#avengers

[waltermis]

Happy Natasha Romanoff day!!!

[incorrectquotesmcu]

Sam: Y/N's in jail.

Bucky: Y/N's in jail?!

Kate, to Yelena: You called it.

[eufezco]

AFTER MIDNIGHT

you spend the night in the house of a family you helped on the road. it's your first night together after a long time and you weren't planning on wasting it.

smut with a bit of reader and logan struggling with body image. english isn't my first language (!) gif credit to @/asgardswinter

mcu masterlist

you slowly unbuttoned logan's shirt.

you were both standing in the middle of the room as you helped the fabric slide down his arms until it fell to the floor. you looked at him in the eyes, he was embarrassed, his cheeks were burning and he was unable to make eye contact. you held his chin between your thumb and index finger and you pressed your lips against his.

logan didn't want to stay. he only said yes to the dinner invitation because it had been days since your last proper meal and he didn't want you, charles, or laura to starve to death.

what he truly wanted was to get back in the car and drive to north dakota. but you could see on his face how tired he was, his whole body was in pain and you didn't know how to help him. so when the family you had helped on the road offered you to spend the night at their place after dinner, you immediately said yes.

they let you and logan stay in one of the guests' rooms while charles slept in the other one and Laura rested on the big couch in the living room.

logan hissed when your fingertips touched his bruised shoulders and you quickly removed your hand, terrified at the thought of having caused him more pain. you broke away from his lips. —i don't want to hurt you, lo —. you excused yourself before he could speak.

logan shook his head. his big hands carefully cupped your cheeks and pulled you into a sweet kiss. —you could never hurt me.

it had been so long since the last time you were intimate that you didn't even know where to start touching him. both of you had been very busy. there were days when you didn't even see each other because when logan came home from work you were already asleep and the only interaction you had was when you could feel his arms wrap around your body from behind and pull you closer to him.

so you taking care of old charles xavier, logan spending most of the day out working, caliban sleeping in the room next door, and now you and logan having to look after laura... you had barely had time to be alone with each other. but that night it seemed as if the stars aligned for you to end up alone in that room.

your hands landed carefully on his chest, warm skin and hard muscles under your fingertips. his body tensed, afraid that you might also feel the thick scars on him and that they disgusted you as much as they did to him. but they didn't. you felt his scarred skin under your touch and traced each of his scars with your fingers.

while he still cupped one of your cheeks, logan placed his other hand on the base of your neck. your lips moved with increasing desperation, your tongues slipped past each other's lips and you softly moaned in the middle of the kiss when logan's fingers gently closed around your throat.

your fingers worked on his belt and the zipper of his pants as logan guided you to the bed. you walked backward, your lips still attached as his hands took care of the button of your jeans.

you sat on the edge of the bed while he leaned over. he crawled on top of you until you were completely flat on your back. logan held the weight of his body using his hands resting on both sides of your head. if you knew how everything hurt him every time he moved, you would've stopped him but he didn't want that to happen.

he sacrificed all the pain in his body for the feeling of your legs squeezing both sides of his body, for your hands pushing the back of his head to deepen the kiss, for the way you parted your lips from his to gasp for air and for the way he kept kissing you even though you weren't kissing him back.

one of his hands slid down your body, his thumb caressing your sensitive nipples over the fabric of your top. you moved uncomfortably on the bed once his hand reached your stomach. logan kissed you harder to keep you from overthinking. he had never been very good with words, but his actions made up for it.

his big hand sneaked inside your underwear, your mouth opened when his fingers found your clit. using his thumb, logan rubbed circles there, just the way he remembered you liked it. his index and middle fingers teased your entrance, spreading your arousal all over it. logan slowly pushed those two fingers inside you, thick and rough, coated in your juices.

you threw your head back and a moan ripped from your throat. logan's hand holding his body over yours went to your mouth. he shushed you. your eyes were closed shut. —can't do that. i'd love to hear you but we gotta be quiet, yes?

you nodded, it was hard taking into count how sweetly his fingers stretched your pussy.

