#endgame au | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

chaossmagic · 8 months

Note

writing prompt: stucky trying a new recipe together. Something that implies they're going to be around a long time to eat it. Like jam or pickles.

"You sure you got enough there, pal?" Steve asked, leaning in the doorframe of their kitchen, wiping the last flecks of tacky paint residue off his hands. He rolled the paint-stained cuffs of his flannel shirt up to his elbows as he crossed the room to where Bucky stood at the stove, stirring an enormous bubbling pot of blackberry jam. More pans with smaller amounts were littered across the countertops; a row of clean, steaming jars sat on the table, ready to be filled.

"Ha ha," Bucky snorted with sarcasm, giving the jam another stir and sticking in a vibranium finger. He pulled out a purple-jam-covered fingertip and inspected it carefully, tongue poking out as he concentrated in a way Steve thought was utterly sweet and very, very adorable. Clearly, it wasn't the right consistency yet, because he frowned, wiped off his hands, and went back to stirring. "I thought you were out of terrible ideas when you gave up the shield. Guess I was wrong." He turned off the stove and turned to face Steve, arms crossed in front of him. But Steve could see the teasing in his eyes, the faint twinkle at the back of the deep blue, the frown that didn't quite reach his lips, stained faintly purple along with a smear of blackberry jam on his nose and more purple stains on the fingers of his right hand.

"Still can't believe you're practically a farmer's wife now," Steve joked, stepping closer to him, smelling the sweet fruit and sugar on him, layered on top of his cologne and the wax he put in his hair these days, making the soft spikes shine. "James Buchanan Barnes, gone all domestic in his old age."

"Fuck off, punk, you're older than me," Bucky retorted, fake-wriggling away as Steve pressed his face into his neck and kissed him all over the exposed skin of his throat and collarbone. He felt Bucky's hands come up to thread through his hair, now longer and thicker than it had ever been - even more than when he'd been on the run those years, and getting a decent haircut was out of the question - and stroke the soft golden strands fondly. Steve eventually straightened up and wrapped his arms around Bucky's waist, grinning.

"Guess we'll be eating blackberry pie for a while then?" he asked.

"Be eating it longer than that time all we had was cabbage soup twice a day for a month," Bucky replied. "When was it, winter of '37? You know I can't stand the sight of cabbage soup now 'cause a' that. You try to get me to eat it, I'll puke."

Steve grimaced; he definitely remembered that solid month of nothing but increasingly-questionable quality cabbage boiled to death in broth that nothing but a single carrot and a tiny piece of onion in it. He didn't blame Bucky for completely avoiding the stuff now, even though culinary tastes had come along way since those days.

"Well, pie is definitely better than cabbage soup," Steve said, pressing a kiss to Bucky's forehead. "Especially when my beautiful, talented husband spent his day making it because I'm the idiot husband who suggested that planting fruit trees might be a good idea."

"We'll be eating blackberry pie till we both drop dead," Bucky said.

"That's an awfully long time," Steve said. Then he smiled. "I can't wait. We've earned it."

#lazlolullaby #lorna's writing #stucky #stucky fic #steve x bucky #featuring bucky being a domestic goddess #and way too many blackberries #i picture this as being part of my post-endgame fixit au #home is wherever i'm with you #endgame au #steve looks like nomad steve in retirement #and is an artist who teaches art at a high school to make a little money and feel like he's contributing to the world #bucky is an avenger and also a househusband #he complains but he loves it

14 notes · View notes

ronearoundblindly · 10 months

Text

The Stark Legacy (19)

Delight, part of Book II: Mind (see previous or series)

Summary: The compound deals with everyday challenges alongside holiday struggles.

Warnings for canon-level language and discussion of drugs and abuse. Rated Teen, 15+ ONLY, please.

CHAPTER NINETEEN—December 2038

“Ok, guys,” Peter Parker started energetically, “I gotta get back to decorate the tree tonight, so here’s what I got so far.”

“Go ahead,” Steve allowed.

“Bad batch of drugs is killing kidnapped homeless people, and now some of the same drug has been interspersed in huge illegal shipments around the world,” Peter rambled.

“Why didn’t we catch this earlier?” Bucky was given exactly the time it took to walk from the quinjet to the conference room to settle in. After yesterday’s all-nighter and a long flight, he was in a sharp mood.

“I found out when I ran into two kids who were experimented on,” Peter said.

“Romanoff and Thor got very little out of the drug’s creator,” Steve added. “We’ve had this professor in custody for a while,” he continued, sliding a file over to Bucky, “and he’s a full-blown nut job, with too many connections. It’s been a joke trying to track all the crime this guy might be involved in.”

“Seriously,” Bucky mumbled, “I’ve been sunning myself instead of helping with this?”

