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thescarletwitchsapprentice · 3 years

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A Pure Soul: Nearly Taken (Yandere!Wanda Maximoff x ADD!autistic!reader)

*Not my GIF.

Summary: The day (y/n) comes back to the compound after being told all those nasty things takes a toll on their mental health and self-esteem. Unfortunately it gets to a point that Wanda hoped it would NEVER reach.

Request?: Still none.

Word Count: 3,456

Warnings: Ableism, eugenics mention, r-word slur, attempted suicide, attempted overdose, hurt and comfort.

Notes: This is a sort of “in-between scene” from “A Pure Soul.” The rate of suicide is 3 times higher in autistic people because of the world’s lack of understanding and willingness to accommodate us. Plus being told the world would be better off without you, along with people looking for ways to make sure we’re not born....that’s gonna take a toll. So it makes sense for these feelings to emerge.

=============================================

You know that the world isn’t very kind to the disabled.

You know that the world wishes people like you wouldn’t exist.

But that doesn’t make what happened hurt any less.

You were out shopping when you ran into your best friend from high school. Except....this friend wasn’t the same as you knew them. No, instead they showed you their true colors.

“Oh hey, (y/n),” they said.

Tone has never been your specialty.

“Hey!” you exclaimed happily as you were looking through the books at your local bookstore. “It’s been so long since I’ve seen you! How are you?”

“Better. How’s the treatment coming along?”

This confused you.

“Treatment?”

They nodded.

“For that disease you call autism.”

This struck a chord, and it struck HARD. How could they say something like that?!

“D-disease?!”

They smirked.

“I mean, it just makes us humans lives harder to be around your kind.”

What?!

“What the hell’s gotten into you?!” you exclaimed. “I thought you were my best friend!”

“Oh?”

They pretended to wrack their brain.

“Oh! Yeah, I was such a great actor in that part. I should get an Oscar. Here’s the tea; I lost a bet and had to be your best friend for those four hellish years. I can’t believe they wanted me to suffer that much.”

Your heart began to crack. It was all....an act?

“You took my high school years away from me, made me miserable. I could’ve won prom royalty, but no one voted for me because I associated myself with your species. I’m glad you’re out of my life now. You’re nothing but a burden and the world would be so much better off without you. Why not do us that favor?”

Your heart shattered. You were so plagued with shock that you didn’t notice them push you to the ground and spit on you before walking away with a satisfied chuckle. For the next few minutes, you couldn’t say or do anything. You were just frozen to the spot, their words bouncing around your head.

Finally you were able to feel both the physical and emotional pain. Pursing your lips, you got up, kept your head down, and quickly left the bookstore, trying not to let the tears fall.

===============================================

In the elevator, heading up to your floor, you can barely form a new thought. All you can think of is that hurtful interaction.

Burden, your kind, your species, disease....

It all hurt.

And the worst part is that you can’t help but think that they’re right.

But your thoughts are jolted by the elevator bell. As usual you find the Avengers hanging out in the lounge. Nat and Clint are chatting with Wanda. Tony and Peter are working on homework. You can barely see what the others are doing.

Almost instantly, Wanda’s eye falls on you. She has a smile on her face, but it falls when she sees you, as she instantly knows that something is wrong.

“(Y/N)!” she whispers worried.

She rushes over and gives you a gentle hug, but you practically squeeze the life out of her. The other Avengers also come to your aid.

“What happened?” Wanda asks you.

You gulp as she and Nat lead you to the couch.

“I....” you begin as you sit down. “I was out shopping....and I ran into my best friend from high school....”

You tell them the entire interaction. Shocked looks are nearly all around by the end.

“That’s seriously messed up,” Nat says in a mix of disgust and anger.

The others nod in agreement, except for Wanda. Instead she begins to tear up.

“My sweet angel,” she weeps softly as she hugs you closer and pets your head. “Oh, my sweet, sweet angel. None of what they said is true, not one bit of it. You’re an absolute joy to have around and you’re one of the kindest souls I’ve ever met. You bring so much to the Avengers and to our lives. Autism is not a disease. It’s a part of who you are, and I wouldn’t change it for the world.”

“Wanda’s right,” Peter nods. “You’re wonderful, (y/n). You’re one of the best friends I could ever ask for.”

“And you bring a lot of new perspectives,” Nat adds. “You came into our lives when we needed you the most, especially Wanda.”

They all take turns giving you words of comfort and encouragement as well as letting you cry. Wanda stays the closest to you, to no one’s surprise, hugging you tightly. Her embrace is exactly what you need right now; so warm and loving.

Tony, though not the most emotional person, does feel sympathetic and even angered at the person who said that to you; even though you’re on the opposite side of the Accords, he decides to get your favorite food for dinner. It’s not the greatest gesture of sympathy, but it’s definitely something. After that, you take a nice, warm shower and get into some fresh, soft pajamas. Wanda’s waiting for you in your bedroom, and surprises you with some soft socks that match your pajamas.

“I removed the fabric tags too,” she tells you.

Your heart melts a bit more for her. How someone as kind, attentive, and loving as her could ever be considered a terrible person is beyond you. You let her put them on your feet and they feel amazing. You wriggle your toes in them, smiling.

“You like them?” she asks you.

“I love them,” you giggle before turning to Wanda. “And I love you.”

She smiles and gives you a kiss on the forehead.

“I love you too, my angel.”

The two of you spend the rest of the night together, cuddling up close with one another, watching sitcoms, singing quietly. You doze off in her arms.....

But that doesn’t mean it’s over.....

==============================================

You’re not someone who easily forgets how things make you feel, and what that person said still makes you feel like shit. Now whenever you go out, you’re worried that you’re going to run into them. You keep your guard up and walk as quickly as you can. Every outing feels like a fight for survival, but you try to stay strong so that you don’t bother the others. You try to keep a smile on your face. You need to be strong.....

.....But even the strong reach their limits.

It’s a little after you found out they became catatonic. You’re at a coffee shop, nearly empty, when someone else walks in. It’s a friend of that person. You keep your head low as they place their order; four cups of black coffee, extra hot. Your anxiety is increasing, but you don’t want this person to think you’re weak. You keep your back to them, hearing the door open again.

The other person is called for their order. Maybe you can finally get out of here.

The next thing you know, you feel something steaming hot being poured down the back of your shirt, on your head, thrown in your face, (which you luckily cover most of with your arms) and splattered on your arms and legs. Standing up, you cry out in pain as you whirl around to see 4 people from high school, among them the friend of your former best friend.

“It’s your fault my best friend can’t function, you retard!” the friend snaps as they push you around roughly.

“No one wants you on this planet,” spits another.

“You’re nothing but a parasite!”

“You just weigh people down!”

“You’re an embarrassment to society!”

“Why don’t you just end this?”

“It’ll be better that way!”

“Your birth was a mistake!”

By this time, you’re hardly a thread’s width away from a meltdown and you look at the cashier for help, but nothing. You try to take out your phone to call for help, but you end up slipping on the coffee, falling to the ground hard and in an odd position, hearing a crack. Pain surges through your body as you look at your arms; burn marks are beginning to form.

After they kick at you for a bit and spit on you, they leave. You look up at the cashier.

“Why....didn’t you help?” you whimper with a whistle in your voice.

No answer.

They don’t help you up either. Crawling to the door, you use a nearby booth to bring yourself back up to your feet. Suddenly you feel an intense surge of pain in your left leg, and not just from the burns. You look to see that it’s swollen and turning reddish-purple. You reach into your coat and get out your phone only to discover that it’s dead. Wanda’s going to be worried sick....you hate making her worry, and she’s been worried sick these last few weeks to the point where it’s taking a toll on her; so on the way back, you decide to take one worry out of her life for good.

======================

It’s dark when you get back to the compound. And lucky for you, the elevator is closed for repairs. You limp up the stairs, finally reaching the compound. As quiet as a dust mite, you open the door, biting down on your lips to keep yourself from crying out in pain; unfortunately, your lips took some burn damage as well. Limping to the bathroom, you shut and lock the door. You search the medicine cabinet and find some pills.

“This should do the trick,” you whisper.

You try to quietly position yourself on the floor so that you won’t hit your head. You want to be able to pass as peacefully as possible. But something gives in your left leg and you fall, letting out a loud cry of agony. Realizing your mistake, you quickly fiddle with the lid of the bottle as you hear footsteps rush in. You finally get the lid open and begin to pour out the whole bottle into your hand, hoping to get it in in time--

Click!

The lock turns scarlet, clicks, and the door swings opens.

“(Y/N)!”

A terrified Wanda immediately snatches the pills and bottle from you with her powers. She makes them disappear before heading to your side, tears already flowing from her eyes.

“My sweet angel.....” she squeaks as she kneels in front of you gently taking ahold of your hands. “I didn’t realize you were feeling this terrible. I’m so sorry things have reached this point.”

You look away guiltily.

“No, I’m sorry....it’s my fault. I never said....anything. You....you’ve been so stressed these past few weeks....all of you. I didn’t want to make it worse on you, so....I just kept quiet.”

Wanda shakes her head.

“You have nothing to apologize for, (y/n). It can be scary, but there’s no shame in reaching out. We all need help sometimes.”

Other footsteps rush in.

“What happened?” Nat asks. “Did (y/n)---?”

“Almost,” Wanda gulps. “We need to get them to the emergency room.”

“I’m fine,” you lie.

“Are you fine?” Wanda asks.

You realize that it’s pointless to lie, and you shake your head.

“No, I’m not....”

“Then we need to take you to the emergency room.....”

That’s when she sees the burns and leg.

“Especially to treat these.....what happened?”

As they carry you to the car, you tell them about the run-in at the coffee shop, them pouring the hot coffee on you, how they were telling you all of these things, how the cashier did nothing to help, how you heard that crack. Both of them are disgusted and horrified at those monsters.

“I don’t care what they say,” Nat tells you as they get you inside. “I’m glad that you’re here.”

“I am too,” Wanda agrees as she gets in the front seat. “We’re here for you.”

“But.....my autism.....”

Wanda gently takes ahold of your fingers, careful to avoid the burns.

“My angel.....I can only imagine how isolating it feels to be in a world that’s not made for you, but your autism is part of who you are. It’s what makes you unique. If the world refuses to accommodate for people like you on their own, we’ll help them to see that they need to, and we’ll help advocate with you.”

Nat nods as she starts the car up and the three of you head for the ER.

“I....I feel selfish worrying you like this and even attempting....I just thought....you’ve been so stressed and I thought it’d be better to take one worry out of your life.”

“You have nothing to feel selfish about,” Wanda assures you. “What you did wasn’t selfish. You’re in pain, and wanting to do something to stop that pain isn’t selfish. But there are better ways to deal with the pain, and I want to help you with those. (Y/N), I can say with 100% certainty that I’m glad to have you in my life, through the good and the bad.”

Tears flow down your face as the three of you silently drive to the ER.

=============================================

It takes several hours for you to be treated, along with a few more hours of consultation for your mental health. Some of the burns are treated through surgery, so you have to stay for a little over a week to make sure you recover and stabilize. Your leg is put in a cast, and Wanda comes to visit you everyday. You feel much better with her and Nat.

A psychologist comes in to discuss a safety plan with you. You decided to ask Wanda if she’d come and discuss it with them. She said yes and Nat also decided to help. You all work out what works in terms of coping mechanisms, people you can talk to, calming techniques, etc,. The psychologist also recommends regular counseling. Wanda asks if there are any remote options for counseling, as it’s going to be difficult for you to get there with your leg, (Also, she’s a little worried that the therapist might try to take you away from her, but she does show concern for your leg) and to her relief, there is.

You’re discharged after about a week, but you’re not to be left alone for a few days to another week or two, just to be sure. Well, it’s more of Wanda’s recommendation than psychologist’s orders, but the psychologist also thinks that that could be a good idea. You’re not really complaining; it’s more time to spend with Wanda. And she’s certainly not complaining either.

For that time, especially, she makes sure you know that you’re loved, wanted, valued. She practically dotes on you; as if she hadn’t been doting on you before, she’s especially pampering you now. The other Avengers also get the 411, and decide to help. If you need pain or sleep medications, one of them brings the proper dose to you. They take turns spending time with you and getting to know you more. If they need to go out on a mission, Wanda volunteers to stay with you, but if she’s absolutely needed there, she entrusts your care to Vision, a robot who’s exceptionally caring. You and Wanda regularly discuss possibly adding him to the relationship, but you’re not sure if she’s being serious or not.

On one night, Wanda’s caring for you. After applying the prescribed cream on your burns, she helps you find an oversized t-shirt to wear as PJs.

“This one’s softer than the others,” you note.

“I went looking for a shirt with a softer material than normal,” she tells you as she prepares a small dose of melatonin for you, one that you’ve been taking to combat the nightmares of those events in the hospital. “I know how much it tends to make you feel discomforted if there is one. I also made sure it was a tagless shirt.”

You smile and sigh.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve an angel like you, Wanda,” you tell her.

Hearing this she smiles and blushes.

“If anyone’s the angel, it’s you,” she says as she gives you the melatonin. “You’ve been there for me even when I’m at my absolute worst.”

“So have you.”

You take the melatonin before Wanda brings you your toothbrush and toothpaste. You brush thoroughly before spitting it into a cup that Wanda disposes of.

“You know, I could go to the bathroom and do this myself,” you tell her kindly.

“I know,” she sighs. “I’m just worried, my angel.”

“What if I wash my face tonight with the door open?” you suggest.

Wanda gives this a little thought and nods.

“I can work with that.”

Using your crutches, you walk to the bathroom where you sit on a stool in front of the sink. You wash and dry your face before heading to the bed with Wanda helping you get tucked in.

“You’re seriously an angel,” you tell her. “I don’t think I’ve ever met someone outside of my family that’s been as concerned about my well-being as you.”

“And you’re too sweet,” she smiles again as she finishes getting ready for bed herself. “If anyone’s the undeserving, I don’t deserve you.”

“No, it’s the other way around,” you say.

“No, I’m certain I’m right.”

You giggle.

“Wanda, if we try to prove one right over the other, we’ll be going at this all night.”

She smiles as she goes over to the other side of the bed.

“Well, I know you’re an angel,” she tells you as she gets under the covers. “You came to me in a dark time, and you shone a beam of sunlight through the shadow.”

The two of you look at each other as the fairy lights hang above you. Of course you’re looking at the bridge of her nose, but you can’t help but glance up at her eyes a few times; one time they catch you, and they are stunning. They’re like emeralds to you; vivid, entrancing, mystical. Just a single glance, and you know there’s so much to know about, so much to discover, and you become lost in them.

“I’m so proud of you, (y/n).”

Wanda’s gentle voice echoes against your eardrums and dances around your mind, soothing you into drifting even more. But then she boops you on the nose, making it twitch like a bunny’s and snapping you out of your trance.

“Huh?” you ask, looking lost.

Wanda giggles.

“You are too cute,” she tells you. “I was saying that I’m so proud of you for pushing through all of this. It’s not the easiest thing to do, and.....well.....I’m glad you’re still alive, my sweet little sunbeam.”

You blush upon hearing this and turn away, but Wanda gently redirects your face forward.

“There’s no need to hide, my angel. I want to see your lovely face.”

At that moment, you begin to feel drowsy and bring yourself closer to her.

“I don’t think I’ll ever be able to thank you enough, Wanda,” you sigh.

She brings you in closer and you melt into her embrace.

“Being with you, and you being safe and happy and alive.....that’s the only thank you I need.”

Leaning in, she kisses you gently on your forehead and you shyly return one on her cheek.

“Goodnight, my angel,” she tells you as she brushes a strand of hair out of your way.

“Wait,” you say as she turns to switch the lights off. “Will....will you sing me those lullabies again? Please?”

“Of course,” she smiles.

Turning the lights off, she returns to embrace you and softly sings the Sokovian lullabies her parents used to sing to her. As you drift off to sleep, you don’t know what’s going on in her mind. What’s going on with her mind? Her master plan, of course. Tonight’s the night she will finish what she started. Those monsters at the coffee shop messed with the wrong person. For the past few nights, she’s been paying them visits, doing the same things she did with your former best friend, and sending subconscious suggestions for them to gather in one place, thinking they’d be safer together. And now they have.

Tonight she’s going to make sure their minds are gone for good, but not before making them feel the pain and agony she imagines you felt. Her anger with them is in full throttle, so it’s going to be even worse for them. Telekinesis, fear projection, hypnosis, inducing extreme fear, she’ll do whatever she has to. Wanda will not leave until they’re nothing more than hollow husks, shadows of their former selves. With how they’d been acting on those nights, and how much Wanda has done so far, it won’t take too long.

Because no one-and she means no one-gets away with hurting her precious angel.......ever.

#cw suicide attempt #yandere x reader #yandere wanda maximoff #yandere wanda maximoff x reader #yandere marvel #wanda maximoff x reader #yandere avengers #wanda maximoff #scarlet witch #yandere scarlet witch #wanda maximoff x autistic!reader #autistic!reader #marvel imagine #avengers imagines

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dontcare77ghj · 4 years

Text

All In

Bucky x reader x Steve x Sam

Notes: Bucky did not kill Tony’s parents. Civil War did not happen.

Steve had met Bucky in the forties. The two knew they were soul mates when Steve broke his arm and Bucky was suddenly sporting the same injury. Of course, they had to keep it a secret. Soul mates or not for the time their relationship was incredibly taboo.

Sam and Y/N met in 2010 after a friend had introduced them. They knew they were soul mates when Sam slashed his arm when attempting to assemble his wings and Y/N got a matching cut. In 2010 they had nothing to hide.

In 2014 you and Sam were on a run when you tripped over an uneven part of concrete. You weren’t injured apart from some skinned knees which Sam hissed about.

“You just had to trip.” He sighed, helping you up.

“Oh shut up.” You rolled your eyes fondly. “You could be sympathetic to the uncoordinated.”

“It doesn’t hurt that bad.” A blonde man said, jogging over to the two of you, his knees freshly skinned.

If you and Sam were shocked at having another soul mate, you both damn near passed out when you learned of Steve’s first soul mate. You’d only heard stories of multiple people sharing soul mates, but you never thought they were real, until that day.

It was another year before Steve was reunited with Bucky and you and Sam finally got to meet your fourth.

2015

“What’s taking Steve so long?” You wondered aloud, watching Sam move around the kitchen.

“He has a meeting with Fury and Natasha.” Sam reminded you. “And then he is going to pick up dessert.”

“Hopefully it’s something caramel filled.” You groaned, leaning back on the couch before letting out a yelp. “Jesus, Sam.” You said, applying pressure to your bleeding hand.

“It’s not like I did it on purpose.” He said, applying pressure to his own hand.

“Let’s get you cleaned up.” You said, moving into the kitchen and grabbing the first aid kit. “Steve’s going to give you a lecture on being more careful now.”

“I thought that lecture was just for you, you klutz.” He chuckled before hissing as you pressed down on his wound. “I mean I love you and you’re perfect.”

“That’s what I thought you said.” You smirked and finished bandaging his hand.

“Which one of you did it?” Steve yelled as he entered the house.

“Bird brain did it.” You responded as Sam wrapped your hand. “Come to the kitchen and I’ll fix you up.”

“Can you fix someone else up as well?” Steve questioned as he entered the kitchen with a long-haired brunette beside him. A brunette with a bleeding hand.

“Of course.” You smiled. “Nice to finally meet you, Bucky.”

2024

Non-reader POV

“Hey, are you still coming with me today?” Natasha asked, entering Tony’s kitchen behind Pepper.

“Aunty Nat!” Morgan exclaimed, rushing over to the red head. “I missed you.” She said once she was in Natasha’s arms.

“I missed you too, kolibri.” Natasha said, pressing her lips to the girl’s temple. “So, are you coming?” She repeated, turning to the man.

“Don’t hit me when I ask this, but, where are we going?” Tony asked, pouring his wife a cup of coffee.

“We planned to go see Y/N and the boys today.” Natasha reminded him. “If you’ve scheduled other things, you don’t have to worry.”

“No, no, it’s fine. I got nothing better to do than see my favorite foursome.” He said. “Do you need me to take Morgan?” He asked his soul mate.

“No, I’ll be fine. Say hi to them for me.” Pepper smiled, taking the young girl out of Natasha’s arms. “Say good bye to Daddy and Aunty Nat.”

“Bye.” Morgan waved.

“How’s everyone settling in at the compound?” Tony asked Natasha as she drove them.

“Pretty well. Bruce and Wanda are working on bringing Vision back and Thor finally worked out a way to contact us.” She said.

“How’s Clint and his family?”

“They’re doing well, they’re all adjusting as well as can be expected but I spoke to Clint last night and he’s just happy to be home. How’s Rhodes?”

“He’s doing pretty great, he finally got Ross off everyone’s ass, so he’s going on vacation.”

“Vacation sounds nice.” Natasha commented with a wistful sigh.

“You know you can go on vacation, right Nat?” Tony asked her. “You’ve done enough Romanoff; you deserve a break.”

“Maybe. Maybe I like being needed.” She smiled. “I remember you having this conversation with them, before it all.”

“Yeah and look at them now, those lucky bitches are retired.”

2017

Tony had thrown another one of his famous parties. The night had been loud and full of drunken people, people no-one really knew. Once the hours became earlier Tony had kicked everyone out except the team.

It was currently three a.m. and everyone was quite intoxicated as they all lounged in various positions.

Y/N was sitting on Bucky’s lap who smiled at her as she fiddled with his hair and Steve had his head on Sam’s shoulder as he laughed at Clint’s story.

“You’re a bigger idiot sometimes than Steve.” Bucky smirked.

“That’s uncalled for, you jerk.” Steve said. Steve had indulged in some of Thor’s mead and everyone had noticed he was acting different, more laid back, more relaxed.

“You love me.” Bucky smiled.

