#Bruce Banner angst

[reginaphalangelobster125]

Gone

Avengers x Reader, Steve Rogers x Reader (each can be read as platonic or otherwise)

Summary: The team went on a mission, it was supposed to be simple. Supposed to be.

Warnings: Character death, human experimentation, not a lot but some intense violence, lots of angst, no happy ending.

Word Count 1,959

Your day started off like any other, you got up and put your workout clothes on and 4:45 am. You met Steve outside the tower at 5:00 and went on your usual run for about an hour. Once you got back to the compound you made everyone breakfast, that morning you chose pancakes, which the whole team devoured. After breakfast at about 7:15, you all went to the meeting room where Steve started his briefing.

'All right, quick and easy in and out HYDRA base takedown shouldn't take more than 2 hours tops' the Captain stated 'Location, small town just outside of New Orleans'.

'Sweet, we can hit the casino before we head home' Tony said, knowning full well Steve would never go for it.

'I don't think so, Tony' the super soldier said almost rolling his eyes.

You all suited up and piled into the quinjet within the hour and were off the ground by 8:00. You arrived near the HYDRA base, parked the quinjet and placed it in stealth mode all by 10:00.

Bruce stayed in the jet hoping there wouldn't be any need for a 'code green' as the team put it. The rest of you split into pairs and you were with Steve. You and Steve silently became partners a long time ago, you two just always worked well together and after some time you developed a meaningful and strong bond, becoming true best friends. The two of you snuck up on the guards and clocked them before they could even hear you. You put on a couple of helmets to sneak in and make sure there were no civilian hostages before blowing the building into the sky. You went right as Steve went left. You walked over to an elevator and just as the doors were about to shut a HYRDA agent snuck in with you. You were a bit worried he might notice you and as he got closer you just did the first thing you could think of and uttered the phrase 'hail hydra' under your breath, which seemed to work out for you as he returned the sentiment.

You heard some agents talking about 'the subjects' which you were almost certain were captives hidden somewhere, but what you didn't expect was children. You had be through and see things no one should have to, some that included children, but that didn't make it any easier when they were involved. You told Steve over comms, to meet you in the basement where you thought the kids were. You waited in the basement until 1:54 pm when you saw Steve approaching. You two searched the basement while Tony got JARVIS to take as many scans of the building as possible but there was something preventing him from seeing inside.

'J's stumped guys, he can't see through the walls, they're probably lined with lead' Tony grumbled annoyed that he hadn't considered lead.

'I don't know if you should stay in there if Tony can't see anything' Clint stated, concerned like the mother hen he is.

'We're not in there, Steve, Y/n, what do you think?' Natasha asked.

'Your call' Steve said looking to you. You had more experience with discrete infiltration than your super soldier friend who generally just bursts in.

'I say we keep going, we gotta find those kids' you said determined to help the children.

You and Steve ventured further into the basement, uncovering multiple secret rooms, but no kids. You looked for hours taking you to 6:24 pm and still no luck.

'You think we should call it a day?' Steve asked you.

'I can't leave those kids' you muttered back.

'Maybe there are no kids, maybe the agents were wrong'

'Can't take that chance, Captain'

He knew you were serious when you called him 'Captain' as you usually opted for 'Cap' or 'Steve'.

After continuing your search you finally found them. The door was locked so in one swift moment Steve knocked it down with a kick, you knew he's was a super soldier but sometimes you forgot. You rushed in the door started opening cells. Most of the children had some form of injuries but a few of them were.... different. You let one out that had feathers on her arms and another with gills, HYRDA had been experimenting on them. You had seen experimentations before but nothing this successful and not with Steve. When he saw the boy with a fluffy tail and ears you thought he might be sick, no because of the boy's appearance but because he knew the paint if experimental formulas and he hated that a child had to go through that. Many children. You could see the pain in Steve's usually soft blue eyes, not clouding with rage.

At 9:02 you started to help the children out of the building through the vent system, Clint's suggestion of course. You were greeted outside, not very warmly, by what must have been 100 HYDRA agents. The rest of the team joined you and they caught the agents as you and Steve protected the 20 odd kids. One agent grabbed a vulture-like girl, she must've be 5 years old at the most, and pointed a gun to her head. You stopped immediately, placing your weapon on the ground and you hands above your head.

'Don't hurt her, please' you begged the man but he just chuckled in response seeing how much you cared for the girl you had just barely met.

'I'll do want I want, bitch' he barked before tightening his grip on her throat. She looked up at you and muttered the words 'please help me' just before he took the shot. His finger tightened around the trigger squeezing it while staring at you the entire time. You didn't take your eyes off the little girl's. Big, beautiful, brown eyes staring up at you with hope, hope that you would save her life, but you didn't. You watched as he released his grip on her neck, letting her limp body fall to the ground with a sharp thud. You stared at her body. His gruff laughter jolting you back into reality. He knew he was about to die but seeing that he got to you made it all worth it. You turned your head back to face him, not saying a word you pounced on him. You ripped him apart, limb from limb, with your bare hands.

Steve saw you, elbow deep in the agent's bloody carcass. Then he saw the little girl lying on the ground next to you. He didn't say anything, now wasn't the time, he just continued to fight. He unleashed the bottled up rage from when he saw the children earlier.

Everyone was beating the agents senseless and just as you thought the battle was coming to a close more troop came from behind, snatching the kids from you and Nat, who had helped you after seeing what happened with the girl. The agents gather the children up and poured gasoline around them. You thought they were bluffing, even after earlier, you didn't think they would destroy all those experiments at least. You all stared as one man lit a match and smiled as he dropped it.

You where half a mile from them so by the time you all got there the flames were raging at 9 feet from the ground, still climbing.

Even in this state, Hulk knew that Steve and Tony would rush in to save them even though they'd probably due doing it, so he grabbed them and held them both in a huge bear hug making sure they couldn't escape. What he didn't account for was you.

You knew it was stupid, but you couldn't just watch them die. The rest of the team started to turn around, silently admitting defeat, but you didn't. You watched the daunting inferno, towering over you, growing, engulfing trees with the children. You ran into the blaze, covering your face with your arms. You rushed around checking the bodies, searching for any sign of life, until you saw an arm reach out. You bolted over to the girl, only slightly spared because of all the other's corpses piled on top of her, partly shielding her from the flames. You life's the bodies off of her and cradled her in your arms as you ran out of the fire.

Your teammates, your friends were terrified when they saw you run straight into fire. Every second you staying there the more they worried. They clung to the hope that you might come out, you had to.

When they saw you burst through the flames they all breathed a sigh of relief. They say you hold the girl and rushed over to you. Thor took her from your arms and the moment you let her go you collapsed. The last thing you saw was Steve hovering over you.

They saw you fall to the ground, mirroring the vulture girl from earlier. Steve pushed his way out of the Hulk's grip and rushed to your side. He picked you limp body up in his arms and rushed you to the quinjet, to which the others followed quick behind.

At 1:37 am Thor placed the girl onto the on-board med bay. They checked her over on the flight home, sustaining her for the time being and keeping her breathing. The whole time Steve held you in his arms and stared at the scrape, cuts, bruises and... burns that littered your body. The fire had burned through your suit, scorching your skin on your legs, abdomen and back mostly. Those were the worst ones. He stared at the burn that climbed from your neck, up your cheek. It captured a small amount of you hairline and crept it's way to your eye. He could see what looked like little tendrils of scarred skin creeping over the outer corner of your right eye. He ghosted his fingers over it feeling the raised skin, tears pricking at his eyes as you still hadn't moved.

Steve lowered you onto the med bay bed and Bruce checked you over, however hopeless it may seem. Steve held your hand, his glassy eyes not leaving your closed ones for a moment. Bruce inhaled deeply and looked over and the man at your bedside, wishing he didn't have to say what he was about to.

'I'm sorry' he started 'she doesn't have a pulse and she isn't breathing'.

No one said anything, the rest of the team stood around you praying that they heard him wrong.

Natasha walked over to the corner and sunk onto the floor, folding in on herself. Clint tilted his head back, resting it on the wall as a stared at the ceiling. Thor punched a wall of the quinjet, almost breaking straight through. Tony looked down and walked away, his guilty thoughts starting to take over. 'What if I had thought about lead? Then she'd still be alive'.

Everyone was choking back tears, they'd lost one of the most important people in their lives. The person who made them laugh with some of the most stupid jokes known to man. The person who taught them new training techniques, even when they thought they knew them all by now. The person that made them their favourite meal when they were feeling down. The person who nursed them back to health when they were sick. The person who somehow could always get them the best gifts come the holidays. The person who comforted them no matter what. The person that they relied on to be their rock.

You were just gone, and all by 3:00 am.

Tags:

@impetusofadream

@goldfishthegr8

@avengers-official-recruit-agent

@goreygirl03

@xenasolos

@sparklyturtlefox

@rios-sythe

[saltsicklover]

Bruce Banner Master List

˚✧ Bruce Banner ✧˚

One Shots

Hung Every Star ♡ ☁︎ - "Bruce, listen to me, and listen to me good," I speak into the phone, my voice a sort of choked up and strangled mess of syllables and affixes, "I am going to be just fine. Things are going to be tough, but I don't need you to worry about them.

˖⁺‧₊ Key₊‧⁺˖

♡ xFem!Reader

☁︎ xDisabled!Reader

ꨄ︎ Soulmate AU

[endo-bunny]

Sit Down Now and Rest

-~-~-~-~-~-~

Description: You had anxiety and depression, and Tony and Bruce were more than happy with getting you anxiety meds the moment that you asked. When you stop taking your meds, your mental health plummets and spirals as well as your physical health, and everyone notices. Don't worry though, they're there for you.

Pairing: (Platonic) Avengers x Teen!Reader

Type: Fluff, Angst, Hurt/Comfort

Warnings: Depression, anxiety, sickness, fainting, dizziness, taking meds(both medicated and just vitamins/iron supplements), dehydration, insomnia, depressive and hurtful thoughts, reader doesn't talk very much in this, nicknames(Kiddo, Kid, Hun)

Word Count: 1,627

Note: I may or may not have written this with too much of myself being present… But it's fine! I also wrote this at like 2 in the morning so it's kinda rough but I just needed to get this typed out so here ya go! Also, the characters might be kinda ooc because I haven't watched any marvel movies in a little while but I've been hyper focused on fics with them lately so yea. And I am working on my tlou and tech fics, it's just hard to find the motivation to write them, but don't worry, I'm working on em.

-~-~-~-~-~-~

You were quick to notice that you stopped taking your meds. You knew that they helped you, but you couldn't get yourself to start the habit of taking them again. You wanted to, most definitely, but you couldn't. Every day was the same. Wake up, look at your meds, contemplate taking them, saying you'll take them later, go train, eat, and then not take them.

You also stopped taking them at night too. You had even set alarms so that you'd remember to take them, but it didn't help at all. Natasha was the first to notice that something was up, being the closest one with you. When she realized that something wasn't quite right, she made sure to keep a close eye on you. She was quick to pick up how dizzy you looked when you'd get up, sometimes not even being able to stay standing before you crumbled back onto the couch. You'd always play it off as if you just lost your footing but she and everyone else knew that that wasn't the case.

One morning you had gotten up much later than you had recently been getting up. When you checked the time, it was around two in the afternoon. You got up and went to the kitchen, feeling extremely hungry after forgetting, and also just not wanting dinner the night prior. When you arrived in the kitchen, Tony was there. He had kind of taken up the father role in your life.

The moment he saw that you had finally arose, he was quick to make a snarky comment in good fun, “Ah! The beast has finally awoken from their slumber, now off they go to find their beauty.”

You only roll your eyes, ignoring him. You felt exhausted, even though you got close to ten hours of sleep seeing as you fell asleep around 4 in the morning. You couldn't find anything easy to fix or that looked appetizing in the fridge or pantry so you just opted for a bottle of water that you would only take a sip or two of then leave with your other five almost full water bottles on your nightstand.

Before you could go back to the confines of your room, Tony had to ask you a question, “ Hey kiddo, did you take your meds?”

The question caught you off guard, not expecting him to ask seeing as he hasn't asked in a real long time.

“Oh yea! I, um, took them earlier but fell back asleep. Yea, that's what I did!”