—gonna be quiet so i can fuck you with my fingers? —he asked you, his hand still covering your mouth. you nodded again. he slowly nodded too. his voice, already deep as it was, turned deeper as he murmured in your ear. —yeah? good girl. can you feel how tight you are? gotta get you nice and ready for my cock —. his fingers sank knuckles deep into your core. you closed your eyes shut again, trying your best to hold back your whines.

logan's hand covering your mouth moved to your cheek and caressed it with his thumb. his two fingers inside you curled up. logan pulled them out and pushed them in again as he praised you for doing such a good job in keeping quiet.

—you okay?

you nodded to his question, teeth biting your lower lip.

—words, baby, i need to hear you say it.

—'m okay, lo, but, fuck —. you softly moaned. —i can take it, i promise i can, i need you now. —you whispered as you grabbed the back of his head and connected your lips with his. shit, and how could he let his girl beg for his cock when he wanted you as much?

while his lips devoured yours and his beard tickled your face, logan pulled down his underwear, just enough to free his cock.

he gave himself a few pumps, rubbing himself up and down, before sinking into you. he was going slow, but he didn't stop until he was all the way inside you. logan rested his forehead against yours, your mouths open, incapable of continuing kissing, a few centimeters apart as your breaths mixed.

logan placed one of his hands on your hip, holding your body to the bed and allowing him to set the pace. he kissed your top lip while you were still too lost in the feeling of being full to kiss him back. you grabbed his bicep, nails digging into his skin, leaving half-moon marks. fuck yeah, you heard him moan in a whisper.

it was so hard not to make any sound when you could feel how he was using his entire body to fuck into you, making the bed creak while dropping a bit of his weight on you and caging you on the bed. with a bit of luck, your hosts would already be fast asleep and would not hear it because he was trying his best too. every time his balls smacked against your ass, he had to hold back the grunts and turn them into heavy breaths.

your foreheads were pressed together. back in the day, you'd have been telling each other the filthiest things, but now the 'i love you's came out in soft whispers and died into each other's mouth. it was so intimate. you wrapped your legs around his body, ankles locked behind his back. logan held your hands, pinning them against the mattress on both sides of your head and interlacing your fingers.

logan came inside you with a groan that he tried to silence by hiding his face in the crook of your neck while you bit your lower lip as your legs shook and squeezed his body. you felt dizzy from all the panting, your knuckles were white from the tight grip you had on his hands. his claws came out unintentionally but thanks to your hands under his, the blades didn't stab into the mattress otherwise you would have had a lot of explaining to do the next morning.

—are you okay? that must have hurt.

after catching your breath, he removed himself from you and lay down on the bed. you turned to look at him and took one of his hands between yours. you kissed his knuckles before massaging them. you heard the hiss he let out as his claws hid in his hands again.

logan hummed, enjoying the soothing effect that your fingers had on his aching knuckles. he lifted one of his arms so you could snuggle into his chest and you gladly took refuge on one side of his body.

—never been better —. he kissed your temple, holding you closer to him.

you played with the patch of hair on his chest while you silently enjoyed each other's company. logan closed his eyes and hummed as his fingers caressed your hair. you lifted your head from his chest, and he opened one of his eyes, curious to know what happened.

—you know i stopped taking the birth control pill months ago, right?

logan closed his eye, relieved to know it was just that. —yeah, you told me, i remember.

you narrowed your eyes. —you know what that means?

he opened his eyes to look at you, were you being serious? —me cumming inside you? yeah baby, i'm almost 190, i know what that means.

you looked at each other in silence for a few seconds until you let your head fall on his chest again. he could see the worry in your eyes. he ran his fingers through your hair again, telling you that you would be okay even before you could ask him.

—what will we do if i get pregnant?

—we will be okay and we will find a way, we always have.

[soliloquent-stark]

steve just wants to console tony after his breakup with pepper, okay? no ulterior motives here

marvel text posts 13/?

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Fantod

Warnings: non/dubcon, biting, blood, anal, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Part of Roo's Pajama Party (October 7-8)

Prompt: Fantod - a state of irritability and tension (List of prompts here) + this look

Note: Please leave some feedback and reblog <3 As always, I love to chat with you all. I hope you enjoy this one and have a lovely weekend.