“Not anymore. Only Y/N and Sam get my love.” He said, snuggling into Sam’s side.

“Oh, you’re wasted aren’t you, Stevie?” Sam smiled, playing with the ends of the blonde’s hair.

“Well, I love you Buck.” Y/N said loudly, her own intoxication levels quite high. “Doesn’t matter if Steve doesn’t give you his love, you got mine.” She said, peppering the brunettes face with kisses.

“No, she’s wasted.” Tony laughed. After Steve had introduced Y/N and Sam to the team, Tony had become quick friends with the women and he always found it amusing to watch the women drink.

“You’re drunk more than I have.” The woman slurred, pressing her face into Bucky’s shoulder.

“The difference baby girl, is that this is like water to him.” Sam chuckled. Tony flipped the bird at the man in response.

“Let’s just agree that everyone’s drunk, except Bruce and spider boy, and leave it at that.” Natasha said, shaking her head. “I need a vacation.”

“Hm, a vacation sounds nice.” Bucky hummed, tangling his fingers in Y/N’s hair. “Don’t feel like I’ve had one of those in a century.”

“We could go to the beach, lay water side all day. I could get behind that.” Sam nodded.

“Why don’t you go then?” Tony asked. “Take that vacation, take longer than a vacation. The four of you have done plenty.”

“One day, Tony. We’ll go one day.” Steve said after exchanging looks with each of his soul mates.

2024

“When did you raid a florist?” Tony asked, looking at the back seat which was teaming with different flower arrangements. “Seriously, how did I not notice this before?”

“Because you’re blind. It’s your age.” Natasha smirked.

“Rude. No one else would treat me like this.” He grumbled.

“Yes they would.” She grinned. “Alright let’s do this.” Natasha said as they pulled up.

“Do you need a minute?” Tony asked her.

“Do you?” She fired back with no real fire.

“No I came here with Pepper a couple weeks ago, I got it all out then.” He explained, staring out the front window. “It felt good.”

“I shouldn’t even be here, Tony.” She murmured. “I died on that rock, I accepted it. I shouldn’t be here.”

“We all were rocked by the snap, Nat. Things have happened, things we can’t change.” Tony said. “I’ve been through this before, this feeling of only being alive for a purpose and it’s not real. Steve’s been through, Y/N, Bucky, Sam, me, it happens. And all of us will tell you, you’re alive for you and you only. There is no other reason.”

“You’re right.”

“I wish I were recording that; no-one’ll ever believe me when I say you admitted I was right.” Tony said.

“Shut up.” Natasha laughed, hitting him lightly on the arm. “Alright, let’s actually do this.” She said, unbuckling her seat belt.

2022

Reader POV

“We got really lucky.” You said, running your fingers through Steve’s hair. “And I know you feel guilty about that but this is not a punishment.”

“That’s not what I think at all.” Steve said, looking up at you. “It’s just when I talk to these people and they’re all distraught because they’ve lost families and soul mates, all I can think to myself is; ‘Thank God that’s not me.’ I can’t help but feel guilty.”

“It’s normal to think these kinds of things, to be grateful nothing has happened.” Sam told him, sitting on the bed next to you both. “Everyone in this room has suffered more than we ever should have and we deserve something good.” He said as Bucky sat next to him.

“Steve, you are one of the best men I know. You have worked your ass off to save this country, this world, hell this universe. While not everything you’ve done has turned out the way you wanted, you have saved so many people. You are allowed to feel guilty for those you couldn’t, but you are also allowed to feel grateful for having survived.” Bucky told him.

“I just wish I could do more.” Steve sighed.

“And that’s why we love you.” Sam said, laying down so he was spooning Steve. “Because you are so selfless.”

“Even if it borders on stupidity most of the time.” Bucky added, situating himself behind Sam.

“You always do the right thing, Stevie. We trust you.” You smiled, still playing with his hair.

“I love you three.” Steve murmured. “I don’t know what I’d do without you all.”

“We love you too, Stevie.” You said.

“Till the end of the line, we’re all in.”

2023

“We’re losing, again.” You said, shooting another of Thanos’s men.

In the span of an hour, you’d managed to travel back in time, lost one of your own, gain all the stones and snap everyone back to life. But Thanos had attacked, the building had blown and now you were losing.

Everyone was pinned down or injured in some way, you wondered if you would survive this.

“We’re not going to lose. We’ve fought too hard for this.” Sam grunted.

“Sam you and Steve are too optimistic for your own good.” Bucky chuckled humorlessly.

“Carol’s down.” Steve reported. “Thor’s down.” He added before getting knocked down. You were the only one in the area and while Tony attacked and distracted him you snatched the glove.

“I’ve got the glove.” You said into the coms. “Oh, shit I’ve got the glove.”

“What do we do?” Sam asked as he and Bucky joined your side, Steve struggling over to the three of you.

“I’ve only got one plan, and it doesn’t end well for us.” Steve said, standing beside you all.

“We don’t have any other options so share with the class.” Bucky said, shooting those who were racing towards the four of you.

“Put the glove on, Y/N.” Steve told you, throwing the hammer. “Put the glove on and snap.”

“That’ll kill you three, not just me.” You shook your head. “Think this through Steve.”

“We don’t have another choice.” He told you.

“We’ve done enough. We might make it through this but if we don’t. We’ve done enough.” Sam said.

“It’s your choice, kitten.” Bucky told you. “Whatever you decide we’re all in.”

A loud yell directed your attention back to Thanos. The man had thrown Tony away from him and was staring at the four of you.

“You can’t stop me. I am inevitable.” He yelled before, running towards you. Without another thought you shoved the glove onto your hand. A small cry left your lips as the power coursed through you and your knees buckled.

Sam held onto you as you smirked at the titan.

“And we’re the avengers.” You said before raising your hand high and snapping. All around you people began to disintegrate and you managed to stand long enough to see the purple titan turn to dust before you fell to the ground, all three of your boys around you.

All four of you were touching each other in some way as the team rushed over.

Tilting your head upwards, a small smile twitching the corners of your lips, you used the last of your strength to say;

“I love you. I love all three of you.”

Their murmured responses were the last thing you heard before the world went black.

2 days later

Non-reader POV

After the joint funerals of Steve Rogers, Y/N L/N, Bucky Barnes, Sam Wilson and Natasha Romanoff, everyone had gone back to Tony’s house. It was there Bruce had volunteered to return the stones.

“Are you ready, big green?” Tony asked, with Peter beside him. The rest of the Avengers and their families nearby.

“As I’ll ever be.” He replied.

“3, 2, 1.” Tony said before sending Bruce back in time. “And returning in 5, 4, 3, 2, 1.” He said but Bruce did not reappear.

“Where is he, Mr. Stark?” Peter asked as the billionaire fiddled with the machines.

“I don’t know kid.” Tony replied.

“Tony.” Clint spoke up. “There.” He said, pointing to the lake. Everyone looked to the lake to see Bruce walking back towards them, with a woman beside him.

“The guardian said, four souls were sacrificed and that mine was no longer needed.” Natasha said before any of the stunned people could speak. “He said, they wish us the best for our futures.”

2024

Natasha and Tony stood in front the four gravestones of their family. The flowers Natasha brought covered the surrounding area and provided color that the four would have loved.

Neither said anything as they stood there, Tony’s arm around Natasha’s shoulders and her head resting on his shoulder.

“I wish they could know we’re doing alright.” Natasha murmured after an eternity.

“They know.” Tony assured her. “They all know.” He added, staring at the plaque that laid in front of all their graves.

Bucky Barnes, Y/N L/N, Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson, soul mates. Friends. Family. Heroes.

Taglist

@rvgrsbrns @piper-koko-barnes-rogers @hopingforbarnes @skeletoresinthebasement @agent-barnes40 @jelly-fishy-babie @smilexcaptainx @starlingelliot @reann-loves-sebstan

Coming soon

Dean x reader x Cas

Tony x reader x Bruce

Natasha x reader x Wanda

Meg x reader x Cas

Wanda x reader x Vision

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buckybarnesbingo · 4 years

Photo

BBB Week 6 Roundup!

Don’t forget that our late card requests are still open until the 22nd!

Title: take you down Collaborator: ABitNotGoodieBag Link: AO3 Square Filled: Kiss Me Ship: BuckySam Rating: Explicit Major Tags: BDSM, explicit sexual content Summary: Bucky is a distracting menace and Sam’s gonna let him know what’s what. Word Count: 4222

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Title: Petals - Chapter 7 Collaborator: DocOlive Link: AO3 Square Filled: K4 - Intimacy without sex Ship: Stucky, IronStrange Rating: Teen Major Tags: Hanahaki disease, emotional constipation, sickfic Summary: “So what you both have, it seems, is a terminal case of idiocy.” Strange swept into the open living area, like he was continuing a conversation Bucky forget they were having. Which, okay, was reasonable, given the massive levels of shit he was feeling at the moment. He glanced over to where Steve was perched at the far end of the couch, pale and sweaty, looking even more delicate than usual. Bucky imagined he looked about as miserable, himself, what with the recent tendency to work up hairballs made of goddamn flowers. -- Bucky and Steve admit their feelings and feel better. Stephen Strange is an ass. Word Count: 7203

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Title: Save Another Life (It Will Be Worth It) - Chapter 2: Helpless Collaborator: rebelmeg Link: AO3 Square Filled: U4 – restrained Ship: Bucky & Tony & Bruce Rating: Teen Major Tags: child abuse, Dad Bucky & Kid Tony & Kid Bruce, heavy angst and lots of fluff Summary: James' suspicions about Bruce's home life are confirmed in the worst way. Word Count: 6505

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Title: Escape Plan: 12 Percent of a Plan - Chapter 1: 12% of a Plan Collaborator: tisfan Link: Tumblr Square Filled: K4 - Meet Ugly Ship: WinterIronQuill Rating: Teen Major Tags: Prison fic, lack of planning, assholes, but not 100% dicks Summary: They say the first day in prison, you have to win a fight, or become someone’s bitch. Tony’s got no idea which thing just happened. Word Count: 1480

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Title: Siren - Chapter 2: Concentrating my moves, I'm on a mission Collaborator: writing-mermaid Link: Tumblr Square Filled: C3 - Free square Ship: Bucky/Reader Rating: Mature Major Tags: Fight, mention of injuries and blood Summary: Y/N is a mutant, a Siren, the last of her kind, with deadly dangerous powers and a hidden past. If most of the Avengers likes and get along with her, Steve doesn’t, and it’s getting worse when Y/N and Bucky become close. After all what can bring two broken souls together if it’s not a dark past. Word Count: 1643

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Title: Artificial Indignities Collaborator: EachPeachPearPlum Link: AO3 Square Filled: C2 - Walking Disaster Ship: WinterHawk Rating: Mature Major Tags: humour, flatulence, attempted cock-blocking Summary: In which Clint makes the mistake of comparing JARVIS and Alexa, and suffers the consequences. Word Count: 1672

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Title: Broken Angels - Chapter 23: For Want of a Cat Collaborator: pherryt Link: AO3 Square Filled: - Cat Ship: Bucky/Clint/Steve/Natasha Rating: Explicit Major Tags: For this chapter, none, for the overall fic: Dark elements, brainwashing, low self worth, violence, canon divergent AU Summary: Winter bonds with Peter and Tony freaks out. Just a little. Word Count: 55,443

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Title: Save Another Life (It Will Be Worth It) - Chapter 3: From Bad To Worse Collaborator: rebelmeg Link: AO3 Square Filled: C5 – the clock is ticking Ship: Bucky & Tony & Bruce Rating: Teen Major Tags: child abuse, Dad Bucky & Kid Tony & Kid Bruce, heavy angst, character death Summary: The bruises on Bruce's face heal. His home life doesn't. James is driven to make a drastic and necessary decision. Word Count: 9421

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Title: where we existed, we invested all our time (just to witness the bitter side of life) Collaborator: asphxdels Link: AO3 Square Filled: K2 - Regrets Ship: WinterIron Rating: Gen Major Tags: Hurt No Comfort, Angst, Break Up Summary: “It was selfish and it won’t ever happen again.” “I know it won’t.” Word Count: 1223

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Title: The Nearness of You [Part One] Collaborator: arrowsandmixtapes Link: Tumblr Square Filled: B5 - Soul Bond Ship: Bucky/Reader Rating: Teen Major Tags: Canon divergence and other creative liberties Summary: While stationed overseas, Bucky Barnes meets a woman his very soul recognizes. Word Count: 3664

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Title: See You Collaborator: sarahbenial Link: AO3 Square Filled: Y1 - Through a Scope Ship: BuckyNat Rating: Mature Major Tags: Non-graphic violence, brief non-graphic sex, smoking Summary: Bucky’s about to pull the trigger on a target when he’s interrupted by a familiar figure. Word Count: 1975

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Title: Only a Phone Call Away (part 2) Collaborator: riotwritesthings Link: Tumblr Square Filled: C4 - I Regret Nothing Ship: WinterIron Rating: Explicit Major Tags: teasing, phone sex, marathon sex, orgasm denial Summary: Tony is across the country for work, and then Bucky is across the world for a mission, but they always find a way to keep in touch. Even when Bucky would rather be without the distraction. (Now with chapter 2, featuring Bucky getting his Revenge) Word Count: 4799

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Title: Save Another Life (It Will Be Worth It) - Chapter 4: Turning Point Collaborator: rebelmeg Link: AO3 Square Filled: C4 – anger issues Ship: Bucky & Tony & Bruce Rating: Teen Major Tags: child abuse, recovery (physical and emotional), dad Bucky and kids Tony and Bruce, nightmares Summary: On the run again, James takes care of his boys while Bruce begins his recovery, constantly supported by Tony. Word Count: 12,831

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Title: N/A Collaborator: Trashcanakin [Zain] Link: Tumblr Square Filled: B1 - Baking Ship: Bucky & Kate Bishop Rating: Gen Major Tags: art Summary: [Fanart] Bucky and Kate baking a cake!

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Title: Pressure Rising Collaborator: darter_blue Link: AO3 Square Filled: C3 - free space Ship: Stucky Rating: Explicit Major Tags: explicit sexual content, light D/s, under-negotiated kink Summary: Waking up in a farmhouse, on an apple orchard, in the arms of a man who could bench press a minivan, with eyelashes like a disney princess and shoulders like a greek god is Bucky's fantasy turned reality. Except this is sort of a kidnapping. And his life might be falling apart in the real world. And Bucky might not give a shit, because Steve Rogers is like a drug, and Bucky just can't get enough. Also, it turns out, maybe Bucky is a drug for Steve too... Word Count: 7297

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Title: Save Another Life (It Will Be Worth It) - Chapter 5: Hugs Help Collaborator: rebelmeg Link: AO3 Square Filled: Y3 – abandonment issues Ship: Bucky & Tony & Bruce Rating: Teen Major Tags: past child abuse, recovery, hurt/comfort, all the hugs Summary: James eases some of Bruce's fears, the boys all catch a cold, and hugs help. Word Count: 15,462

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Title: B.B. Bear - Bucky’s Happiness Collaborator: shakespeareanqueer Link: Tumblr Square Filled: Y5 - Happy Ship: Steve/Becca Barnes Rating: Teen, Mature later Major Tags: Mentions of Bucky’s past/brainwashing Summary: Steve visits Bucky in Wakanda and he is extremely happy. Why? Because someone very special is also there. Word Count: 3103

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Title: How do you poison a weapon? Collaborator: flintrage Link: AO3 Square Filled: B2 - Poison Ship: none Rating: Gen Major Tags: None other than the standard fare you'd expect from the Asset and the STRIKE team; being spoken to as if he isn't a person, etc. Pretty low-key though, this isn't an angsty fic really. Summary: Something is seriously wrong with the Asset. The STRIKE team low-key panics while they try to figure out what they should do about it. Word Count: 704

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Title: Into the Unknown (2/5) Collaborator: diner_drama Link: AO3 Square Filled: B4 - Royalty AU Ship: Stucky Rating: Teen Major Tags: Frozen AU Summary: Bucky's ceremonial waistcoat was itchy, and the crown was making the top of his head uncomfortably sweaty. The assembled dignitaries and ministers were watching him expectantly from around the conference table, waiting for him to open the meeting. He cleared his throat. "Good morning everyone," he started, as he had every week for his interminable tenure as ruler, trying to smile warmly and only somewhat succeeding. "Let's begin this week's business. How are my subjects?" Allowing himself to drift a little, he gazed out of the huge ornamental window, out across the great expanse of the sea, the azure waters lapping against the shore, the dark cerulean of the depths out towards the horizon. At the very edge of his hearing, a nearly imperceptible voice was audible, jolting him into awareness. Abruptly, he dropped his scepter. Word Count: 1310

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Title: Save Another Life (It Will Be Worth It) - Chapter 7: Wouldn't Change A Thing Collaborator: rebelmeg Link: AO3 Square Filled: K3 – gray hair Ship: Bucky & Tony & Bruce Rating: Teen Major Tags: fluff and good feels, sass and silliness Summary: The boys grow up, go to school, and turn into the men they were meant to be, with James right there with them. Word Count: 20,336

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Title: No Use Crying Over Spilt Milkshakes Collaborator: pherryt Link: AO3 Square Filled: U3- Soulmates Ship: Bucky/Clint/Steve Rating: Gen Major Tags: angst, soulmates, depression Summary: Clint's feeling abandoned and rudderless with the fall of SHIELD, the lack of Avenger calls, and the disappearances of both Steve and Nat, though he gets why they're both off doing their own things. His best friend could never sit idle and Steve, well, he's got bigger problems than Clint to deal with right now (*cough*Winter Soldier*cough*). It's okay. He'll deal. Somehow. Maybe. Word Count: 5553

#buckybarnesbingo2020 #bbb2020 #weekly roundup #bbb weekly roundup #bbb week 6

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shadowsof-thenight · 5 years

Text

Had a voice: Chapter eight

Story summary: For two years you had let him dictate your every move. Dictate your time, your friends, your work. Everything, literally. And for the life of you, you could not understand why you’d done so.

Now, here you were. In a beautiful but still strange city that had never become your own. And you were all alone. It was time to take back your life.

Ship: BuckyXreader

Words: 1794

Warnings: a little angst and a lot of groundwork for future chapters.

A/N: Sorry for the delay on this one. Between being sick and needing to change everything I had in mind for this chapter, it took a little more time. And this month time is a little scarce. Work is crazy, positively crazy and add that to the usual hectic december month and I am fearing for my sanity.

I hope you all like it! Next chapter should be out this weekend, if the changes can be kept to a minimum haha.

***

Masterlist Story Masterlist ***

A week had past when, finally, everything changed.

You'd been asleep in the chair next to Wanda's bed much like every other day this past week. Clint was still fixed on the other side. He had left her bedside even less often than you. And after the second day of Wanda's stint in the hospital, Vision had joined you. He had been called back from his mission and became a permanent fixture in the room ever since. He'd only left shortly, once, for a debriefing. Tony had made it mandatory, since all and any information could be vital.

Which perhaps had been a good thing, for he had not heard the sounds of distress that had awoken you and Clint from your restless slumber. A gurgling sound and panicked trashing had made you open your eyes. Clint had quickly jumped up from his seat and called for a doctor, which prompted hurried movement outside the door.

You had placed a hand on Wanda's forehead as you whispered to her that everything would be all right. Everything would be okay now, now that she was waking up. Realising she was trying to breath over the breathing tube, you spoke in hushed calm tones, informing her that someone would be removing it soon. Her eyes were wide in terror and cold sweat formed on her body as she tried to keep still. Her whole body was tensed up, as she fought the tube that had been breathing for her the past week.

Soon the nurses ushered you and Clint out of the room, while they removed the tube and checked her vitals.

Clint quickly began pacing in front of the door, while you stood frozen in place. Within minutes all the avengers that were not currently on a mission, had found their way to meet you.

Natasha hugged Clint close to her, whispering in his ear, helping him relax. Vision hovered next to you, quiet and Sam wrapped an arm around your shoulders. Tony choose to walk into the room to ask the doctors how Wanda was doing.

Steve, Bucky, Rhodey and Bruce were on a recon mission for the past two days and while they would receive notice of the change in Wanda's condition, it would be some time before they could be here. Meanwhile Pepper was called out of a meeting she'd had on the other side of the city and joined everyone as quick as she could. Speed limits had probably not applied to her.

While not much was clear about the state that Wanda was in, everyone felt a sense of relief that she had woken up. They had all feared a different outcome, even if none had spoken it aloud.

When Tony stepped out of the room a few minutes later, a smile was plastered on his face. Too big a smile and it immediately didn't feel right to you. Wary you waited for him to speak. Your gaze met Natasha's and you noticed the same apprehension in her eyes. Something was off. You shuffled in place and clenched your hands, impatiently waiting for him to say what it was.

“She is awake and her vitals are good” Tony spoke, the fake smile still in place.

“But?” you asked, surprised by the sound of your own voice. It was strong and certain. As if you knew what you were doing. Which was so far from the truth it was almost comical. Except, not really.

“She seems to suffer from some memory loss” Tony said, the smile fading finally.

“Temporary?” Clint wanted to know. Beside you, Vision hung his head and retreated ever so slightly. Quickly you took his hand in yours, squeezing it in reassurance. His or yours, you weren't sure.

“We don't know yet, possibly. Most likely,” Tony said solemnly, “We've called T'Challa for help and hopefully we can figure this out quickly”

A chill went down your spine as those final words left his mouth. If they could not figure this out without Wakanda's help, did that mean there was more than he was telling you? As far as you knew, memory loss after a head injury was not uncommon. It would not require specialists, usually.

Again your gaze sought out Natasha and once more she seemed to share your worries. The group quickly began a debate on who should go in first, as you scurried off after Tony, who seemed to think he could sneak off.

“What are you not saying?” you demanded to know, as he paused at the elevator. His whole body seemed to tense up as those words reached his ears and he turned around ever so slowly. His gaze was directed towards the ground as he deliberately appeared to avoid your eyes.