You try to make it seem like you weren't lying through your teeth, but weren't very successful because of how exhausted you were. However, before Tony could confront you, you book it to your room. You hide there for the rest of the day, not coming out for Dinner. Steve had come by to tell you that dinner was ready but you told him that you weren't very hungry as you just kept your

on the book that you had your nose in. You kept your light on all night, not feeling tired.

The next morning, Nat knocked on your door around eight, coming to get you so that you could train with her. When she opened your door, she saw you laying on your back staring up at the ceiling. You looked exhausted and had dark circles under your eyes. When Bat opened the door, you flung up in surprise. You hadn't heard her knocking so you weren't expecting for the door to randomly open. You couldn't tell who it was at first because your vision went fuzzy black as your body tried to accommodate the sudden movement that you caused. Nat waited for you to acknowledge her.

When you did after a couple seconds, you looked over at the time, confused. It had just been two the last time you looked at the clock. How could it be eight all of the sudden? You were brought out of your thoughts by Natasha trying to talk to you. You zoned back in, giving her a questioning look.

“I said, are you ok? You look exhausted Hun. I came by to get ya to come train but it looks like you need to rest for a couple days.”

“Oh! No, I'm fine. Just give me a couple minutes to get ready and I'll be down and we can get to work in no time!”

She gave you a skeptical look but nodded, closing your door behind her.

When you got down to the training room, Bucky and Steve were there with Natasha. They smiled upon seeing you walk in. However, Bucky and Steve's bright smiles dropped upon looking at your figure. You were slouched, tired eyes not fully open and your eye bags were extremely dark.

Bucky was the first to point it out, “Hey Kid, you ok? You aren't looking too good.”

You only shrugged, your body aching and your throat feeling scratchy and sore for some reason.

As you're sparring with Natasha, you continuously have to stop the match because you go into coughing fits. As finish with your last coughing fit you go back to Natasha, but she's packing her stuff up.

“Wait, where are you going?” You're voice comes rather harsh and rude as you ask the red head.

“I think you should rest for the rest of the day Hun. I'll come check on you in a little while. But go take your meds and also some cough syrup and eat something.”

You didn't say anything as you grabbed your stuff and walked back to your room. This was stupid. It was just a little cold. You can still fight. You need to train. Deep down though you knew you needed to listen to her and do as she said. In the end, you don't. You go back to your room, take a sip or two of water, get a small snack and then sit down in the living room with a book.

You try to read it, but you can't stay focused for long enough to. Your mind is spiraling and racing. You kept replaying how training went. You were so pathetic. And rude. How could you be so rude? Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid. You slam the book down onto the sofa, huffing.

You hadn't noticed that some of the others had joined you in the living room. They look up at you, surprised. They weren't used to seeing you like this. You tried to get up quickly, wanting to get away from this embarrassing situation.

The moment you get up, the world goes black, buzzing and ringing is the only thing you can hear as you collapse. You feel something picking you up and setting you down on the couch. You blink your eyes a couple times, slowly feeling sensation being restored in your body. You look around you and see that Bruce is coming over with a damp cloth and water. Nat has your head resting in her lap and Tony has your hand in his. They all look worried as they stare down at you. You hear gasped as Steve and Bucky walk in.

Questions are being thrown at you, too fast for you to comprehend. You instinctively put your hands on your ears, feeling overwhelmed. They all quiet down upon seeing this. Tony is the one to ask the questions from then on.

“Hey, it's ok. We're sorry, didn't mean to overwhelm ya like that. Can ya sit up?”

You nodded, feeling embarrassed now. Tony nodded and Nat helped you sit up, allowing you to lean against her.

“Ok, drink some water, you're ok,” Tony hands you the water that Bruce had brought over as Bruce is wiping your face with the cold damp cloth.

“Ya feeling better?”

“Ya, I'm fine.”

“Have you been taking your meds, kid?”Tony doesn't hold back, knowing what it looks like when you don't take the meds that have been helping you produce what your body needs.

You sheepishly look down at your hands that are fidgeting in your lap. You inhale sharply before shaking your head no.

They all sigh, Natasha being the one to talk this time, “Why haven't you been taking your meds, Hun?”

“I-I just don't want to… I don't like the feeling.”

They looked at each other, wondering what to say. As they look at each other, you go to stand up, but they make sure that you don't get up.

“Sit down now and rest,” Bucky's voice comes from behind you, his hands still on your shoulders.

“I'm sorry…” Your voice comes out in a whisper.

“You're forgiven kiddo, but ya gotta start taking your meds again.” Steve comes over and sits on the other side of you as he speaks.

“I know.”

“How bout I take my medication with ya? God knows that I haven't been taking it as much as I should be,” Tony chuckles as he tries to negotiate with you.

You didn't know if it would actually help you but you were open to the idea.

“Good, drink some more water. Now what do you want to watch? Hm? TV's all yours,” Tony stood up, giving you the TV remote as everyone decided to sit down on the couch.

You picked your comfort movie as you snuggled up with Steve and Nat. Tony had gotten you some actual food, and by the time the movie was over, you had drank all the water, ate all the food, fell asleep, and almost everyone else had fallen asleep as well. You felt safe with the people that cared about you all around you. You knew that this would be a journey, but you also knew that you weren't alone.

-~-~-~-~-~-~

Tag list: @fakegingerrights @macchiato-dreaming22 @silnebula

[marks-bby]

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀𝐁𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐃𝐘

⸝⸝⸝ ࿔ how the bats ( bruce and jason ) leave you ᵎᵎ

⸝⸝⸝ ࿔ disclaimer !! these are not accurate depictions of the characters. please do not let this influence your view on the selected characters written and/or mentioned.

BRUCE WAYNE ᵎᵎ

the newspaper rolled up at your feet gifted you a present you feared. the picture of bruce and selina walking out of a fancy restaurant made your swell up. but what was worse was the headline.

'POTENTIAL MRS. WAYNE ?!'

you drop the paper, gasping.

a tear slips through your water line, rolling down the apple of your cheek. the memories of bruce and you sharing intimate moments rolls in your mind as your body stands still in shock. the possibility that he could've been with her the day before and after baffles you. the sweet promises he whispered in your ears were now recycled and given to her.

that's why he kept you a secret...he didn't want any controversies.

maybe it was your fault. maybe you were at fault for thinking that bruce wayne, the prince of gotham would actually stoop to your level of notoriety and become a 'normal person'. someone of his stature shouldn't be caught dead with you, you told yourself.

for the next few days, you brainstormed your next move. you also took into consideration how you'd be in the aftermath. you'd be lying to yourself if you said bruce wasn't your love. you poured yourself into him. the detachment process would be a battle.

move from gotham? no, you're not that much of a loser to run away from your problems. but could you bare seeing his face everywhere after this? what if you got word that she was pregnant? or the extravagant wedding he hosted just for her. seeing her dolled up like a princess on the day you dreamed of with him.

you made your plan.

bruce was out doing his duties at Wayne Enterprises and wasn't expected to return back to the Manor for a few hours. you could buy plenty of time.

JASON TODD ᵎᵎ

"do you not understand how your words contradict the shit you do?" you argue, trying to get him to look at you. every time you moved into his line of sight, he turned away; like he was ashamed to see you.

his anger from being revived grew and grew. it was taking a toll on your relationship. the benign robin you knew from your teenage years was gone. his face was always contorted into a scowl at any given moment. he was never happy.

his eyes screwed shut as he heard the same words he heard every single time. yes, he did feel pain every time you cried due to his lack of compassion and his absence of love. but could he change? he didn’t know. nor did he try.

“you keep stay after it happens again and again. just fucking leave. you keep wasting your breath on the thing you don’t like knowing i won’t change. i’m not changing so you can experience your little fantasy you want with me.”

his blunt words make the crease in your brows relax. your jaws goes slack in…shock? pain? realization?

you didn’t know. but his words made your cheeks burn and your eyes gloss.

“it’s your fault that you keep staying. i don’t have to change.” he sneers, finally turning to you. for the first time since this conversation started again, his first look at you is in anger.

“that’s it?” you manage to choke out.

“that’s it.”

happy thanksgiving, y’all! my inbox is open for requests and i’m on a dc high rn ( especially for adrian chase! ) and if you want a follow up or add characters, ask! so send em ! request forum.

[glorystark]

His Saviour | Part 1

Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: You disobey one of Steve's orders in a mission but you don't think about the consequences...

Warnings: (TRIGGER WARNING!) mentions of self harm and suicide, mentions of killing and torturing, pure Angst no happy ending, mentions of injures, dark!Steve Rogers, swearing, minor spoilers of Black Widow, Steve being an asshole in general

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader

Featuring: The original 6

Disclaimer: please don't read this if you're not comfortable with any of the topics below or/and if they trigger you. This is just a fiction and it's never ok to act like this. I'm not romanticizing any of these topics and this behaviour!

You are sitting in the Quinjet, observing everyone who is injured in different ways. Natasha has been stabbed in her right thigh, Clint’s left ankle has been twisted, and Bruce, although not injured, appears exhausted due to a significant code green call, during which Nat almost lost him trying to retrieve him. Thor has a few scratches on his face. Everyone’s faces show bruising in different areas, and their bodies are still aching. But you, you have been injured the most. Your right wrist is broken, and you have been shot in your left leg, though the bullet wasn’t deep and didn't cause major damage; otherwise, you probably would have passed out by now. You still have trouble breathing, and your voice is sore because one of the HYDRA agents almost choked you to death. Your face is bruised, you can only open your right eye halfway, and your lips are swollen. The numbness has made it so you can barely feel any pain. When everyone saw you upon returning to the jet, they were extremely worried. You didn’t possess inhuman powers and weren't a super soldier, but you used to be a well-trained assassin and spy in the Red Room, closely partnered with Natasha Romanoff before joining S.H.I.E.L.D. So, it was surprising for the team to see you so battered, though they understood the mission was challenging.

Everyone needed a break upon returning to the tower. Initially, everyone thought it was a straightforward mission: infiltrate a high-security HYDRA base, get two flash drives containing vital and dangerous information, and exit. What no one knew was that it was a trap, with far more agents present than expected. Eventually, you managed to escape, but only securing one of the flash drives.

As everyone settled back in the jet, Bruce finished removing the bullet from your leg and bandaging Nat’s thigh. Thor bragged to Tony about his usual lack of injuries on missions, joking that he could have taken down all the HYDRA agents that day if he hadn’t been 'unlucky', which elicited laughter from Tony. Clint checked on Nat while she recounted a memory from Budapest. Meanwhile, you contemplated going home for a long shower until you noticed Steve, whose eyes were fixed on you with intensity. Confused, you assumed he was lost in thought, but you were wrong.

“How could you be so reckless?!" Steve's voice boomed through the jet as he stood up from his seat, his gaze piercing into yours. Everyone stopped what they were doing, surprised by his uncharacteristically loud tone, given his usually calm demeanor, even when upset. You looked at him, uncertain of what to say. You understood why he was angry; you had disobeyed an order. However, if not for your 'disobedience,' you wouldn't have acquired half the information you have now. To you, this seemed like Steve Rogers throwing a typical Captain America tantrum.

“Well, are you going to answer, or are you too stupid to respond to a simple question?" he growled, advancing toward your seat.

“I wasn't being-" you began to mutter, only to be interrupted by Steve.

“Speak up," he demanded, his voice cutting you off. You met his gaze, puzzled by his demeanor.

“I wasn't being reckless; I was being thoughtful. The-" you tried to explain, but Steve interrupted again.

"Thoughtful?! You call that thoughtful?! Really, Y/n? It's clear you don't understand the difference between stupidity and thoughtfulness.” he retorted.

“Will you stop interrupting me?" you interjected, your voice growing louder as you rose from your seat. You locked eyes with Steve, standing almost chest to chest in front of each other.

“I wouldn't have interrupted you if I knew any useful words were going to come out of your mouth," he countered, finally yelling, causing everyone but you to flinch.

“You have no right to yell at me like this, Steve.” you asserted, standing up for yourself.

"I have EVERY right to yell at you, you-" he began, but you cut him off this time.

"Why are you making it seem like I committed a crime? Yes, I agree it was wrong for me to enter that room alone, but I retrieved the flash drive we needed, didn't I?" you challenged.

“That is not the point right now. The point is, I'm your captain, and I gave a strict, direct order not to enter that room, and you disobeyed me.” he stated firmly.