“Buck, we’ve got dozens of agents,” Steve snapped. He had rested no better than his friend. “T’Challa needed you more than us.”

Bucky scanned the file. “You have to be joking. D-Lite?”

“Yup.” Peter checked his watch.

“That sounds like an off-brand soda.”

Steve sighed in frustration. “Parker has two informants, Tandy and Tyrone, was it? They told us where the experiments took place, past tense, and now we are trying to help them control…whatever it was that triggered in them by this heroin substitute.”

“Whoever it doesn’t change, it kills flat out.” Peter’s face sank, remembering the stories he’d heard from his young recruits. “And it gets a little weirder because the survivors said that Professor Marshall was helped by a demon.”

“What the hell—”

“Yup. Basically. Named despair, at least that’s what Marshall called him, it, whatever.” Peter looked at his watch again and punched in something on the table’s comms. “And that’s it for me, so Natasha can go from here. Bye.” He bolted to the door, yelling a “Merry Christmas” to everyone on his path out.

Steve leaned over. “He told me earlier that Christmas is the only time his teenager isn’t a ‘total douche,’ his words, so he’s a bit excited to go home.”

Nat’s face popped up in familiar blue.

“Boys, I’m sending you new info that we’ve gathered, but,” Nat paused, “this is a mess. Only a fraction of these shipments have been tampered with, and there is no way to test all of it. We’ve got to destroy everything we find. You can imagine how many friends we’ve made.”

“And the other doctor affiliated with Marshall?” Steve sorted a few windows on his tablet.

“Clint was tracking Dorcas until the trail went cold. It’s like he actually disappeared into the ocean. We asked King Namor to keep a guard up just in case. The Sub-Mariner said he’d heard a legend of D’Spayre,” Nat cleared her throat, “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but according to Atlantian lore, the demon D’Spayre was created from the fear their ancestors experienced when the whole kingdom sunk into the ocean. Hell of a bedtime story.”

“Well, the devil attacked us last year, so…” Bucky was going to need some time to absorb all this, line the players up on the field in his mind. “Alright, let’s get more details from Clint. Fresh eyes can’t hurt.”

“He’s states-side now,” Nat clarified.

Bucky looked at Steve. His friend shrugged. “And Sharon is waiting for me at the house,” Steve said, tentatively, “her rule when I came back. Home for the holidays unless…you know, disaster.”

“Guess it’s just me, Doc, and Wilson,” Bucky grumbled. “When does Stark get back?”

Nat pursed her holographic lips. “Gamora and Rocket send us subspace messages, but Tony’s been out of range for weeks. There’s a whole other problem…I’ll have to…we don’t know much, so I’d like us to wait for Stark to brief us. We’ve got enough to handle now.”

“Fine,” Steve allowed again, “keep us posted.” Nat’s form vanished.

Bucky leaned farther back in the conference room chair, sorting through what he’d just heard and known for a while.

“I think I liked being lower on the totem pole,” he said tightly. “There was a lot less to worry about. Go here, kill this guy. Go there, one more. Chill out and do nothing for a few months—”

“Buck,” his oldest friend interrupted, leaning forward with hands intertwined, “maybe you shouldn’t joyfully reminisce about single kills, yeah?”

Bucky swallowed inside his clenched jaw.

“For right now, I need you and Sam to work together,” Steve continued.

“She’s in Wakanda,” he replied quickly.

“Actually, both of them. Big Sam seems to respond well to Lil’Sam, and I think she can help him focus during training.”

“I should have just brought her with me,” Bucky mumbled.

Steve sat up. “Wait. So who…”

It only occurred to Bucky as Steve trailed off. No one had invited Samantha home. No one had even thought to do so just in case. All the pieces moved on the chess board and swiveled right past her. Her only remaining family was zipping through space somewhere. Clint hadn’t known he’d be back until the last minute. Natasha was flying around constantly. Bruce—

As if summoned by the thought, Banner pressed the door open with his back and looked up from his tablet. “Hey, gang, can we talk about Sam?” Bruce looked up over his glasses, unaware of his timeliness.

Steve’s expression said it all. “Shit.”

Samuel Wilson shoveled food into his mouth as if he were starving. A few people wandered in and out of the kitchen while Bucky looked on, mortified.

“You’re gonna get sick, buddy,” Bucky said as if he too would be sick.

“I’m in training, man. I lost so much muscle mass—it’s a bitch to put back on.” Sam gulped from the huge water bottle he carried everywhere.

“Glad to see your mood improved after sleep.”

“Bite me,” Falcon coughed between fork-fulls.

He ignored that rousing invitation. “You seemed to respond well to Samantha,” Bucky started.

“Lil’ Sam,” the hungry, hungry hippo corrected.