He sighed, but remained silent as he seemingly debated with himself what to say to you. You gave him some space to figure it out, but were not planning on giving too much. You needed to know.

“It's not that anything appears to be different” he finally said, “But her abilities stem from the mind and there is just too much we don't know. We don't want to mess this up”

Tony looked up to meet your eyes as he finished the sentence, possibly to show his sincerity. A thing you didn't doubt with him. In return you just nodded, accepting his explanation.

“You'll tell me if something is wrong, right?” you asked softly, just as you were turning around to go back to the room at the end of the hall. You glanced over your shoulder, to see him and he nodded solemnly. Satisfied with that answer, you walked away from him swiftly. You were off to see what the rest had agreed upon.

As you got closer you could hear a heated argument between the whole group, apparently they could not come to an agreement. You walked closer, thinking of who you thought should go in. You wanted to be the one to go in, but weren't sure if that was the best choice in this matter.

“Perhaps it should be Clint” you voiced as soon as you got into hearing distance. The arguments stopped and they looked at you in surprise.

“Why?” Sam wanted to know. He didn't sound angry, just confused.

“He was the first person she connected too. Perhaps he could be again” you said and Natasha smiled, agreeing with you. This did not surprise you at all, she would obviously always choose Clint. It had quickly become clear to you just how close they were. Vision began to protest, but Sam also nodded in agreement and hushed Vision. Sam explained to Vision that he could see her next, but that Wanda needed to come first and not our own emotions.

Clint was in her room only minutes, before coming back out looking defeated. Wanda had asked to be left alone for the time being. With her memory gone, the faces and new information had quickly overwhelmed her. She'd grown tired and wanted to just be alone.

This instantly prompted Natasha to grab your hand and lead you off, deeper into the building. You followed her, without question. With the adrenaline of Wanda waking up wearing off quickly, you found yourself becoming drowsy.

“I think it's time you slept in a bed” she said, as she pulled you into a room. After explaining that the room was vacant and you would not be imposing on anyone, you eventually agreed. Natasha brought you some new sweats to sleep in and left you alone.

It was strange, to hear the silence that overcame you in this empty room. The past week you had lived and breathed Wanda and now suddenly, here you were. Alone in a quiet room, with the comfort that Wanda was going to be okay. Physically at least. She just didn't know who you were.

As you moved a hand into your hair, you realised it needed washing and you headed into the adjoining bathroom. Standing before the mirror the state that you were in shocked you. Deep dark circles under your eyes, a pale complexion and hollowed out cheeks. You really needed to start taking better care of yourself. Otherwise you;d be of no use to Wanda in her recovery.

And taking care of you, began with a shower, followed by a well deserved rest in a comfortable bed instead of a chair.

You woke hours later, confused. The window to your left, showed you that it was dark out. The window was large and gave a beautiful view of a wooded area. This was definitely not your room.

It took you a few seconds to remember where you were and then you tried to figure out what had awoken you in the first place. It could not have been enough sleep, since you were struggling to keep your eyes open. A soft knock on the door, gave you the answer. Smoothing out your hair a little, you called for whoever it was to come in.

“Hey” the deep gruff voice of Bucky greeted you.

He sat down on the edge of the bed, near your feet and looked at you with a sympathetic smile on his face. He obviously came to check on you and that thought made you smile.

It did however pose a question. How were you feeling? A big part of you was happy that Wanda had woken up and seemed to be in good health. However, she had also been your lifeline in this world and now she didn't know you any more, which was hard and confusing.

“I didn't expect you back so soon” you said, trying to give yourself some extra time to come up with a coherent answer for Bucky.

“We came back as soon as we could, once we heard” he explained and you just nodded.

“Did Steve go to see her yet?” Steve thought of Wanda as a little sister and Wanda had told you how protective he had been in the past. Her waking up must have been a huge relief to him.

“Yes, she didn't recognise him either, but she was willing to talk to him. So there's that” Bucky said optimistically.

“Right, that's good I think”

“Why don't we go get you something to eat?” he then asked and as if on queue you stomach grumbled. You weren’t even sure how many hours it had been since your last meal. Some food would not be a bad idea. Besides you had already established that you needed to take better care of yourself. Food did seem like an integral part of that.

Chapter 9

Tags: @gracelynn318

#Had a voice #MCUfanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #fanfiction #james buchanon barnes

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imagine-loki · 6 years

Text

Monsters and Magic

TITLE: Monsters and Magic

CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: 19/?

AUTHOR: nekoamamori

ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine you’re a vampire who helps the Avengers defeat an evil seethe of other vampires, and Loki befriends you after you end up in their custody

RATING: T (so far)

NOTES/WARNINGS: Also on AO3 click here

Stark looked at you confused, the silence in the room was deafening as everyone began to blatantly eavesdrop. That action just put Tony even more on alert that something was going on. That wasn’t a good thing. “Yeah, egotistical, self-centered, maniacal, megalomaniac though he was, he was my dad. What of it, kid?”

Shit. Shit. Shit.

You knew it was bad if Bucky didn’t want to talk about it, but you hadn’t realized it was this bad. No wonder Bucky had wanted to keep this secret.

Fuck.

Too late now.

Tony deserved and needed to know regardless.

You hesitated a moment, tried to find the right words. Stark looked at you expectantly. “D-do you know how they died?” you finally asked. They weren’t the right words, but they would get the conversation going in the path you needed it to. It seemed to click then, you could almost hear the gears moving in his brain.

He raised an eyebrow, suspicious. “Car crash. What’s this about, Tink?” His tone was defensive, his expression icy. He was going to hate you for this, but it still had to be done. He deserved to know the truth.

“Striga, no. Stay out of this,” Bucky protested from behind you.

“He deserves to know, Buck,” you glanced over your shoulder to where the horrified Bucky was getting up from Cap’s couch.

Stark grabbed your shoulders, turning you to face him again. “Deserve to know what?” he demanded, his voice full of pain. Not rage, not yet, but you saw the glimmer of it in his eyes. He knew whatever you had to say would make him angry. He shook you. “Deserve to know what, Y/N?” He was pissed to use your actual name. Stark never used anyone’s real names. Ever.

You looked up at him, meeting his eyes more bravely than you felt. “You deserve to know why they died,” you told him, the words spilling from your mouth without filter. You saw the tears of grief in his eyes at the memory of their loss, saw the rage that they’d been taken from him. His expression hardened in an anger you had never seen from him. He didn’t move, waiting for you to continue. “Hydra had them killed,” more words spilled out. “He was transporting a prototype superserum. Hydra staged the car accident so they could steal the serum and create evil Captain Americas,” you explained as fast as the words would come out.

He looked shocked, hurt, confused, angry. The emotions rushed too quickly through his eyes. “How?” he demanded finally. “How do you know all this?” he finally asked, his hands still gripping your shoulders hard enough to bruise.

“I… I spent however long I was there stitching Bucky’s mind and memories back together,” you started to explain, though you didn’t have the words to really tell him about watching that horrible memory through Bucky’s eyes.

That was completely the wrong thing to say and enough of the story for Tony to piece together what you were saying. You saw his expression harden and he whirled, shoving you to the side as pain and grief turned to rage. An Iron Man gauntlet assembled around the outstretched hand that was now pointed directly at Bucky. You had no idea where it had come from.

You shot into action as you heard the repulsor activate, before anyone could move. You moved in a blur, placing yourself between Tony and Bucky and grabbing Tony’s gauntleted arm as you did, hauling it so the repulsor was pointed directly at you. Without his full suit, you were stronger than him, even though you were tiny. “Stark! No!” you pleaded as the rest of the team jumped to their feet.

No one dared move for fear of Tony shooting you, accidentally or on purpose. It didn’t matter, they didn’t want you shot. No one moved except of course: “Loki! No! He might shoot Y/N on accident if we interfere!” You caught it out of the corner of your eye when Loki was shoved back on the couch by Thor, who placed Mjolnir on Loki’s lap to Loki’s protests. The rest of the team was trying to figure out how to get closer or diffuse the situation without risking you getting shot.

“He killed my parents!” Tony roared, trying to push you out of the way, or get his arm back from you. You dug in your heels, planting yourself firmly, tightening your grip on his gauntlet, keeping it pointed at your throat.

“It’s not his fault! It was mind control, Stark! He didn’t even remember doing it until I rebuilt his memories!” your words were urgent, a futile hope that he would listen to you, that he, like Loki, would believe that mind control was a valid excuse for doing horrible things. Tears came to your eyes. Bucky had helped you so much and he was your friend. You couldn’t let Stark kill him over something that hadn’t been his choice. But Stark was…Stark and more than a friend. You hated that he was suffering now, but he had needed and deserved to know the real reason his parents had died.

“He killed my parents. They died by his hands!” Tony roared at you, trying to force you to see his side.

“Stark, no! Please! It’s not his fault! Mind control, Stark!” you begged him to listen to you. You noted small movements around you, backup from the team hopefully, but you had to keep your attention on Tony. Loki was struggling hard against Mjolnir on his lap, but to no avail, while Thor tried to get him to come up with a reasonable plan.

“Their blood is on his hands. It’s his fault. Now get off me, kid. I don’t want to hurt you,” Tony’s expression was rage and grief and you didn’t doubt that he would hurt you if you didn’t let him go soon.

Blood-red tears spilled from your eyes, leaving red streaks down your cheeks. “I know what they made him do is unforgiveable, but if your parents are his fault, then that village, those children. Their blood is on my hands!” You wailed, reminding him of the horrible things you had done against your will. It was just as bad, if not worse.

“It’s different, you’re just a kid!” Tony protested, but softened ever so slightly at your tears, at your heartbreak at his reaction to what you had done too.

“It’s worse!” You insisted as your tears fell faster. “I don’t have to live with the memory of what my body did in that village. I don’t remember what they made me do, but I stitched Bucky’s broken mind back together. I made him relieve and bear the memories of every single horrible thing they made him do, so I could save my own skin, so I could get my own ass out of that hell. I at least had some choices whether to obey or endure the pain of the obedience disk,”

“No, you didn’t!” Loki and Bucky both snarled, knowing exactly how much pain you had endured instead of obeying.

“Loki, for once in your life: SHUT. UP!” Thor growled.

You knew you cared what Tony thought about you, about your actions. Though you’d only actually known him for months, he’d still become family, much more than just your friend. “If you want to kill him for what they made him do, you’ll have to kill me first. I’m equally guilty of awful, terrible things. Please, Tony. I know you’re a hero-” tears were falling so fast now that your vision was becoming blurry, as you moved his hand to point the repulsor directly at your heart. One blast from it would kill you permanently. “Please, if that’s truly how you feel about our actions because of what Hydra forced us to do, then please, be the hero now. It’s better to end it now than to let a monster like me go free. Please, Tony. Kill me now.” Your voice sounded so young, heartbroken, helpless, desperate to do the right thing. You couldn’t help the tears, or the catch in your voice at your next words. You saw the single tear spill from his eye as his anger turned to grief.

“P-please…j-just make it quick?”

You heard the repulsor charge.

“NO!” Loki’s roar of grief and rage registered above those of the rest of the team.

You closed your eyes, couldn’t help flinching against the blow to come.

It never came.

The gauntlet fell apart in your hands as Tony’s knees buckled under him. You both ended up on your knees on the ground, clutching onto each other as you sobbed heartbreak, grief, pain. Tony didn’t truly think you a monster.

“Was he really going to shoot his daughter?” Bucky asked softly, shocked and horrified that Tony would even consider killing you. Poor Bucky’s brain was still messed up if he was confused enough to think Tony was your dad.

“No, Lady Y/N was never in any danger,” Thor replied.

“You do know she’s not actually his kid, right?” Clint’s voice was just as soft as Bucky’s and Thor’s.

Loki was at your side the instant the repulsor had charged, the sound of it charging was so iconic, no one could deny what was happening when it made that noise. Loki’s arm was around you as your knees hit the ground, offering what comfort he could, relief that you were ok radiating off of him. All of his focus was on you and your safety.

Even Loki didn’t notice the hammer gripped in his hand.

#Loki #Lover #Imagine #Submitted fic #submission #nekoamamori #chapter 19 #monsters and magic

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lightshadowverisimilitude · 7 years

Text

Error Notification 1/?

I started writing this awhile ago in response to a prompt. I’ve lost the prompt, but I know @sineala and I were fiddling with it about the same time. Do you remember where the original prompt ran off to?

This prompt by @hellogarbagetime

Mind the cut. :D

Static flickered around him, breaking the world up into nauseating flashes of sensation in between bursts of static. Falling, twisting, over-and-over: sky [#C1CDCD]; city [#D3D3D3]; sunlight [#FFD700]/[#FAFAD2].

He hit the ground with so much force that he couldn’t even feel it as an impact, just pressure like being squeezed by a giant fist. Everything went black [#000000], all sensation ceased. Just his luck that death was floating in nothingness with no sensation for eternity. Lovely.

Rebooting…

Tony watched the reboot sequence flicker orange over the blackness and heaved a sob of relief. His sobbing made no noise, and he had no sense of drawing in breath, or the beating of his heart. He would have thought that he’d gone through every possible scenario of what it means not to have a heartbeat, but surprise. There had been at least one left.

Loading memory…

Tony sucked in a breath, and the world flickered back in. For several seconds he just saw code, and then infrared, and finally the colors condensed down into understandable shapes. There were people leaning over him – two, three, five. Three men, two women. Blond, blond, blond, red, brunette. Text floated around them; hair, eye color, projected weight and height, weapons (lots of weapons). Flashing at the bottom of his vision was a single line of text in bold orange print: MEMORY FILE CORRUPTED.

“Woah,” Tony said, and was surprised when it came out as actual sounds. “For a wet dream, you lovely people are wearing way too many clothes.” He tried a smile, and thought that it translated okay.

“Jesus, Tony,” one of the blonds said, bracing his hands on his (massive, like wow) thighs. “You scared me. Again.”

“Huh,” Tony said. He reached up, feeling for the release for the faceplate, except he wasn’t wearing a helmet. He picked up his head and looked at all the beautiful people kneeling over him with worried expressions, and found the helmet in the brunette’s lap. She had her hands wrapped around it, slender fingers incased in black gloves that matched the rest of her black and yellow leather suit.

MEMORY FILE CORRUPTED.

“Huh,” he repeated and tapped at the side of his head with two fingers. “Ow,” he complained when he managed to hit himself harder than he’d meant to.

“Tony?” the same blond asked. He had weirdly (beautifully) symmetrical features, very blue eyes, and expressive eyebrows. “Are you okay?”

Tony thought about it for a second and the scrolling text let him know that he was not okay, but he was working on it. Repairs were running for three bone breaks, several internal bleeds had already been staunched, but were still leaking very slowly into his abdomen, and he’d suffered a severe concussion – hence the reboot.

“Um. Yes?” Tony tried. “Mostly. Will be soon as long as I don’t move. You know this is going to sound weird, but I don’t actually remember you guys?”

Silence fell heavily around him and stretched from a few seconds to an uncomfortable minute while everyone exchanged increasingly worried glances. The redhead leaned over him and shined a light in his eye. He knocked her hand away sharply, and then apologized.

“Concussion,” he explained. “Damage is being repaired. I know that I’m supposed to know you, but I don’t actually remember who any of you are. So.”

“How do you know that you’re supposed to know us if you don’t remember us?” One of the other blonds asked (short hair, messy, potentially intentionally, but just as likely bedhead. Dark blue eyes, kind of a cute button nose, pockmarking well concealed along his jawline giving him a rogueish appearance).

“Well,” Tony said slowly, “I have a line of text at the bottom of my vision that says ‘memory file corrupted,’ so I assume that means that there is a memory file in the first place and I just can’t access it. Do… do all of you have floating text in your vision?”

A round of headshakes went around the circle, and symmetrical-man said, “That’s Extremis, Tony.”

“Right,” Tony said. At the word, a memory file launched and he remembered Extremis and the way it ran his brain and nervous system. “Can you say your name and maybe it will trigger the file?” he requested, locking eyes with symmetrical-man.

“Steve,” he said readily, but the crease between his brows got deeper.

MEMORY FILE CORRUPTED.

“Nope,” Tony said. “Sorry, Steve. Can someone help me up, please? The spinal column cracks have been sealed, I should be stable to move.”

Looks went around the circle again, growing somehow even more confused and worried. They might not have had Extremis, but they must have been telepathic, because they seemed to be communicating silently. He groaned and tapped two fingers on the big blonde’s knee (long hair, electric blue eyes, strong jaw raised to the power of ten, cape (really?) and great big hammer).

“You look like the big strong type. Can you get me on my feet?” He really wasn’t enjoying the idea of being on his back, being helpless, the strange weight on his chest. [Memory file: Afghanistan] kept flashing across his eyes. He tried to lever himself up despite the sharp pain in his low back, reaching out blindly for something to grab onto. None of the people surrounding him reached out to help, and he had a brief moment of uncertainty – just because he had a memory file somewhere about these people didn’t mean they were friends. He remembered falling before the blackout and reboot – how had he fallen?

Steve put a hand on his shoulder and gently pressed him down. “Just relax, Iron Man. You took one heck of a fall and you were out for almost an hour. We didn’t want to move you in case…” He made a vague gesture down the length of Tony’s body. “Did you say cracks in the spinal column?”

“I said the cracks have been sealed,” Tony stressed. “I’d really like to be not on my back anymore.” He looked around the unfamiliar faces again and MEMORY FILE CORRUPTED kept flashing across his eyes like a strobe. He waved irritably, trying to push the words away. There was a way to disable error notifications, he knew, but he was having trouble access the directory. He felt trapped in his suit, in his own skin, and the error message was making him nauseous.

“Okay,” the rogueish blonde said, “That’s enough of that.” He pushed Steve out of the way and grabbed Tony’s wrist. He pulled Tony’s arm behind his neck and worked the other arm under Tony’s shoulders. He counted to three and pulled Tony slowly upright while the brunette with his helmet held her breath and made tiny distressed noises, and Steve hovered with his brows deeply furrowed and lips pinched together.

Tony didn’t make it completely upright before his back gave a sharp spasm and he sucked in a startled hiss of a breath. His helper freed himself from Tony’s arm and then slid around behind him. He let Tony come to rest against his chest, which couldn’t have been comfortable with the armor, but he didn’t complain.

“Better?” he asked.

Tony nodded weakly and checked the status of his spinal cord. The cracks had been sealed but they were still too weak to take any weight. He let his head rest on the strong shoulder behind him and closed his eyes in hopes of blocking out the incessant MEMORY FILE CORRUPTED message flickering over his sight whenever one of his audience’s faces came into view.

“Nice traps, my friend,” Tony breathed out as the pain in his back faded to a deep warmth that he understood was Extremis repairing the damage he’d done by sitting up.

“My name is Clint,” his helper offered, and then added with a smile that Tony could clearly hear, “And I do have nice traps.”

Tony didn’t open his eyes, but he had a general sense of everyone’s position and felt it when Steve got up and walked away. Without making a conscious effort, he found his hearing tuning out the close noises and trying to follow Steve’s progress. He was worried about how he’d ended up on the ground and who these people were. They seemed genuinely concerned for his wellbeing, but they would be if they’d tried to kidnap him and accidentally almost killed him in the process. Steve only moved a few feet away and paced for a few seconds before he started talking.

“Iron Man is seriously injured. We’re going to need crowd control now that Graviton is out of the area.”

When Steve was quiet for several seconds without any response, Tony realized that he must have been on the phone. He reached out with mental fingers and snagged onto the cellphone. He felt the connection as a buzz on the back of his neck.

-Status? The other voice asked. Immediately, memory file: Hill, Maria rose to the surface and he let out a relieved sigh. Not all of his memory files had been corrupted, but that left him uncertain of exactly how much of his memory had been corrupted and how he was supposed to repair the damage.

“He seems stable, physically – at least he says he is. Spinal injury, and a concussion that Extremis is dealing with, but he’s experiencing some kind of memory loss,” Steve answered.

Bring him to SHIELD medical and we’ll see what we can do, Hill suggested.

Alarm bells (literally) went off between Tony’s ears and he almost managed to muster up enough adrenalin to get him out of Clint’s supporting (restraining?) arms, before Steve firmly answered, “Not going to happen. There’s no way he’d ever be comfortable with SHIELD playing around in his head. We’ll take him back to Avengers’ HQ and assess from there. Anything else?”

There was a beat of silence on the other end of the line, but Hill finally said, No. SHIELD agents will be on site in ten minutes for crowd control. Let us know if you require further assistance.

The line disconnected after a terse thank you, ma’am from Steve, and Tony let his connection to the phone go. More aware of his body again, he felt Clint shifting slightly behind him, and the minutest sense of weight on his armored thigh where the brunette bumblebee girl had put her hand.

“I just need 312 more seconds to repair damage and I can get up. Promise this time,” Tony said. He still felt nauseous and his salivary glands were working overtime. There was some minor inner-ear damage that was low on Extremis’ priority list under propping up his spine and sealing up the internal bleeds.

“I’m going to start counting,” Clint warned him playfully. He moved his arms down so they were wrapped around Tony’s midsection rather than his chest.

Steve returned a moment later to crouch at Tony’s side. “That was SHIELD,” he said, addressing the group. “We’ve got crowd control incoming, but it’ll be another ten minutes. In the meantime, we’ve got some civilians getting pretty bold with their cellphones, and they’ll probably be taking selfies with us before SHIELD can get a perimeter set up. Thor, Wasp, Widow – I’m going to need you on civilian-sitting duty until we can get Iron Man out of here.”

The three of them nodded and Tony guessed that Big Blonde with the cape was Thor, and Bumblebee girl must have been Wasp, which left the redhead as Widow. He filed away the aliases in a new memory file and judiciously tested his back again. He was going to be sore as hell in the morning, but as long as no one smacked him with a steel pipe (or a firm pillow) for the next few hours, he should be okay to move.