That was all true. When you disobeyed his order, you knew he would be angry, but not to this extent.

You sprinted down the hallway, incapacitating every HYDRA agent in your path. You tried not to use your gun too often, knowing there would likely be guards in the room.

"Steve, I found the room," you said through your earpiece. You subdued the agent guarding the room where the flash drives were, and as the door swung open, more than twenty HYDRA agents stood before you, blocking your view of the drives on the computer table.

“Y/n, what did you just say? Get out of there now! Do you even know how many agents are in there?" Steve's urgent voice echoed in your ear.

“I do now," you replied, still facing the agents, who were also eyeing you cautiously.

"Y/n, this is an order. Get. Out. Of. There. Now.” Steve commanded, his tone almost a shout.

“Sorry, Steve, but people's lives depend on this.” you declared, charging toward the agents, disregarding Steve's pleas for you to retreat.

“Steve, I really don't understand what the big deal is. I got one of the drives, and yes, I went alone, but at least I obtained something that will help us.” you reasoned, taking a seat.

“Alright, y/n, I'm definitely sure now that you are deaf. You entered a room with so many HYDRA agents-" he began, only to be cut off by you.

“They were like 10 and they were really weak-" you defended.

“They were 27 trained assassins!” he corrected, making you widen your eyes.

"And do I need to remind you that your leg has been shot, and you can barely keep your eyes open, not to mention the rest of your injuries." he added mockingly.

“Okay, Steve, I get it, and I'm sorry for being reckless. Can we let this go now?" you pleaded, sitting down.

“Let this go?!" he started laughing, though his laugh lacked any humor. Everyone looked at Steve, unable to believe his behavior. They never expected him to speak to you this way, especially in front of the whole team.

You and Steve had been friends since meeting during the Battle of New York. You had a lot in common and quickly connected. A few months later, at one of Tony's parties, he kissed you, and the following day, he asked you out. It had been six months since then, and Steve treated you like a princess. He called you his savior because you helped him adjust to life after being thawed from the ice. He adored you. You had a few minor disagreements, but they were hardly fights, more like disagreements. You could never stay mad at each other, and now you couldn't believe the man who was laughing at you and humiliating you was the same person.

"Steve, I think that's enough," Nat finally intervened, her voice calm yet firm.

"Is it really? I think baby y/n hasn't learned her lesson yet.” Steve retorted sarcastically.

“Fuck you, Steve. You can't speak to me like that. I'm not a kid. If it wasn't for me, we wouldn't even have that one drive, and god knows how many people could have died. But you can't even realize that because I disobeyed ‘Captain America's orders,' and no one is allowed to disobey America's 'hero.' The only kid between us is you!” you shot back, your voice rising, though not as loud as Steve's had been.

“I'm a kid, y/n? Really? And what are you, a hero? Do you expect me to thank you now? Do you expect all of us to be on our knees thanking you?!" Steve challenged.

“That is not what I said!" you finally snapped.

The tension in the room escalated, and the team grew more uncomfortable by the second.

Steve smirked at your angered state.

“What's the matter, y/n? You seem a little bit defensive. I thought you liked being a hero. You know, because of the guilt, since you started killing and torturing people at the age of 8.”he said, still wearing the hurtful smirk on his face.

The whole team gasped, especially Natasha, whose story paralleled yours. You looked at Steve, unable to believe what he had just said.

“You seem shocked, Agent y/l/n. Oh, and Natasha, don't take this the wrong way. We all make mistakes in our life, but at least after we realize our mistakes, we try to make them up as soon as we can and not run away like a coward.” Steve continued, ignoring your reaction. You and Natasha widened your eyes, understanding what Steve was referring to."Steve..." Nat began, but Steve cut her off.

“I'm not done yet. Some of y'all look confused, well, let me explain it for you," Steve said, addressing the rest of the team.

"Steve, don't." you murmured, your voice weak now. You weren't even sure if anyone heard you, and you were right. No one heard you, but Steve who chose to ignore you.

“Our dear y/n y/l/n was a well-trained assassin back in the years with Natasha Romanoff in a place called the Red Room, which I'm sure you've heard about. Before even Natasha was out of there, Agent y/l/n found a way to leave the Red Room, a way to save every girl, from children to adults, who were mind-controlled into killing, and even worse. But do you know what she did instead?" he turned around the room, looking at everyone as if it was a show. No one said anything; they just kept looking between you and Steve. It was getting harder for you to focus on your breathing.

“Well, in case you haven't guessed yet, she just left everyone who could've been saved, even her best friend who is sitting right here with us.” he said, pointing at Nat.

“And even though she could've killed Dreykov, who was the leader by the way, with her genius plan, she didn't because she was a coward.” he said, emphasizing the word coward.

You've never felt so small and betrayed. You couldn’t believe he was using your awful past against you. When you confided in him, he comforted you, assuring you it wasn't your fault. That you’ve been through a lot and you took the only chance you had to save yourself. And now… now he was a different person.

“Cap that’s enough, it’s not our business what she did in the past. We all did something in some point that we aren’t proud of. She made up for that mistake many times now, since the battle of New York until today’s mission. I’m sure she still feels guilty and you’re just making it worse.” Tony looked at your trembling sight, standing up from his seat and walked towards Steve. The rest of the team nodding along, glad that Tony stood up for you because they were frozen themselves.

“Oh yeah Tony, you’re right I’m sure she feels guilty, don’t you y/l/n?” He looked at you as if you were a kid

Everything about him was hurting you right now. His voice tone that humiliated you in every way, his eyes that sent daggers to your way, his body that was intimidatingly towering yours, his smile which always made you happy and now it was only mocking you. Your throat is dry, your eyes are wet and you feel like your heart is going to come out of your chest in any second. You were hurt and unwell, and everyone could see that, everyone but Steve.

“Agent y/I/n do you feel guilty about your past?" He repeated his sarcastic question.

"I wouldn't worry about that too much since you have a good way to cope with your guilt right?" He continued.

You looked up at him frighteningly, understanding where he was going.

“Steve don't you dare." you whispered, finally being able to say something.

Everyone was confused since they had no idea what you both were talking about.

“you seem scared agent." Steve smirked at you sending shivers down your spine. It hurts so much more that he wasn't even using your name anymore, he felt like a stranger to you.

“SHUT UP!" you had never yelled so loud in your life, the whole jet shook. Everyone flinched but Steve. It seemed like he was waiting for this.

“Come on y/n are you that afraid of everyone knowing how you used to deal with your problems, or do you still do it?"

Everyone was quite once again, something in them wanted to know what Steve was talking about but they also didn't because of the way you reacted.

You looked at him not saying anything but your eyes were begging him to stop. You've never been in such a vulnerable position, especially considering everything you’ve been through.

“oh don't tell me you're gonna cut your wrists open again because you feel guilty you didn't get the second driver."

Everyone froze and widened their eyes, silence filling the jet. No one knew that you used to harm yourself until you started dating Steve, he was the first person to ever know. You felt so comfortable around him that you didn't want to have any untold secrets.

You thought about what if you guys break up but you convinced yourself that even if you guys separate your ways from each other at some point, you're definitely going to stay friends and he's never going to tell your secret to anyone because you believed he was a good man. You trusted him more than yourself and now he proved you all wrong.

You didn't cut anymore, because you found a way to save people. If it wasn't for Nick Fury, making you join the team you'd be long gone by now. But you didn't have a reason anymore, you were happy you had a new family and a new job, everything was perfect for you. Now you felt alone all over again and you didn't even blame Steve, you blamed yourself. You failed.

You started trembling more and started to see black spots. The team walked towards you to see if you were okay. Thor pushed Steve away, "Stay away from her," he warned, before walking to you. You heard Tony and Natasha yelling at Steve, Clint trying to calm them down but looking angry himself, Bruce and Thor asking you if you were alright, but you couldn’t hear anything anymore. It was so loud, but you only heard annoying mumbles. You let out a sob before passing out in the strong arms of the god, the last thing you saw being Steve's worried eyes…

A/N: This was my first (published) fan fiction. I apologise for any writing and/or grammar mistakes considering that English isn’t my first language. Feel free to correct me! If you enjoyed this, please let me know and let me know if you want to be tagged in the upcoming posts! (This fic will make a twist;))

[ksascriptt]

Missing those avengers tower fics from like 2015 so please expect some of those

[sunvmars]

bitter sweet | s.r.

pairing: steve rogers x fem/afab reader

next ↠

word count: 2.8k

warnings: obv swearing, pregnancy/pregnant reader, some angst that's mainly reader trying to cover up hidden emotions

summary: you've grown to resent steve after a breakup and give him the cold shoulder for weeks. you soon discover you're pregnant and show back up on his doorstep to tell him the news.

a/n: definitely turning this into a series if it gains enough traction!

It was a warm summer evening like any other when Steve had asked you to come straight home after work, insisting he had something important to talk about. You had entered your shared apartment with expectations of a nice dinner or a movie night. Considering Steve was always one for suspension, surprise plans and at-home date nights weren't unusual.

You set your purse down on the table by the front door before sinking into your favorite recliner. The setting sun cast a glow amongst the living room that you greatly appreciated, although it was a glow that was far too beautiful to be wasted on that night.

"Steve! I'm home!"

Only a few seconds after you'd called out had he come, practically, running. He came to sit on the couch, only a few feet away, his expression conflicted.

"I missed you today," you said.

You beamed at your fiancé, simply happy to see him after another shitty work day. While you were an Avenger, you stuck to mainly office work when you had no missions.

After what felt like an eternity, he finally spoke, his voice barely above a whisper, "Y/n, honey, I think we need to talk."

Your heart sank, and a lump formed in your throat. You knew Steve like the back of your hand, and every time he has said the words "we need to talk," it's never been good.

"Is Buck sneaking over to eat all of our sweets again? I thought you talked to him about that," you joked in an attempt to lighten the tension.

"Funnily enough, no, he hasn't done that in a few days."

"Well, don't jinx it."

He chuckled briefly. His hands ran over his face as he sighed, and his broad shoulders relaxed.

"I've been thinking- a lot," he began, avoiding your gaze. "Baby, you know I love you, right?"

You hummed, giving him a nod that allowed him to continue.

"I love you, but..."

As soon as you had heard the "but," you tuned out. Whether it was by choice, or whether your mind and heart already knew what he was going to say and were just saving you the extra heartbreak, you weren't sure. You did, however, catch the last part of it. And luckily, the last part was all you needed to hear from him.

"I can't allow this to continue. I'm no good for you, y/n. I can't be the man you need or deserve right now. It's not fair to keep you waiting while I'm still trying to figure out what I want."

Your brows furrowed as your body started becoming tense. "What...?" you muttered.

It was less of a question and more of you thinking aloud, vocalizing your confusion. Unless you were a completely oblivious idiot, things between the two of you were fine yesterday, and every day before that for the last two years. He sighed, finally meeting your gaze. His eyes were filled with regret that you somehow missed.

"I... I can't take the risk anymore. I need to focus on my responsibilities and protecting the world. It's just... I can't let my personal life get in the way of my promise to the world."

Tears welled up in your eyes, but you quickly wiped them away before they could fall. You had the same job, so how could the man who had proposed only a few months ago just now, after two years, decide he couldn't make this work because of his job? Either way, that man didn't deserve your tears, so you wouldn't waste them on him. You stood quickly, not bothering to look back at him as you made your way towards the door.

"Y/n? Where are you going? Please say something, baby-"

"Don't! You don't get to call me that anymore," you snapped, finally allowing yourself to show some sort of emotion. "Just...stop. There's nothing else to say."

His eyes widened a little at your sudden outburst. You picked up your purse and keys hastily. Your fingers fidgeted with the keys for a moment, then you started sliding your house key off your keychain. It was then that you decided to speak again before he got the chance to, not caring to hear another word from him.

"I'll have someone come get my stuff tomorrow; do whatever you want with the apartment, as long as you don't have to contact me to do it."

"Y/n," he spoke with softened, glossy eyes, "please, just stay until you find somewhere else to go. This is your home too, I-"

"There's too much of you, well, what used to be us, here," you stated plainly as you placed your key on the table. "Where I go isn't your problem anymore anyway."

A sigh escaped your lips as you slung your purse over your shoulder. You turned to face him one last time as you stood in the doorway.

"Oh, and one more thing," you say, "You are a fucking coward, Steven Grant Rogers."