“—so I thought she could help us out the next few flights. What do you think?”

“Whatever.” Sam continued to eat. Bruce had warned Bucky not to expect much real interaction from Wilson. After waking up, the onslaught of high brain activity had plateaued, and his personality was still recovering, if it was coming back at all. Wilson’s moods still jumped around, and his focus was erratic. Bruce had suggested trying some unconventional, new methods of acclimating Falcon back into the team. This was as good of an idea as any other.

To Bucky’s surprise, Samantha jumped at the chance to help, and he could she her projection sitting on the disc in the yard as he and Falcon approached. He was even more surprised when Little Sam took the reins right away.

“Tell you what, Big Sam,” she started, smiling, an odd thing to see for the first time on a projection. It seemed foreign somehow. “You beat me at cards, and you can skip flying today. Deal?”

Wilson perked up immediately. He stood straighter. He smirked. He bounced in his step, what he’d several times described to Bucky as ‘swagger.’ “You’re on. That’s what I’m talking about. See?” He glared at Bucky, “not everything has to be serious.”

Samantha dealt cards onto her platform, scooting off to lean only her face and arms into the projection, and Falcon took off his flight pack and curled up in front of the circle like a kid with a new toy. Bucky watched for a few minutes. Wilson stayed excited, fun, sarcastic, and competitive, but even when Samantha had a good hand that beat his, Wilson playful congratulated her. He never got cranky; he never snapped at her. Bucky left them outside, keeping a watchful eye from just inside the building. He couldn’t tell who was winning the entire time because they both seemed so genuinely excited for each other. The two Sams clearly joked and chided each other, talked animatedly, and finally, both threw up their hands in shock.

Samantha did a small victory dance while Wilson pressed his comm. “Alright, Barnes, it’s flight time. Fair and square.”

The whole practice was derailed by Samantha’s intermittent challenges for Falcon to fly in a certain way or pattern, once was hands flat by his sides like Iron Man launching, another was a figure eight, but Bucky didn’t mind as soon as he figured out what she was doing. He never caught her eye to confirm, but Samantha deliberately asked Wilson questions during flight, rehashed old memories, and left small details for Wilson to correct. Bucky suspected she was testing him, yet Wilson became his old self for the first time in half a year.

Sixty minutes became ninety. Ninety minutes became three hours, and still, Falcon flew strong. He’d successfully flown by a neural link alone twice without noticing because Samantha suggested he show off his dance moves. After a particularly fluid, in-flight Bruno Mars impression, Bucky clapped for Falcon’s achievement, assuming Samantha was equally impressed. When he turned to look, however, she wasn’t on the platform anymore. He could only see a combat boot on its side at the circle's edge.

“Sam,” he called, “did you trip?”

The foot did not move.

“Samantha,” Bucky tried with more urgency, “are you okay? Say something. We can’t see you.”

There was a quiet moan, and the foot dragged off out of view. “Ow…”

“Seriously, are you alright?”

“Lil’ Sam, come on. What’s up?” Wilson sauntered up. “You still got two left feet?” Bucky could hear the calm tone, but Wilson’s face showed only concern. They stood looking into thin air, helpless, unable to even reach out a hand.

Finally, a hand stuck itself into their view and gave a shaky thumbs up. A strained chuckle vibrated through the speakers. “I—I—just I need to eat is all.” Her voice was too quiet.

“What the hell? How long has it been since you ate?” Bucky put his hand to his forehead, demanding, “go into my place and eat something. You fainted.”

“Yeah, I think I’ll go lie down too.”

“I’ll send someone to check on you,” Bucky added.

“No,” Samantha said, leaning into the circle, her face stern, “I’m not built like you guys. I’ll just rest and see you tomorrow.” She switched off the platform from Wakanda.

“What’s wrong with Lil’ Sam?” Wilson stopped immediately in front of Bucky, so close Bucky could feel his breath. “Is she sick? Why didn’t she come home? She should be here.” The anger rose quickly in his voice.

Bucky raised his arms defensively without touching Sam. “Honestly, I don’t know. I wasn’t told to bring her back, and—” He stopped, himself a little hurt by the reality. “No one…” Wanted her home? That was a cruel way to put what seemed like a simple oversight. Asked her home? Did a Stark actually need to be asked to do anything? She could feasibly do whatever the hell she wanted, and did from what he saw. Remembered her? Bucky had to admit that he repeatedly forgot about Sam until he found a use for her today. “You’ll see her tomorrow, Sam. I’ll make sure of it. She’s fine. I’m looking after her.”

Falcon stormed off, knocking him against the shoulder hard as he passed. “You better,” he hissed and mumbled about food on his way inside. The quick turn of his friend’s dark mood shocked Bucky. They’d been doing so well.