Lightning crackles in the sky as the clouds pulse above. The storm brews behind the pillowy weave above, thrumming, churning, ready to burst at any moment. You peer up from the window in dread. The tension in the air is more than the weather. The storm is no coincidence. 

You hug the pale pink knit around you and shiver. The heat that kept you in little more than the white satin set has given way to a creeping dampness. The sinking temperature creeps over your flesh and you shiver as tendrils of lightly sprawl toward you. 

Closer and closer. It isn’t only the storm that warns of his approach. You slip your hand beneath the loose sweater and touch the burning patch of skin along your hip. You touch the scarred mark. The etching of a rune you don’t know the meaning of. 

You back away from the window and retreat into the kitchen. You put the brass kettle onto the burner and twist the dial until the flame catches. You cross your arms and back up to watch the vessel in dread. 

You flinch as a fleck of rain hits the window pane. You glance over at the speckle as it begins. The droplets are small at first then turn into a thrashing stream the rattles the wooden frame and beat on the glass. The first peel of thunder makes you squeak. 

You clasp your hands over your chest and spin. The windows darken and the whole cabin seems to tremble. Closer, now. 

The whistle of the kettle makes you exclaim. You turn and shut it off, forgetting the idea of tea. The door blows open and slams against the wall. You spin again as a gust unfurls from the front of the house. You scurry to the doorway as the tails of your sweater lash around you. 

The hammer soars through the open door and clunks onto the floor. You stare at the handle as it juts up from the dense block. You shiver as lightning flickers in the doorway. Another rush of wind invades the house and another crash lands at the threshold. 

Thor’s burly silhouette fills the doorway. You quiver and clutch your hands tight. Goosebumps nip over your skin. You cautiously step forward. 

“My prince,” you greet in a mewl that barely escapes your throat. 

He doesn’t respond. He enters and the wind reverses, snapping the door shut behind him. You wince and fall into action. You near the gargantuan shadow and pull out the small stool from beside the mat. You climb up to unclasp the front of his cloak as he stands, puffing like a furious bear. 

Something has happened. He is unhappy. He doesn’t so often come on sunny days anymore. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t so much as acknowledge you as you pull away the rich red fabric and hang it on the hook. 

You slide the stool away as he sits on the bench against the wall. You kneel to remove his boots and put them on the mat. The smell of rain thickens the air and sends another shiver up your spine. 

He stands and you scramble to do the same. In an instant, he has you by the back of your neck. You squeak. His strength pinches your muscles. You arch your back and writhe on your toes. 

“My prince, how may I serve you?” You whimper. 

He grabs the pink sweater strips the sleeve of one arm, then the other. It falls to your feet and he shoves you away from the door. You perform a tortured dance as his nails dig into your skin. He is angry... at you? 

“My prince,” you whine again. 

He brings his other hand under your chin and forces your mouth shut. Lightning flashes from the windows and limn his angry expression. You peer up at him helplessly. 

He marches you backward. Your feet tumble over the rug that trims the length of the hallway until your meet the cold tile. He drags you into the kitchen as the brand on your pelvis throbs hotly.  

He urges you against the counter. You’re trapped there before him. He lifts you with no effort at all onto the countertop. You land so that a pang radiates from your tailbone. You grip the edge of the hewn oak and bat your lashes at him. 

His hand slips up from your neck to cradle your head. He tilts your face up to him and bends like vulture over his prey. His breath scalds you as he fans you in a furious exhale. 

You shakily raise your hands and press them to his chest plate. His grey blue eyes stir in tandem with the storm roaring and raging without. His gaze falls to your touch and he grip eases. 

His hand trails down from your chin and tickles your throat. You tremble as he traces along your shoulder and follows the thin strap of your silky camisole. He hooks around the thin strip of fabric and pulls it down your shoulder. The other slackens and falls down your arm. The satin slumps away from your chest. 

His eyes devour your chest before he does. He bows to take a pert nipple in his mouth, flicking his tongue around until your moan. His need plucks in your chest as he teethes your rigid bud. You bring your hand to the back of his head and draw him in. 

