear background checks and find family members made things work so smoothly that children from out of state were sent to you.  When the city had been scoured and deemed free of homeless children and pets Natasha and Steve both began to help with the kids.  Natasha more than Steve.  You’d later learned about Steve’s support group he set up.  Natasha did get something special out of helping the children.  It helped her with her pain and the need to fix things.  She was lost and god damn if she didn’t want to be found.

And find her you did.  It wasn’t easy.  Her walls were built high and she fortified them by keeping busy all the time.  You were busy too, but there was something that drew you to the red-head ex-assassin.  It was slow-burn in the worst way.  Holding each other at bay.  Two steps forward one step back.  All the cliches for two hurt and scared people who want more and are just too scared and have too much to make up for before they get to be happy.  But like all cliches you had ended up together and in love.

Maybe not happy.  It was hard to be completely happy in the post-snap world.  Or so Nat would say.  Not when your friends and family were gone and you spent your time taking care of orphans who were more afraid than you were. Not when her best friend was on some kind of murderous spree and the family she had made with his and her other friends and scattered to the wind.  But you were happy together.  You shared each other’s burdens and the joys.  And they came.  When you found a lost family member for one of the kids or found a loving adoptive family or when one came home from school proud about a grade or excited about a project.  You felt like parents in a way.  And as time moved forward you started to picture a life where maybe you could actually be parents.  Where you adopted some of the kids as your own and she realized that maybe the world as it stood didn’t need her to be an Avenger anymore.  It needed people to nurture it.

You had plans.  Not for now.  For later.  For when she was ready.  For when she could let go of what happened and moved forward in the world as it was and not get trapped in the idea that she could undo it all.

And then… and then …

And then Scott Lang had come back and given her hope again.

She’d said she was going to fix things.  She said they’d be better.  It was supposed to be better.  Bringing everyone back was supposed to make it better.

Maybe for some people, it was.

Not for you.

There was a lot of shit really.  When people returned some of them just appeared mid-air and fell to the ground because they’d been on planes when they disintegrated.  Lots of people appeared in the nuclear no go zones.  Some appeared inside other people and both ended up basically exploding, only worse, and more graphic.

People who had disappeared with infants now came to you to get their children who didn’t know them back from the parents who had raised them.  People who had skipped five years now no longer had homes or jobs because the world had moved on without them.  The population suddenly more than doubled and there weren’t the resources to provide for almost four billion new people.  Not anymore.

And worse… with all these people suddenly back, now there was no Nat.  She wasn’t there to hold you and tell you she would fix this.  Or even just tell you it didn’t matter because you had her and you’d get through it together.  Because you didn’t have her.  You didn’t even have someone who could come and break it to you easy.  You found out on the news like someone who hadn’t fallen asleep wrapped in her arms night after night.

She’d told you she was going to save the world.  Instead, you had lost yours.

No one mourned her openly.  There were monuments to Tony Stark everywhere.  On the news, there were groups of people openly mourning the sacrifice he made to throw the world back into chaos again.  Nat had small shrines in back alleys like she was an afterthought.

There were suddenly twice as many people on the planet and you’d never felt so alone.

It had been months since they’d returned and you were still struggling.  You knew Natasha wouldn’t want you to dwell on it.  You knew she’d want you to keep moving forward but it felt impossible.  You’d been carry all this stuff for so long and she’d been there and now you had the burden of her loss too.  You couldn’t sleep.  Instead, you walked through the city streets at night, visiting the little shrines set up for her.

You wore your grief like a coat.  You wrapped yourself in it and used it to keep the rest of the world out.  As you reached the first of the shrines on your circuit, you began pulling candles out from your purse.  You liked to refresh them.  There hadn’t been a funeral for Natasha.  That had broken your heart too.  You figured she’d at least earned new candles every night.

You kneeled down on the damp, broken asphalt and started lighting the candles that looked like they still had something left in them and putting out new ones.  The ground was cold and it bit into your legs, but you wore the discomfort like a penance.  A penance for not appreciating the time you had with her more.  For not begging her to stay behind and let the world move on.