The door slammed behind you. And what you'd left behind was a deeply regretful, and utterly stupid, Steve sitting alone on the couch in the apartment you once shared.

That was almost two months ago, and your heart had not allowed you to heal at all. As if seeing Steve in passing at work wasn't painful enough, now you had an important mission coming up tomorrow, and being chosen to go with him was inevitable. Or at least you thought it was inevitable. It had all started earlier in the morning with a rotten egg- an actual rotten egg, that is.

You were baking cookies for Bucky, fully aware of how much he'd miss your baked goods for the next week or two you would be gone. Over the time that you and Steve had dated and been engaged, you'd gotten pretty close with the brunette. He was equally supportive of both of you during the breakup. Though he did lay into Steve for leaving you. Bucky knew there was more to it than his job; both of you had the same job for Christ's sake, but he didn't push his friend for answers—at least not yet.

With one gentle motion, you cracked the egg on the side of your metal bowl. However, this egg had a smell to it. You brought it closer to your face to observe and smell it. What a horrible mistake, though, because as soon as you inhaled the sickening, sulfur-like scent, it made your stomach turn. But instead of going back to normal, you gagged. The scent was lingering longer than any other scent you'd ever smelled, almost as if you were permanently damned to having the smell stuck in your nostrils.

Then the hot stomach acid started coming up, and it was coming fast, signaling you needed a trashcan now. You bolted towards the nearest bathroom, preferring to take a chance on making a mess in a hallway rather than the kitchen. You passed Steve and Bucky on your way there, both men stopping dead in their tracks to watch as you ran into the bathroom only a few feet behind them.

"Huh," Steve mumbled, his heart throbbing at the sight of you.

"Sometimes I get sick when I look at you too, punk."

Bucky chuckled at his own joke, earning a glare from Steve.

"Go check on her for me, please."

"Always. But I won't keep giving you updates on her, y'know? It's not fair to her, Steve," Bucky sighed.

Steve only nodded in understanding, a smile only staying on his lips for a few seconds. He patted Bucky's back before turning on his heels and continuing on his path.

Your stomach clenched harder, and the vomit raced up your throat faster than ever. You barely got to the toilet before retching and gagging again, feeling instant relief when the bile finally came up. But then came a sudden second wave of nausea that seemed to be worse than the first. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the torture finally ended.

You stood up slowly and made your way to the sink. After tearing off a piece of paper towel, you dampened it under warm water. You wiped your mouth off with the damp napkin and threw it away before opening the door to leave.

"You okay?"

You jumped back slightly, looking over to meet piercing blue eyes. There was Bucky leaning up against the wall next to the bathroom door with his arms crossed.

"Jesus, Buck. You stalking me?"

"Stalking you? Definitely not. If I wanted to stalk someone, I'd find someone more interesting who doesn't eat half pints of vanilla bean ice cream and watch Pride and Prejudice or The Notebook every night," he jokes.

"Hey! It's how I cope and get over things; it's soothing."

"Yet you still pine over him, so how's that working out for ya?"

"...not great. Maybe I do need a new method, huh?"

The two of you exchange a laugh, and you start making your way back to the kitchen with Bucky right on your heels.

"So, are you okay?" he questions again.

"Just felt a little sick, that's all. And, hey, here's a tip: don't ever smell a rotten egg, it's not a pleasant experience," you say with a soft sigh.

He chuckles at your joke and replies, "Thank you for that. I'll remember that."

When you make it to the kitchen, he plants himself on a bar stool only a few feet away from you. You decide to continue making your cookies, holding your breath as you clean up the old egg.

"Wow, I can smell that from here. You weren't lying. That is bad."

His nose turns up and his face scrunches, earning a giggle from you. You two chat as you make the dough, and soon enough, you're finished baking. As you put the last cookies on the tray, Bucky stands up to get a closer look.

"God. Per usual, those smell amazing," he groans, reaching for one of the hot sweets.

You swat his hand away with a laugh. "Not until they're cooled down!"

He fakes a frown that makes you laugh again. You shake your head, making a 'tsk' noise at him.

"You're a menace, Buck," you joke.

He only shrugs his shoulders with a lopsided grin, then he pulls you into a hug. "Somebody has to get on your nerves. It keeps you distracted and on your feet," he teases.

"Thank you for being here for me."

Your body relaxes in his arms. You wrap your arms around his upper waist to return the sentiment. You take a deep breath and then pull away from the hug.

"How are you feeling, by the way?"

"It's almost like it never happened," you smirk.

"That's a lie, and you know it."

You're about to speak again, but close your mouth as soon as it opens. The nausea pools in your stomach again, forcing a huff out of you.

"I think I'm gonna be sick again."

"You're still feeling that bad over it?"

"No, I genuinely think I'm gonna throw up again, Buck," you say hurriedly, pushing by him to get back to the bathroom. "Put those cookies in a bag, Barnes! They're all yours!"

He chuckles and holds his thumb up in the air, even though you can't see it. "And you get yourself to the doctor, l/n."

And going to the doctor is exactly what you chose to do.

Well, almost.

You instead chose to go to the lab with Tony and Bruce, and you only decided to go after about the fourth wave of nausea that came around five hours after the first. Which is how you ended up in the lab with grippy socks on and a cold Sprite in hand as you await blood and urine test results.

"So, how are you holding up, kid?" Tony asks, his eyes glued to his computer.

"Been better, had better days."

He looks away from his computer for a moment, making eye contact with you. "I could just kill him for hurting you, and I hope you know that," he states, his voice carrying nothing but genuine honesty.

"Aw, Tony, you're just like the dad I never dreamed of having—violently overprotective and overdramatic."

Bruce chuckles, but Tony just rolls his eyes, focusing back on his computer.

"That's what I get for trying to be nice to you," Tony scoffs, trying his best to hide the smile that wants to creep onto his face.

"I'm going to take a walk, Tony. I'll be back in a few minutes," Bruce announces as he rises from his chair. "If the computer beeps, it's her results coming back."

"Got it," Tony responds plainly, entirely too distracted by something on his screen.

The computer beeps only a few minutes after Bruce walks out, indicating an update to your information. Tony swivels his chair over to the big screen and pulls up your test results. He studies them carefully, not saying a word.

"So...what's wrong with me?"

He's still silent when he turns to face you. At first, he looks shocked, but then his brows furrow and his eyes narrow ever so slightly. If you hadn't known him for as long as you have, you'd think he was judging you based on his facial expression, but you knew he wasn't. He looked conflicted and confused, almost hesitant.

"What is it, Tone? You're freaking me out here. Is it the flu? A stomach bug? Food poisoning?"

"How about a baby?"

Your jaw drops, literally. The words pool in your mind, and your brain starts feeling like it's going to explode from all the different emotions and thoughts. You start to feel sick to your stomach again but manage to push the feeling down.

"I..." you start, unable to find the words to finish.

"I'm sorry, y/n. I won't tell anyone, okay? Not even Bruce. We need to set you up with a doctor. I have an amazing one I can call to come here and-"

"I appreciate that, Tony, but I need time to think first. We'll, uhm, talk tomorrow if that's okay."

"Of course," he empathizes, a sympathetic smile tugging at his lips. "Come here, kid."

You shuffle your way into his open arms, not having the energy to return the hug. He pulls away after a few seconds and allows you to step back.

"I think I'm gonna go...or something... I don't know," you mumble, making your way towards the door.

"Hey, y/n?"

"Yeah?"

"If this is something you want, don't let him ruin it for you."

As soon as you leave the lab, it's like you're on autopilot.

Your feet took you to the downstairs office, then outside, and then to your car. When you get into your car, you tell yourself you're going to the store to grab some more ice cream. But your heart has other ideas; ideas such as Steve.

So, you drive yourself all the way to Steve's apartment, just wanting to be comforted by the familiarity for a moment. Then, somehow, you end up outside the front door of what used to be your shared space.

Your soft knock pulls Steve from the closest to sleep he's been in weeks. He curses under his breath, loathing whoever is at the door for ruining his chance at a few minutes to hours of peace.

However, that hate replaces itself with regret and adoration as soon as he opens the door to reveal your slouched-over form. Steve recognizes that look on your face, along with your body language, and it's evident that something is wrong.

As if you showing up at his door isn't surprising enough, you look up at him before letting yourself fall into his arms. He stands in shock as you lay your head on his warm and familiarly sculpted chest. Then sobs wrack through you, shaking your whole body, and that's all it takes for him to give into instinct and wrap his arms around you. The heat of his body and the feeling of his embrace provide a warming comfort as you cry into his shirt, only coaxing you further to let it all go.

One of his hands rubs your back gently while he holds you. "Y/n? What's wrong, honey? Talk to me," he coos.

You feel a tightness in your chest, a feeling that you can't put into words right now even if you tried your hardest to. In fact, all you can do is cry more as you hold tightly onto the sides of his shirt. You practically crumble into his chest, melting in his arms, and Steve understands. That's what made you fall for him in the first place, honestly - he always understands.

So, with no more words spoken, he holds you in the same doorway you walked out of only a couple of weeks ago. He holds you in that doorway until your tears slow and your breathing returns to normal. At some point, his thick fingers begin combing through your hair soothingly, the same way they used to every night at bedtime.

"I don't know what your stance on kids before marriage and after a breakup is, but you should figure it out soon," you mutter into his chest.

His body freezes, and his mind scrambles to catch up with your words. He looks down at your head, his eyebrows furrowing as he tries to make sense of the situation.

Are you truly saying what he thinks you are? You couldn't be...

"I'm pregnant, Steve."

[uhhhj13iguess]

prepare yourself

avenger!peter parker x avenger! reader

summary: peter loses you on a mission, and it's worse than he could've imagined

wc: 3.5k

cw: body gore! mdni! i wanted to experiment with writing body horror, so it gets very graphic when detailing injuries/mutilation. there's no description of the actual events happening, just a lot of wording around the body designed to hopefully make you feel a bit squeamish!

if anyone wants, i'd love to do a part two with the medical-side juxtaposition as well, and give a sweet lil peter ending to turn this angst into fluff

masterlist

peter shot one last web towards the wall, concluding his mural of men webbed along the hallway outside the security room. he gave himself a proud smile, admiring his work.

"you're telling me these guys are hydra? for a decades-long terrorist organization, they sure don't know how to train their front line very well."

you snickered beside him, sliding another bloodied man along the tiled floor to where you'd piled the others.

"i don't get why tony has us on security watch, this is light work. why even have me train under nat if i can't use my skills in practice? i wanna get my hands dirty, i wanna know what they aren't telling us." you kicked the foot of the man below you, turning to peter and giving him a frown. he offered you a knowing smile in return.

"yeah, i get what you mean. come on, lets just get in there and disable the security measures. then we can go back to the jet and try that chocolate i bought at the sokovian 7-eleven."

you grinned at him, heart swelling at the thought of some alone time with peter before the rest of the team was done.

"alright. you head in, i'm going to do one more sweep of the first floor while you're in there."

peter felt his senses go off for a second, a weird feeling in his chest. "i don't know, maybe we shouldn't split up."

you gave him a look. "what, you don't think i can handle myself? come on, you know we've cleared this floor already. plus, you've got like, three buttons to hit and we're home free, it won't be that long."

"yeah, but—"

"but nothing, spidey. come on, work your tech magic and meet me out here."

he let out a breath, shaking off whatever bad feeling was sitting in his stomach. "yeah, you're probably right. one sec,"

peter ducked into the security room, a dissonant beep ringing through the air as he held the keycard to the lock. the light flashed green and let him in. he laughed, "thanks bad guys!"

he heard you chuckle from down the hall as he made his way into the room, a smile on his face. he would never admit it to you, but he liked that you two were handed the short stick on missions. you were in and out, leaving time alone before the rest of the team came back, and he relished those moments more than any chance of glory.

he reached the switchboard, glancing at the monitors as he saw the rest of the team on the cameras making their rounds on various floors. "god we're so badass."

(y/n) was right: it was a matter of exactly three commands before he had the systems disabled. he heard tony through his comms,

"thanks, kid. now, do us all a favor and get yourself to the jet. this shouldn't take long."

peter smiled to himself, a feeling of accomplishment coursing through him. did he press literally there buttons? yes. but he pressed three buttons as an avenger. man, that would never grow old.

he heard commotion from down the hall and called out towards you. "alright (y/n), we've had our fun. stop messing with them and let's fuck up some chocolate, shall we?"

he was met with silence, his chest feeling tight again. "(y/n)?"

he took one step out of the room before his head was met with a metal fist, the CRACK of his own skull ringing through his ears before he lost consciousness.

tony jerked back as his hand repulsor let out a blast, sending the guy on steve's back to the ground with a heavy thud.