Bucky thought back to years ago when Wilson had been so ashamed of falling out of touch with Samantha. How close had they really been? He flicked back through the recording of their card game.

“—I definitely taught you how to bluff better than that—”

“—when you trained me to beat Nate with that trick shot before his basketball tryouts? He was pissed for weeks—I studied all the birds around the farm. I was gonna tell you all about them on your next visit—”

“—I should have taught you a good punch for those kids who called you that—”

It reminded Bucky of all the fellow soldiers at Lehigh who took over parenting him after his father’s accident. He had pieces of friendship and advice from everyone, but he remembered how sometimes the niceties only made him feel his loss more deeply. No single person could replace his father, and the more and more support he got, the more alone he felt when no one was around. His own father had died though; how did Sam feel knowing her father was still alive but took no part in raising her?

Bucky had always understood Stark’s perspective, perhaps because he felt so deeply responsible for how Tony became the man he was. Tony lost his parents to violent, evil forces, and after a period of burying his head in a bottle, he worked constantly to stop that from happening to anyone else. It was a full-time, all-time, forever job that only grew bigger and more complicated as the years went on. Now Earth needed two super soldiers, demigods, aliens, lab accidents, young drug-created recruits, and a veritable army of Inhumans running whole departments in every region just to keep evil at bay. Giving up on that to raise just one child alone, without her mother, the love of his own life, was such a foreign skill set, why wouldn’t he have outsourced it?

After all the pain he put those he assassinated through, Bucky would never choose to be tortured by reliving what he’d done to their families. He would admit it, go through it for their benefit if he must, but if he didn’t have to, he would hide in a shitty apartment in Romania. Which is exactly what he did once. So Bucky had never blamed Tony for living separately from his daughter. Bucky shoved his head in the sand, hoping the world would heal and move forward without him; Tony dove head-first into protecting the whole world and hoped his daughter would be safer for it.

She was safer, in a way, but Samantha wasn’t really Tony’s kid anymore. She wasn’t really anyone’s kid entirely, and even though the responsibility had been spread thin over a dozen or so people over the years, no one, in particular, claimed her. Big Sam and Little Sam had obviously started a friendship that looked like family, but it died somewhere over the last decade. Bucky stood mesmerized by the ease at which the Sams picked up interacting with each other; he’d never seen Samantha so comfortable, friendly even. It was a little unnerving, like watching a stage performance before the curtain closed.

The footage paused when a message from Samantha popped up on his tablet. “Big Sam counts cards without knowing it. Can be distracted from doing it, but is capable of complex cognitive tasks he could not previously do. Tell Bruce.”

So, she really was testing him. Smart girl.

[Chapter 20: Nourish]

#bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x oc #tony stark's daughter #marvel fanfiction #mcu fanfiction #mcu au #alternate universe #endgame au #slow build #slow burn #action/adventure #the stark legacy #series #epic tale #tony stark angst #tony stark fanfiction #sam wilson steve rogers peter parker #avengers fanfiction

12 notes · View notes

broadwayfan92 · 10 months

Text

Endgame AU: The rematch we wanted.

#bruce banner #thanos #hulk #hulk vs thanos #mcu #mcu au #avengers endgame #endgame #endgame au

10 notes · View notes

blackfawn · 2 months

Text

I wrote an Irondad and Spiderson fanfic on ao3. Feel free to check if out.

There's a circle of people standing. Tony spots Rogers. He’s beaten and bloody, and when he catches the expression on the man's face, he pushes the suit’s engines at full throttle. Something is wrong, and the closer he gets, the more there’s a sick feeling in his gut that it's the reason why he hasn’t seen Peter.

When he sees him, Tony screams. His thoughts are a constant stream of nononono, not by son, not my kid, not Peter.

He steps out of the suit and falls to his knees and Peter-

Peter smiles at him. Tony swallows down the sob that fights to claw its way out of his throat and smiles back.

Or, Peter is the one to use the gauntlet in the battle of Endgame. Time-travel hijinks ensue

#marvel fanfiction #marvel #irondad and spiderson fanfiction #iron man #irondad #dad tony stark #tony stark has a heart #tony stark #tony stark and peter parker #peter parker snaps #peter parker #spiderman fanfiction #tom holland #avengers endgame #endgame au #angst #angst with a happy ending #angst with comfort

3 notes · View notes

ashandkatiewrite · 1 year

Text

Summary: It has been five long years since Thanos snapped half of all existence into dust along with half of Bucky's heart. He runs to the life of an assassin as the Winter Soldier once again until he is caught against his wishes in Madripoor. "There is a chance," Steve told him with tears in his eyes. "We're going back. To fix everything." They could all go back to the past. But Bucky had a different plan in mind. And it didn't have anything to do with any infinity stones but everything to do with the reason he'd been running. He was going to fix the biggest mistake he'd ever made.