You closed your eyes.  Not really praying exactly.  But you thought about her.  You thought about the nights you had stayed up talking work with her.  Which kids had family coming for them.  Which ones you thought you could place with families.  Plans to take them on trips to the zoo or to visit the Statue of Liberty or the Natural History Museum. You thought about what it was like falling asleep with her and waking up with her.  Her cute little half-smile when you showed up at the compound with real food.  Or the twinkle in her green eyes when she was about to pounce on you.  You thought about the plans for the future and how badly you wished things were different.  How badly you still wanted that life.  And how guilty and selfish you felt wishing she hadn’t done it.

Someone said your name.  It startled you from reverie and you looked up.  The voice had been familiar and so was the hourglass silhouette that stood at the end of the alley.  “What are you doing, Solnishko?”

“Natasha?”  You said.  Even as her name fell from your lips you thought you must be losing your mind.  You’d been carrying top much for too long and your mind had just fractured and you were starting to hallucinate.

The figure approached you, and as she got closer to the lights of the candles you could see her hair, blond at the ends, and her natural red from midway up.  She’d talked about having it cut or recolored to be even, but never found the time.  She looked down at you and smiled her half-smile, offering you her hand.  “It’s me, solnishko.”

You scrambled back from her, knocking over some of the candles along with a picture of her and some flowers.  “No.  No, you can’t be.  She’s dead.  Who are you?”

She sighed and crouched down, picking up the things you knocked over.  “Did you do this?”

You didn’t answer.  It felt like your heart was going to beat out of your chest and you were pretty close to throwing up.

She looked at the photo of herself and smiled sadly before putting it back.  “It’s really me,” she said gently.  “I don’t know if I can explain it properly.  Will you let me try though?”

You nodded, though you moved a little further away from her.

She sat down cross-legged on the ground opposite you.  “I told you we were going to time travel and collect the infinity stones?  The things that killed half of life in the first place?”

You nodded.  You’d heard the stories about Thanos a thousand times, and her call to tell you that she was going to get them and undo it had been rushed but she’d told you she loved you and would see you soon and everything would be fixed.  “Clint and I were sent for the soul stone.  The deal was you had to give up someone you loved.  A soul for a soul.  So I sacrificed myself.  I couldn’t ask Clint to do that when we were so close to getting his family back.  I died.  I remember dying.  And then… the stone was returned and I wasn’t dead anymore.  Or… I was but not at the same time.  It was like being in limbo.  There was an open expanse of water, only ankle deep.  And a hill with a tree. And me.   Then a voice said that because the soul had returned mine no longer needed to take its place.  I had the choice to move on, or I could go back.  If I went back I couldn’t go to Clint.  He’d given me up for the stone and that was the trade.  If I go to him it would take us both.  He can’t know I’m alive.  But you can.”

You looked her over and moved closer.  She didn’t move, just let you take your time coming to her.  “Is it really you, Natasha?”

“Yes, my darling.  I swear. I couldn’t leave you.”  She said holding out her hand to you, almost as if she was trying to befriend a scared puppy.

You reached out and put your hand in hers and when her fingers closed around yours, warm and familiar you fell into her and started to cry.  She held you as you sobbed against her.  The tears of relief and fear and all the pain you had been carrying with you flowing from you easily.  “It’s okay, Solnishko,” she soothed, her hand running down the back of your neck again and again.  “I’ve got you.”

When the tears slowed and your sobbing quieted she kept holding you and rubbing your back.  “I can’t stay here.”  She whispered.  “If Clint finds out I’m alive, then we both die.  I can’t risk being in the city where most people knew me.  I was thinking I’d go somewhere.  Australia?  Or New Zealand maybe?  Or we could go into space.  I’ll have to dye my hair again.  But I can start over.  Be whatever I want to be.  No one knows I’m alive.  Will you come?”

You looked up into her eyes.  They looked down at you with both hope and fear.  “Of course.  Yes.  Let’s do it.”

She smiled and leaned in and kissed you.  When her lips touched yours all the last remaining doubt that this wasn’t real, washed away.  This was Nat.  Your Nat.  And you were going to go and get the life you’d both earned.  The quiet family life you’d both dreamed of.