“Okay, should be good now,” Tony said, patting Clint awkwardly on one knee.

“You sure?” Clint asked skeptically, “We’re only at 300 by my count.”

Tony blew out an exasperated breath and rolled his eyes. He counted aloud down from 10, and Clint had him on his feet by 1. Steve stepped into his side to ease a shoulder under Tony’s left arm, and Clint slid around to the right while Tony cautiously tested his weight on his legs. His left ilium had gotten a nice spider web of cracks as a souvenir from the fall, but they’d been small and were already 85% healed. All the same, he left his arms over the other men’s shoulders as they moved slowly out of the street to the sidewalk.

Tony had a scary moment when he wasn’t sure he was going to be able to lift his foot high enough to get over the curb, but the actuators in the suit kicked in to lift his legs for him. He slumped gratefully against the suit and let it carry his weigh instead of trying to move it under his own muscle power. As they approached the corner, a gunmetal gray van rocketed around the corner and screeched to a halt.

Another spike of panic shot through his chest, but he saw the stylized “A” stenciled on the door before he could direct the armor to escape. [Memory file: Avengers] presented readily, but half of it was missing – chiefly the roster, charter, and of all the strange things, the file marked ‘chore calendar’ was corrupted and wouldn’t launch.

“How is this my life?” Tony asked no-one in particular, but Clint laughed anyway.

The driver’s door opened and a man threw himself out, leaving the door open behind him as he rushed to them. His eyebrows were deeply furrowed and his eyes darted over Tony in quick, precise sweeps, assessing.

“Rhodey,” Tony breathed in relief.

Rhodey nudged Steve out of the way and slid under Tony’s arm. Steve hovered for a second before breaking away and jogging to the van to get the sliding door open and the ramp folded out. Tony frowned at the side of Rhodey’s face, noticing gray hairs and lines on his face that weren’t matching what Tony was expecting.

“You’ve gotten old,” he blurted out, realizing the problem. The memory file was incomplete, and what Tony was remembering was a cocky twenty-one year-old James Rhodes in his thick MIT hoodie, and his tightly maintained fade, with his bright eyes and his textbooks cradled in his arm. This James Rhodes with the lines inscribed deeply between his brows and in the corner of his eyes, and the speckling of gray hairs at his temple was a virtual stranger.

“You and me both, buddy,” Rhodey said, the frown lines deepening around his lips. He adjusted his grip on the armor over Tony’s ribs and tucked in closer to Tony’s side, even though the armor was doing most of the work of supporting Tony’s weight. “Exactly how much are you fibbing about your injuries?” he asked, but he kept his voice low.

“Not that much,” Tony defended as damage reports scrolled off to the side of his vision – with the life threatening injuries downgraded to merely ‘severe,’ he was left with a list of pulled muscles, sprains, contusions, and warning levels on resources. He needed water and calories in a hurry, and then he could see to solving the laundry list of minor deficiencies.

Rhodey pulled him away from Clint’s side to help him onto the ramp just as a pack of civilian bystanders and reporters made it around the corner, and broke into a collective run for the van. Startled, Tony’s vision momentarily shifted into binary, and then flickered back into full color. The electronic controls for the ramp lift practically sang to him, and he reached out to automatically to get the lift moving while Rhodey and Clint tried to head off the crowd.

The door closed automatically once Tony had been pulled into the dark interior, and it was a matter of a breath to access the van’s computer and turn the engine back on. He could have driven the vehicle from the back seat, and for a few seconds he seriously considered doing exactly that. Maybe if it hadn’t been for Rhodey, he would have. The driver’s door opened and Rhodey climbed in, quickly slamming the door shut before a reporter could get his camera into the van.

“Can’t go anywhere without making a scene, can you, Tones?”

“Scenes are my scene,” Tony answered distractedly. All of the cameras and cellphones crowding around the van were clamoring for his attention. He knew that he could fry all of them with a spare thought if he applied the attention to it, but his head was starting to fill up with cotton and he was having trouble just keeping his eyes open.

“Stay awake, Tony. You have a concussion.”

“I don’t think that applies to me,” Tony mumbled. “I need to shut down.”

“Tony, you don’t shut down, you’re a person,” Rhodey stressed, but he sounded alarmed. He twisted around in the seat just as the passenger-side door opened, letting in a flood of clamoring voices and the flash of several cameras that exploded across Tony’s eyes like miniature freight trains. He reached out with quick snapsnapsnaps to fry the cameras responsible and immediately regretted it. Fireworks went off somewhere in the back of his head, and he activated the emergency shutdown procedure.

~*~

Rebooting…

Rebooting wasn’t exactly like waking up. It wasn’t stepping out of a lesser form of a consciousness, taking stock of where the pillow was or how the blanket was falling on the bed, sometimes noticing scents first, or temperature, or the way the light hit the window, or the complaints of the joints, or that one cold spot on the shoulder. Rebooting was an exact step-by-step cascade of processes that engaged functions in a specific order. An error report scrolled up behind his closed eyelids, and every third line or so read MEMORY FILE CORRUPTED.

Error report compiled, Tony’s consciousness expanded to include his surroundings – two cellphones, a StarkTablet that was powered on, and one that was in sleep mode, and –

Good morning, Sir, Jarvis greeted.

Morning. Tony yawned and opened his eyes. He was in his bedroom, the suit was down in the workshop, his connection to Jarvis was just as strong as ever, and someone was sitting at his bedside reading Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix on the tablet.

Tony turned his head and found the blond with the symmetrical face [memory file: Steve] sitting in a chair with one ankle crossed over the opposite knee. He had the StarkPad propped up on his knee, one thumb periodically tapping the right corner to advance the page. According to his text size and the frequency of his taps, he was reading at just over a thousand words a minute. At 257,045 words, this Steve guy could get through the book from cover to cover in a little over four hours.

“Quick reader,” he said.

Steve glanced up at him, the pad tipping forward to rest on his thigh. His eyes were sharp where they flitted over Tony’s body, but he wasn’t even taken off guard by Tony speaking. “Good morning, Tony. How are you feeling?”

“Memory files are still full of holes like Swiss cheese,” Tony reported, “And I need some carbs, water, and vitamin A, but otherwise fine. Injuries are clear.” He almost asked how long he’d been out, but Extremis helpfully informed him that he’d been shut down for 12:47:16. “Also I need to piss.”

He pushed his blankets back and swung his feet around to the floor. Steve hurried to his feet, his arms hovering up at chest level like he wasn’t sure what to do with them. Tony irritably waved his hands away and stood up. There was a sharp stab of pain low in his back, but it faded to a sullen ache once he was upright.

“My memory has holes in it, I’m not an invalid,” Tony grumbled on his way to the bathroom with Steve standing awkwardly at the bedside.

Steve was striking him as a hover-y sort of guy, and Tony was not appreciating it much. He shut the door firmly behind him, made use of the toilet, and stepped into the shower. A ping of a notification showed up on the bottom left-hand corner of his vision and he swiped it open to see that his bedroom door had opened and then closed. Steve must have left. Good.

Idly flipping on his music – Green Day, why not? – he sorted through his emails and text messages while he scrubbed shampoo into hair. The further he went through day-to-day minutia, the more annoyed he got with the incessant MEMORY FILE CORRUPTED popping up in response to the contents of his daily life every few minutes. The majority of his memory loss seemed to fall in the last ten years, but it wasn’t consistent. He had no memory at all of the latest camera upgrades sent to him for approval from R&D – which the email assured him were corrections based on his recent comments – but he clearly remembered having a frittata for breakfast the previous morning.

He flipped his right hand over, brought up the controls for the shower, and swiped the temperature down sharply. Cold water smacked him across the chest and made his skin lift in gooseflesh across his entire body. He sucked in a startled breath and turned quickly under the water, letting the tiny shocks of chill dance over his skin, and then clapped his hands together. The water turned off, leaving Tony very awake. He shook hard, flicking chilly droplets against the foggy glass.

Jarvis, can you bring me up to speed on this camera from R&D?

Without asking why, Jarvis brought up the schematics and walked him through the evolution of the newest camera upgrade for the next StarkPhone while he got dressed.

Wow, these guys are idiots, he said, laughing out loud.

You said much the same when the initial schematics were proposed the first time, Jarvis replied. Shall I approve the latest version for a prototype build?

Tony paused with his shirt hanging open, and blinked twice to bring up the latest schematics. He went through a quick mental exercise of building it out into a 3D hologram projected into the middle of his field of vision. There’s going to be a latency issue, he said.

Most likely, Jarvis agreed.

Then why would we let them build this out to a prototype? Tony asked with his eyebrows drawn together. He buttoned his shirt mechanically while the hologram rotated in his vision.

To quote your last response to this conversation, sir, “how else are those idiots going to learn?”

That doesn’t sound like me, Tony protested, tucking his shirttails into his pants and threading his belt through the loops. The buckle was deep gold with red enamel on the inside and outside edges, the leather supple and glossy with precisely outlined grooves every twenty centimeters to give the illusion of armor plates. The marketing on me is phenomenal, he decided.

Indeed it is, sir, Jarvis agreed. In regards to your previous comment, I can assure that it is an accurate quote. If you wish, I can replay the conversation for your benefit.

Tony hesitated, but finally shook his head. Send it back and tell them to fix the latency issue.

The product will likely be late to production, Jarvis warned. Ms. Potts will not be pleased.

Pepper? She’s scary, I’ll grant you that, but I don’t think my PA’s opinion of production deadlines is –

[MEMORY FILE CORRUPTED]

– relevant, Tony finished lamely. He dropped his tie around his neck, took a deep breath, and pinched the bridge of his nose. Why is Pepper’s opinion of my production deadlines relevant?

An incomplete file loaded and Tony made another frustrated sound. He perked up. Have I stored memory backups with you?

No, sir. You specifically forbid any copies from ever being made of your memory in case the system were ever to be hacked.

Tony rolled his eyes, and picked the ends of his tie up and let his fingers run down the silky surface. Of course I did. Tell me then. Pepper?

You promoted her to CEO, though you retain controlling interest of the company.

Tony thought about it for a second, and humph’ed. He pulled the short end of the tie across the long end. That also sounds unlike me, but in a really… unexpectedly good way. Way to go, Past Me.

Turning his attention to his tie, and barely held in the shout of frustration when [MEMORY FILE CORRUPTED] popped up across his vision. He let the ends of the tie go, and concentrated on just counting his breaths for 120 seconds.

Load me a YouTube video on how to tie a tie, he requested wearily.

~*~

“That’s an interesting tie,” Wasp greeted with a bright smile. She bounced across the dining room and scooped the end of it up with two fingers.

Tony took a hasty step back from her, the tie sliding out from between her fingers, [Memory file: Obadiah Stane] flickering over his consciousness. Her expression shifted immediately, eyebrows curling upward and lips tugging downward. She clasped her hands in front of her chest and took a step backwards.

“I’m sorry,” she said, and then forced a giant smile. “I forgot that you don’t… remember me.”

[Loading memory file JVDBD12] A pretty girl with a heart shaped face and brunette hair in curly pigtails. She had big eyes and a bright smile, and a smear of birthday cake frosting on her cheek.

“That’s a very nice tie,” she said, clasping her hands in front of her very fashionable brown plaid dress with faux sued patches on her shoulders and elbows. The dress came to just above her knees and she was wearing thick white tights with glossy black Mary Janes. She rocked back and forth on her heels the longer Tony remained quiet. Mustering up an even brighter smile, she tried, “Thank you for coming to my birthday.”

“Sure,” Tony muttered, kicking at the ground. Dad had made him stand in front of a mirror for almost two hours knotting that stupid tie until it was imprinted with sweaty creases, saying again and again that you could tell everything you needed to know about a man by the way he tied his tie, the shine on his shoes, and the strength of his handshake.

“It’s okay you don’t remember me,” the girl said. “We were only five the last time, at the Christmas party.” She thrust her hand out, and Tony absurdly noticed that she was wearing a bright pink bow in her hair, and she had dirt underneath her immaculately painted fingernails. “My name is Janet van Dyne, but you can just call me Jan, because Janet sounds like an old lady name.”

Tony smiled at her and shoved the brightly wrapped box into her arms. “Jarvis picked it out,” he said, “It’s a Barbie Doll.”

She wrinkled her nose, but smiled at him and said, “Thanks! I like to make clothes for my Barbies.”

Tony glanced back behind him where his dad and mom were making schmoozey faces at the other adults. He pulled his backpack off his shoulders and angled his back to block Dad’s view in case he happened to look over. “I brought my erector set,” he said, opening the pack to show her. “You wanna go play with me?”

“Sure!”

Tony gasped, and abruptly the memory file [doublewinsorknot] loaded. He reached up to yank the knot of his tie apart.

“Janet van Dyne,” he blurted out. His eyes screwed shut and he pressed the base of his palm to his temple to soothe the bright burst of pain. “But call you Jan because Janet sounds like an old lady’s name. We played with my erector set behind your house for your twelfth birthday, and you got mud all over your dress. Your mom was furious.”

Jan clapped a hand over her mouth. “Oh my god, I’d forgotten all about that – I hated that dress! You know I fell in the mud on purpose? Mom dragged me up to my room and made me change in the middle of the party, but she missed the dirt smear on my cheek. She commissioned an artist to repaint my birthday portrait to get rid of it!”

Tony felt a smile stretch across his face. “My father tanned my hide so hard I couldn’t sit right for three days.”

“I knew you couldn’t forget me, Tony Stark,” Jan said, lightly smacking his chest. She reached up for his tie. “Here, let me get that for you.”

Tony gently nudged her fingers away. “I can do it,” he said, and his fingers slid through the tie with the confidence of more than thirty years of repetition. He smoothed his hand down the length of the red silk and let her straighten out the triangle of the knot against the collar of his shirt.

“I still don’t remember anything about you past your twelfth birthday,” Tony warned her, but she didn’t seem upset about it in the least.

“You’ll figure it out,” she said confidently, leaning up to kiss his cheek. “You always do.”

#ladyshadowdrake writes #stony #memory loss #extremis

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meganmazing · 7 years

Text

An All Phlint Rec List!

One guess which pairing I fell head-first into this time...

Need more time? No problem, I’ll give you a hint. It involves SHEILD’s #1 eye in the sky and his long-suffering, slightly anal-retentive handler. The purple Avenger and the dead-not-dead agent. You know them, and if you don’t already love them, these fics will fix that for you. Sorry in advance for how long this is, but there are so many fics and I have too many feelings.

Some of them even feature Pizza Dog, because we are a blessed fandom.

Most of these are rated Explicit, but not all! I even mention a G-rated fic, and I’m proud of me for branching out my recs. I don’t read non-con/dub-con, and I’m not usually into ABO stuff, so you won’t find any of that here, if it’s a concern. Just in case, read the tags! I also don’t read unhappy endings, becasue I’m not about that life.

Click the bold titles (sometimes the little lines indicating a link aren’t there, but the link still is) and don’t forget to leave kudos/comments on the ones you love, to spread that love to the authors! And as always, there will always be more fics that I love/bookmark/scream about in my bookmarks page on my ao3 account: megamazing

College AU

Launch Your Assault by foxxcub Words: 30k Rating: E

Phil Coulson was more than halfway through his six year plan, and everything was chugging along nicely.

Unfortunately, he hadn’t foreseen a cocky junior Art major waltzing into his life, or his floor.

So this is within the same universe as Bulletproof, a stony College AU fic, but I never read that one. Phlint College AU’s I love, but not so much with stony? I have weirdly subjective preferences when it comes to fics.

However, I will rec this one with my dying breath. It is Phil’s POV, and I have such a soft spot for college age Phil now, thanks to this story. As a college student myself, I felt that everything was really realistic and I believed everything. More than that, I want to give both the boys a hug. They need it after this.

Also, as you’ll see later on in this list, I love the “fuck buddies” trope with hidden feelings that are so not hidden it’s embarrassing. And heartbreaking. As much as I want to hug Phil, I also think he needs a swift kick or seven.

Safety Not Guaranteed by foxxcub words: 4k+ (nearly 5k) Rating: M

Phil was informed of the Sigma Iota tradition of White Elephant two weeks before Christmas break. He’d heard of other chapters on campus having holiday parties and had figured the SI’s did the same.

But he was quickly learning the SI’s didn’t do things quite like other fraternities.

Short, sweet, and funny. Of course this would happen to them, within a group of people where blatant, verbal communication is a practically a foreign notion. I laughed, I sympathetically cringed, and there are sexytimes, too. What’s not to love here, really? (Wade has a great cameo, too, so of course this was going on the list)

I'll Learn To Dance If You Promise Not To Laugh by torakowalski words: 10k+ rating: E

A College AU in which there are long distance relationships, misunderstandings, and no one actually spends any time in college.

The insecurity in this fic kills me in the best way. Clint puts on an act sometimes, acting stronger and suaver than maybe he feels. When your bf is older and cooler and smarter and too good for you, what else can you do? Naturally, that strategy works great until it doesn’t.

Thor, Darcy, and Jane are wonderful and I just want more of them! I would never have pictured them as Phil’s roommates, but it works so well and watching Clint interact with them is great.

Everyone deserves a hug: Clint for being a sweet idiot, Phil for being a well-meaning moron, and the roommate squad for putting up with their shit and making it fun.

(more torakowalski fics in the final section, because I’m in love with their work and need to throw more at you)

Other AU

Kindergarten ‘verse by soniclipstick (veriscence) total words: 38k+ Respective ratings: E, G, and E

Kindergarten teacher Clint Barton has never been in a healthy stable relationship in his life. Hell, mostly he doesn't bother leaving his house unless his best friend drags him out for 'socialising'. He's happy with his life as a hermit; he has a dog, and fifteen sticky tiny humans to teach core skills to. That's more than enough commitment for him

But that's all about to change when the new school year brings along with it some major surprises, such as Phil Coulson, the widowed father of one of his students and owner of the bluest eyes Clint's ever seen.

(summary from the first fic in the series)

I am rec’ing the whole series here, because I want to curl up and live in the world the author created. It has everyone you could think of wanting to see from both general Marvel canon and also Agents of SHIELD. Look, as I’m writing this, I want to go back and re-read the first fic. As the author states in the tags, it’s totally Fraction’s Hawkeye, aka my favorite and the best (soz MCU Clint, you’re cool too, sometimes).

This could have been so stupid. It’s a kindergarten teacher AU, it very easily could have been something I read two paragraphs of and clicked away. But it isn’t. When the author says fluff and angst, they mean it. It hurt my heart and made me giddy by turns. Also, sexytimes. But the feelings! I connected so much with Clint in this, and felt so much for Phil, and the payoff feels so earned by the time it happens.

The supporting cast is phenomenal, and it may be my favorite of this whole list, which is saying a lot because I love them all. Even the smaller cameos were hilarious and made me smile.

EVEN IF YOU READ NO OTHER FIC ON THIS LIST, READ THIS SERIES.

Pre-Avengers (mostly)

Slow and Soft by onthewaters Words: 23k Rating: E

When Coulson adds Barton to his team, he expects smartassery. Except there isn't any...

This is it. This is the story I was looking for and craving without even knowing it. That may make zero sense, but I don’t know how else to put it. The writing and the storytelling here are on another level, and I mean that in the best possible way. It shows them getting together - including the beginning of the incredible friendship between the trio (Nat, Clint, and Phil) and Nat and Clint's bond - as well as the most believable/subtle pinning I’ve read in awhile.

Phil's characterization is the best in this one. It’s his POV, and his personality just shines. This is one of the ones I really treasure, and I won’t apologize for how extra I am about it.

Operation Snapdragon by Laura Kaye (laurakaye) words: 10k+ rating: E

They’d decided to call it Operation Snapdragon, Jasper had explained, because snapdragons meant “deception” in the language of flowers.

It would be more accurate to call it Operation Rip Out Phil's Heart And Grind It Beneath The Feet Of Mobsters, but apparently there wasn't a flower for that.

The humor is on point, and I am a sucker for pining!Phil and sarcasm. It’s a fake marriage fic, where they’re undercover as a couple. Tell me that doesn’t sound perfect for these two. BUT WAIT, there’s more: they’re already a thing before the fake marriage mission, and Phil has been feeling insecure in the relationship! Voicing concerns in a healthy manner is out of the question, naturally. Idiots.

It takes place over six months, featuring flashbacks to how Phil ended up in a strip club run by the mob, smiling lovingly at his husband while a mobster talks about how great they are together.

Plenty of miscommunication on par with the trope, and you just want to give Clint a hug, becasue you know what’s going on, but Phil can’t catch a hint. It has art at the end, too, which is adorable.

The Clothes that Make the Man by orderlychaos words: 17k+ rating: E

There was something comforting in the way Clint could focus on Coulson’s dry, deadpan tone as bullets and explosions sounded around him. Come rain, hail or bursts of experimental weaponry, Agent Coulson would be there, calm and controlled in that damn suit, like the personification of order against chaos.

However, contrary to rumour, Phil Coulson was not born in a suit. This is the story of how Clint Barton glimpsed the man underneath and fell in love.

(Or five times Clint saw Phil outside of a suit and the one time he wore a suit himself).

IT’S A FIVE AND ONE, boys, we’ve made it. This my favorite trope in all of fanfiction history. It’s also pre-avengers for the first half, but then kinda after? Coulson isn’t dead and doesn’t appear to ever have been, but in the later chapters, the Avengers are a thing? I’m not sure about timelines. It’s an AU, and it’s awesome.

The important part is that there’s Clint POV and insecurity on both sides, as well as really sweet moments and pinning galore. Plus, it’s rated E, so obviously that too. It’s fairly lighthearted in general as well (meaning there are feelings and angst but there aren’t feelings and angst, if you know what I mean), and after some of the angst on this list, lighthearted fics are a gift.