WRITTEN BY: @if-you-onlyknew & @katiekinswrites

Pairing: Bucky Barnes/OFC

Rating: M (Mature) & E (Explicit)

PART 2/3 in the: Maggie/Bucky What If (AU) Series - READ PART ONE HERE

CHAPTER 15

preview...

Caroline insisted on seeing her son. She was near hysterics as she cried and laughed during the FaceTime call.

And then she asked where the hell they were. The room behind Bucky, his son and brother in law was vast and strange looking. Especially with the time heist platform behind them.

Christopher deferred to Bucky to answer that question.

“James?” Caroline asked.

Bucky felt an inner qualm every time he lied to Caroline. She still didn’t know exactly who he was after all.

“We’re at the Avengers Compound upstate.”

Caroline’s mouth opened slightly. “Why…?” She asked slowly.

Steve chose that moment to walk in with Bruce right behind him in all of his green and bespectacled glory. “Buck? We need you.”

“Buck?” Caroline repeated. “James, even I know who that is behind you. If Daniel was here…” Her words trailed off for a moment. “I want all three of you to come to Philadelphia.”

“Okay, Mom,” Christopher answered her. “As soon as we can.”

“Now,” she stressed. “Chris,” she said, looking at her grandson, “Make sure, okay? Grandma needs her boy's home.”

“Okay, Grandma. Love you.”

Bucky got up from the couch and approached Steve and Bruce. “What is it?”

“Tony did it… and Rocket.” Steve looked anxious. “The stones are ready for the glove.”

Bucky’s eyes widened. “Shit.” His heart was suddenly slamming against his rib cage. “Not yet. I… I need someone at home for Maggie. She won’t understand why she’s alone.” His hand was in his hair as he looked back at Chris and Christopher.

As much as he needed to be there when Maggie came back — because she would, there was no other choice — he had to be here to make sure it happened.

“I’ll go. I need to see my sister again,” Christopher said as he approached.

Taglist: @ocappreciationtag • @sendmylcve • @arrthurpendragon • @darkwolf76 • @cas-verse • @victoriapedrcttis • @cjand10 • @roosterbradshaws • @seb-soph • @eddysocs • @darylandbethfanforever9

#oc: maggie hastings #fic: i'll crawl home to her #ocapp #bucky barnes #mcu oc #what if au #endgame au #bucky barnes/oc #sophia bush #sebastian stan #bucky barnes fanfic #angst and fluff and smut

18 notes · View notes

katiekinswrites · 1 year

Text

WRITTEN BY: @if-you-onlyknew & @katiekinswrites

Pairing: Bucky Barnes/OFC

Rating: M (Mature) & E (Explicit)

PART 2/3 in the: Maggie/Bucky What If (AU) Series - READ PART ONE HERE

chapter 13 preview:

Maggie’s whole body was stiff. She ached in places on her body she had never felt before. An IV had been placed in her arm, giving her the lowest dose of pain meds possible. She had refused them at first — but it was Christine who finally convinced her to take a low dose.

“You’re not a superhero, Mags; you don’t have to put on a tough face. You’re in pain and you need help. So let me help you.” She had opened her mouth to argue with Christine, but the doctor cut her off. “Don’t be one of those pain in the ass patients, Hastings.”

Maggie had laughed, only to feel a sharp pain from her broken rib.

That was what had finally made Maggie agree to take some pain meds. But she sure as shit wouldn’t be taking them once she was at home healing — even if Christine prescribed them.

“I want you to take it easy for the next two weeks,” Dr. Palmer told Maggie as she signed her release forms. “And to call me if you need anything,” she added, shooting a look at Bucky. He nodded . “I’ll come and check on you after my shifts if you can’t make it to the hospital.”

Maggie looked at Christine oddly. Why would she have to come see her? Maggie would be working alongside her at the hospital. She wouldn't be performing any surgeries, but she’d still be there…right?

Christine gave her a look, seeming to have read her mind. “Maggie,” she said with a sigh.

“I’m not taking two weeks off of work, Christine,” Maggie said defiantly. “I have already been in this bed for days.”

“Two days,” Bucky spoke up. He could count down the hours to her, but he doubted that would be needed or appreciated right now. But he was worried about her with the way she was wincing.

“I’m not missing any more time,” Maggie pressed.

“I’m sorry, but I am not signing off on you coming back to work until you’re healed and have seen a trauma therapist,” Christine said, handing Maggie the form back.

“This has got to be a joke, right?” Maggie said, no humor in her tone.