[littlemarvelfics]

The Graduate

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader (tattoo artist!bucky)

Word Count: about 2k

Warnings: just some fluff

Square Filled: Accomplishing a Goal for @marvelfluffbingo, Artist AU for @star-spangled-bingo and Artist!Bucky (Y5) for @buckybarnesbingo

A/N: Hi all! I hope you enjoy this! Side note, it has nothing to do with the movie The Graduate. I’m just terrible at titles. Also... I started a Kofi. If you want to donate, the link is in my bio. Leave me a little note and lemme know if I can write something for you! Enjoy! 

You wiped your hands on the black gown currently covering your clothes. You stood with the rest of your row and slowly shuffled towards the side of the stage. In just a few moments, your college experience would be over. All the late nights and cram sessions would be done and for that you were grateful. But you would miss the group of friends you had made, the ones who made those late nights bearable. 

You took a deep breath as you ascended the stairs towards the podium where the Dean of Students was reading out names. Yours was called and you walked across the stage, hearing a whistle that could only belong to one man. Bucky Barnes. 

You had met Bucky two years ago when you were a sophomore and he was finishing up his apprenticeship at a local tattoo shop. He was friends with Steve, a senior you had befriended through an art elective. You and Bucky had met at a party and the rest was history. Once Bucky had finished his apprenticeship, he worked at opening his own shop and he finally took his first appointment six months ago. Bucky was the one responsible for the black ink over your ribs, a simple bushel of wildflowers. 

As you walked down the stairs, you scanned over the audience quickly looking for your parents. You sent them an invitation to the ceremony along with two tickets but you were sure they wouldn’t show up. Majoring in journalism with the dream of becoming a reporter hadn’t sat well with them, they never missed an opportunity to tell you that you were wasting your life. 

You walked back to your seat and listened as the rest of the names were called, cheering loudly for your friends as they crossed the stage. By the time the Dean announced the class of 2020, you were beyond ready to find Bucky, get out of the sun and get on with whatever he had planned for the night. 

Thirty minutes later, you pushed your way through the crowd, attempting to find Bucky. You hugged a few people on your way and you were just about to call him when you found him leaning against a tree, away from the madness. His sunglasses were covering his eyes and he had his hair pulled back off his neck. He wore a dark blue button-down with the sleeves rolled up, showing off the dark ink decorating his left arm. The look was finished off with a pair of black jeans and suede boots that were scuffed to hell. When he spotted you, he straightened up off the tree and grinned at you as you took off running, jumping into his arms when you made it to him. He held you around your waist and held you close to him. 

“Congratulations sugar,” he mumbled in your ear. “I’m so proud of you.” 

“You know what? I’m proud of me too,” you responded with a giggle. 

“Is there anything else you need to finish up here? Or can I take my best girl to lunch?” Bucky asked. 

You were just about to answer when you heard your name called from behind you. You whipped around and came face to face with your parents. 

“Mom? Dad? What are you doing here?” 

“You invited us,” your mom said tensely. 

“Right of course,” you responded, at a loss for words. 

Your mom coughed and looked behind you where Bucky was still standing. 

“Oh right,” you said with a smile. “Mom, dad this is Bucky, my boyfriend. Bucky these are my parents Ken and Sue.” 

Bucky stepped around you and offered his hand to your father who looked at Bucky’s tattoos with disgust, ignoring his outstretched hand. You spoke up in an effort to diffuse the awkward situation. 

“I didn’t realize the two of you were coming out. I never heard back from you.” 

“We decided to surprise you. We wouldn’t believe you graduated if we wouldn’t have seen it for ourselves,” your dad said with a smirk. 

You gave a tight smile, not sure what to say to the backhanded comment. Luckily Bucky stepped in. 

“She’s pretty amazing,” he commented, wrapping his arm around you. “Graduated first in the program.” 

“The journalism program,” your mom said under her breath. 

You sighed and barely stopped yourself from rolling your eyes. 

“Why don’t we all go out to lunch?” Bucky suggested, ignoring your mother’s comment. “Celebrate the grad a bit?” 

You looked at your parents, almost positive they would turn down the invitation. 

“Why not,” your dad said. “Have a place in mind?” 

“Sure, there’s a place a few miles from here called Tony’s.” 