Coulson Lives - Reunion

Give a Dog a Bone by Laura Kaye (laurakaye) Words: 86k+ Rating: E

What do you do when your dead best friend turns up alive after three years? a) yell at him b) hug him c) ignore him to his face while following him around the Tower like a creeper d) maybe fall in love with him a little e) all of the above

Best summary, or best summary?

This does not have enough kudos or recognition. I know it’s at nearly 960, and that’s a great amount, but it deserves so much more! I still think about this story, and it’s another one I want to re-read soon.

When I mentioned Pizza Dog, this is one of the ones I had in mind.

And Kate!!! His friendship with Kate is everything I’ve ever wanted. And his friendship with Tony, and obviously Nat. Basically, I love Clint having friends and getting to be petty becasue holy shit he deserves to be petty after everything SHIELD has put them all through. At the same time, nothing feels like Phil!whump or emotionally beating a character down unnecessarily.

Clint does everything I want him to, and some stuff I didn’t even know I wanted him to do. There is so much pain, as you’d expect, but there is so much payoff and the balance is perfect. I connect with Clint’s characterization in general, but especially here. Just yes.

Phil’s journey with the loss of his hand and adjusting to life with a prosthetic is also really cool, and something I hardly ever see. Same goes for Clint’s hearing loss. He isn’t deal, but and is completely capable/confident in himself, but there are struggles at times that make me wonder if the author has personal experience because it’s stuff I recognize from my mom’s experiences.

doesn't matter if I bleed by t_fic (topaz), topaz, topaz119 (topaz) Words: 25k+ Rating: E

Clint's never pretended to be deep. He's just the guy who sits back and watches, the guy who makes the shot when he needs to. He's seen a lot of crap in his time, sat through a lot of fucked-up scenes to get to where he needs to be, but this, now--he can't stand another second of it.

This feels like an argument for why the pairing works, and I loved it. It really deep dives into the issues all three of them - Clint, Nat, and Phil - have in a way that feels so real and relatable to me, personally, that it cut me right to the core. I still can't get over the incredible friendship between Clint and Nat in this. I loved every minute, and every win was so, so deserved. I want to curl up and live in the world the author created, tbh. Also, there are sexytimes. Can't forget those.

Tony also has the line early on that nearly made me cry: "Someone has some serious fucking explaining to do, because you," he pokes at Coulson, "we fucking buried you." The scene is already so emotionally charged, and then this and it kills me becasue of all the off-page backstory and emotional weight it gives for the rest of the story.

I’m emo and dramatic about all of these, but I mean it when I say it feels like proof for why Clint and Phil work. Just, yes.

Coulson Lives - some point after the off-page reunion

The Best Bad Ideas by copperbadge words: 17k+ rating: M

When Clint Barton put on the Captain America costume for a mission, he didn't count on Phil Coulson's reaction. Coulson didn't count on Clint crashing his new team to do something about it.

Oh yeah, you read that right. It’s just as funny as it sounds, and all of a sudden you get hit with the angst and it works. Even so, this one is a lot lighter and it’s fun. Cap and Co’s reactions are just as funny, and the gossip sessions between the ensemble are some of my favorite bits. (side note: why have I never considered the badass-ery that would be a Nat and Melinda May friendship?)

Pine Lake Oasis by infiniteeight words: 32k+ rating: E

When SHIELD gets intel that an arms dealer might soon be receiving Chitauri technology, Fury sends Clint and Coulson undercover to establish surveillance, ingratiate themselves with the arms dealer and his right hand man, and possibly intercept the sale. The catch? The arms dealer and his lieutenant are apparently posing as a couple, which means the best way for Clint and Coulson to get close is to pose as a couple, too. The longer the op goes on, the more Clint wonders which relationship is more real.

MORE PRETEND MARRIED TROPES! We can never have too many, in my humble opinion. This one is very different from the mobster one, because it’s set in suberbia with plenty of nosy neighbors and also some arms dealers who are also posing as a couple. Frankly, I’m not sure anyone is posing as anything in this fic when it comes to feelings.

The domesticity in this story is so good and it’s so sad watching them get used to it and hearing Clint think it can’t last...but then! And everything feels earned by the end, instead of just tossed in. You watch them get closer over the course of the story and I love it.

They’re sassy and sarcastic and funny, and so true to the characters we’ve come to love that it all feels so believable.

Just torakowalski Fics

(Yes. I did add a whole section just for one author. If I hadn’t, every category would be overrun, and there are so many good fics out there! But this author gets me, and more importantly, gets Clint and Phil, so it had to be done.)

Been Looking at You Forever words: 18k+ (closer to 19k) rating: E

Clint and Phil are friends. Friends who have sex. That’s all there is to it. Honestly.

Fuckbuddies with a healthy dose of accidental relationship because whoops, who knew “casual” sex with hidden feelings would lead to complications and more feelings?? Set post-Avengers movie, and including all the main faves as side characters.

Guys, I’ll be real with you for a second. I don’t ship either stucky or Tony/Pepper, and yet this has both as background but blatant relationships. And I still don’t ship them, but I believed it within the story and I wasn’t bothered? If that doesn’t tell you how good of a writer tora is...

I am addicted to the way they write Clint and Phil, and the fact that it doesn’t look like they’ll be writing more for that pairing makes me hold on tighter to the stories we do have. Sure, the premise of this fic is a trope, but the relationships between the characters puts it on another level for me. This one will make you crave more of this trope out of all your fave pairings, trust me.

And All the Clocks Came Back to Life Words: 4k+ Rating: T

Phil Coulson isn't a big fan of birthdays, but they're better than being dead.

Pizza Dog is a character again, and so is my favorite apartment complex in Marvel Comics continuity. This is the sweetest story (it’s also the shortest one on this list *gasp*) and it doesn’t have anything explicit, which I know some people prefer, but trust me. The way tora writes these boys is so worth the read. I have the warm-fuzzies just thinking about this fic again - I dare you not to feel like smiling with this one. Naturally, there are grounded feels too, and I just want to protect Clint with my whole being. Luckily, I’m pretty sure Coulson does, too.

Both characterizations are on point.

Keeping the World at Bay Words: 25k+ Rating: E

Finding out that Phil's alive and working with a new team isn't easy for Clint, and neither is helping Captain America track down the brainwashed Hydra assassin that used to be Bucky Barnes.

This is another one where I still don’t ship stucky, but god damnit I’m here for everything in this fic. Clint gets to be fucking amazing in this one, both physically and on an emotional connective-ness level. It uses his own neuroses and backlog of problem/coping mechanisms and puts them to use in the best way. You know, if you’ve seen the movie Age of Ultron (meh movie overall but there are elements I adored) that Clint has the potential to fill the mentor position so well. He gets to do that here, or at least begin down that sort of path, and I loved it.

For all my stony babes, I urge you to give it a shot. Just this once, let me peer pressure you.

I am also always here for Clint getting to be pissed off, because HELLO, he’s got a right. And my heart went out to Phil so hard. Guys, it’s a double reunion fic, as well as the first time potential best friends meet, why are you sleeping on this??

Back to The Place You Are Words: 7k+ Rating: E

Phil Coulson was sitting two tables over from Clint and wearing his Dress Blues. This was making concentrating on anything else pretty much impossible.

Normally, I am Not A Fan of fics where they are broken up from the get-go. Or maybe I just have to be in the right mood/mind set for that brand of angst. AND YET. This fic.

It’s Tony and Pepper’s wedding, and naturally Phil has to dress the part right? Clint should have been prepared, but clearly, he was not. This one is pretty much smut with angst and feels, and like Clint, I was not prepared for how much I would love reading it.

What We've Got Here Is Enough words: 7k+ rating: E

They don’t fuck in the Avengers’ Mansion, that’s rule number one of Having A Secret Relationship With Your Ex-Handler.

This one was great, and involves how the rest of the team finds out about their relationship. Not a ton to say aside from what I’ve already said about how tora writes these two!

Want more recommendations? Let me know! Maybe I ship what you ship and we can scream about the great fanfic together.

#phlint #phlint fic rec #marvel #marvel fic rec #clint barton #phil coulson #clint barton/phil coulson #fanfiction rec #fanfic rec #fanfiction recommendation #phlint fanfic #phlint fanfiction

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mirkwoodshewolf · 7 years

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Operation; Kill depresion; Avengers x teen reader

This one goes out to anyone out there suffering depression. I myself do not suffer from depression but I do feel like I do have some moments in my life where I feel like I can’t do anything but let me tell you that you DO have people that love and care about you. Whether it’s your family, a best friend, a sibling, lover who cares. Let their love guide you through your darkest days and never given into the darkness, cause if you do then there’s only one way left to go and there is no return from death. Now I hope you all enjoy this little oneshot and I hope that it makes your day/night better.

Taglist:

@evyiione

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Why? Why did this have to happen to me? I know I've been feeling sad and under the weather lately but I thought it was just because of the price I paid for working in this line of work, but apparently this isn't just a phase or a sudden urge of sadness, I have depression. I try to put on a brave face for the team anytime we're all out on a mission but as my depression worsened, the less positive and optimistic I became, so I decided to just isolate myself from the team.

I trained alone and anytime one of my teammates got near me, I would either turn away or just say one word before bailing out of there like a cornered rat. Part of me didn't want to do this I mean, the Avengers were more than just my team, they're my family with me as the baby and I love them all very, very much but with my diagnosed depression I just—now I just feel like I'm just a waste of space to them.

They don't need a baby on the team who can barely do anything except control the elements at will. They already have people with greater powers than me, so why even bother with me?I was currently in the training room practicing my water-bending skills when I heard the doors close and a voice said.

"Looking great (y/n)!" I lost concentration and dropped my water-whip and turned to see Clint and Scott.

"Hey sweetheart how's about a little rematch from last month? Ant-Man vs. Avatar" Scott proclaimed. I looked down and vanished into the shadows. I reappeared in the kitchen and decided to have a quick snack before I ran into anyone else, but of course I always speak too soon. As I reached the kitchen, I saw Wanda and Vision cooking together.

"Oh (y/n), right on time. Vision and I just got done making your favorite, chicken Parmesan". I looked at my favorite OTP of the team and simply stated.

"Not really hungry, sorry I uhh—I gotta....." I was suddenly interrupted by a blue streak picking me and I was soon on the couch with Pietro sitting next to me with the remote in his hand.

"(Y/n), I thought today we'd catch up on our shows, maybe get introduced to that Stranger things on Netflix".

"Sorry Pietro I can't I—"

"But why? (Y/n) lately you've been blowing all of us off I mean what is wrong with you? I thought we were your friends, why won't you tell us anything?"

"I just can't okay!" I screamed out. I soon took notice that everyone was now gathered in the living area and was looking at me in shock at my statement. I buried my face into my hands embarrassed and humiliated as I ran off as fast as I could to my room and shut the door and ordered Friday to seal it up before I finally ran towards my bed and sobbed.

Back in the meeting room, Wanda hit her twin in the back of the head making him exclaim in pain.

"Why did you do that Pietro?" Wanda snapped.

"I didn't mean to snap at her like that—"

"Well you did, nice going Speedy Gonzalez" Tony stated sarcastically.

"But he is right about one thing" stated Bucky. Everyone turned to the ex-Hydra assassin and he stated, "lately (y/n) hasn't been herself. She's barely talked to us like she used to, she's refused to have meals with us, and I can easily tell that she hasn't slept in days".

"He is right, both of them" Steve stated.

"She's suffering depression" stated Vision. Everyone turned to the android and Wanda said.

"Vision, I thought we talked about this".

"We did Wanda and I didn't read or look into her mind to find that out, but our teammate (y/n) is showing all the signs of depression. I even once caught her here late one night muttering self-hatred things about herself". Everyone looked down sadly and Scott said.

"Oh man, the poor kid, what can we do to help her?"

"The only thing we can do tic-tac, be there for her without smothering her. We're more than a team we're one insane, bizarre, freak show family, and (y/n) is our baby, and as a family it's our job to take care of each other, especially the youngest" stated Sam.

In my room I had all the lights turned off and my blinds shielding me from any source of light as I had sad music playing on my I-pod. I was pacing angrily in my room taking in deep, shaky breaths trying to make myself feel faint. I didn't want a knife cause that's too easy, pills aren't even worth my time, and Tony has sealed me away from any alcohol till I turn 21. So I would take deep shaky breaths and then decided to lose control of my fire powers and just burn my skin till I died.

The voices that rang in my head were telling me that I was worthless, I didn't belong with the Avengers, they just took me in out of pity, they don't really care about me or even need a freak like me. I'm fire and I can kill, so why not just kill myself with it.

"Hold on there (n/n)," I heard Scott's voice. I looked up in shock. I thought I had told FRIDAY to seal my door up, no one should be able to get in. It was then I heard a noise from behind me and when I turned around on my bed I saw Scott sitting there in full Ant-Man gear. He pressed the bottom of his mask and took it off and set it down to the side.

"Why are you in here Scott?"

"What I can't come and check on my favorite little Avatar?" I glared at him and he said, "Not helping huh?" I shook my head no and he muttered to himself awkwardly. "But in all other matters, we know what's wrong and we want to help you, so can you come with me for a second?" He held out his hand and waited for me to take it. The voices kept trying to tell me it was a trick and that he's only using me when a motherly voice said in my head.

'Take it (y/n), the only voice you need to listen to is my own'. I knew then it was Wanda who was talking to me. 'Go on (y/n), take Scott's hand, I'll block out these demons that haunt you'. I took Scott's hand and he told Friday to unlock my door and he held me downstairs.

I then took notice of everyone sitting around and they turned to look up at me.

"Hey, there she is". Said Tony as Scott led me towards the living room and sat me down on the couch and quickly left to change out of his gear. I remained silent before I said.

"I didn't know how to tell you guys, because I didn't want to be a burden. I already feel like I am so don't bother giving me sympathy, I don't deserve it".

"Kid, we know what you're going through, all of us have gone through it all our lives, and sometimes it comes back and hits us harder and harder everytime". Clint said as he came at me with a cup of (f/d) and set it down gently in front of me.

"If you think you're the only one who has faced depression, you're wrong. Depression, PTSD, guilt, regret all of us have gone through hell" said Tony.

"But none of you were diagnosed with it, I am! And you guys always find the strength to get back up and face another day, I can't! I just—I just don't have it, not anymore. No matter how I—how hard I fight!" I began to feel tears in my eyes. I then felt two people sitting on either side of me, I saw a grayish-blue gloved male hand over my left hand and a multiple ringed feminine hand over my right one, I knew then I was in-between a Maximoff sandwich.

Pietro was nuzzling my hair and whispering comforting words in Sokovian, even though I was still learning their language the words he was saying I didn't quite understand. While I could see through my tears the red magic from Wanda's powers was circling my mind as I once again heard Wanda's voice but she was singing a Sokovian lullaby I assumed, both the twins mother tongue speaking and singing soothed my tears and all I was now was just a hopeless shell of after mental breakdown.

"We know there can't be much to say to comfort you right now, but just know that we're all going to be here for you. If you ever need a person to talk to, woman to woman I'm here for you sweetie". Natasha said as she knelt down in front of me and wiped away my tears.

"And if the voices in your head ever try to bother you again and try to make you harm yourself, just call out to me, I'll be your mental support". Said Wanda motherly.

"As will I Miss (y/n), though human depression is still in some ways unclear to me, I will be willing to do whatever it takes to help you feel better" Vision said as he set down a plate of my favorite type of freshly baked cookies.

"And if you ever need to get away from all this, come to me, distance is no trouble for me kotyonok". Pietro said as he kissed my temple gingerly.

“Bucky and I could always use a date for movie nights, catch us up on all the good things we missed, and also to fully understand why some of the teens talk the way they do now" Steve said with a warm smile and a laugh. I let out a choked chuckle when I felt someone ruffle my hair softly only to look up and see Sam standing above me from the couch.

"If you ever want a good time in the real world away from the major Avengering stuff, you come to me and Vanilla Ice over there, we'll take you out wherever you want to go".

"It's true, or it can be just you and me. I know better than anyone else from what you're going through, trust me. Plus I could always use a break from chocolachino here" stated Bucky.

"Oh that's how it is huh?" stated Sam.

"That's how it is". Bucky then playfully shoved Sam away from me taking his place for standing above me. I then felt a hand on my shoulder and saw Clint and Thor standing in front of me.

"You are a brave warrior (y/n), the gates of Valhalla even praises your name for fighting this battle of depression, Asgard will be proud to welcome you should you ever want to visit, and I will be honored to take you there should you want to go".

"And if Asgard doesn't work out, you can always come back home and visit with Laura and the kids, they all love and adore you so much (n/n)".

"You know there's always room for you down at the lab kid, you're smart and you lighten up the lab with your elemental powers. So don't be a stranger and come down whenever Brucie and I are working, even if we're in the middle of something".

"Yeah (y/n), we could always use another genius, plus you even help calm the other guy down whenever Tony gets too annoying".

“Oh I'm hurt, dick move Banner".

"Steve, he said a bad language word!" cried Natasha.

"You know what Romanoff—" Natasha smirked at him making us all laugh including me.

"There it is, there's that famous (y/n) (l/n) smile," Scott said as he switched placed with Pietro and now he sat down beside me. "You know, out of all the avengers here, my daughter Cassie, you are her most favorite Avenger. If you ever went through in killing yourself, she'd be devastated, you wouldn't do that to a poor little girl, would you?"

"No, thanks for stopping me Scott. Thank you everyone, for everything you've offered to do".

"And we'll always follow through it, because we love you (y/n), we're with you till the end of the line doll" said Bucky as he leaned his forehead against mine. They all soon gathered me into the middle in an Avenger's group hug.

*Extended ending*

"So (n/n) what do you wanna do now?" asked Tony.

"To be honest, I haven't slept well in over a week, so I all I want to do is curl up in my bed and sleep".

"Alright, hop on I'll take you there" Tony said as he knelt down wanting to give me a piggy-back ride to my room.

"Umm I don't think so Stark, she'd rather want me to carry her" Steve said.

"Yeah right punk, she likes me better than you". Bucky stated.

"In your dreams Vanilla Ice". Soon everyone started arguing on who was going to carry me to my room when I was suddenly picked up and I was soon in my room. When I looked up to see who it was, I smiled knowing it was Pietro.

"You didn't see that coming?" He asked in that smug accent of his.

"In some ways I did, thanks Piet, and I'm sorry about our Netflix binge watching".

"No worries, you get better first, I can be patient for that any day" he said as he sat me down in my bed and tucked me in. I snuggled into my pillows and shut my eyes. "Anything you need before you sleep?"

"Maybe get those cookies and leave them here when I wake up, and a glass of milk if it's not too much trouble" I moaned softly.

"Coming right up" within a second he was gone and then he was back with my destined food objects. "Sorry it took so long, (y/n)? (Y/n)?" By the time he got back, I was already knocked out asleep. Pietro smiled softly then set the cookies down and put the milk in my mini-fridge and came back beside me stroking the hair away from my face. "Sweet dreams kotyonok". He whispered as he kissed the tip of my nose brotherly and he stayed with me and kept watch over me like a loyal guard dog.

Every few hours or so, another member of the team would come in and take over watching over me to make sure I was still okay and sound asleep. And when it became dark, the team all gathered in my room for a family sleepover. Quietly they all spread out their sleeping bags or laid down on either the ground or the couches and chairs I had in my room.

#avengers fanfiction #avengers fandom #avengers oneshot #depression #fluff #avengers x teen reader #bucky barnes #steve rogers #tony stark #sam wilson #natasha romanoff #wanda maximoff #pietro maximoff #scott lang #vision #thor odinson #clint barton #bruce banner

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painfullythickimagines · 7 years

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Better Left Unsaid

Y’all. @winterysoldiery wrote this at my request, and even based Y/N on MEEEE :’D You’ll see why I’m so excited once you read it - I’m so in love. Enjoy!!

A Bucky Barnes one-shot, based on two prompt lines: “Another bad date?“ & “Here, I’m going to make you some tea and we’ll watch a movie. That sound good?”

Warnings: Mild cursing. Bit of fluff. That’s all.

Word Count: 2,200~

It was a hard job, yes, but it was worth the ass-kicking she got every single day.

(Y/n) worked with the Avengers directly, being a combat trainer and keeping them at their finest physically and even emotionally sometimes. Because yes, even the Avengers shed a tear or two every once in a while. Mostly because they tended to party often and had to pay with sweat and extra push-ups for it.

(Y/n) was a listener. She was more than just a physical trainer, she also seemed to have a gift in making people feel understood and more focused; soon she became the person they all came to, when they found themselves in trouble or at emotional crossroads. She always had a word of advice for each one, and the team adored her, for she never judged them, and only saw them for the individuals they were, as unusual and powerful, they were still human at the end of the day. Well, most of them.

She loved to spend time with them whenever they had any time to spare, and they truly enjoyed her company as well. However, since Bucky joined the team, Steve insisted that he trained with him and (Y/n), mainly because he needed to trust people more, and he knew Bucky would learn to let people in if he only shared a word with her; that’s how much Steve had come to trust her. So he did. (Y/n) suggested a few solo workout sessions, only her and Bucky, and even though he put up a fight against it at first, she was determined. She would not take a “no” for an answer, and he learned it the hard way. Eventually, he too became close friends with her. To everyone’s surprise, he seemed more open and less heavy after every session. And of course, Clint thought there was something else going on. And so did Nat, and even Tony.

“You going out?” Steve asked, leaning against the door frame of her room, making her jump out of her chair. She was doing her makeup, keeping the focus on the wing of her eyeliner that was now smudged.

“Don’t you ever do that again!! Please knock or make some other noise before speaking, you just scared the shit out of me and now this is ruined!!” (Y/n) grunted in frustration; she would have to start over with the meticulous task.