Tension cords through his muscles, you feel it as your other hand brushes along his bulging bicep. He nips at you, biting along the cushion of your chest. He jerks you suddenly so you fall onto your back. Your head touches the wall, your neck curling up, as his fingertips wander down your back. 

His other hand crawls beneath the loosely tied waistband of your shorts. He pets your pelvis as he trails closer to your cunt. He pushes between your folds and you twitch.  

A swell of nerves roils inside of you. Your walls clutch in anticipation, almost fear. Each time is like the first. He’s always too much. 

He rubs you as he bites and licks at your chest and shoulders. He nuzzles your neck and sinks his teeth in until you whimper. You spasm as he rolls your clit beneath your fingertips. The skin splits and your blood bubbles into his mouth. Another mark to make you his. 

He dips his finger into you, poking as deep as he can, as if to feel your limit. He knows how much you can take and he never pays it much mind. You will take all of him even if you feel you might burst. 

He unlatches his teeth and smears his lips in the blood he’s drawn. It stains your skin as he drags his lips around. He pulls his finger in and out, adding another as you groan. He wiggles them inside of you and puts a third in despite your weak whimpers. 

He growls and lifts himself. He looks down at you, his lips and beard red from his beastly bite. He jams his fingers as deep as he can then tears them out of you. He grabs your hip and flips you in a single motion. 

You hit your stomach on the edge of the counter as you slip backward. He smacks your thigh then drags his hand up to your ass. He slaps you again, so hard your bones aches. Something. You did something. But what? 

“My prince, what--” 

He hushes you and pinches the soft flesh of your bottom. He feels along your satin shorts and curls his fingers around the waistband. He snaps the ribbon laced through and the shorts slip down your legs.  

You as good as hang off the counter as your toes dangles right above the tile. You brace the wood to keep from slipping as he frames your hip with one hand. He shifts behind you, jostling around, brushing against you as he comes closer. The soft rustle of fabric foretells a much rougher end. 

He brings himself out and presses his tip along your ass. He traces down the curve and pushes against your folds. You quiver and stretch your hand across the countertop. You close your eyes and grit your teeth. You know what happens now. 

Your walls squeeze even as you focus on relaxing. He pauses along your entrance. He rolls his swollen tip around, slickening it with your expectation. He rubs up and down, up and down. Whatever you’ve done, doesn’t matter. Only his will does. 

He delves into, just a little, then pulls out. You croak as your insides spasm. He huffs and slips his dick up between your cheeks. He bends forward and hooks his arm around to smother your mouth in his large palm. With his other hand, he pushes his tip against your tight ring. 

You squeak helplessly into his rough skin. No. No. Not that. You can’t handle-- 

Your lips part and your teeth press against his palm as he enters you. You squeal, muted by his hand, and bite down on him as he inches into you. You shake as tears prick at your eyes and well over. Your fingers furl against the wood and your nails cut into the polish. 

He nuzzles the grown of your head and growls. You sniffle as you sob silently into his hand. Why is he doing this? What did you do? 

He buries himself to his limit and you kick out around his legs. He leans into you as the fullness feels as if it will split your stomach. You whine through your nose and gulp up your agony. You cling to his wrist as he thrusts, your hips bones crushed against the sharp corner of the counter. 

He rolls back and in again. Long, slow, strokes. Torturous. A remonstrance spoken without words. He pumps into you as you squirm and squeak. You lean your face into his hand as he pushes his other beneath you. He touches the brand on your pelvis and sends a fiery ripple through you. 

He slams his hips into you. He holds himself as deep in you as he can get and pulls back so fast, it drains your breath. He thrusts again, deeper, and falls into an erratic rut. He bounces you against the counter, pinning you beneath him as he smothers your cries, latched onto your hip as he uses you. 

He growls into your hair as he fucks you into the counter top. Your torso scraps against the wood and your spine aches from his relentless force. 

He grunts and slides his hand around the back of your leg. He pulls your back as he hooks his arm around the back of your thigh. He folds you up as he lifts you with him, his other arm coming around your other leg. He has you high above the floor as he steps away from the counter and thrusts up into your ass. 

You push your head back against him. Your eyes roll back into your skull and your tongue lolls out at the clash of pain and pleasure. He snaps his hips, harder and harder, and your body quakes uncontrollably. 