You smiled up at Bucky- that was the restaurant the two of you had your first official date at. 

+++++

The four of you were seated quickly at Tony’s, you and Bucky being somewhat of regulars. You all ordered your drinks and you saw your parents internally scrutinizing the place. It wasn’t anything fancy, a hole in the wall with loud music on Friday nights and an expansive drink menu making it a popular place for the local college kids. 

“So what’s the plan Y/N?” your mom asked. 

“The plan?” you questioned. 

“You got your… journalism degree. What’s next?” 

The way your mother said ‘journalism’ made it seem like it was a dirty word, never to be uttered in public. 

“I have an internship starting in a few weeks-” 

Before you could finish your sentence, your mom cut you off again. 

“Four years of work for an unpaid internship?” she scoffed. 

“Did she say unpaid?” Bucky said under his breath. 

You nudged him with your elbow as you suppress a smile. 

“It’s not unpaid and it will probably lead to a job after a few months,” you said, the pride clear in your voice. “It’s with This American Life.” 

You had worked your ass off to secure the highly coveted internship with This American Life, a radio show and podcast that was on public radio once a week. The show had made you fall in love with telling stories and working for them had been a dream of yours since you moved to New York for college. You recorded your own story to go with your application, Bucky had been the subject of it. A simple story that revolved around two weeks of shadowing him as he worked to open White Wolf Ink, his tattoo shop. 

“That’s… impressive,” your dad said, clearly surprised you had an actual plan. “Congratulations.” 

“Thanks dad,” you responded as your food arrived at the table. 

“What about you Bucky? When did you graduate?” your mom asked. 

“I didn’t,” Bucky said simply. “College wasn’t the right choice for me.” 

Your mom laughed, not bothering to hide her disdain. 

“So what is it that you do with no college degree?” 

“I’m a tattoo artist,” Bucky responded. 

Both of your parents looked at Bucky, failing to hide the judgment on their faces.

“He just opened his own shop,” you said, never one to shy away from bragging about your boyfriend. “It’s been busy.” 

“So how long have the two of you been dating?” your dad asked, ignoring your comments about Bucky. 

“Two years,” Bucky answered, looking over at you with a smile and placing a kiss on your head. 

“Really Y/N?” your mom moaned. 

“Really what?” 

“A struggling journalist dating a tattoo artist? Is that how you pictured your life?” 

“Nope,” you said, taking a sip of your wine. “I plan to be a successful journalist. And I never dreamed I’d be dating a man like Bucky. He’s so far out of my league.” 

You mother glared at you, clearly not satisfied with your answer. 

“Do you know how embarrassing this is for us? First, you leave town and then you major in something so… trivial. You were smart! You could have done something with your life! And if that wasn’t what you wanted, you could have married  a nice respectable man!” 

“Enough!” you yelled. “You can sit there and tell me how much you dislike every choice I’ve ever made. But leave Bucky out of it.” 

Bucky squeezed your knee under the table and immediately you felt more calm and collected. 

“Listen,” Bucky said quietly. “I have a night planned to celebrate your amazing daughter and all the hard work she’s put in for the last four years. I’d love to have you stay for lunch but not if you’re going to act like this. 

Your mom looked between you and Bucky, waiting for you to defend her. You simply shrugged a shoulder and glanced over a Bucky, his face serious. You put your hand on top of his and squeezed three times, a silent way of saying “I love you”.   

“Well I’m not gonna sit here and listen to you act like any of this is okay,” your mom said, getting up from the table. 

Your father got up and followed behind your mom, glancing back at you with a sad smile. 

Once your parents were out of sight, Bucky turned to face you. 

“Baby, I’m so sorry,” he said quickly. 

“Why are you sorry? That was on them, not either one of us.” 

“Still-” 

“Let’s eat and then I promise we can talk this to death later tonight but right now, I just wanna have my happy day with my boyfriend,” you said, cutting him off. 

“Then a happy day is what you’ll have,” Bucky replied with a smile. 

+++++

An hour later, you were back in the car with Bucky, your late lunch and a glass of wine leaving you relaxed and content. You looked over at Bucky driving and smiled, putting your hand at the back of his neck and rubbing your thumb against him. 