"mr. stark, both peter and (y/n) have gone unconscious." FRIDAY echoed through the suit. his blood ran cold.

"what?"

"both of them are in the building and their vitals are stable, however, they've both just lost consciousness within one minute of each other."

he felt his breathing pick up, his heartbeat commanding in his chest. he looked to steve and nat. "you guys good?"

nat threw a nasty headbutt, sending the agent in front of her collapsing to the ground. "go, tony."

he flew out without another word.

"FRIDAY, get me their most recent location."

"head to the security room, sir. take a left now."

tony reached the room in a matter of a minute, missiles out and on guard. he announced himself before storming the room, standing down once met with peter on the ground, no one else around him. he rushed out of his suit and to his side, shaking the boy relentlessly.

"kid, come on. wake up."

a few more desperate shakes and peter was gasping for air, fists flying and ready to fight.

"woah woah woah, hey— you're alright, you're okay. same sides, just me."

peter stalled his movements, taking a deep breath and allowing himself to grab ahold of his surroundings. he sat up slowly before immediately regretting it. man, did his head hurt.

"kid, you alright? you're bleeding. take of the mask, i need to see it." tony reached towards him, only to be swatted at.

"mr. stark, someone'll see!"

"kid, the floor is clear. i'm pretty sure you're responsible for that. jesus, how hard did you hit your head?" he pressed the spider emblem on peter's chest, revealing his blood-stained curls.

"pete, what the hell happened? for fucks sake, we need to get you out of here. FRIDAY, admister morphine."

"what? no, mr. stark don't— OW! mr. stark, what the hell??"

"kid, you're going to thank me in ten minutes. where's (y/n)?"

peter felt his mouth go dry. "w-what do you mean 'where's (y/n)''?"

tony's face fell. "shit. okay kid, let's get you to the jet. sam?" he called into his comms.

"yeah tony, what's up?"

"get down here, i need you to get eyes on (y/n)."

peter shot up instantly, his mask climbing back up his face. "no, mr. stark, really. i'm fine. i can feel it healing already, honest. i have to find (y/n)."

"we aren't having a discussion on this."

"you're right, we're not."

peter took off, flying down the hallway and out of sight before tony could even get back in his suit.

"karen, show me heat signatures."

the team searched for a while, leaving no one in their way untouched. the fight to find you was growing tireless, and the more time that passed without a trace of you led to more panic spreading amongst the team — peter worst of all.

he'd grown feral in his search for you, bloodying any body he encountered.

"kid, we should head back to the jet. we need to gameplan this." tony rang through his suit.

"no. mr stark, her tracker is still in the compound and she's close enough to read vitals on."

"pete, we—"

"she's in pain, mr. stark. i'm not leaving this building without her."

peter continued to search for hours, detailing every single room in the building. he spent the most time in the room your tracker had led him to, but helpless as he couldn't find you anywhere nearby. he had screamed your name for the majority of the search, his throat raw as his own healing couldn't even keep up with his efforts. he felt the blood warm on the back of his throat, accompanying the warm flood of tears down his cheeks.

"this is all my fault." he let out a horse whimper, bouncing his head up against the brick wall in front of him.

he felt hopeless. he felt like the world was crashing around him, a wretched feeling in his chest ripping him apart from the inside. this was all his fault, he didn't—

the bricks against his forehead ground against one another before shifting backwards, causing peter to jerk his head up. he stared wide eyed to a portion of the wall having fallen back as though on hinges, a long hallway now standing in front of him.

"a secret door. you're kidding." he breathed to himself. "mr. stark?"

"yeah, kid?" tony rang through.

"i found a door hidden in the wall right where (y/n)'s location is. i'm going in."

"i'll be there in 30 seconds."

peter sighed to himself before stepping his foot over the threshold and down the concrete-lined hallway.

"this would've been way cooler 5 hours ago."

tony landed in the room, eyes on the hole in the wall as he made his way down. he spotted peter ahead of him, not quite to the room at the other end.

"mr. stark, i have (y/n)'s heat signature in the room about twenty yards ahead. she's alive, but her vital signs are unstable. i'll prepare the jet for medical intervention." FRIDAY alerted.

tony gave a deep sigh as he approached peter, a hand falling on his chest and preventing him from walking any further.

"mr. stark, what are you— we have to go, sir!"

"kid, just wait a second. i need you to be prepared for anything, okay? they had (y/n) for almost five hours, and you know what we came here for originally. just, prepare yourself."

peter scowled, a look of of uncertainty overtaking his features as though he was at war with himself. he met tony's gaze. "this is all my fault."

"hey, pete. you know that's not true. you're lucky we aren't finding you in this room too."

peter took a shakey inhale, turning back to the opening of the cold room before them. "i'll feel lucky when i have her out of here."

and with that, peter ran. he navigated the room, desperately following your heat signature as tony focused on the agents and scientists in the room. he hoped peter was entirely focused on getting to you because he sure as hell wasn't following the "no-kill" rule this time around.

with everyone else taken care of, peter ran to the other end of the room where karen had traced you. and while tony had done his best, there was nothing peter could've done to prepare himself for what he saw.

you were on the concrete floor, clothes ripped and shivering from the frigid temperature of the room. your eyes were closed as you flinched from the noises around you, but it wasn't your demeanor that stopped him dead in his tracks.

there you laid, at complete mercy of those around you. thick tubes entered your body through your arms and chest, a viscous, black sludge coursing into you. it leaked out around the edges, your torn skin wet from not only the liquid but from the amount of blood lost as well.

the tubes protruded two from each forearm and one on either side of your collarbones, each breath stretching the skin around them and causing more tearing on your chest. peter could see the outline of the tubing in your arms, your skin bulging as the tubes fished themselves up to your biceps. the sight made him lightheaded, beginning to panic as he fought to believe what his eyes were showing him.

the scent of everything brought tears to his eyes, a sickly sweet smell in the air as your body fought hard to reject everything that was happening. it was foul, a putrid scent similar to that of rotten fruit flooding his nose and raising bile in his throat. had it been from the stench alone, peter would've thought you'd been dead for hours.

he took a step closer to you and there was a crunch underneath his right foot. he lifted it and looked down, confusion coating his features. and then, there was nothing but terror.

he leaned down to pick up a tooth, skimming the area to notice another few molars scattered around your limp body. his eyes met with the bloodied pair of pillars on the ground, giving new and nightmarish reasoning to your blood-soaked mouth. peter looked back up to you and felt his knees give out.

he crawled closer, not daring to touch you to make anything worse. now, he got a better look at your face, and he almost wished he hadn't.

blood pooled down your chin and dripped onto your chest, notably from the missing teeth and whatever else they'd done to you that peter couldn't see evidence of. you let out a cough, but it came out more as a gag, blood filling your mouth at a higher rate than your body could handle. you choked, new waves of red liquid spilling from your lips and splattering across your torso as you fought to breathe.

somehow it wasn't your mouth that made peter feel faint, however. it was your eyes.

your eyelids had been crudely sewn shut, crusted over and bloody. your soft lids were torn to shreds, the flesh ripped raw — no doubt from unconscious efforts to open your eyes.

you let out a ragged breath. "hello? w-who's there?"

peter watched your eyes move underneath the lids frantically, the movement only proving his assumption correct as he watched the skin pull against the thread, flesh tearing apart at the struggle.

"hey hey hey, stop moving, please. calm down, it's just me. it's peter,"

he couldn't help the quiver in his voice, his body betraying him as tears flooded down his cheeks under the mask.

"i'm going to get you out of here, okay? i-i just need you to trust me, okay? i'm gonna get you out of here, i promise."

you nodded, the minimal movement enough to elicit a sharp cry from deep in your throat. peter winced, placing a hand on your head and running his fingers through your hair, careful not to get too close to your eyes.

"pete, i-i, please, i don't..."

karen's voice pierced through his mask, drowing out your pleas. "peter, we're losing her. you need to get her to the jet immediately."

he couldn't breathe. his vision was going dark around the edges, panic overtaking him as his eyes racked over your body, desperately hoping this was all just a horrible nightmare. at some point, the rest of the team had joined in on the fight, the sounds of gunshots and violence fading to the background as a ringing pierced his ears. he didn't know what to do, he didn't—

"p-peter? are you still there?" your trembling voice drew him out of his haze. he watched again as you fought to open your eyes, face controting in pain as you pulled against the thread. he grabbed your hand in his, giving it the faintest squeeze.

"hey, hey i'm sorry, i'm right here. please stop moving your eyes, try to relax them for me. i'm so sorry, (y/n), i'm so sorry." the last part a whisper.

you turned your head towards his voice, tears slipping through the loops in the thread. it rewet the blood crusted around your eyes, the tears running down your cheeks a pinkish-red.

"they told me i saw too much."

peter felt his stomach turn at your words, intrusive thoughts of them holding you down and stitching your eyes shut plaguing his mind.

"i'm so sorry, i...

"peter, you need to act quickly. start by removing the tubes from her arms." karen rang through his suit again.

he shook off the thought, bringing his attention back to you. "i need to get these tubes out, okay?"

you choked out an "okay", more blood spilling from your lips as you spoke.

"don't talk, okay? i'm going to get you out of here. just stay awake for me, please. i'm just gonna..." he placed his hand on one of the tubes, nauseous at their size in his hand.

he held tight, the movement alone from his grasp being enough to earn a whine from you, incoherent pleas to stop escaping your lips.

he felt panic bubble in his throat again. "karen, please. how do i do this, i... i don't... i don't know what i'm doing."

"it doesn't seem as though the tubes in her arms are intertwined with anything. the best course of action may be to pull as quickly as possible,"

peter could taste the bile in the back of his mouth.

"the tubing is about two feet long, peter. you're going to want to pull quickly and pull a lot further out than you think."

he took a deep breath, summoning all the willpower he had left. "okay, i'm going to take these out, alright? i need you to brave for me, this isn't going to feel great."

you choked out another "okay" as peter tightened his grasp on the tubing. he gave himself a mental countdown, closing his eyes and pulling as hard and as quickly as he could.

the sounds that filled his ears made him wish to never hear again. you let out a blood-curdling scream that forced an echo through the concrete room, the rasp in your voice telling peter you'd been crying out like this for hours. it broke his heart to hear you in so much pain, but somehow your deafening anguish wasn't the worst part.

he could hear as the tubing left your body. the squelching noises of the plastic running through your flesh burned to his memory, one he knew would haunt him at night. you let out another roar as the tubing left your body and peter opened his eyes, immediately looking at the now-open wound in your forearm. he no longer had to worry about the noises haunting him.

the tubing had left a gaping hole in your arm, a dark red mixture of various liquids splattering out of you. he was quick to throw a web on it, stopping the flow for now. he looked at you, tears blurring his vision.

"i'm sorry," he cried, out, nearly choking on his own sobs. "i need to keep going, i'm so sorry."

he grabbed the next one, wasting no time pulling as hard as he could. this time, however, he made the mistake of keeping his eyes open. he watched as the tubing moved from under your skin as though a snake was slithering inside of you, the bulging in your arms pulsing and raising as peter moved. the tubing hit the ground with a thud, and the next thing you could hear was peter dry heaving.

he continued with the other arm, apologies on his lips as though he was pleading for his own life. they were drowned out by your screams, the rasp in your tone growing stronger each time as you lost your ability to speak. you could feel your throat ripping apart as you cried, even more blood running down to your stomach than before. you heard the sounds of peter's webshooters and felt two more cool sensations on your left arm.

"okay, we just need to get the ones in your chest, okay? we're almost done, (y/n), i promise,"

he took a step back to examine the two tubes left before a voice cut through his ears.

"peter, you can't pull on these two, they're too close to her heart. you're going to need to sever them and leave them in so they can be taken out surgically."

the thought brought another gag to his throat. he nodded silently, reaching down to the boot on your left foot where he knew you always had a back up dagger hidden. he let out a sigh of relief as he felt the metal against his masked fingers, pulling out the knife and bringing it towards your chest. he noticed as your ragged breathing picked up.