He sinks in as deep as he can and shakes. His voice trickles out in heaving growls and keeps you aloft as he turns to lean against the counter. You spasm around his dick, aching and stretched. He snarls through his nose and jerks his hips one last time. 

“Stop feeding the crows,” he rasps. 

[avengerscompound]

Robert Downey Jr as Tony Stark IRON MAN 3

[cadhla182]

Ororo doodle up for Patrons: https://www.patreon.com/posts/ororo-dooble-113521070

[multi-fandom-imagines8]

Could you do a Steve Rogers x reader where he constantly gets distracted by the reader bc he has a crush on her

A/N: It’s been so long since I’ve written anything for the MCU. Enjoy! I didn’t have much time today, so this is just a quick drabble that can be read before the actual story/one-shot. I haven’t decided on the ending yet, but there will definitely be some angst. I’m still unsure if it’ll have a happy ending or not.

Fictober Challenge

“So Cap, what’s the mission now?” Sam asked, lounging back in his chair.

“I don’t know. I didn't call the meeting” Steve replied, arms crossed.

“Then who did?” Clint chimed in, legs kicked up on the table.

“I did” Tony strolled into the room, a broad smile on his face.

“You seem…unusually happy” Nat remarked, raising an eyebrow.

“I am. We have a special guest today” Tony said, sipping his coffee.

“A guest?” Steve asked, not looking pleased. “When were you going to tell us?”  

“Right now. Surprise!” Tony shrugged nonchalantly.

“And when is this mysterious guest arriving?” Clint asked.

“Any minute now” Tony continued to drink.

Before anyone could react further, you appeared at the door “Hello?” you knocked lightly on the open glass, glancing inside curiously.

“Ah, Y/n! Finally!” Tony exclaimed, standing to greet you and pulling you into a bear hug, lifting you off the ground. 

Everyone else was caught off guard. This was a side of Tony they had never seen.

“Anthony, put me down!” you whispered, embarrassed, swatting him until he released you.

Steve cleared his throat, clearly waiting for an explanation.

“Right, everyone, this is Y/n, my cousin. Y/n, this is everyone” Tony gestured grandly..

“Cousin? You have a cousin?” Sam asked, disbelief in his tone.

Natasha smiled, stepping forward to give you a hug. “Good to see you again, Y/n.”

“Wait, you two know each other?” Clint asked, a hint of jealousy in his voice. 

You and Natasha nodded simultaneously.

“Hold on, how do you know each other?” Sam asked.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Nat asked “When I used to work for Tony, we once visited her.”

“You technically still work for me” Tony teased. “Y/n’s been in Asia for years, studying. She just got her PhD in biochemistry.”

“Congratulations” Bruce said, looking intrigued. “What was your dissertation, if I may ask?

“You opened your mouth to explain, but Tony cut in, “Let’s get lunch first. You’ll have plenty of time to interrogate her later. Pepper’s expecting us.”

—

“So, you’re Bruce. Scientist and Hulk. Sam, Falcon. Clint,Hawkeye. James- sorry Rhodey, War machine…” you trailed off, naming the Avengers.

Steve nodded as you finally turned to him “And you, Steve Rogers, Captain America” you offered him a smile, and his heart skipped a beat.

“Thor is the only one missing right?” you asked and Tony nodded.

“Actually there’s one more” Steve added, “Bucky Barnes. He’s a friend from back in the day.”

Sam huffed “Yeah, but he’s not an Avenger.”

Steve shot him a glance “He comes to training, doesn’t he? Besides, when we need his help, he’s always there for us.” 

“Always there for you, maybe” Sam replied.

Sensing the tension, Clint steered the conversation away “There’s also a kid that Tony brought for a couple of missions.”

“A kid?” you asked, raising an eyebrow at Tony..

Tony shifted uncomfortably “Oh, come on. Technically, he’s in his senior year.”

“Really? You made a high schooler an Avenger?” you rhetorically asked, crossing your arms.

“Well, yes. But-”

“And what’s his superpower?”

“Well, he’s… Spider-Man.”

You blinked “Spinder…what now?”