Christine shook her head and Maggie scoffed in annoyance, causing Christine to glare. “I am serious , Dr. Hastings. You can come back in two weeks. This is not a suggestion. Recovery. Therapy. When that's done, I’ll sign off on your return.”

“I don’t need to be psychoanalyzed by a shrink,” Maggie argued.

“Yes, you do,” Christine stated. “And I’ll need proof that you actually went, or you’re not coming back.”

“I’ll make sure she goes,” Bucky told Christine before turning a flat look at Maggie, daring her to argue with him. “We’ll go together.” He sure as hell needed it after coming into the hospital to see Maggie with two black eyes swollen shut, her arms, ribs, and upper thighs all badly bruised.

It had taken every last ounce of control Bucky had left to remember Frank’s words. That she’d leave him — he’d lose her if he acted on his instincts.

Maggie moved forward, ready to argue more with Christine only to be hit with a wave of pain. She grimaced, biting down on her tongue to keep her eyes from watering.

TAGLIST: @ocappreciationtag • @marvelocsdaily• @marveloccommunity• @fyeahsuperverseocs• @jvstjewels • @arrthurpendragon• @darkwolf76• @cas-verse • @victoriapedrcttis• @darylandbethfanforever9 • @cjand10

#oc: maggie hastings #fic: i'll crawl home to her #ocapp #marvel oc #bucky barnes #mcu oc #infinity war au #endgame au #buck barnes fic #sophia bush #sebastian stan #bucky barnes/ofc

19 notes · View notes

lyssismagical · 2 years

Text

excerpt from a fic I'll finish one day

“Doing grief before, doesn’t mean it makes it any easier.”

“What do you want me to say?” Peter says again, voice raising more than he intends it to. He feels like he’s on the edge of a precipice, staring down at a bottomless pit. If he steps over the ledge, he’ll never come back out again. “That I was there when it happened? That I held his body as he died just like I did for Ben? That I had to be pulled off the corpse by Rhodey because I refused to let go? That my last words to him were I’m Sorry? Is that what you want me to say?”

Ned hesitates before nodding slowly. “At least that means you’ll be talking about it, processing it, taking the first step to moving on.”

Peter’s hands are shaking. He links them together on his stomach, doesn’t move his eyesight from the ceiling. He doesn’t want to see Ned’s face, pitying or desperate to help in that Ned way.

“I felt it when I died,” he admits, eyes watering at the memory. “It didn’t happen all at once like it did with everyone else. It was slow. Painful. Like my body was trying to heal while being torn to pieces. Tony held me. I told him I was sorry, that I didn’t want to die. He held me as I died and then five years later, I held him as he died.”

“I’m so sorry,” Ned says. He sounds like he might cry too.

* In which Pepper and Tony both die in the final battle leaving Peter to pick up the pieces and become Morgan's guardian.

#secondhand sorrow #lyss writes #lyss talks #peter parker #ned leeds #irondad #morgan stark #parent peter parker #sad peter parker #spiderman #endgame au

29 notes · View notes

mychem1calbr0mance · 2 years

Text

angsty ironstrange fic idea

okok so you know how in that one episode of What If, Christine's death was an Absolute Point in time and was nearly impossible to reverse?

ok what if Tony's death was an Absolute Point in time, and Stephen felt that same grief/despair as he did whenever Christine died, so he kept going back in time and trying to prevent Tony dying

Yada yada yada this would lead to him snapping (no pun intended) and going haywire just like he did in What If, desperate to bring Tony back, ignoring every warning he was ever given

Over the years, he'd build up enough strength/power to be able to prevent Tony's death (whether it'd be he simply survived the snap or someone else did it, up to you), and the same thing happened- time bit the dust and he would end up trapped in a little bubble of protection, alone for the rest of his days, or until it finally broke

The cause of his affection could be tied to the fact that whenever he looked through the 14 million possibilities, he grew fond of Tony since y'know Tony was probably in every single one of em

Orrrrrrrr idk maybe they had been friends for a while or something, again can be whatever

ORRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR he didn't have any attraction to Tony at first, and was trying to bring him back for Pepper or something, but as time went on, his affections developed rapidly and in the end, he did it for himself

(the team would let him borrow the time stone for a bit obviously, pretty sure they'd almost all be on board with the idea- as time would go on though, they'd probably start getting antsy and go "yeah no this isn't gonna work, Strange give it back" and y'know at this point his affection for Tony would've already developed and there would be this big fight because obviously he needed the stone and he was "almost there- I'm so close! Just give me more time! Please!")

22 notes · View notes

dirushi-12 · 9 months

Text

Finally the hug we've been waiting for from , Spiderman: Homecoming.

I have tears and I am not ashamed of them and I want irondad and Spiderson .

It's not a want either it's a need .