“I love you lots, you know that?” you asked simply. 

“Not as much as I love you.” 

“Don’t you fight me,” you said with a giggle. “Where are we heading anyway?” 

“I finally finished sketching out your tattoo. Thought you might wanna get it done tonight?” 

“Really?! That sounds perfect,” you said with a sigh, leaning your head against the car window. 

It didn’t take long to get to the shop. Bucky unlocked the front door and you walked over you his chair, making yourself comfortable while he grabbed the design and went over to the machine, preparing the stencil to place on your skin. You lifted your dress slightly, revealing your right thigh for Bucky to decorate. You scrolled on your phone, looking through all the Instagram posts from your classmates, all celebrating your recent accomplishments. 

Bucky came back in, paper in hand. He instructed you to look away, wanting the final design to be a surprise. You laughed but did as you were told, smiling when you felt him press the page to your leg. 

“Okay,” Bucky said quietly. “You can look.” 

You looked down at your thigh and gasped. Instead of one of Bucky’s designs, purple words were pressed into your skin. “Will you marry me?” 

You looked up at Bucky, a black velvet box in his hand revealing a beautiful engagement ring. 

“You’re the one I want with me when all my dreams come true, when I accomplish any of my goals or when I fall short. You’re the one I want with me. Will you marry me?” Bucky asked. 

You could barely see him through the tears filling your eyes, frantically nodding your head up and down. He kissed you before sliding the ring on your finger and pulling you into his arms. 

You pulled away from him, kissing him once again. 

“Best day ever,” you mumbled against his lips. 

“One of many sweetheart. One of many.” 

[myarmsaretoolong]

@whumptober2020​​​​ Prompt #17: “Toto, I Have a Feeling We’re Not in Kansas Anymore” - Nightmares

Word Count: 1196

Warnings:  Nightmares | Grief | Character Death

Synopsis: Peter relives the worst moments of his life

Read Under the Cut | Read on AO3

Peter sat in May’s apartment, a numb hole in the centre of his chest. He already knew what they were going to say. May sat next to him on the sofa, gently squeezing his hand in both of her’s, Ben crouched on the floor, both hand’s resting on Peter’s knees and tears in his eyes.

“We have some bad news, Peter,” Ben’s voice wavered as he spoke, clearly struggling to keep it together. “Your parents had an accident-” He dropped his chin as his voice cracked as he broke down into sobs.

May moved one of her hands from Peter’s to Ben’s shoulder, he shook his head quickly without looking up. She turned to face Peter, “They- They died, I’m so sorry.” Peter didn’t reply. He couldn’t stop his hands from trembling as he reached up to wipe his eyes. “Do you understand, honey?”

Peter nodded frantically, his breaths coming in too fast as the world collapsed around him. The hole in his chest grew. Dead, they were dead.

Ben took a deep breath, raking his teeth over his lip and looked up. His eyes were red and puffy. “I’m so sorry Pete,” he sobbed. “I- We’re going to look after you, okay?”

Peter looked around the apartment. Even with all its familiarity, it wasn’t home. Not in the way that his parent’s house was home, not in the way his father’s warm laugh or mother’s loving hug was home. He stumbled to his feet, unsteady and swaying.

Ben stood upright, his brow creased. “Peter?” He reached out to take Peter’s hand, but he flinched away from the touch. “I know it’s a shock, but-”

“No!” Peter cried, shoving Ben away. His chest heaved, nothing made sense. He lurched towards the door. “I-”

“Honey, wait!” May called, trying to catch up to him.

Peter slammed the door in her face and leaned back against it, trying to catch his breath. Space, he needed space. And fresh air. He dashed for the stairs and charged down, flinging open the door to outside. Cold air washed over him, the street almost completely pitch black. He ran blindly, tears obscuring his vision, scratching his bare feet on the uneven pavement with every step.

He slipped on something wet and sticky underfoot and landed back on his hands. When Peter lifted them, they were stained a deep, sickly red. Bile rose in the back of his throat as he pushed himself up, following the blood to the end of the street and around the corner.