“Shoots webs. Does spider stuff.”

Sam chuckled as he lowered his voice “She’s gonna ask where the webs come from.”

You crossed your arms, eyeing​ Tony “Does he shoot webs out of his…?”

“Wrists” Tony interjected quickly “Just the wrists.”

Steve turned to you, his voice calm and soft “So, Y/n, are you staying here for a while or settling in for good?”

You hesitated, unsure “That’s a good question. I haven’t fully decided yet, but for now, Anthony said I could stay at the tower. I just don’t want to intrude.”

Tony opened his mouth to speak, but Steve was quicker “Nonsense. You wouldn’t be intruding. Besides, we have plenty of space, and technically, Tony owns the building.” His gentle smile put you at ease.

“Thank you for your generosity” you said with a smile, and Steve’s heart fluttered.

Taglist: @byepolarneko @littlebabycrab @projectxhapiness @ineedcoolshoe @eleshka-still @blindsunkiss04 @saraneville2015 @im-old-now-i-guess

@i-just-wanna-live-gc @jamesbarnesappreciationsociety @shymagicsworld @mcubuckyandsteve @imdiegohargreeves @bucky-blogs @alwayshave-faith

@markusstraya @whattaweeb @natasha-danvers @iamwarrenspeace @bullet-babe3 @bonjouritsellaa @thisismysecrethappyplace @simonsbluee @marvel-addict-95 @capsheadquarters

[artbyblastweave]

Avengers: Earths Mightiest Heroes feels like it came at the exact right time to be able to loot the decades of accumulated continuity for all the good stuff, but directly before the MCU exploded to the point that all subsequent projects had to be subordinated to the demonic overlord of “MCU synergy”

[darkmasterlistyouneveraskedfor]

Pajama Party Drabbles

Fantod - Thor

Tenebrific - Captain Syverson

Dyspathy - Tony Stark

Retrogradation - Raymond Smith

Compotation - Sam Wilson

Unparadiz’d - Ransom Drysdale

[incorrectquotesmcu]

Steve: Stressed.

Bruce: Depressed.

Natasha: Possessed.

Tony: Obsessed.

Clint: Impressed.

Thor: Chicken breast.

Everyone: ...What?

Thor: I just wanted to join in.

[tony-stark-ing]

This picture of Tony does things to me. 🥵🔥

[soliloquent-stark]

✨ saw you from across the bar and really dug your vibe ✨

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Mission Control 22

Warnings: non/dubcon, violence, blood, stalking, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Captain Hydra

Summary: a man marches into your life on a mission

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

It’s not calm. It’s just nothing. You’re not afraid, you’re not angry, or sad, or anything. Just empty. The tension clings to his touch as he draws away and you’re left just like that. Numb, but not quite. 

You turn onto your back as the soldier stands. You watch him in the strange haze of your existence. Your eyes close as the fire crackles around the fresh log he lays on it. You sink into the depths of your heedless mind. 

When you rouse again, it isn’t for long. He’s dressed in black. As always. But you know by his stance, by his armour and cowl, that he is on his way out. He pauses to pet your head before he goes. You don’t react. 

You shut your eyes again and let the sleep take over your addled body. The pain recedes to a dull thrum and your thoughts slow to a placid ripple. Hours unfurl in shadowy ribbons. When you wake again, you can sense the time passed. Close to a day. 

He is still gone. 

You get up, keeping your injured foot off the floor, and hop around in search of your keeper. You lean on the wall to keep your balance as you make your way through the cabin. You stop in the bedroom door and stare at the blood stain on the wooden floor. You quiver at the memory of the intruder’s fate. 

You retreat to the kitchen and sit for a while. Your appetite sours your stomach. You don’t know how as your thoughts threaten to make you nauseous.  

You flinch as the wind rattles the windows and whistles just outside those battered walls. The world slows and so do your thoughts, just enough to sort them. How did that man find you? How did he get past the traps? Is he the only one? No, you can’t believe that the villain who took you has only a single enemy. 

You get up and go to the fridge. There’s a covered plate with a note on it. ‘Eat’. You bring it to the table and remove the foil. Two hard-boiled eggs, a peeled and separated orange, a cup of cottage cheese, and whole wheat crackers. It’s not fancy or especially tasty but it’s more than enough. 