"peter? w-what are you doing with that? what's going on, please?"

"it's okay. i have to leave these ones in here, okay? i'm going to cut them and then we're going to go," he held a firm hand on one of the tubes.

"you're going to feel some pressure, okay? you're going to feel me cutting it, and it's going—"

"—peter, she's losing consciousness. you need to make the cuts now."

"okay! okay, i— fuck, okay."

peter began to saw at the tubing, the back-and-forth movement ripping at the skin around the edges. it pulled, blood and dark liquid splashing out on your bare clavicle and turning everything he saw red. he braced for your scream, but felt even more panicked when he didn't hear one.

"hey hey, hey please no. please, stay with me, please i'm trying. just please stay alive."

he finished off the final tube, again using his webbing to seal the open ends and prevent anything else from going in (or coming out). he wrapped his arms around your limp frame, beginning to lift you. his whole body shook, the weight of the situation sitting on him like nothing he'd ever felt before. he let out a cry that hurt his chest, using everything he had left to get back to his feet.

he had you. he had you, and everything was going to be fine, he just needed to—

"kid, grab on!" tony yelled as he flew past, signaling peter to web himself onto his suit. he did so, holding you tight in his arms as tony flew them outside and towards the jet.

they landed outside, his arms shaking violently as he rushed you over to bruce who was waiting at the glider entrance.

"please, help her. please, you have to help her."

[xia0ming56]

Some doodles frm the past few dayzz, im getting super lazy to render stuff properly so expect a buncha random sketches frm me :3

[atlasthegreatest]

Breaking the Chains / Natasha Romanoff x Brother!Male Reader

Which, the Avengers embark on a mission to dismantle a sinister facility—a male version of the Red Room, designed to turn young men into weapons. Natasha Romanoff leads the charge, determined to save her younger brother— Y/n, who has been trapped in this program for years.

Word count: 2191

Warnings: PTSD. Red Room.

A/n: This was requested by an anon. I hope you like it!

The facility was crumbling around them, fire and dust mixing into the heavy air. The sounds of gunfire and explosions echoed in the background, but Natasha Romanoff’s focus was singular. Her feet moved with purpose as she scanned the darkened hallway. She knew what to look for—the same signs she once wore on her face and carried in her posture.

In this mission, the Avengers were not after weapons or secrets. They were after people—boys who had been subjected to something eerily familiar to Natasha. A male counterpart to the Red Room, hidden deep in the underbelly of the world. They had lived in the shadows for years, unnoticed, until an intercepted transmission tipped the Avengers off to the existence of this twisted program.

She pushed through the shattered remnants of a metal door and stepped into a cold, dimly lit cell block. A dozen pairs of frightened eyes met hers, boys barely in their teens and men no older than twenty-five.

Natasha scanned each face until she found the one she had been looking for: Y/n.

He sat huddled in the far corner of the cell, knees drawn to his chest, body folded in on itself as if trying to disappear into the cracked concrete wall behind him. His clothes hung loosely from his thin frame, and his hands trembled as they gripped his knees.

“Hey,” Natasha whispered, kneeling in front of him.

At first, Y/n didn’t respond. The years of training had taught him to suppress everything—fear, trust, and hope. But when he finally lifted his gaze, recognition flickered in his eyes. Y/n knew her, though not personally. She had been the ghost story among the instructors. The Black Widow—traitor to the cause, the one who escaped.

“I’ve got you,” Natasha said gently, her gloved hand hovering over Y/n's but not touching, waiting for him to make the first move. “We’re getting you out of here.”

Y/n flinched slightly at the sound of her voice but didn’t pull away when she rested a hand lightly on his arm. Her touch was steady—grounding.

“It’s over,” she said, her voice low and sure, like an unbreakable promise. “No more orders. No more missions.”

Y/n's lips parted, but no words came out. It was hard to believe it was real after everything. Freedom was a foreign concept, a dream too fragile to trust. But Natasha didn’t rush him. She crouched there, keeping her voice steady and calm as the chaos raged behind her.

“I know it’s scary,” she admitted. “But you’re not alone anymore. I’m here, and so are the others.”

When he didn’t resist, Natasha helped him to his feet. Y/n was shaky, each step slow, as if his body had forgotten what it was like to move without orders directing his every action. Natasha kept a careful hold on her arm—not tight, just enough to remind him she was there.

Together, they made their way through the collapsing facility, the flickering lights casting erratic shadows on the walls. Outside, the Avengers had cleared the area, and a Quinjet waited, its ramp lowered. Steve Rogers gave a tight nod to Natasha as she guided Y/n aboard, but the others knew better than to approach.

Natasha’s expression warned them all: Give him space.

————————-

The Avengers’ compound was vast, bright, and open—everything the cold, sterile facility had not been. But for Y/n, it was too much. Too big, too noisy, too unfamiliar.

Y/n rarely left the room they had set up for him, and when he did, it was always with Natasha at his side. The others tried to welcome him gently—Bruce offered books, Steve always nodded with quiet reassurance, and even Tony kept his quips subdued. But it was Natasha who knew how to reach him, because she had been where he was.

She didn’t push. When the others asked too many questions, Natasha would step in, redirecting the conversation with a subtle ease. She became Y/n's anchor, a quiet, constant presence that didn’t demand anything from him.

At night, when the nightmares came—and they always did—Natasha was there. The first time Y/n woke up gasping, covered in cold sweat, he thought she might be angry at being disturbed. But instead, she sat on the edge of his bed, her voice calm and low.

“Breathe,” she whispered. “It’s okay. You’re safe.”

When Y/n couldn’t sleep, she stayed up with him. Some nights, she talked about her own past, sharing bits and pieces she thought he might understand. Other nights, the two of them sat in silence, watching the night bleed into dawn.

She never asked him to talk about what happened—not until Y/n was ready.

————————-

It was weeks before Y/n said more than a few words at a time. The trauma ran deep, and trust was a hard-earned currency. But Natasha noticed the small changes. The way he started sitting with the others in the common room, though he always kept a little distance. The way his gaze softened when Sam told a joke or when Clint teased him about beating him at chess.

One afternoon, while sitting with Natasha on the balcony, Y/n surprised himself by speaking.

“They made us fight each other,” He said quietly, his voice brittle and uneven. “If you won, you got food. If you lost… you didn’t.”

Natasha didn’t flinch. She just nodded, her gaze steady. “I know.”

“They told us it made us stronger,” he added, bitterness creeping into his tone. “Made us perfect.”

Natasha’s lips pressed into a thin line. “They were wrong.”

For a moment, Y/n looked out over the horizon, the sky painted in hues of gold and pink. He felt the weight of her words settle in his chest—not just the words, but the way she said them, with the conviction of someone who knew exactly what he’d been through.

“You’re not what they made you,” Natasha said softly. “You’re more than that.”

Y/n swallowed hard, emotions swelling in his throat, but for the first time in years, he didn’t feel the need to shove them down. Natasha’s presence was a reminder that he didn’t have to carry everything alone.

————————-

Day by day, the Avengers helped Y/n find pieces of himself that he thought had been lost forever. Steve taught him how to cook—simple things, like pancakes and scrambled eggs. Sam dragged him into a movie marathon, making Y/n laugh for the first time in what felt like forever.

And Natasha? Natasha stayed by his side through all of it, giving him the space to heal at his own pace.

One evening, after a quiet dinner with the team, Y/n found yourself sitting beside Natasha on the couch, Clint sprawled out on the floor in front of them.

“See?” Natasha said, nudging Y/n's shoulder lightly. “They’re not so bad.”

Y/n gave a small, tentative smile. It felt strange on his face, but not unwelcome.

“Yeah,” he admitted, his voice soft but genuine. “They’re not.”

Natasha smiled too—gentle, patient, and proud. And for the first time in a long time, Y/n felt like maybe, just maybe, he belonged.

————————-

The Avengers became a rhythm—steady, sometimes chaotic, but reliable. Y/n was still learning how to navigate the whirl of personalities and noise, but Natasha was always a steady guide. She seemed to know exactly when to push and when to pull back, letting him stumble without ever letting him fall.

The nightmares didn’t stop, but Y/n got better at managing them. On nights when the darkness crept too close, he didn’t feel ashamed to knock softly on Natasha’s door. Sometimes, the two of them talked. Other times, Y/n sat quietly on the floor beside her bed until sleep returned. It didn’t matter—Natasha was patient, always patient.

But adjusting to life with the Avengers was harder than it looked from the outside. Even though they gave him space, their camaraderie felt foreign. Trusting them—really trusting them—was an uphill battle, but Natasha reassured him that it was okay to take his time.

“You don’t have to be anyone other than yourself,” she had said. “They’ll wait.”

————————-

It was Sam who cracked Y/n's defenses first, though it took him weeks of gentle persistence. He had a way of being both laid-back and direct, not giving him much room to overthink. One afternoon, Y/n found himself sitting across from him at the compound’s kitchen island, awkwardly holding a controller as he taught Y/n how to play some old-school racing game.

“Don’t worry,” Sam grinned. “I’ll go easy on you.”

He didn’t. Y/n lost every race, but he didn’t mind. For once, losing didn’t come with consequences. Sam’s laugh was loud and infectious, and before Y/n realized it, he found himself chuckling along.

“See?” Sam said, nudging his shoulder lightly. “You’ve got a sense of humor in there somewhere.”

It was a small moment, but it was the first time Y/n’d felt… normal.

————————-

Training sessions with Steve Rogers were a different kind of therapy. He never barked orders or pushed Y/n beyond his limits. Instead, he treated each session like a lesson in self-control—teaching him to use his skills in ways that didn’t make him feel like a weapon.

“Strength is more than just force,” Steve would say. “It’s about knowing when not to fight.”

At first, it was hard to fight the reflex to be perfect, to push through every ache and bruise just to meet some invisible standard. But Steve never expected perfection. If Y/n faltered, he’d just nod and say, “Good. Now let’s try that again.”

One day, after a sparring match, Y/n hesitated as Steve packed up the training mats. “Thanks,” he muttered, the word feeling foreign but genuine.

Steve gave him that easy, reassuring smile of his. “Anytime.”

————————-

It was during one of Tony’s infamous pizza nights that Y/n realized how far he’d come. The team gathered in the common room, laughing and teasing each other over slices of greasy pepperoni. Y/n sat between Natasha and Clint, feeling oddly at ease even though he hadn’t said much all night.

At some point, Tony tried to rope him into a debate about who the best James Bond was. Y/n blinked, unsure if he was joking or not.

“C’mon, kid,” Tony said, grinning. “Tell me you’ve got an opinion on this. You have to.”

Before he could answer, Natasha smirked. “He’s still deciding if he likes any of us, Stark. Don’t scare him off with your movie rants.”

The team burst out laughing, and to Y/n's surprise, he found himself grinning too. Not because he had to, but because it felt right.

Natasha glanced at her brother from the corner of her eye, her expression soft and knowing. She didn’t say anything, but her small smile told him she was proud—and she realized he was too.

Bonus chapter:

Not every day was easy. Some mornings, the weight of the past dragged Y/n down like lead in his chest. Y/n still flinched at unexpected noises. Some nights, the nightmares left him breathless and paralyzed. But with Natasha, it didn’t feel like he had to face it alone.

One particularly bad night, Y/n couldn’t keep it all bottled up anymore. It was late—well past midnight—when the panic took over. Y/n found himself in Natasha’s room, pacing back and forth as he tried to control his breathing.

“They made us hurt each other,” he whispered, the words tumbling out faster than he could stop them. “Every day, every mission. If you hesitated, they punished you. They—”

Y/n's voice cracked, and he clenched his fists, furious at himself for breaking down. But Natasha didn’t look at Y/n with pity. She stepped closer, her hand resting lightly on his arm.

“They wanted you to believe it was the only way,” Natasha said softly. “But it’s not.”

The anger, the shame, the guilt—it all poured out in a rush, and Natasha let him feel every bit of it without judgment. When Y/n finally sank to the floor, exhausted and drained, she sat beside him.

“You’re not what they made you,” she repeated gently. “And you’re not alone.”

————————-

Months passed, and slowly, Y/n found himself carving out a place among the Avengers. It wasn’t perfect—he still had hard days, and some wounds ran too deep to ever fully heal. But he was learning that it was okay to not be okay all the time.