A crowd of people stood huddled around something he couldn’t see, not yet. Peter staggered towards them, already knowing what would be there, praying for it to be something, anything, else. Forcefully pushing through the crowd, his nightmare came true.

Ben lay on the ground, a small hole in the left side of his chest cascaded an impossible amount of blood onto the ground around him. The hole inside Peter’s chest grew bigger. “Ben-” he choked, drawing the half-lidded eyes of the man he’d come to see as a father.

“Pete…” Ben raised a shaky hand to Peter’s cheek, brushing his thumb lightly over his lips. He tried to speak again, but only a gargled, choking sound came out.

“I-I can’t understand you,” Peter sobbed, gripping onto Ben’s hand like his life depended on it. Maybe, if he could just hold on, he’d be able to save Ben this time.

Ben’s hand fell limp. Tears flooded Peter’s eyes as he moved Ben’s finger for him, mimicking the same movements. “Please,” he begged, “Not again. I can’t lose you again. Please…”

Sirens sounded, growing to a defining roar as their red and blue lights cut through the darkness. Peter tore his eyes from Ben’s body and saw two cops running his way, both angry looking. He backed away, slowly at first, before breaking into an all-out sprint as the cops followed his every move.

No matter how fast he ran, he couldn’t shake them. He knew he deserved to be caught, Ben’s death was his fault, but for some reason, he couldn’t stop running. Couldn’t face the consequence.

Peter skidded around a corner, and New York disappeared. It gave way to a vast crater filled with every shade of grey and brown imaginable. Bodies littered the floor, humans and aliens alike, their life dripping away into the dirt. With a glance over his shoulder that revealed the cops close on his tail, Peter slid down into the depths.

Rubble slowed his progress, as did the fight ensuing around him. A blinding flash of white obscured his vision, lingering for a few terrifying seconds before slowly fading away. In front of him, Tony fell to the ground, vainly trying to slow his descent using an upturned concrete slab. The hole in Peter’s chest grew bigger.

“Hey,” Peter ran closer, panting hard as he crumpled to his knees in front of Tony. “Mister Stark, can you hear me?” Half of Tony’s face was covered with burns from the stones. He reached out, taking Tony’s hand in his. “It’s Peter.”

Tony didn’t reply, he stared blankly ahead. Peter wasn’t sure if he wanted to speak, and couldn’t, or was too out of it to even know he was there. “You won, Mister Stark,” Peter whimpered, trying and failing to put on a brave face. “You did it, Sir. You did it. I’m sorry, Tony…”

The hole in his chest grew bigger, encompassing his entire body in a veil of numbness and pain and loss. Pepper pulled him away, and Peter’s tears returned tenfold. Nothing made sense. the Universe and all its cruel tricks that seemed determined to break Peter had finally succeeded. Finally stripped away enough pieces of his soul to reveal the scared, lost child underneath.

He couldn’t look at Tony as Pepper spoke to him.

“Peter?”

Rhodey sobbed to himself, unable to look away.

“Peter!”

Peter felt like he’d been thrust underwater. Everything around him happening in slow motion. The pain he carried finally becoming too much to bear.

“Come on, kid, I need you to wake up.”

Peter shot upright, gasping for breath. He fought against his sweat-drenched sheets, struggling to free his limbs from their clawing grasp.

“Hey, hey,” Tony caught hold of Peter’s arms as he kicked the sheets to the end of his bed, keeping his grip gentle. “Breathe, kid. It’s me.”

Peter’s wide frantic eyes met Tony’s calm, creased ones. Slowly, he came to his senses, realising he sat safely in the New Avengers Compound with Tony perched on his bed, not in some crater that reeked of death. “Oh,” he breathed, “Mister Stark…”

“I’m here, kid,” Tony soothed, brushing sweat-dampened curls from Peter’s face. “You’re safe. It was just a dream.”

“Yeah,” Peter nodded slowly. “Just a dream.”

“You want to talk about it?” Peter shook his head furiously. “That’s okay, whatever you want. I’m going to hug you now.”

“Okay.” Peter leaned towards Tony as he shuffled closer and locked his arms around his back. He could heart Tony’s heartbeat, calm and steady. And alive. It might not have just been a dream, but at least Peter hadn’t lost everything.