As you wash the plate, you notice the mug. Another note. ‘Drink’. There’s a packet of instant coffee tucked behind the paper torn from the same notebook he kept by the bed. 

You add boiling water to the mix and gratefully down the caffeine. The familiar taste is comforting. You stay at the table for a while, your eyes skimming the front room. The place is as bland as the meal. 

Then you see it. It wasn’t there before the chaos. You stand and hobble through the open doorway and across the room. You stop before the armchair and the stack on the seat. There’s an unopened package of pencils, a sharpener too; beneath, several puzzle books, another book of blank pages, and a rubik’s cube. 

Under all that, is something else. A dress. Yellow linen, with eyelets around the waist and short sleeves, and buttons down the front. The buttons are pearl and you can tell it is true vintage. 

You leave it on the chair and take a puzzle book. You open the box of pencils and sharpen it to a point. You open the pages and the smell of paper invades your nose. It’s nice. You love that smell. It’s the best you’ve felt in weeks just tasting that scent. 

You sit and do a puzzle. You stop as your cheeks ache. You’re smiling. Something so simple is the most amazing thing you’ve ever done. Just writing the letters. Knowing the answers. You close the book and hold it in your lap as your eyes glaze over. 

You sit hunched on the couch and sob. It could be the pain, it could be the horror of what you witnessed, it could be the terror of what’s to come, the isolation of this cabin, it is everything and anything. Your grief bubbles over and constricts your ribs to the point of breathlessness. You let it all out until you are spent and your cheeks are raw. 

You shakily set down the book on the side table and stand. You angle over to the chair on one foot and lift the dress. You look down at the dark shirt; his. You don’t even remember him putting it on you. 

You strip it off and pull on the dress. It smells like laundry detergent. It’s soft. It’s lovely. It makes you feel a little more human. 

You limp, touching only the toes of your wounded foot to the floor, and go into the bathroom. You can only see to just below your chest in the mirror. Your face and your hair are a disaster but you don’t care. The dress is nice. It’s cute. 

You just watch yourself as you run your hands up and down the fabric. You stay there until you can bear to stand no longer. You come back out, hopping again, but before you can reach the front room, there’s a clatter at the door. 

You cry out as your heart lurches. You search around for anything, something to defend yourself. What if it’s not him? What if it’s another villain? 

The door swings open but does not assuage your fears. It is the soldier but he is not himself. He has his cowl still in place and his body seems to steam as his chest rises and falls rapidly. His muscles are tense beneath the taut fabric, bulging in his armour. 

You cannot see his expression but you can imagine it by his posture. He marches forward mechanically and you whine as you throw up your hands. He grabs your head between his large hands and you struggle with him, dancing on your toes as you cry out in agony. 

“No, please,” you beg. 

That little bit of joy flies out the door and fades into the billowing winds. You push against his stomach as he tries to pull you closer. You ball one hand and beat on his chest as you strain to keep him from smothering you. 

“No, don’t! No, no, not like this,” you plead as you snake your hand up.  

You writhe in his grasp as you get a thumb under his cowl. You slide the strap from his chin and the mask shifts. You continue to push against him as you flip it up, getting it just above his mouth. You tear at it again and unveil his face. 

You look up at him as his eyes fall to you. His scar is a torturous shade of white as he clenches his jaw. His eyes are dilated and dark. Just like the first time he returned. Your insides quake at just the thought. 

He clutches at your dress and pulls you closer. You squeak and shakily press your hand to his cheek. You caress him with your fingertips as he crushes you again him, your arm folding between your bodies. You brush through his sweaty strands and tremble. 

“Please, be nice,” you quaver. “Be soft to me, soldier. Please.” 

He squeezes you until you can’t breathe. You flutter your fingers around his ear and whimper once more. Then he slackens his hold on you and unhooks his arm from your waist. His eyes clear and his hands rest lightly on your hips. 

He opens his mouth and outlines a word with his lips, ‘soft’. 

[avengerscompound]

Avengers United Infinity Comic (2023) #50