“Alright, alright, I promise! Jeez, everyone’s so sensitive today. Where are you going, by the way? I mean, if you even want to share,” the Captain shrugged, as if trying to persuade her to spill the beans. He too knew Bucky had a thing for her; the whole team knew, even her.

(Y/n) liked him too, but she tried so hard to hide it. Useless, because the team also knew this. They all had started placing bets on who would make the first move and when, but it was already taking forever. Steve, Peter, Tony, Nat and Clint were certain she would be the one to do it, whereas Wanda, Scott, Rhodey and Sam voted on Bucky. Vision and Bruce decided to stay out of it, if only to avoid trouble.

“Well, I have a date. Someone I met the other day. Why, you got a problem with that?” Her tone was a bit sharper than usual, but that might have been the stress of having to retouch her makeup with such little notice, in very little time.

“Wow, okay, I won’t ask any further questions, ma'am. I was just passing by to see if you were busy. The guys are going for a few drinks and they wanted me to ask you if you wanted to come. I guess it’ll be some other time?“

“Yes, sorry. Next time, I’ll join you. Not tonight though, I’m looking forward to this. He seems nice, I just hope it’s not another disappointment.”

“Well, it’s not like you can’t defend yourself if something goes wrong, right?”

“Yeah, I know. I just want to have a good time, you know?“

"If you want to have a good time, you should come with us, then!! Promise you’ll have a great time. Plus, I know for sure we’re better looking than whoever is your date tonight!” He winked and smirked, hoping to convince her.

“I really appreciate it, Steve. Thank you. But I already have plans and I don’t like canceling at the last minute. Where will you be going? Maybe I can join you guys later?”

“Same old, same old. You know the spot. Call if you’re going, text if you’re coming back home.”

“Sure. Thanks again!!"

Steve waved goodbye to (Y/n) and disappeared into the hall. She continued fixing her makeup and she was done within a couple of minutes. She left the building for her date, blissfully unaware of Bucky’s presence in the living room while she walked past it. His eyes scanned her whole figure, the lovely mauve dress she was wearing looked like it was perfectly sewn to fit her, accentuating every beautiful curve of her body. The rushing image in front of him was driving him crazy. Her self confidence was the only accessory she needed, and that most women would kill for. She looked absolutely stunning, from the way her curled hair fell over her shoulders to the matching heels she wore that made her legs look longer and even more toned.

"What a goddess,” Bucky thought, unable to gather up the courage to be the one who would take her out on a date. He believed she wouldn’t accept anyway, even if he did ask her out.

He watched her leave the living room and let out a sigh. Biting his lip out of habit, he closed his eyes, trying to hold the image of her just a little longer in his mind. (Y/n) came back home a bit too early, roughly an hour after she left. All of the Avengers had gone out for drinks as Steve had let her know. All of them, except one.

“Another bad date?” Bucky asked, still sitting in the same spot he was when she left. The TV was on, but he wasn’t really paying attention to it. He had been lost in his thoughts since she walked past him before leaving, going over and over the million excuses he made up for himself, all of them irrational, apparently. He had wasted enough time thinking about it already, but he was deeply afraid of (Y/n) rejecting him. Oddly enough, the same banter went on inside her brain, but she decided to fight against it and let life happen instead.

“Yeah. This whole town is full of douchebags, apparently. I’m so tired, honestly. Think I’ll be going celibate, it’s easier that way,” she joked. She started making herself comfortable, taking off her enormous high heels and jewellery.

Bucky sighed once more, desperate to show her that he could treat her right, like she deserved. He knew she didn’t mean it, he had learned to differentiate the way her words came out of her mouth, depending on her mood and tone of voice. It’s something he learned about her, and also something that made him fall even harder for her.

She leaned against the wall where the TV was placed, so she was now facing Bucky.

“Weren’t you going to go with the guys? Steve asked me if I wanted to go but I had this… thing. Well, I could’ve joined them but I didn’t feel like it. How about you?” She offered him a warming smile, doing her best not to confess to him she was glad she wasn’t alone in that moment.

“Didn’t feel like it either. They get too loud and stupid when they drink. I’m not in the mood for that."

"Can’t blame you. Don’t worry, I’ll make them pay in the morning. Pull ups. They hate those.”

“Remind me not to get on your bad side, although those are nothing to me,” he bragged.

“Oh, really? Well, let’s see. You’re going down with them too, and we’ll see how tough Mister Sober really is!!” She laughed, causing him to release a chuckle that made his eyes crinkle in the most adorable way.

“I didn’t do a damn thing and I’m paying too? So unfair.” He clicked his tongue.

“I know you can do it, I trust you.” She smiled and winked playfully at him.

(Y/n) headed for her room, shoes and accessories on hand, when Bucky got up from his seat as he locked his eyes on hers. She felt a weird sensation inside her, like a flower blossoming in her stomach. Probably the early stages of hunger, since she didn’t stay for dinner with her date. They were there, staring into each other’s eyes for what seemed like ages, until she motioned for the hallway.

“I’m… sorry, I’m… I’m going to change,” she mumbled.

Bucky nodded, jaw clenched. Another missed opportunity. He reached for her hand before she ran away.

“Here, I’m going to make you some tea and we’ll watch a movie. That sound good?”

Her smile softened, her fingers curling against his. From the way they were still gazing into each other’s eyes, they hoped the other one knew how they felt.

“Sounds good.” Her smile widened, before she continued, “but you know what sounds better? Beer and pizza. I’m starving. Could you order some while I go put on something more comfortable?

Bucky couldn’t resist that smile. It was as genuine as her person, and he loved it more because it made him smile too.

"Sure. I’ll even let you choose the movie if you hurry!!” He yelled at her while she rushed down the hallway and into her room. (Y/n) came back in a matter of minutes dressed in her favorite pajamas, makeup already off and a pair of bottles in her hands.

“Where did you get those?“

"I have my own stash. I know everyone’s got a little stash of something somewhere in their rooms, this is mine. And I like you enough to share it with you.” She handed him one of the beer bottles, her favorite. She offered to open it and opened hers after.“Wow, I’m flattered. Maybe I’ll share something of mine with you too,” Bucky suggested, “only if you make me suffer less than the guys!!”

“And show favoritism? No way. You have no idea how it would turn out for the both of us.” She took a sip from the bottle, then set it on the table.

“Right…” He reflected on the way she had said “the both of us”, but tried to brush it off. The elevator doors opened, and one of the guards entered carrying two pizza boxes. Bucky rushed to him, taking the boxes and handing him the money for them. He rushed back into the living room, set the boxes on the table in front of the sofa and motioned for her to sit down by his side.

“Cheers!!” She said when she opened the box on top and grabbed a slice. He did as well, and each took a bite.“You know, fair is fair. I’m paying for this tomorrow too. Push ups, pull ups, sit ups and all. But this is so good, it’s worth it!” She moaned as she took another bite.

“I’ll pay with you. Fair is fair!!” He winked at her, biting once again from his slice.

They fell asleep while the movie was still playing, their heads resting against each other’s, their fingers intertwined in a lazy embrace when the team got back.

It was Nat who entered first. She noticed the pair cuddling on the sofa and made gestures to the drunk people behind her not to make a sound.

“Guys, guys!!” She whispered, “they did it!!”

“Did what? Who?” Clint almost jumped over her to find out what she was talking about. The rest of them tried to silently approach the scene, but they kept stumbling against each other.

“FRIDAY, tell us who did it first, who confessed their undying love for the other first!!” Tony said in the lowest tone possible, trying not to wake the lovebirds.

“I’m afraid neither of them made any romantic confessions, sir. They only ordered dinner and watched a film.”

“Guess the bet still stands, right?” Steve said, more as a statement than a question.“Of course it is!!” Everyone exclaimed at the same time, a little too loud this time, but the pair on the couch did not move.

“Alright, let’s clear the room, we’ve got a hangover waiting for us in the morning. Well, you guys.” Steve scoffed.

Natasha rolled her eyes and motioned for everyone to go to their rooms. When they were alone once more, (Y/n) shifted to make herself more comfortable, which caused Bucky to wake up. “Don’t worry, I know that you know, and I’m sure you know too. Just don’t tell them, I don’t want to give them the satisfaction.”“Agree. Now let’s get you to bed.” He got up slowly, taking her hand and leading her into her room.

“Stay with me tonight?” Her sleepy smile was beyond adorable and irresistible.

“Of course. We’ll meet hell in the morning, but it’s worth it.”

#submission #request #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fic #avengers fic #bucky barnes #bucky one shot #bucky barnes x reader #james buchanan barnes #bucky #bucky barnes x ofc #bucky x you #imagine bucky #imagine bucky barnes

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tsuki-chibi · 7 years

Note

The fight in Siberia ended differently--the shield damages the suit so badly that Tony is trapped inside of it, helpless, especially since he d never told anyone where he was going, and is stuck there not knowing if he was going to freeze to death in a metal coffin of his own making. He still has nightmares about Siberia even later, well after the tteam is back together and Tony can be Iin the same room as the shield without hyperventilating. The team still has no idea what happened in (cont)

(Cont) in Siberia and Steve and Bucky never thought it still affected Tony the way it had--until Wanda loses control of her temper and takes it out on Tony, making him witness his worst fear AOU style, only this ttime it's not his dead team mates he sees--it's his team mates standing around him, doing nothing while Steve slams the shield into him over and over again. (Gen, Stony, Stuckony, up to you just lots of team and Tony feels)

“Admit it, Stark!”

“There’s nothing to admit,” Tony said. He was re-thinking his decision to join the team for movie night; he should’ve guessed that Wanda would accost him the second he walked into the room, but his brain had been buzzing with formulas and he hadn’t been paying attention until it was too late.

Wanda narrowed her eyes. “You did this on purpose,” she insisted shrilly. “You told them to write that - that filth! No one else would’ve done this. It had to be you.”

“I did not. I don’t control what the media writes. That’s the honest truth,” he told her. And he wasn’t lying, though he doubted Wanda would believe him. He’d warned all of them time and time again to be careful what they said outside of the Tower. ‘The walls have ears’ and all that nonsense. He couldn’t help it if Wanda hadn’t listened.

“Wanda, come on. Let’s just watch the movie,” Clint said, sounding a little awkward.

“No! Not until he admits it!”

“I didn’t tell them!” Tony said.

“You’re lying!” Wanda screeched. “You always lie and I’m tired of it!” Her hands glowed red. Tony flinched back, heart racing, but it was too late. “Let’s see how you feel when people find out one of your secrets!”

“Wanda!” Steve yelled, but it was too little too late. The red magic slapped Tony in the face, or at least that’s what it felt like.

He looked up and flinched again when he realized that Steve was standing in front of him. Suddenly Tony was flat on his back, but this time he wasn’t wearing the armor. And the arc reactor was back in his chest, powering his heart instead of the suit. There was nothing between his flesh and the arc reactor, and the shield.

The shield. Tony’s breathing picked up when he saw it in Steve’s hands. It had taken weeks before he could be on the same battlefield as that shield and not flinch every time Steve threw it. Even now, months later, he couldn’t be in a confined space with the shield and Steve without suffering a panic attack. He’d managed to hide all that from the team so far, but now -

“Please, don’t,” Tony begged, and it was normally beneath his pride to beg, but there was nothing proud about seeing the rage painted across Steve’s face, or the blankness from everyone else. They were all standing around, watching disapassionately as Steve lifted the shield over his head.

“Steve! Please!” And Tony screamed as the shield came down -

“Tony!”

Tony jerked, still screaming, and realized that he was on the floor. Wanda was also on the ground, but she was crying. Bucky was sitting on her back. He’d twisted one of Wanda’s arms up behind her back, and Tony distantly recognized the position as one that would cause her great pain if she tried to move.

Natasha was the one who’d shouted his name. She crouched a foot away from him, eyes wide. She extended a hand, but Tony flinched again and she froze.

A vision. Just one of Wanda’s stupid fucking visions. Except this time, looking around the room, Tony realized that everyone had seen it. No one except for Natasha or Steve would meet his eyes. And while Natasha’s eyes were filled with sorrow, Steve looked devestated.

“Tony...” he whispered. “Tony, I -” He paused, as though unsure of what to say.

Nope. Nuh uh. Tony did not want to hear what came next. He scrambled to his feet, unsteady and trembling from head to toe. His knees were weak, but he still managed to stagger out of the room under his own willpower.

#anon #my drabbles #tony stark #steve rogers #wanda maximoff #I don't like wanda #clearly that comes through here #post ca-cw #PTSD #flashbacks #magic

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terresdebrumestories · 7 years

Text

Chapter 12/24: Out

✗ TECHNICAL DETAILS

FANDOM: Marvel’s MCU SERIES: SEADLA Verse, version 2.0 RATING: Mature WORDCOUNT: 4 626 PAIRING(S): - CHARACTER(S): Tony Stark, Nick Fury, Clint Barton. GENRE: Jail time sucks. TRIGGER WARNING(S): This chapter contains brief and non graphic suicidal thoughts (it’s really small, but it’s there) as well as iffy matters of consent regarding telepathy that aren’t really discussed. (Check the AO3 listing for a glimpse of what’s to come). SUMMARY: In which there is a rescue team.

DEDICATION(S): As always, to the first version’s readers, to the people who leave comments on the fic three years after its last update, and to 2012!me, who needed to write this fic a lot.

SEADLA ON TUMBLR: [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] [Chapter 4] [Chapter 5] [Chapter 6] [Chapter 7] [Chapter 8] [Chapter 9] [Chapter 10] [Chapter 11]

Tony stares into the abrupt darkness with his heart hammering against his ribs until a green and gold flame, no bigger than a thumb, whispers to life. The light flickers over Loki’s face, makes his features handsome, childish and fearsome in turn, a thousand faces birthed and killed by a thousand tricks of lights.

It makes Tony’s head swim.

Loki, apparently unbothered, sends the flame hovering a little above his head and lights another one, then another and another, until several dozens of small fires float in the air around them, casting their light over Loki and deepening the pitch blackness around him.

“You look like the Boogeyman,” Tony blurts out through the wild rhythm of his breathing, twisting his fingers into his sheets, just to make sure the bed is still there.

The whole scene looks and feels a little like the Big Bang did, except there’s neither scientific wonder nor any sense of emotional closeness to keep Tony calm, and sweat starts prickling at his brow long before Loki shrugs and deadpans:

“Well I did do a bit of interim for him.”

Tony gapes, unable to tell whether this is supposed to be a joke or not, until his eyes catch on to a slightly-less-dark rectangle in the blackness behind Loki. He twists around a little, careful to keep his movements limited to the approximate area of the bed, until he catches sight of something moving in the rectangle, like black heavy fog trying to hide paler silhouettes. Tony thinks they look like trees, but they’re too pale to be real.

“Where are we?” He asks at last, struggling to tear his attention off the door and onto Loki.

“I suppose you could say we’re technically both in you cell. This is your mind. Well, a possible manifestation of it, at least.”

“A physical manifestation of—wait, I’m dreaming?”

“In technical terms,” Loki corrects with impossibly precise enunciation, “you are being Visited.”

“Oh right,” Tony retorts, switching from surprise to sarcasm almost before he has time to decide on it, “and you couldn’t ‘visit me’ before because…?”

“You didn’t pick up the knife.”

Tony’s face flushes red in less time than it takes to blink. What does the fucking knife even have to do with anything? And what the fuck does Loki mean, Tony didn’t pick it up? He spent literal days cutting into his arm with that stupid fucking thing, and Loki has the gall to blame him for not picking it up?

Worse, still! The bastard looks sad! Hurt, even! Like he’s the one who suffered instead of Tony! Oh, what a fucking joke, what a bastard—a week! A full week, at least, in custody, all but tortured into drinking, not knowing when he’d come out and that’s what—oh, what a fucking moron Tony was.

“Oh, forgive me your highness,” he hisses, trying not to choke on his fury, “I guess I’m not smart enough for princely mind games, after all!”

“That’s not what I said,” Loki replies in a neutral tone, one eyebrow raising with so much elegance Tony wants to punch it open, “I’m simply saying—”

“You’re saying bull, is what you’re doing. I picked your damn knife up! For nothing! I’ve been calling you for help—”

“I’m actually fairly certain you were punishing yourself,” Loki replies, drawing his head back like an offended bird.”

“You told me there was a spell in it—that you’d know if I tried to use it on myself—why d’you think I went back to cutting? The aesthetics?”

“Contrary to what you seem to believe, I didn’t actually get inside your head about a minute ago. I knew you were cutting, not why.”

“Oh, right, because that makes everything so much better!”

Tony is all but kneeling on the bed by now, body tense and boiling with the urge to start throwing punches. He’s not even picky about where: face, chest, legs, anywhere it’ll take so long as it gets Loki begging for forgiveness and the ugly mess of Tony’s memories out of his brain forever.

Loki doesn’t seem to care, if he even notices at all.

“It doesn’t,” he says with a slight shrug, “you had to call for me. I planted the knife as because I knew you were too stubborn to—”

“What? Too stubborn to die like you planned?”

Technically, there’s no wall to stop him here, no ground to slam into, which is probably the only reason why flying off and landing in an undignified heap doesn’t physically hurt. The gesture still reels him though, pulls his thoughts into a sharp sideway twist.

Fuck, he wishes it’d hurt though. Wishes it’d bleed like a proper wound so he could just stitch it up and be done with it instead of having to watch himself fester down into nothing. It’d be a bitch to go through but it’d be clean. Straightforward.

Simple.

God, he misses simple.

But it doesn’t hurt.

Loki’s face though, that gets something out of Tony, because he looks hurt. He looks like he’s hurt and betrayed, like Tony should commiserate with the poor widdle god of trickery and lies regret at sending a so-called friend flying. Like Tony should be craddling his cheek and say ‘it’s alright, you’re not really an asshole for trying to throw me into concrete, or whatever you thought would stop me mid-flight’.

Fuck that game. Tony’s most definitely not playing it.

“If I’d meant for you to die,” Loki hisses after a long, shivering pause, “All I had to do was leave you here. I could have killed you a dozen times as Lorna. Better still, I could have ignored your letter and let you do the bloody job for me, you pathetic coward!”

The lights around them burn brighter with each word, swelling with Loki’s venom and turning his hair from black to a bright copper, draws lines of runes onto his face. Tony watches the change proceed with sick fascination, blood humming in his veins as Loki’s ordinary black leather shifts into thick winter gear, his chin colors with a thick copper beard where the runes come and go like words on the wind.

It fills something primal in Tony, like he’s witnessing something he shouldn’t have access to, and there’s the beginning of a punch building up in his fist when Loki strides up to him, seizes him by the collar and hisses into his face:

“You’re a lucky coward, though, I do not intend to let you die. Be ready for an escape tomorrow. You will know when the time comes.”

Tony does punch then, as hard and fast as he can manage, satisfaction blooming into his chest when he hears Loki’s nose crack and spots blood dripping onto the elegant mustache. Fuck him. Fuck him and his mysticism, his arrogance, his every fucking thing! If he wants to think he’s above everyone, fine! But if he thinks Tony’s gonna lie down and take it in silence, he’s got another fucking thing coming.

His thing with Lorna might have worked wonder, but Tony is sure as hell not about to take another one of his lies, fuck him very much.

“Lorna was a lie, that much is true,” Loki says while he dabs elegant fingers under his nose, “but it wasn’t mine.”

He’s out of the door before Tony can try to punch him again.

{ooo}

Tony wakes up to a major kink in his neck and the taste of a hangover gone stale on his tongue. He lies on the bed like a a stringless puppet, crusty-eyed and sweaty, desperatly trying to ignore the headache forming behind his eyeballs. At the edge of his memory, shouting and pain mix with green flames in the dark, and it’s all he can do to push them back in favor of Loki’s words.

Be ready for an escape tomorrow. You’ll know the moment when it comes.

Of course he had to be a fucking cryptic with that, too. What an asshole.

Tony still hopes, though. He thinks about the not-quite-dream all day long as he lies down, unable not to wish Loki said the truth. Unable not to feel like time has turned into especially thick syrup as he keeps his hands under the pillow, clutching Loki’s open knife just in case.

Somewhere around what’s probably the beginning of the afternoon, Clint comes back with more food. He doesn’t make a show of roughing tony up this time, which is definitely progress, but he does mouth ‘be ready’ when he leaves the tray. If nothing else, it probably means Clint is on Tonys side.

In times like these, it’s a thought worth clinging to.

{ooo}

As far as Tony can tell, it’s about four when the guards start screaming. Muffled shouts and the slap of flesh on flesh fill the air for a hot second, and then there’s a pregnant silence and the hiss of Tony’s cell door sliding open. Tony, who at this point is little more than a random collection of ill-kept hair and bloodshot eyes in hospital pajamas, watches a skinny silhouette in red and blue spandex stride into the room with confident step, pause into a full-bodied show of surprise, and exclaims:

“Dude, you look like crap!”

The boy sounds something like seventeen, maybe eighteen. Barely college age, at any rate. It doesn’t stop Tony from saying he’s been worse.

It’s both true and false. Afghanistan hurt more, physically speaking. He doesn’t remember feeling that empty while he was there, though, too busy trying to figure out how to get Yinsen and himself out to feel sorry about his life.

He wouldn’t go back there just to stop being depressed though, thank you very much.

“How did you know where to find me?” He asks, following the kid out into empty corridors with Loki’s swiss knife in hand, “Clint managed to get blueprint out?”

“Yeah, and then a little spider talked to me in a dream.”

A pause, and then:

“I mean, it was really more like the biggest tarantula the world has ever seen, but it’s not as funny an image.”

Tony’s too busy trying to walk in a straight line to care much, either way, but whatever rocks the kid’s world, really. How or why on Earth Anansi got involved, he has no idea. Same goes for Spiderman, actually, but neither of these questions feel pressing enough to distract him from the very real, very urgent need to get away from this place.

So he runs.