Natasha stayed close, always ready to catch him if he stumbled. But she also gave him room to grow. Y/n started spending more time with the others—training with Steve, playing video games with Sam, and even laughing at Tony’s terrible jokes. They weren’t just teammates anymore. They were friends.

And one day, as the team gathered for another chaotic dinner, Y/n realized something that hit him harder than any punch he’d ever taken: he wasn’t just surviving. He was living.

The thought was strange, almost surreal, but when Natasha met his gaze across the table and gave him a subtle, knowing nod, Y/n knew it was real.

He was home.

Any grammar mistakes will be fixed later

[reginaphalangelobster125]

3, 9

Bruce banner and demons

Sorry this took so long, this is my first time writing in this style. I hope you like it.

This is written as Bruce's POV

Demons

Word Count: 333

It hurts to see you lying next to me in such a blissful sleep. When you sleep you look ethereal, like an angel in its truest form. Your silky hair falls across your face, framing it beautifully in the morning light. Your smooth skin feels like velvet under my touch. Your smile when you see me sends a jolt straight to my heart. It hurts the most when the days are cold, when we cuddle up together and play cards. When the cards all fold and we just stay in each other's arms, content in the embrace. When your dreams all fail and you turn to me, I hold you close, never letting go.

But I am just a demon.

I want to hide the truth, I want to shelter you but with the beast inside there's nowhere we can hide. This is my kingdom come.

When you feel the heat coming from the rage. When you look into my eyes, it's where my demons hide. Don't get too close, it's dark inside. It's where my demons hide. I don't want to let you down but I am hell-bound. Though this is all for you, I don't want to hide the truth I just want to shelter you. They say it's what you make, I say it's up to fate. It's woven in my soul, I need to let you go. This is my kingdom come.

At the curtain's call, after all I have done, the blood runs stale on my hands. When the lights fade out all the sinners crawl and they come for you. They dug your grave and they led me on a big masquerade. They will be coming for you for all the messes I've made. This is my kingdom come.

Your eyes, they shine so bright, I want to save that light. I can't escape this now and you can't show me how. No matter how hard you try, I have to go. This is my kingdom come.

Tags:

@impetusofadream @goldfishthegr8 @avengers-official-recruit-agent @goreygirl03 @xenasolos @sparklyturtlefox @rios-sythe @nekoannie-chan @ilovemarvel12 @hayneyney @n3ponen @8812-342

[jesterjabbering]

they should start a band

[tldrthor]

Promises, oceans deep - peter parker x reader

peter parker x f!reader // you said you were gonna grow up, then you were gonna come find me // based on the song 'Peter' by Taylor Swift

Summary: the misfortune of being left behind in the blip, and the consequences of aging without him.

Part two <3

tw: mention of bad eating habits/food disorder; insomnia; angst

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The night was cold, dark. The halls of the compound were as empty as they had been since the blip. That's the thing about this place - in it's hayday, it was a wonderful place to live. Laughter and camaraderie filled every corner, every crevice. There was always music, dancing, movies, games, whatever. That was before. Now, the halls were a stark reminder of everything that is lost. Every step echoed in this hollow home.

Forgive me, Peter My lost fearless leader In closets like cedar, Preserved from when we were just kids. Is it something I did?

The glow of the fridge was the only light in the kitchen as you searched for anything to eat. It hadn't even occurred to you to look earlier, when you could do something about the empty shelves. You sighed, taking the milk and setting it on the counter, prepared for another night of cereal for dinner.

"You need to eat better, (y/n)." You jumped at the voice behind you. How, when your steps were so cacophonous, were his so silent? You turned to face him, turning to pick up the blanket that had slipped off your shoulders as you jumped.

Steve. As he turned the light on, he looked tired. The bags beneath his eyes aging him by at least a couple of years at least. You had always considered him to be almost immortal, un-aging. But these past few years, you saw him looking older, much more tired. You weren't really sure if it was a result of the pain of the times, or if he really was biologically aging. The thought of either was too painful to dwell on.

"Yeah? And you need to sleep better, Cap."

He chuckled and shrugged with a small, sad smile on his face. You both knew the other was right, and also knew that neither of your words would make a difference. After two years of your comrades being missing, dead or blipped, the Avengers had stalled. So, each of you, the remainders that is, seemed to have set about to destroy yourselves in a myriad of different ways.

He walked around the counter, taking the milk out of your hands. He opened the top and gave it a whiff, visibly recoiling. "That's so out of date." He poured it down the sink before bumbling around the kitchen, bringing out a pan, some eggs and various herbs and spices. "Sit down, let me make you something substantial."

You followed his orders, knowing that if you told him that you weren't hungry, felt sick, he wouldn't believe you. You knew he had too much on his plate with all the council meetings you had long gave up on. Just tonight, you would give him the win. God knows he needed it.

There was a comfortable silence between the two of you as he crafted up a meal with anything usable he could find in the kitchen, "God, we have to get better at doing food shops." He muttered, mostly to himself.

He broke the silence as he handed you a plate of food, having made on for himself as well. He sat next to you at the kitchen island as you both ate. "So, how's school?"

You almost laughed at the mundane question. You tried to remember the last time you were asked such a question. You missed this, you supposed. The small talk, back when life was normal. Back before Thanos.

"School is... okay." You didn't want to tell him that actually, school was a constant reminder that your boyfriend and two best friends were missing, presumed dead. "It's boring, pointless."

"You graduate this year, right?" He asked.

The question made your bones go cold. You hadn't even thought about it, but yeah. You would be graduating this year. Without them. You swallowed harshly. "Yeah."

He could see the emotions written all over your face and gave your shoulder a squeeze, reassuringly.

You went back to silence.

The goddess of timing, once found us beguiling. She said she was trying, Peter, was she lying? My ribs get the feeling she did.

The day was a blur. You walked up to the stage to receive your diploma, looking out into the crowd. They were sitting in the guests of honour box, being the avengers and all. Natasha and Steve smiled at you and waved, Bruce and Tony cheered while Thor gave you a hearty thumbs up. Rocket sat on his shoulder, looking bored. You wandered across the stage in a fugue state, accepting the scroll and the valedictorian award. The school hadn't asked you to do the speech, which you were grateful for. They knew you never really talked anymore.

As you returned to your seat, the principal called out "And now, we want to take a moment to remember those that we lost..."

When his photo flashed across the screen, you were sure you were going to be sick.

And I didn't wanna come down I thought it was just goodbye for now.

"Good job, kid." Natasha opened her arms and enveloped you in a hug. You returned it, almost desperately. You didn't feel like it was a good job. It was an empty achievement without them.

You both turned to walk back to the parking lot, with Steve putting his arm around you. "What do you want to do to celebrate, bud? You wanna go out to dinner?"

While your heart screamed absolutely not, your head said that they needed the win. "Sure, yeah."

You said you were gonna grow up, then you were gonna come find me.

When you moved to college, it was almost a breath of fresh air. You felt bad, leaving Steve, Natasha and Bruce since Tony had left to live with Pepper and Morgan, and Thor had gone to settle the Asgardians into New Asgard. But the silence in the halls of the compound was chest-crushing, and only grew worse by the day.

You heaved your things up the stairs into your dorm. A single one, thank god. Being one of the surviving members of the Avengers really did have its perks sometimes. You struggled to carry things that you probably wouldn't have before, and recently you had noticed that you were so tired. You tried to hide your shaky legs and the sweat on your forehead from Steve and Natasha. But they noticed, and exchanged worried glances behind your back.

Steve obviously insisted on helping everyone else in the parking lot, ever the good samaritan. You and Natasha arranged your room together, putting up posters and decorations and trying to make the space feel homely.

You picked up a picture frame and turned it around. Him.

You said you were gonna grow up, then you were gonna come find me. Words from the mouths of babes, promises, oceans deep. But never to keep.

The assignment you were working on was rough, like, really rough. You had been conducting some research and there was just something alluding you. You ended up scrolling through instagram instead, when Steve's contact flashed across the screen. You looked at the time - 2am. Way past Cap's bedtime.

"Hello?"

"(y/n)? Were you asleep?" He asked, worry immediately flooding his voice.

You rolled your eyes. "Yes."

"God, don't... don't lie to me, kid." He sighed. "Either way, you've got to come back to the compound, it's... Scott Lang. You remember the giant guy from Berlin? He's back, we're not really sure how. It might... It might be something."

You breathed out. "What?" You squeezed your eyes closed and breathed for a few seconds. "I'll be there, I've... fuck, I've got an assignment due tomorrow."

You could hear Steve smile at the absurd normalcy of what you had said. "Hey, let's mind our language. I'll get someone to send a letter to your professor to excuse you, I'm sending a quinjet to you now. Be ready."

"Sure thing, old man. See you soon."

"See ya, kid."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

From there, things moved quickly. Too quickly. Your life descended into utter chaos from writing papers in college to time travel, other worlds, alien species and infinity stones. Natasha's death.

And then there was the snap. The second one. Bruce screamed in pains as rainbow colours flashed up his arm, a thousand little lightning strikes. Steve stood in front of you, protectively. If this explodes, we're all dead. You thought, rather pessimistically.

As Bruce finally gathered the strength to snap, you were almost shocked to see he survived. Everyone ran forward to check him, Tony cooling the nasty looking burns on his arm, neck and face.

"Clint, your phone." You spoke, but it was perhaps too quiet. "Clint! Answer your phone!" You shouted, getting everyone's attention. It was the first time you had spoken in a long time, never mind shouted.

It was Laura. Oh my god. It was Laura.

Scott looked out of the windows, admiring the birds. There were so many more birds. He spun around and laughed.

And that's when it hit. You weren't even sure what it was, but then you were falling through the air. Your surroundings were crumbling and it all happened so fast you couldn't even react. Steve grabbed a hold of your arm and drew you to their chest, protecting you as you tumbled.

As you collided, your mind swarmed with so many thoughts. What the hell had happened, and was Peter back?

The battle raged. You didn't even know if everyone was out of the rubble. The battlefield was the now ruins of the only real home you had ever known. You lined up with Cap, and the others. And stared down what you were almost certain would be your death.

As the alien army marched closer, Steve turned to you. "You should run, (y/n). You have your whole life ahead of you."

You smiled, almost sadly, at him. "Cap, I don't think there is a life after this." He sighed, knowing that it was no use. You had been raised better than to abandon your family, and he knew that it was his fault. He couldn't save you.

Suddenly, sorcerer circles opened behind you and the ones you had lost came pouring in. Including him.

Are you still a mind reader? A natural scene stealer. I've heard great things, Peter. But life was always easier on you, than it was on me.

There was little time for rejoice as the army advanced towards you.

"Avengers!" Steve called. "...assemble."

And with that, you were running. You watched as spider-man flitted in and out of the hordes, doing his bit. You ran towards him, and held no mercy for any rogue soldier who dared to come near you and him. The others protected him too, and you were glad of it.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The battle was won but Tony was lost. You stared as Pepper cried by Tony's body, his eyes open, his body and face badly burned from the impact of the stones. There was a circle of Avengers around him. Just staring. No one knowing what to do, or say.

Peter. Your Peter. Collapsed into a heap near him, his emotions taking over. It was instinctual, the way you ran to him.

"Hey," You whispered, gathering him up into your arms. "I've got you. He's resting now. He saved us." You tried throwing every phrase people had ever thrown at you, at Peter. You knew it all meant nothing to him.

You looked down at his face, and horror crossed your face as you realised how much older than him you were now.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Steve watched his youngest team members in the puddle on the ground, the kid who had given him a run for his money in Germany, and the girl he had raised these past few years. He watched as your heart broke, and Peter couldn't even see it. He knew exactly what was going though, watching the now 21-year-old you holding a still 16-year-old Peter.

As emergency services and the military started to pull into what used to be the Avengers Compound, he knew there had to be a co-ordinated effort to resolve the tragedies they had just witnessed.

He walked over to you both and whispered softly, "Come on, kids, there's work to be done."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

And sometimes it gets me, when crossing your jetstream, We both did the best we could do underneath the same moon but in different galaxies.

"(y/n)." You didn't hear him say your name until that night. Well, the next morning, you suppose. You didn't even know what time it was.

Your face softened as you saw him. After the compound was destroyed, Clint was kind enough to bring you all to his house with Laura and the children, just until something more permanent was sorted out. It had been a couple of weeks now, and you had barely exchanged a word with anyone.