#i don't know i don't care #tony stark #iron man #peter parker #spiderman #irondad #spider son #the avengers #au #endgame au

2 notes · View notes

h1myname1sv · 1 year

Text

NEW FIC: i'm so tired (of being afraid) 1/8

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: referenced major character deaths Fandoms: MCU, Black Widow, The Avengers, Daredevil, Hawkeye Relationships: Avengers Team & Natasha Romanov, Clint Barton & Natasha Romanov, Yelena Belova & Natasha Romanov, Matt Murdock/Natasha Romanov, Minor or Background Relationship(s) Characters: Natasha Romanov, Clint Barton, Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, Thor, Bruce Banner, Yelena Belova, Matt Murdock, Other Marvel Characters Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Divergence - Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Grief/Mourning, Fix-It, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, POV Natasha Romanov (Marvel), Natasha Romanov Is Not A Robot, Natasha Romanov Feels, Natasha Romanov Needs a Hug, Natasha Romanov-centric (Marvel), Clint Barton & Natasha Romanov Friendship Wordcount: 4k Summary:

Steve glances at her with what she can only describe as a small, fond smirk. "You're not alone in this," he murmurs.

She breathes in, gathers up the courage to grasp him on the shoulder. "Neither are you," she says.

They stand there, mourning together in the silence, because that's how the two of them have always been.

(Or: Natasha Romanoff had three families. She's going to get them back and/or die trying.)

Part 3 of "a single loose thread"

Excerpt:

Her phone doesn't ring.

She calls them, tries again once, twice, three times, over and over again, redialing Yelena's number, redialing Clint's number, redialing Matt's number, redialing anyone she knows because of the distinct possibility that they are gone, dead.

The phone lines are busy, she tells herself. That's the only reason they won't answer. (The small part of her who is still naive holds out for hope.)

But dust floating away in the wind flashes behind her eyes.

#a single loose thread #i'm so tired (of being afraid)#fic #natasha romanov #endgame au #fix it fic

4 notes · View notes

finnicks · 2 years

Text

( fic ) we held heaven in our hands for days

we held heaven in our hands for days

mcu | natasha/steve teen, 1k When Steve returns the Soul Stone to Vormir, Vormir decides to give him someone in return.

17 notes · View notes

ronearoundblindly · 1 year

Text

The Stark Legacy (17)

Whisky, part of Book II: Mind (see previous or series)

Summary: The birthday girl is discovered for the wrong bad behavior but counters with an unusual offer.

Warnings for mentions of medical self-experimentation and drinking. Rated Teen/Mature so 15+ only, please.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN—December 2038

Imagine a paper cut slowly and methodically slicing into your flesh. The pain is not immediate, but you know you felt something breach the surface. Then you feel tweezers slip inside the paper cut and pry it open just a little further. You feel the exposure of air where it doesn’t belong. You can’t move unless you want it to get worse. After the tweezers spin around inside each tiny little cut, a needle is stuck shallowly, repeatedly inside. When this process is completed over the space of your entire limb in 3mm increments, that’s thousands of times per limb, the still-fresh paper cuts are doused in sanitizer.

At least, Sam thought, that’s what it feels like.

The whole process took hours, days, and weeks at a time, yet somehow this was not the most terrible birthday Sam had ever had. She was doing something good for science, and while that thought kept her going each day until she passed out under the cradle’s mechanical arm, whisky kept her from thinking too much about it after a section was complete.

The feet were by far the worst. She’d never had the chance to get a tattoo, but Sam was sure she wouldn’t bother now. And she wasn’t even done; her left arm, chest, and head still remained.

Tomorrow. Not today.

Sam was enjoying a very quiet night on the ‘bone yard’ hilltop, sipping a bottle of Bain’s Cape Mountain Whisky. Burning on the inside was a nice change from crawling on the outside, though the grafting of vibranium into her keratinocytes managed to ease some nerve discomfort after the first 48 hours. Sam took note that this could be because the metal protected the exposed nerves within her Extremis-altered epidermis, but that was only her best guess.

Sam was entirely lost in thought when Bucky appeared at the far end of the field and trudged over.

“Hey” was all he said when he got close enough. Sam nodded back. She hadn’t seen him in a week or so, but they hadn’t had a conversation since flying to Wakanda. That was a few months ago now.

“You look about as good as I feel,” Bucky added as he reached out his right hand, twitching his eye toward the bottle. “I won’t ask you why a seventeen-year-old is drinking straight from the bottle if you share.”

Sam handed over the bottle. “Merry Christmas.”

“Damnit,” Bucky exclaimed, “that’s next week, isn’t it.”

“Sure is…and I’m eighteen as of last Monday.”