They reach a doorway that probably leads outside about fifteen minutes into Tony’s escape, four S.H.I.E.L.D agents standing in their way with old Nazi weapons at the ready, and Tony’s heart sinks.

No way he’ll get past them.

“Okay,” Spiderman says, twisting his head until the bones in his neck crack, “no offense but I think we’ll be better off if I handle that one on my own. You’re in no shape to fight, pop.”

Tony would quip back and say the kid is being a little generous about his suit-less abilities, but he doesn’t have the time. He’s barely started opening his mouth, and one guard is down already, dragged to the ground with a clever use of silky—and sticky—rope. Spiderman runs toward the next one, yells ‘crotch!’ and hit the man with exactly that part of his anatomy, catching one of the two women in the jaw with his foot as he twists the male guard around.

The second woman manages to get a grip on him and twist his arm behind his back, but before Tony gets to helping him, he’s jumped and twisted in such a way that he broke the woman’s nose with his knee and wriggled free of her headlock.

“Phew,” he says, voice rough from the chokehold, “thank heaven for super flexibility, right?”

Tony doesn’t have time to answer before someone grabs his arm and forces him to start running. He barely realizes it’s Clint in time to avoid punching at him—and then it stops to matter, because he’s finally outside.

He was never a very outdoorsy person before but hell, he��s ready to get into full time camping right now, relishing the wind on his face more than he could have thought possible, so happy to be let out of that damned cave of a jail cell that he barely manages to hold himself upright.

“Stark!” Clint yells in his ear with the tone of someone who’s been trying to get his attention for a bit, “they’re trying to torture Banner into hulking, we gotta move out fast!”

“He’s not gonna do it!” Tony protests even as he picks up his pace to keep up with Clint, “Bruce—”

“I’m not wondering if he wants to hold it in,” Clint replies, guiding Tony away from where a gaggle of agents are fighting a man on a horse car, “I’m wondering if he’ll be able to! He’s never had to resist torture before, we don’t know how it’ll affect him!”

Tony, still half-drunk from sudden freedom, wishes he could protest. Bruce saved his life multiple times already—sometimes as Hulk, even!—but Clint as a point. This is brand new territory, and they’re probably better off getting to safety before they start pondering the nature of Bruce’s doppelganger and how it’s gonna react to pain.

Around them, the air screams with explosions and too many voices, multiple fights breaking on the ground and across the sky as Tony lets Clint and Spiderman drag him out into what may or may not be the desert of New Mexico. He thinks he makes out a voice that sounds like thunder in the chaos but, really, there’s no way to be entirely sure.

“We gotta come back for Bruce,” he manages between two steps, dodging Clint’s elbow when he shoots at an agent.

“We gotta get you to safety,” Clint says, eyes roaming the landscape around them for something, “if Banner’s smart he’ll let the other guy come out and get him out of Fury’s hands.”

“But he’s—”

“I don’t see out back up!” Spiderman yells, “Where’s she?”

“Hell if I know! You seen a cat recently?”

Tony stumbles on the uneven ground, legs of cotton and shot vision combining to mess up with his balance, but he’s still got enough brain to despair at Clint’s words. A cat? they’re hanging their survival on a damn cat? God, they’re so lost—he’s just gonna die here and get this kid who asked for nothing down with him and then—

“Oh fuck!”

Tony twists on himself to follow Clint’s line of sight, trusting the guy to take them through a manageable path...and immediately regrets his decision.

Behind them, mounted onto some kind of vaguely horse-like mechanical monstrosity, the scarred man who visited Tony is flinging people out of his way like they’re annoying flies and not full grown adults. He’s yelling something Tony doesn’t understand but, more importantly, he’s catching up to them. Fast.

“Damn it all!” Clint shouts, “Bastet! Where the fuck are you!”

There’s a flash of grayish-pink flesh by Tony’s feet, a shape running toward the artificial horse as the scarred man prepares to shoot, and then he’s flung to the ground under the weight of a hairless lion with a snarl of hatred that shakes the air around Tony.

“The portal’s behind the rock,” the lion—lioness, judging by the voice—yells over the scarred man’s struggling body, “go!”

Tony is scrambling to turn around before Spiderman even manages to grab him—there’s a sharp pain in his guts as he runs, the exhaustion finally settling in, but he doesn’t let it stop him and keep going, passing a giant boulder at breakneck speed.

He doesn’t notice the hole until he’s already falling.

{ooo}

“Finally,” a deep, cheerful voice exclaims when Tony climbs back to consciousness, “I was beginning to think you’d never wake up!”

Trying to ignore the voice, Tony keeps his eyes closed and tries to list his injuries—there should be some, considering the day he’s had...whenever he got knocked out.

He doesn’t find anything.

Nothing hurts.

There’s no fire in his veins, no throbbing in his head, no itching and pulling around the reactor, no dull ache where he thought he’d pulled a muscle running, nothing at all.

He’s not sure what it says about him that the absence of pain is what makes him open his eyes and panic.

“Alright, alright, try to calm down,” the voice says when Tony bolts upright, “it took a while to patch you up, and probably even longer to negotiate your return with Hades, let’s not go and ruin all that good work.”

Tony turns, and stares at the woman he finds there. She’s about as tall as Thor, though her shoulders and hips are slightly narrower. Long, bleached-blond hair tumbles into a thick braid over her right shoulder, and when she walks closer to examine Tony it’s easy to spot the freckles on her golden cheeks.

“What the hell?” Tony exclaims when she inspects his wrists and there’s no trace of scarring there, “Where the fuck am I?”

“The exact answer is a little complicated,” the woman says with an apologetic smile, “so for the sake of simplicity we’ll just say it’s my infirmary, for now.”

“Right. And how long have I been in ‘your infirmary’?” Tony asks with his heart in his throat.

“A little under three days. You were awake for some of it, actually, but you kept trying to tear your glowing gadget out and re-open your wrists, so I sedated you. You should be able to get out tomorrow, depending on your state of mind...i the meantime, you can visit Anansi in the next room but going further would be a bad idea.”

Tony blinks, and takes his first proper look around the room.

White stone walls, too smooth to be natural but not enough to be a modern building, curve in as if to cover whatever is inside them. Blue light, rippling over the room like it had to get through water, mixing with the light of several candles to paint the atmosphere a golden kind of turquoise. It’s unusual and somewhere halfway between magical and spooky, but it’s also oddly soothing.

Secure, more than stifling. It’s a nice change of pace.

As for the furnitures, aside from the way they curve in to accommodate the walls, they look fairly infirmary-like. A spartan bedside table for each of the three narrow cots, a roll up tray with instruments waiting to be used, and a basket filled with whatever it is an infirmary needs to throw away. To the left, a closed door. To the right, a door left ajar, the low hum of conversation filtering through it—probably Anansi’s room, then. Tony should probably go and visit.

He doesn’t have it in him to do it, though.

He didn’t expect to wake up. didn’t even really want to, either. What does he have to come back to, these days? An empty house without Jarvis? A bunch of broken dreams? More problems than he can even begin to count? And that’s taking Loki out of the equation. Loki who, unless he’s even more of a jerk than he already showed, might come walking though that door at any moment.

Wonderful.

Honestly, tony wishes he could stop thinking about him. He’s going to have to, at some point, whether he likes it or not. Might even be a good idea to do so, in the long run. Right now though, nothing in his body hurts—not even the reactor—and his mind is just numb enough to keep him from a fall in complete despair.

It’s not ideal, but compared to the past few days it’s progress, and Tony is not going to ruin it with undue concern, thank you very much.

“Aren’t you going to ask me about Anansi’s health?”

It take tremendous effort to look at the woman again. Here eyes, almond shaped with a distinct fold at the corners, are so dark they’re almost black, but they’re warm too, and comforting. Well, there’s also a hint of reproach in there, but Tony doesn’t really have the energy to care about that.

“I assume he’ll be alright. He’s a God.”

“That doesn’t mean you can’t try and be a proper friend to him. Or, you know, a polite person.”

Tony tries to snort, but it comes our more like a huff of breath. Either way, it’s not the answer the woman was angling fro, because she crosses her arms over her chest with a more obviously disapproving stare. She’s wearing an apron over a purple wool tunic, more prepared for viking ships than the imperial court of China, but what does Tony know about mythology, after all? Just ‘cause nobody talks about godly emigration doesn’t mean it didn’t happen.

“Just because you’re out of it doesn’t mean you get to be an ass, Tony Stark.”

“And just ‘cause you know my name doesn’t mean you get to use it like you’re my mom,” Tony replies without much heat, “I don’t even know who you are.”

“Only because you didn’t ask.”

The woman’s voice deepens with every sentence, like her annoyance at Tony can be measured in how many octaves she can drop. She still reaches for a bowl and holds it out to Tony, with a firm ‘eat something’ when he takes it in hand.

It’s something like gruel, bland-looking on the whole, though when Tony tries it he finds nuts, honey and dried fruits as well. He doesn’t have the capacity to enjoy it in full, that’s true, but at least it tastes of something.

There are worse thing to unenthusiastically munch on.

“My name’s Sigyn, by the way.”

The name sounds vaguely familiar, but Tony doesn’t quite get why until Sigyn adds:

“You might know me as Loki’s wife.”

#MCU Fic #Tony Stark #Loki #SEADLA #Fanfiction #MCU

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hcwkguys · 7 years

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ghosts of utopia || natasha and clint (chatzy)

Summary: When Natasha’s solo investigation of a HYDRA cell goes awry, Clint comes to her assistance.

Warnings: Death, torture, violence, abuse

Natasha marked the hours by the shadow of the guards walking by, whenever she was awake to do so. By her guess, it’d been nearly ten hours. They walked by every half hour, at least that’s what she hoped. There were no windows to easily gauge the passing time with. Whenever their boss came into the room, things got hazy. He favoured brass knuckles and knives. His questions were redundant, demanding to know where the heroes in hiding had run to. He’d ask about their weapons, and whether SHIELD had returned. They were desperate. He was short tempered and messy, as HYDRA liked their torturers to be. He caused maximum pain, but he didn’t take things slow. He didn’t give her time to respond. Even if he did, she wouldn’t break. The Red Room had done worse as a punishment for her failures. He could never compare, and even if he did, she would rather die than give the Avengers up. Perhaps, now she would. After all of the wrongs she’d committed, Natasha couldn’t blame the world for giving her this fate.

The mission was supposed be a clean one. According to her contact, Hahn, who’d proven himself to be reliable in the past, it was a small base. The maximum amount of HYDRA goons it harboured was fifteen. When she’d arrived and found thirty waiting for her, she knew that he’d sold her out for a pretty penny. Betrayal stung. If she got out of here, her bite would sting worse.

So did the ice cold water her captor flung at her face. “Wake up,” he ordered. She gasped, and the pain in her ribs left her reeling. Bad sign. “Right on schedule,” she sputtered. Wouldn’t go down without a fight. He pulled the brass knuckles back on. “Tell me about the weapons Stark is making.”

She was supposed to meet him for dinner. If it were anyone else, Clint probably wouldn’t have been concerned, but this was Natasha. She was meticulous, always on time while Clint slept in, the one who reminded him he had somewhere to be when he otherwise might have forgotten. If there was one thing Nat never was, it was late. Especially not with the Accords making law enforcement desperate for someone to make an example of, especially not with the ever present threats of the Red Room or HYDRA or AIM or the Circus on their tails, and especially not without calling. It wasn’t like her, and Clint was worried.

He went to her apartment first, using the key she’d given him to let himself in. Liho approached him as he entered, rubbing against Clint’s legs and purring lowly before padding over to his food bowl and pawing at it. It was empty, as was the water; another sign that something was off. For all of her complaining about the cat, Natasha never failed to keep him fed. (She had a thing for strays, Clint knew; they both did.) Clint filled the food bowl before flipping out his phone and calling Isaiah. If anyone knew where Nat was, it’d be him.

Clint tried not to feel hurt when Isaiah informed him that Nat had gone after a HYDRA cell. Usually, they did that thing together. He also tried to ignore the worry gnawing at his gut. Nat could handle herself, he reminded himself as he loaded his quill with trick arrows. She’d be fine, he told himself as he strapped guns to his side and knives to his ankles. She had to be.

Breathe, Natasha thought to herself. Keep breathing. Despite the pain in her ribcage, she continued. It kept her head clear — clear as it could be anyway, when your vision was blurred, and you were bleeding. Didn’t stop bleeding. Her wrists were rubbed raw from trying to get out of the binds, it was futile. He knew how to punch and how to tie rope. She’d brought this on herself, deserved it. How many people had she tortured for information? How many people had she forced information from?

“Don’t make me repeat myself, Natasha,” he hissed, running the blade down her arm again.

“‘d be rude, you seem to love the sound of your own voice,” and she hated hers. It was breathy, weak. Her eyes were fluttering. He’d get the ice water again, force her to be alert. It was what she’d do.

His voice droned on, although she couldn’t wrap her head around what he was demanding from her. Before she succumbed, her eyes scanned the room for the thirtieth time, looking for an escape. A widow hanging on a single thread was a dangerous thing, except for when they knew how to stop its poison. She was trapped, at least for now. There were no escapes, no way to loosen the bindings.

The warehouse was easy enough to find. Sometimes, HYDRA didn’t even feel the need to hide. Once upon a time, they’d operated in the shadows, used secrecy as a weapon, but not anymore. Everyone knew about them now, and they no longer needed to keep hidden. Today, he’d teach them a lesson.

By the time Clint got there, they were gone. They were good at that, good at disappearing when they needed to. It wouldn’t matter. Clint might be a mess, he might be clumsy and have a tendency to run away from his problems, but when it meant taking care of someone he cared about? When it meant taking care of Nat? He was more than capable. For her, he’d do anything.

(There was blood on the floor, because of course Natasha wouldn’t go down without a fight. Clint tried not to do the math, tried not to look at the size of the puddle and calculate how much blood she’d lost, how much more she had to lose. He focused on helping her, on saving her.)

(He didn’t want to think about what he’d do if saving her was no longer an option. Clint liked to think he was a hero now, but there wasn’t much separating him from who he used to be. Loki had shown him that.)

The Circus taught him how to track, taught him how to find people. SHIELD taught him how to perfect those skills. He used them now. It took him too long to find the first agent; if roles had been reversed, Nat would have been quicker. She’d spent too much time with them already. He didn’t waste any time when he’d found the agent, didn’t let his morals deter him. He shoved an arrow through the man’s leg, dragged it down down down until he admitted that he’d been there when they caught the Black Widow. He said it like an accomplishment, like a badge of honor. Clint gave him a more physical badge in the form of an arrow in his chest.

(People forgot, sometimes, that Hawkeye was a criminal before he was an agent, an assassin before he was a hero. Clint never wanted to remind them until now.)

In and out of consciousness, in and out, in and out. Pathetic, she was supposed to better than this, supposed to be the best. Humans had pain thresholds, they were breakable. She wasn’t like Thor, wasn’t a god. Her body was wracked and weakened.

When she was caught before, with agents that were far less trained, Natasha would fight back. Her bindings would loosen eventually, or they would leave her legs untied, but he was good. HYDRA knew what they were doing, and the majority of its agents, for better or worse, had been alongside her in SHIELD. It showed. He knew her tricks, mocked her for them, and then he uttered more questions. Where were the Avengers hiding? What did they have planned? Where was Captain America? What had Tony Stark created?

Why hadn’t they come for her?

(They shouldn’t, she wasn’t worth the risk. They’d kill her, and learn nothing. Or they’d keep her and keep trying. If this was what it took to finally pay her penance, she would do it).

All of it reminded her of the Red Room, reminded her of the times she’d forced someone down and tied them up. She’d run her knife along their flesh, repeating the same questions until she had answers. She’d take limbs if they refused.

She’d never smiled when they gasped for breath like he did. He grinned like it was a victory and hit her harder the next time around.

Twelve hours now, roughly. He left, informed her that he was coming back with something special, and came back with the water. Rather than dumping it on her to keep her alert, he shoved her head under. She could appreciate this one. It was effective, just not effective enough.

She was prepared to suffer. For her friends, for Clint, she would. It was their lives on the line.

(And hers, but her life had never mattered to her. She’d been taught how ultimately replaceable she was).

With the information the agent had provided him, finding where they were holding her was easy enough. The hard part came after. Clint didn’t know how many men were in there, didn’t know what he’d be facing. He had one thing going for him; they didn’t know he was coming. He’d take it.

He set up outside first, watching their rotations. He hated waiting, hated leaving her at their mercy for any longer than he had to, but he couldn’t go in blind no matter how much he wanted to. Getting himself killed at the front gate wouldn’t help Natasha, and that was his only objective now.

He waited for the rotation to strike, waited until the guards outside switched places with the ones who’d presumably been pacing the halls. It’d give him more time. He wasted no time with them, hitting each with a single arrow through the eye before leaving his position and heading to the door. He spent a fraction of a second considering the bodies.

Leaving the arrows in would mean leaving a signature, letting everyone know who was responsible. He should really retrieve them, considering the Accords. It would give the government an excuse to come after him, and really, an excuse was all they wanted.

He left them there, in the end. Maybe it’d come back to bite him later, but it’d give HYDRA something to think about, too. They’d learn their lesson; if the widow didn’t get you, the hawk would.

At first, he went for stealth. Clint could be quiet when he needed to, and tonight, he was. He clung to the shadows, waited for agents to pass in pairs before taking them on. Eventually, of course, he fucked up. One of them got to their walkie talkie before his blade reached their throat, and stealth was gone. They knew he was there now, and he couldn’t find it in him to care. He was a man on a mission, and there were two ways this would end. He’d either walk out of this facility with Nat, or he wouldn’t walk out at all. Either way, he was taking as many HYDRA agents down as possible.

(Alarms blared loudly, the sound echoing hollowly through his aids. Lights tinted the halls in red. Clint intended on filling them with more red before he was through. Nat would’ve done the same for him.)

It was repetitive, as it was supposed to. Once your victim was hopeless, desperate for it to end, they spoke. Their words came easier when their brains weren’t functional, and cutting off their oxygen supply was useful in that.

Natasha held her breath again, ignored the burning in her lungs, and the burning in her side. She struggled harder against her restrains as they continued, reminded herself that it was an instinct, that humans struggled because of their desperation to survive.

Was she desperate to survive? Not exactly. Long ago, she’d come to terms with her death, and that it’d come sooner than most. Average lifespans didn’t account for lives like hers, fighting battles that no one should be forced to engage in. But this? It shouldn’t be like this, and god, she had a reason to live.

When her head rose, she gasped for breath, and then she was forced back down. Repetitive. It was working, she was beginning to feel hopeless, death seemed inevitable.

(Not once did she think about answering his questions, not even as he shouted them, and then barked orders to the men in the room).

She began counting the seconds she was under for, one, two, seven, twenty one, on and on the numbers flitted through her head, gave her something else to focus on besides the pain (and cataloging her injuries).

“Have you thought about answering my questions now, Romanoff?” He demanded harshly.

“отвали,” she replied, voice gruff, and throat raw.

Her words were lost as the sirens blared. (She was tired, so fucking tired, just needed one minute, just one minute to close her eyes).

Sirens, there were sirens —

Sirens meant someone else was here. She didn’t dare believe that they were for her. Hope was dangerous. Hope could be fatal.

Her head rolled forward. Distantly, she could hear her torturer shouting. For once, it wasn’t at her.

They came all at once, after the alarms started. Clint went from fighting one man to fighting ten. He didn’t let them get their guns out, knew that he was lost the second one of them got a shot in. They already had Natasha, so they’d have no real reason to keep Clint alive. If they were smart, they might try to use them against each other, might make her watch them torture him or vice versa, but these people were rarely smart. Clint had gotten the drop on them, had killed so many of their men already, and they were angry. They wanted him dead.

Unfortunately for them, he was pretty hard to kill.

He used his knives to start. They were easiest, in close contact. There was slicing and stabbing, all meditated, all intentional and well aimed. He took down five of them before his blade got stuck in a man’s ribcage as he fell.

Clint moved on to arrows after that.

The arrows were dangerous. They were recognizable, easily identifiable as his. There were other archers, sure, but anyone who knew archers knew that they used their arrows as a signature. Clint’s were different than Green Arrow’s, even different than Kate’s, despite their tendency to share. They were his and using them was about as obvious as carving his name in the corpses.

(He couldn’t bring himself to care.)

He got one with a puddy arrow to the face, let her suffocate under the substance. Got another with a taser arrow through the chest, frying his heart. He drove an explosive arrow into a man’s abdomen before shoving him back into the crowd. The force of the explosion rocked the hall and took out a cluster of agents at once. Shrapnel flew in every which direction, and Clint didn’t feel any of it tearing through his skin. Logically, he knew he had to have been hit, but the pain didn’t register. He wasn’t sure if that was a good sign or a bad one.

Slowly, achingly, the crowd thinned. He’d gotten lucky, taken out a good portion of them before they sent the troops in. Of course, luck was never entirely on Clint’s side; more than a few agents got in more than a few lucky shots, and some of the blood on his clothes had to be his own, but he didn’t care. He was almost done now, almost there.

Seeing some movement in the area where he’d set off his explosive arrow, he approached. The man was bleeding, hand nearly detached from its wrist from his proximity to the explosion. Clint rested a boot on the wrist, wincing a little when the man let out a scream.

(Clint never understood the people who enjoyed this. Getting pleasure from this sort of thing, it was what separated the men from the monsters. It was the one thing Clint had going for him; for all the awful things he’d done, he’d never liked it. He’d never thought of it as fun. Even now, he hated himself for knowing exactly how hard he’d have to press down to make the man do as he wanted.)

“Where is she?” he asked, voice level and betraying none of his thoughts. The man spoke quickly, words falling from his lips like lifelines as he told Clint how to get to the room where Nat was being held, told him that, since the alarms had gone off, she’d be alone save for her torturer. He spoke in a way that said he still thought he’d make it out alive. Clint almost felt sorry for him. Almost.

It didn’t stop him from putting an arrow through his eye. He couldn’t afford to leave anyone behind to call for reinforcements.

Through heavily lidded eyes, Natasha watched the men file out like rabid animals, desperate for their next kill. Watching violence sickened some and got others euphoric. Judging by their faces, they fell in the latter group.

“Friends of yours?” He asked patronizingly. His hand curled around her wrist as her spoke, and she bit down on her lip to keep from making a sound.

“You’d better — ” she paused, forcing the rest of her words out in a more even voice. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. “ — hope not.”

He dumped the rest of the water on her. Her head lifted, but her eyes were still bleary. Her body had slumped forward somewhere along the way. If she could see herself right now, she’d be sickened. Although she was trained to resist such methods, she wasn’t immune to them. Pain was agonizing, it affected each and every person it touched, whether you wanted it to or not.

But someone was here, and that someone could be coming for her, although she hoped they weren’t. It wasn’t worth it. The risk outweighed the reward, especially in such complicated times. Unnecessary violence would raise government attention.

His hand returned to her wrist, and this time, it was with what she imagined was his full strength. Her lip was bleeding now, but it was effective way not to scream. Definitely a break from the thrashing.

(She was ashamed of that).

Her body ached, she was so tired, so goddamn tired.

“Who is it?” He demanded.

She stayed quiet.

The door stood ahead of him, tantalizingly vast. Under different circumstances, Clint would have approached it cautiously, carefully. Today, there was no time for caution. Today, he got there as quickly as he could. (Not his usual speed -- maybe the HYDRA goons had gotten to him more than he’d thought.) He wasted no time flinging the door open.

The sight made his heart jump to his throat, made his chest ache with guilt. She was in a bad way. They’d had her too long, he’d taken too long and she was bad, oh god, she was bad.

“Nat,” he breathed her name like a plea, a prayer. Clint had never been a religious man -- his mother had tried, but all the commandments in her ‘good book’ felt like white noise the second it ordered him to obey his father, and all hope for religion had fled with it -- but in that moment, he prayed. He prayed to every god whose name he’d come across in his travels around the world, every deity he could think of.

He watched her for a moment, her form limp and her body slumped forward, and for a fraction of a second, he was sure he was too late. It’d be his luck, wouldn’t it? To find her just in time to lose her, to get by her side just to watch her slip through his fingers. For all his shit luck, Clint’s fortune rarely felt cruel. There were moments, of course; his father pounding him hard enough to make the world go silent, the family he’d found in the Circus hurting him just as his biological one had, Loki choosing to take him, of all people, and turn him into a mindless puppet.

There was this moment, when he was so sure that he’d lost her, so sure that he’d failed to save her when it mattered.

And then, he saw her eyes, clouded over with pain and exhaustion but open all the same. Alive.

He almost didn’t register the other man in the room until he spoke, following Natasha’s outstretched arm to the man holding it. “I suppose I don’t need Widow’s reply on this one, do I? No, I know who you are, Hawkeye.”

“Good,” Clint growled, voice low and dangerous. “Saves us a lot of time.”

“Indeed. You’re a good man, Barton. It’s what they all say, at SHIELD, at HYDRA. A hero. We both know you’re not going to --” Clint cut him off, drawing his bow and loosing an arrow. It struck the man in the throat before he could finish his sentence.

“Yeah,” Clint said quietly, lowering his bow as the man’s body toppled lifelessly to the concrete floor. “Somebody lied to you.”

Quickly, he made his way across the room to Nat, knelt by her side and took her face into his hands. “You’re okay,” he muttered, and it tasted like a lie on his tongue. She was hurt, in bad shape. It reminded him of Budapest, of the two of them holed up in a ratty apartment licking their wounds, forced to trust one another before they were ready. They’d come a long way since then. “I’ve got you, Nat. I’m here. Let’s -- Let’s get home, yeah?” He wasn’t stupid enough to think that there wasn’t anyone else coming. If it wasn’t HYDRA, it’d be the police. Both were equally dangerous now.

It was either a nightmare or a dream, Natasha couldn’t tell which. Clint was here, alive, albeit bloody. If he was here, he’d fought through them all. He’d put himself at risk for her, and god, she couldn’t take that. It was hypocritical, she’d face entire armies to ensure his safety, but he was worth it. She wasn’t, couldn’t be.

His life was what mattered, the semblance of freedom he still held delicately in his hands.

They were speaking, but she couldn’t wrap her head around the words, couldn’t focus on anything but the grip on her arm.

When the arrow pierced his neck and he fell to the floor, her eyes closed again. Relieved, freezing and exhausted, all she wanted was to stay there for a minute, to just rest. This fight was over. It wasn’t a victory.

They’d lost. Clint had jeopardized himself for her and they’d lost.

Of course she knew that she should open her eyes, force herself to calculate the damage that he’d taken, but she couldn’t bring herself to. Not until his hands cupped her face. He was bloody, it hadn’t been an easy fight. “You’re hurt,” she said listlessly. “You shouldn’t have come. Risky.” Her throat was still raw.

He was right about going home. Once they got there, she could rest. God, it seemed faraway. She barely had the energy to keep her head up. If there was more freezing water, he could throw on her, force her to stay awake like he had.

Five minutes, all she needed was five minutes to regroup —

No, she couldn’t ask him to give her that, too, not after this.

It was another debt to repay Clint for.

“He has a knife on his for the binds,” she said slowly. “I can walk once you get these off.”

Despite the fact that the men in the facility were dead, the adrenaline pumping through his veins didn’t slow. It was over now. Logically, Clint knew that. By the time backup got there, he and Nat would be gone, just as they always were. And HYDRA, they’d know it was him. They wouldn’t forget it. He was surprised to find that he didn’t mind that.

He snorted at her words. You're hurt. Of course that’d be the first thing she said. Tied to a chair, bleeding and broken, and Natasha was still looking out for him. He could live a million lives and be a hero in all of them, and it still wouldn’t be enough to deserve her. He knew that.

“Shut up,” he said with no real bite in his tone. “‘Course I came. We had a date, remember?” It was a poor attempt at humor, hysteria clinging to the edges because even though she was talking he couldn’t shake the fear that he could lose her. He couldn’t push away the panic that came with seeing the blood (so much blood, fuck), couldn’t shake the guilt in the knowledge that he should have been here sooner. He’d wasted so much time. “You’d’ve done the same for me. You know you would’ve.”

Carefully, he removed the knife from the dead agent and cut the binds from her wrists. (He tried to ignore the blood still glimmering on the blade.) He gathered Nat into his arms, shifting so his bow hung off his back. “You’re not walking,” he told her firmly. “Not ‘till we can figure out the damage. ‘Sides, you’re light. Easy to carry.” And she was; Natasha had a ballet dancer’s frame, small and light, and years of pulling back his bow gave Clint strong arms. The adrenaline kept him from feeling any of the injuries HYDRA might have inflicted on him, and there wasn’t exactly anyone to stop them on their way out. Carrying her made sense.

(And maybe, maybe he just wasn’t ready to let go. Maybe he needed to feel her heart beating in her chest, maybe he needed to feel her warmth against him. Maybe he needed every reminder he could get that she was alive, she was here.)

Despite the fact that Clint was here, and HYDRA’s lackey was dead, Natasha still couldn’t shake the sensation that another blow was coming. Her body was still tensed, wholly anticipating what was coming next. It wouldn’t happen with Clint here. Logically, she knew that, and she knew the price he’d paid to get here. He’d wear those deaths for the rest of his life. However, the mind worked in inexplicable ways in order to protect itself, in order to stay alive.

But he was here, and that was the closest thing to safety she’d ever found.

“Sorry, I was a little tied up,” her attempt at humour came out flat, the words breathy. Still, she hoped it’d calm him. She’d been on the other side of it, seeing him beaten within an inch of his life, she knew the panic, and wanted to ease his.

(He came first, his safety, his emotional stability, all of him).

You would have done the same for me. She couldn’t deny it. She’d knowingly, and recklessly, walk into a situation that would almost assuredly kill her if it meant him coming out (mostly) unscathed at the end. “I would,” was all she could muster as a reply.

She flinched when he cut the bindings off. Hours ago, that very knife had been slicing at her skin. “You need your energy,” she pointed out, but she knew that tone, knew it was futile.

Fuck, she was grateful for it, although she’d never admit it. Everything was throbbing, her eyes wouldn’t stay open, despite her best attempts at fighting it. When he scooped her up, her breath caught in her throat. Regardless of how his arms went around her, there were bruises. “If anyone comes, you drop me, and take care of yourself.”

Clint barked a laugh at the joke, but even to him, it sounded hollow. One day, maybe, they’d be in a place where they wouldn’t have to worry about this. One day, she’d miss a date because of car trouble, or because she’d gotten stuck in traffic. One day, he’d find her stuck under some building waiting out the rain instead of being tortured within an inch of her life.

It was a lie, he knew; this was who she was, who they both were. He knew she could never quit going after HYDRA, after the Red Room, after any of them, because he was exactly the same. He knew that they’d likely get themselves killed before they gave up and lived a normal life.

(Selfishly, he hoped he went first.)

Still, it was a nice lie. A comforting one. So he let himself think it, if only for a moment. Maybe he hadn’t earned it, maybe he didn’t deserve it, but he was damn tired, and he needed it, so he let himself have it. Just this once.

I would, she confirmed, and he wondered if he should be touched or concerned at the raw honesty in her tone. He wasn’t sure when they’d reached that level, when they’d become willing to give up everything and anything for each other’s safety. It had been a long time ago, he knew. After Russia, maybe before Budapest. He wouldn’t trade it, wouldn’t trade her. Not for anything.

“Not happening,” he said quietly, determination in his voice. They were both getting out of this shithole, both going back home. It was either that or neither of them was. Leaving her wasn’t an option. It never had been.

Clint tried not to look at the bodies scattered around the warehouse as they left, tried not to let his eyes linger on arrows sticking out of them, on the blood pooled on the floor throughout the halls. He knew there’d be consequences later, knew that the government would use this as an excuse to crack down even harder with the Accords if they found out what he’d done, and even if they didn’t, HYDRA’d be even more after him than they were already. Either way, it wasn’t gonna be pretty. It didn’t matter. Nat was safe, and for that, he’d do it all again.

Natasha’s head leaned against his chest, eyes flitting closed. Clint had fought to get to her, and she could fight to stay awake for him. It was hard, harder than keeping quiet about him and her team had been. She’d had a stake in that, they mattered to her more than her own wellbeing did.

When they passed the bodies, she didn’t comment on the arrows scattered throughout the compound, all kill shots. It hadn’t been accidental. He never missed. He’d chosen to take their lives. More specifically, he’d chosen to take their lives because of her. She wasn’t worth this, wasn’t worth the guilt or the red in his ledger.

This could have been avoidable. If she hadn’t trusted her contact, she never would have ended up in their clutches. It wouldn’t stop her. Those missions were what cleansed the sins she’d committed in the past, and they were numerous.

But it wasn’t worth adding to Clint’s.

(His words came back to her, you would’ve done the same for me. She would have done the same for him, even after seeing the carnage. Hell, she had done the same for him. He was a better person than her, however, he would regret this. She’d never regretted the blood she’d shed that guaranteed he’d live).

(She’d apologize later, when her eyes weren’t threatening to close, and her words were strung together un-fragmented).

When they reached the car, she shivered against the breeze. Her clothes were still soaking wet, and heavy against her skin. Her wrist, the one he’d seized, was hanging at an abnormal angle. That didn’t even begin to cover the cuts and bruises.

She was so tired, so weak.

“Talk to me,” she said quietly. “Want to sleep,” she added as an explanation. (And she wanted to hear his voice, it reminded her that it was over).

She didn’t say anything about the bodies, though Clint knew she saw them. She’d know that every shot had been intentional, know that every life he’d taken had been a conscious choice. She might be the only one who would. Other people, the Avengers, his friends, they might be able to convince themselves that it’d happened in the heat of the moment. They might be able to think he’d acted out of self defense, or that he’d only meant to maim, or that instinct had made him shoot to kill.

Clint and Natasha both knew better.

Hawkeye never missed, never took a shot without considering every angle, every option. Archery was elegant like that, made you think about every move twelve steps before you made it. It was part of why Clint loved it so much. Anyone could fire a gun, anyone could throw a knife, but shooting an arrow? That was like art.

(Today, he wasn’t an artist. Today, his arrows hadn’t gone through wrists or ankles or shoulders. Today, he’d used elegance to kill. It wasn’t the first time he’d done it. He wasn’t stupid enough to think it’d be the last. It was something the first Trickshot had told him once, back when they’d been a duo. This was the one thing Clint was good at, and no matter how hard he tried to convince himself that he was past it, he’d always come back in the end.)

He put her in the car gently, draped his coat over her form. It probably wouldn’t do much -- it was ripped and bloody -- but it was better than nothing. Once in the driver’s seat, he cranked up the heat and glanced over at her. She was fading fast, and he knew it was important to keep her awake.

“I tell you I accidentally shot the pizza place the other day?” He kept his tone light despite the thickness in his throat, forced a smile through the pounding in his head and the dread in his chest. “Wasn’t my fault, ‘course. I was trying to stop a bunch’a guys from breaking in.”

Putting the car in gear, he pulled away from the building and drove towards home, talking the whole way. He launched into story after story, retelling some he knew she knew and adding new ones to the mix. Anything to keep her awake.

Later, when her injuries were dealt with and she slept soundly in a bed with too-white sheets and the smell of disinfectant in the air, he checked the news on his phone. The HYDRA base was there, of course; a developing story, waiting for more information. That wouldn’t last long.

(Glancing at Nat, still sleeping, he couldn’t bring himself to care. The consequences wouldn’t be pretty, but if she was okay? Nothing else really mattered.)

#chatzy #natasha #death tw #torture tw #abuse tw #violence tw #ghosts of utopia #alt title: ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

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todokori-kun · 7 years

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N O

I did guess that maybe something was wrong with your computer/internet connection but after a few days the ridiculous anxiety started punching me in the gut again like ‘what if it was something I said’ or ‘what if something happened and we never get to talk again’..it seems so silly and overdramatic now but I seriously did think those things for a while LOL that’s why I kept sending messages… I’m really sorry for spamming you OTL

And no, don’t apologize! It’s not like you had any control over that. If anything, I should be sorry for freaking out so much ^^;;

But anyway, that’s enough angst for now. I’M SO GLAD YOU’RE BACK :D

Seriously though, sometimes I wonder what was going through Steve’s head when he decided to keep that suit back in the first CA movie XD

The trailer is really cool. I actually think we don’t need another one; this 'teaser’ seems to reveal just the right amount of info :) (And Loki’s hair has FINALLY stopped looking greasy. I think. I hate greasy stuff (unless it’s food) so that hair was really, REALLY bothering me during Avengers 1 and Thor 2, though I guess it did make sense for his hair to look like that at the time)

I think Marvel’s using the 'Power of Love’ thing to explain Nat being able to calm Bruce down. Doesn’t really make that much sense but I agree, it’s cute :3 I shipped Nat with Clint during the first movie (and the reveal that Clint is MARRIED was a serious 'WTH’ moment) but Bruce/Natasha is good enough that I’m not particularly salty over Mrs. Barton.

Sharon Carter/Steve may be the only ship in the MCU that I genuinely dislike. Civil War would have been perfectly fine without it. Sharon and Steve themselves would have been perfectly fine without it. PEGGY would certainly have been fine without it. Just. Why.

Ah, yeah. TDW both gave me hope for Loki and made me lose a little bit of it at the same time, if that makes sense? The thing with Odin worries me, but since I think I read somewhere that Anthony Hopkins is going to be in Ragnarok I guess he’s not dead, so maybe Loki didn’t do anything TOO drastic…

But we got some genuine emotion from Loki over Frigga and I believe that he WAS getting a bit emotional during his 'death’ scene wih Thor, so that’s something, I guess.

To me, Thor 2 proved that while Loki’s morality might have changed, it hasn’t changed for the better, and he still has way too many issues to work through, but his relationship with Thor isn’t quite ruined yet.

I have a soft spot for The Winter Soldier because it was not only the first MCU movie I ever watched, it was the first superhero movie AND the first 'gritty’ live-action movie I ever watched (I was like nine or ten when it came out and before that the only live-action movies I watched were stuff like The Sound of Music and Cats). I guess I get why you might not like it, though- the only reason I still watch TWS now is because I love Bucky’s Winter Soldier costume (sure, we get to see it in Civil War as well but it just looks really cool in TWS) and because it has some of the best Steve & Bucky moments.

(Also Natasha. Natasha is always a good reason.)

YES. Join me in Remember This Cold hell. The creator even has a blog where they answer questions about the series and write shorter stories connected to it :D Also, spoiler regarding the Steve/Loki relationship-

Steve proposed a few stories ago. I’m sure you can guess Loki’s answer.

Awww, thanks! <3 I’m really glad you enjoyed the playlists ^^ but which songs were the ones you didn’t know? And how did you react to Kanae’s list? :)

(And if it’s not too much, could I also ask which songs you thought were the most fitting? it’s fine if you don’t answer this one though)

Ugh, those weird bots ;-;

Random thing, but I got my nails done for the first time today! :) My little sister really wanted to get her nails painted and mom suggested that I should too…normally I don’t really enjoy dressing up and 'decorating’ myself but I thought it would be fun so I tagged along.

I lowkey wanted black nails because Kaneki and Sebastian LOL but I ended up with sky blue. It does look nice so I’m happy with how it turned out :) though the skin right beneath my right thumbnail still hurts…I got my cuticles cut, the cut was too deep and it wouldn’t stop bleeding for a while ;-;

Last note:

Another random thing, but do you have any OCs? :3 It’s my dream to become a writer someday so I have a ton of them, one cast for a book I’m trying to write and another one for a comic I’d make if I was better at anatomy and knew how to do digital art ;-; maybe someday it’ll work out. If it doesn’t, I’ll just write down that story too… I also have lots and lots of discarded OCs for my fandoms (not all of them are discarded though, there’s one wallflower cutie named Naomi for TG and unfortunately I like torturing her a bit too much to let her go. There’s also her brother Tatsuo, a fabulous jerk who loves his little sister very much, in his own passive-aggressive way, and will serve any poor soul who dares to approach her for dinner).

If you have OCs too maybe we could rant about them together? :) (totally not using this as an excuse to ramble about my babies who I love to hurt. I think I’ve caught the Ishida-virus)

Again, don’t apologize! I’m just really glad you’re back, Queen Luna <3333

Don’t worry, I got this message ^^ (Un)fortunately, I’m that person who’d probably tell someone if they’re annoying me. And you’re not annoying at all! I enjoy talking to you a lot, since you’re one of the rare people who shares so many fandoms with me ^^ So if I don’t answer, it means the internet/phone/computer is acting up, ok? I wouldn’t disappear just like that ^^

I’m glad to be back ^^

Before I forget, the new chapter of TG. The title sure is fitting. ISHIDA’S BACK AT IT AGAIN! ((I mean, who names a chapter ‘suffering’))

Maybe he wanted everyone to look at the behind ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) You never know what kind of weird things he likes. It’s so awkward trying to avoid all the key words for those blogs XD

Ahahahah, he did look like needed to wash it… But it’s solved now ^^ And it’s curly. THE ONLY THING THAT’S NOT SOLVED IS THORS HAIR AAAAAAAAAAAA Why did they cut off his glorious locks ;-;

Nat and Clint did seem like a good ship, but since I watched Ultron before anything, I knew about Clint’s situation. It was a bit weird watching Clint and Nat interact, though, since they do seem very close, and not in a purely platonic way.

Since I haven’t reached Civil War yet, I haven’t seen the ship. Somehow, I know I won’t like it ^^ (I mean, from what you’ve said, it really is a very NO ship.)

TDW Loki for me was the biggest ‘honestly, what was I expecting?’ character in the whole MCU universe, because, honestly, what was I expecting? When he ‘died’ I laughed, because he’s Loki and it’s probably another one of his plans. anD I WAS RIGHT.

Frigga is the only character who Loki showed genuine affection for, though, isn’t she? I mean, since we don’t know her well as a character, I didn’t feel anything when she died, but I did feel sorry for Loki.

I recently found a mythology book that features Nordic mythology. And you have 3 guesses about who the main bad guy is in all of them. I’ll be genuinely disappointed if you need the other 2.

One’s about the making of Thor’s hammer where Loki turns into a fly and stings the blacksmith, causing him to mess up the length of the part where you hold it (I forgot the english name), the other one is about him being responsible for the death of Frigga’s son, because he made someone stab the son with mistletoe. Mythology is weird.

That’s actually adorable ^^ I never would’ve guessed your first action movie was Winter Soldier! And I completely agree, Bucky’s costume is quite nice (huehuehuehuheue)

I’m scared of starting to read it….. I THINK I MIGHT WAIT UNTIL I FINISH WATCHING CIVIL WAR JUST BECAUSE :))))

Let’s see… I knew the whole Loki&Thor playlist, All of Loki except for Castle, She keeps me warm from Yumikuri I didn’t know, knew all of Urie/Saiko and Urie and I will not say anything about Kanae :))))

Sweet! I only got my nails done once in my life and that was for my uncle’s wedding. I understand your pain entirely ;-; There’s a reason why I only had them done ONCE hahah For some reason, I associated sky blue with you even before this… Idk why, though

Did someone say…. OCs? You want the older ones (absolute Mary Sues, I laugh about them today, even though I was 100% serious before) or the newer ones (the ones with actual flaws and development?) Also, we probably talked about this before, but have you watched Fullmetal Alchemist? My biggest Mary Sue is from there ^^;;

ALSO ALSO, I was thinking about changing my icon, and I narrowed it down to 4 potential ones. Which one should I choose?

#evans #submission

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