The bulky soldier let his shoulders slump. Perhaps he meant to say congratulations, but instead, all that came out was “I’m sorry.” He handed the bottle back after a very long swig, then sat down a few feet away.

“Yeah,” Sam replied, continuing to medicate. “So what have you been up to?”

“Sam Wilson is having to retrain using the EXO-7, so I’ve remotely piloted a few battle sims for him. Then there’s…” Bucky drifted off in thought, deciding what Samantha could know. He finally landed on saying, “always some asshole trying to stir things up here and there.”

“So you get sent off to punch ‘em?” Sam chuckled at the thought.

He maneuvered his hands in the air for a second. “Well, it requires some finesse, too, but sure, I’ve…passed the point of diplomacy a few times.”

Sam noticed the physical difference in Captain Barnes since they’d left New York. He spoke with his hands freely, used and relaxed more muscles while interacting with others, told animated stories, and calmly listened. He seemed free of some constraint in Wakanda. “You like it better here, don’t you?”

Bucky was caught off guard by the errant thought. “Not—” he searched for the words, “not better, I guess, but—maybe? I’d never really thought about it.” He put his metal arm out this time, wiggling the fingers for the bottle.

“You won’t break it?”

Bucky’s head snapped back in feigned offense. Sam was eyeing his arm again, as she’d done in the quinjet during their flight.

He grabbed the whisky. “Go ahead, you can ask,” he prompted, having heard all sorts of outrageous, mostly rude, comments and questions about the metal appendage. How much can you carry? Can you pull it off and on to sleep or clean? Can it spin around in all directions? Are there weapons inside of it? Can you crush a guy with only that thing? How much did it hurt when they put it on you? Do you have to charge it separately? These were the normal questions. Every once in a while, someone would ask if he missed being a whole human, and that one particularly hurt.

“Would you ever want a real arm back?” Sam said sheepishly.

The way Sam asked him, though, was unlike anyone else. She did not imply he was not a human, she asked what he wanted instead of what he could do, and most curiously she seemed to believe he could have a real arm again. Still, Bucky wouldn’t be stitched together with a corpse’s arm.

“I’m not Frankenstein’s monster,” Bucky replied, slowly and deliberately, “that’s how I ended up like this.”

Sam took and drank from the bottle. “You know, the monster was the most genuine and kind person in that book.” She looked down at the grass between her feet, very quietly adding, “Forget I asked. I’m sorry.”

Head hopping “You’re a smart-ass,” he mumbled. Then it dawned on him. “You’ve called me that before,” Bucky said absently. “When you were a kid, you looked right at me…and called me a monster. I don’t think you meant I was genuine and kind.”

It took a moment to see the comprehension roll across Sam’s face. “Eh, shit. Children…” Sam shook her head, unable to find the correct way to apologize. “Children don’t see the big picture.”

Bucky returned his gaze to the sky. He didn’t know what he wanted from her; an apology, an explanation, maybe recompense. It made no difference all this time later. Nothing could change why the word had hurt him so much. He would have believed it no matter who said it. Somewhere in his mind or heart, he believed himself a monster from the instant he fell from the train in ’45.

“Bruce was my friend,” Sam blurted, “and then I did something wrong. He got mad at me, but…all I knew was that he didn’t touch me. Hulk didn’t hurt me. And then you beat him up anyway. You beat my friend to a pulp right in front of me. You hurt someone I loved, so I called you names. That’s what four-year-olds have to fight with, mean words that we barely understand.”

They sat silently for a long while, passing the bottle back and forth. Bucky enjoyed the taste, the reminder of old times with friends and men in arms, but he noticed Sam’s aim in handing off the bottle deteriorating, slowing in response. Her eyelids slumped. She didn’t look up at the sky anymore; she looked straight forward with the same wonder as the stars.

Bucky took a moment to amuse himself. “So you’re a genius and can give me an arm, huh?”

“Depends on your definition of real,” Sam slurred a little. “You’re not entirely human, so I’d need to replicate your DNA and tissue. Add in some vibranium for durability because why the hell not? We’re in Wakanda. Of course, I’ll need to do a scan of rotational capacity from your other arm so it can match, and then blend the infused tissue with your existing skeletal, muscle, and skin structure…” The last half of her thoughts were spoken with closed eyes. She got lost in solving the problem, repeatedly pushing her entangled fingers together in frustration.

“Sam?”

“Yeah?” Her eyes were blank.

“You want me to take you back to your room?”

“I—I can do it,” she said, shoving herself up onto shaky legs. She turned to go inside, leaving the bottle with Bucky.

“Hey, Sam,” he called after her. “Happy Birthday.”

She didn’t turn around, only paused, then made a weak salute on her way inside.

[Ch 18: Test]

[Main Masterlist; Light Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

17 notes · View notes