"Hi, Pete." You breathed out. He looked at your face, intently. Like he was searching for something he recognised, and couldn't find it. "How... how are you?"

"I'm alright. Um... yeah. Doing okay."

"Good, good." You hummed, sipping your cup of tea.

There was a moment of silence as the two of you looked out over the farm.

He cleared his throat. "(y/n), can we talk? I..." He faltered. "I miss you."

You looked at him, a little panicked, you'll admit. You didn't even know where to begin thinking about how to go about moving on with your relationship with Peter. You had been together for a year... but that was five years ago. That's not even considering that fact that he was still in high school and you were now of drinking age, at college. Shit, you still hadn't done that assignment.

"Peter, I..." His puppy eyes made your heart break. "I'm an adult now... it's been five years for me, and I... I changed a lot, in that time."

"Right, yeah." Tears swelled to his eyes. "You're right, yeah." You knew he was putting on a brave face.

"I'm sorry, Peter. For now, we have to go our separate ways, I think." Tears crashed down his cheeks, but he never broke eye contact with you. "I... I have to go back to college, and I won't see you for a while."

And I didn't want to hang around... We said it was just goodbye, for now

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Thank you for reading! I'm really new to posting on this blog, so any likes and reblogs are so appreciated! <3

[apocalypse-shuffle]

THE HULK & BRUCE BANNER (avengers: earth’s mightiest heroes)

—

“Just My Luck” (Hulk x Fem!Reader) and (Bruce Banner x Fem!Reader)

| Thaddeus “Thunderbolt” Ross tries to pull one over on the Avengers when they go to get Bruce Banner released from government detainment; acting as their consultant, however, you’re more than primed to go head to head with the General for your partners’ freedom.

| SFW, arguing, my shit understanding of military procedure of any kind, drugged characters, some angst, some fluff -professional!irritation!reader

| This exists purely because I want to scream at Ross every time he shows up on the screen or in comic panels. (Pic sources: “Hulk vs The World” - S1EP3 & “Gamma World, Part 2” - S1EP13)

| 4k+ words

“Actually, Stark…”

Uh oh.

You knew Ross not being the one to intercept you all once you got to the Raft wasn’t a good sign.

Talbot, your escort for the afternoon, turns around so he can look Tony in the eyes where his helmet’s faceplate is popped up.

“…we’re pushing for him not to be released, if you’d like to sit in on the meeting,” Talbot finishes, the Major’s mustache twitching as his eyes pass distastefully first over the teams’ leader and then the rest of the Avengers in turn.

Dark blue eyes then stick to your form where you’re standing behind Steve.

Teeth clicking together, you don’t let yourself shift like you want to. His gaze is a physical enough thing you want to shrug it off— want to flip him off too for good measure, but that’s beside the point.

Talbot’s lips quirk as he glances over you, something sharp in his gaze that reminds you conveniently of a rat in that moment.

Except the rat would be far cuter.

The man doesn’t say anything more though, only waiting for Tony’s affirmative before starting down the poorly lit hallway again.

When Talbot turns down a corridor that is clearly not leading to a secure containment cell you can’t even pretend to be surprised. In all but name this was an ambush after all.

And now you were officially irritated.

The room you all are led into is large for a conference room, but there’s absolutely no mistaking it as such either. It’s also packed with plenty of official looking people with all sorts of indicators of military rankings you don’t know or care to know.

Clint curses as he comes up behind you and notices the sheer amount of people in the room and seems to recognize the direct importance of at least a couple of them.

For your part you hardly spare them more than a seconds glance upon entering, eyes sweeping across the crowd in search of one thing and one thing only.

Or one person as it were.

The sight of him once your gaze lands on the dark corner they’ve got him tucked into makes your breath hitch.

The sight of him in prison orange ill-fitting enough to be baggy over his pale frame makes your blood boil and you barely stop yourself from sucking your teeth as you lay eyes on him for the first time in nearly two months.

Bruce’s brown eyes are far away and sunken, dark bags diminishing his usually wry gaze and hands twitching intermittently where they’re strapped down at his sides.

The back of your teeth grind together without your say-so, molars twinging.

Yeah, you didn’t care if you had to fight this entire room, nothing short of death was going to keep you from getting him out of this place.

─────

By the time the meeting’s officially begun your gums have begun to twinge with every press of your molars and Ross has been talking so much shit for the last twenty or so minutes you’re surprised he isn’t throwing it up too.

Just then he starts up about Hulk being an out of control beast without a conscience and it’s so absurd a claim you can’t stop yourself from commenting out loud, even if it is just to yourself.

“Huh,” you scoff, rolling your eyes while staring at your hands in your lap, “that’s a lie,” you grunt quietly.

Not quietly enough it would seem.

From across the room Ross instantly jerks his head up to look at you, the frown already etched onto his face turning severe as if he’d not noticed you until then.

If only you had the same privilege of ignorance when it came to him.

Jaw working as your mind reels, you look the man head on with an arch of one of your brows.

Catching his attention might not have been a part of the plan you’d been attempting to form in your head but you weren’t in the business of giving Ross any inches.

You’d just have to think on your feet.

“Stark,” Ross starts, voice tight, “control your—”

“—Yeah, no,” you assert, talking over him with a level tone and completely skipping over Tony in the process. He knew better than to answer for you anyway. “I’m not Stark’s anything, General. He doesn’t control me.”

“Hn,” Ross grumbles, grinding his teeth together. The ‘somebody ought to,’ goes unsaid but you can see it in the clench of his jaw and the way he tries to…to glare you into submission or some shit.

‘Hn’, indeed.

“Fine,” he grounds out, “Do you have something to add?”

He speaks as if he thinks he’s tripped you up. A large part of you wants to make him regret giving you the room.

Even still, for a moment you contemplate not stirring the pot, taking the out and letting someone else handle him, but really the choice is obvious. There Bruce was stood up in the corner chained and shackled to hell on a stretcher like he was Cletus Fucking Kasady or something, power suppressor collar locked tight around his neck with probably enough sedatives in him to kill an elephant given just how impossibly high he looked, and actively struggling to get a good read on the room.

Bruce’s eyes were so unfocused and glassy, his head so heavy, that you barely caught your frown before the wider room could see it upon first seeing him. Let alone hid the show of emotion how you would’ve liked to as a whole.

Ross wanted to keep him, that much was obvious. But he didn’t care about the man or the so-called monster, which was just as easily noticeable.

General Thaddeus Ross wasn’t fit to keep Bruce Banner or The Hulk safe — captured, sure, but unlike the others on the team that wasn’t something you even remotely cared about — and seemed too inclined to keep them tortured and in easy reach to be experimented on instead for your liking.

“I do,” you say. Tony looks surprised when you glance over to him, but it’s about the only request for permission he’s going to get from you. When he nods, just once, you turn back to Ross and his crossed arms and you smile. “I think that over the years the General and the military have proven untrustworthy when it comes to matters of The Hulk.”

One man huffs in the back, curls cropped short and that same air about him that Ross has. The type of urge to commandeer everything that gave you hives on a good day.

You grit your teeth. Today was not a ‘good day’.

“We captured that beast, didn't we? Banner’s been dozing in his cage for weeks before today, a non threat.”

Cage.

The way your eye twitches is small enough you’d bet no one without a heads up display or enhanced vision could see it.

You shift in your seat, gesturing to the wider room.

“Only after breaking form, though, correct? And stop me if I’m wrong, but both times you successfully captured the Hulk were S.H.I.E.L.D or the Avengers not present and providing crucial aid? So it’s just the same to say that the Avengers have an even better track record of keeping Hulk out of trouble than even the Hulkbusters do, and a room is about as much containment to someone so powerful as Thee Hulk as a cell is.”

“You’re proposing we treat that thing like a—”

“Like a person, yeah. It’s no coincidence that both times you captured the man was because he was reasoned with or otherwise distracted by saving an agent’s life. The Hulk is a person, and he can be stabilized after an episode — which rarely happen without provocation by the way — just like any other man.”

“Other men don’t usually possess the ability to tears tanks apart with their bare hands, Miss.”

“Other men also usually don’t respond rationally when being shot at…” you lean forward to read the man’s name off the gold plate pinned to his breast, “…Fortean.”

Immediately, he clarifies you on his rank, on the fact that you should put it in front of his name. As if you respect him enough for that; these people were lucky you haven’t devolved to schoolyard taunts yet considering just how little you respected them.

“Sure,” you shrug. Fortean grits his teeth, standing up a little taller as he fixes his mouth to say something that he’ll want to be cutting but you know you’ll just blow off.

“Now, Y/n,” Ross cuts the younger man off, pressing him back into the corner like a good obedient lapdog, and swinging the conversation back in his control. “Our hands are the most capable to keep Hulk from sowing destruction everywhere he goes, even if you think being nice to it and letting it play dress up with the Avengers is a suitable containment method that doesn’t account for the fact that everywhere the Hulk goes destruction follows.”

Rogers pipes up before you even can. “Pardon my forwardness, General Ross, but any destruction caused while we fought beside Hulk was due to the impromptu establishment of a battle field in civilian spaces by our enemies, enemies which we stopped with the help of Hulk. The Hulk is a hero, and he was doing his job the same as any other Avenger, Sir.”

Ross smiles, it’s not pleasant but it isn’t condescending either. Lucky Cap.

“And before he joined your team? What of the destruction that followed him then, Captain?”

“Well,” you cut in, doing away with caring about being too forward entirely, “that was mainly you and the Hulkbusters, so the answer is fairly obvious.”

To that Ross stares at you for a second, mouth ticking, and then promptly lets out a gruff bout of laughter. The other military personnel and military officials in the room give a resound chuckle as well.

It echoes around the room for a couple of seconds and each new laugh feels like needles burrowing deeper and deeper into your brain.

You didn’t tell anything nearing a joke so the only reason for this was that they were all laughing at you.

“I’m sorry,” you pipe up, unlocking your jaw to speak after swallowing down the angry tremble you could feel crawling up your throat, “I don’t recall telling a joke.”

Despite your words the room still sobers at everyone else’s own pace and you can’t help but to wish the man would drop dead when you chance a look Fortean’s way and catch the smug upturn of his mouth.

Hulk probably wouldn’t approve, Bruce definitely wouldn’t. You don’t think either would object to you socking him in the jaw though, knocking the smirk right off his face.

“Apologies, Miss,” Ross grunts once he’s finished, eyes glinting. “You’ve provided me with my counter argument though, haven’t you? Or the Captain did. We responded to Hulk’s presence after he made an impromptu battlefield out of a civilian area and people got hurt at his fault when we engaged in our duty to this country. We did our jobs”

“That’s not how I see it.”

Ross stops just short of glowering at you, pausing in the pointed looks he’s giving the officials in the room to narrow his eyes your way.

“Well then you’re seeing it wrong.”

“No.” Ross’s eye twitches. It’s visible. Same as the vein that protrudes across his temple. You cross your arms, shrugging even as you narrow your gaze on him a little more in tandem. “Is it incorrect to assume that you track both Bruce Banner and The Hulk, General?”

“It’s not.”

“Good,” you hum, tapping a steady rhythm with the pads of your fingers into your forearm. “How about the target on sight orders for them both? That true as well?”

“Yes,” Ross says, voice dropping down. He’s wary about where you’re going with this but isn’t sure of your angle yet, most likely.

Thaddeus Ross wasn’t an idiot — especially where being a tactician was concerned, and that was all the props you’d ever give the man.

At the very least it meant he was giving you something of a challenge.

You nod to yourself, biting back a smile, “And you would agree that most times you catch up to Bruce Banner he’s not at immediate risk of transforming?”

“Not always, but—

“—And that provocation of the target — already agitated or otherwise — never fails to escalate tensions and make the situation more dangerous, correct?”

There was more to it than just Bruce or Hulk’s temperaments though, and you knew that well. But fighting the Hulk angle here wouldn’t be as helpful — even though every time Ross’s team have ever ran into Hulk already in control was because he was dealing with an even bigger threat, saving people, and the only thing the Hulkbusters ever succeeded in doing in those situation was exasperating the collateral; simply put Hulk wasn’t the aphantomable monster everyone wanted to paint him as, but paint their hearts out people would regardless — as you’d want with this audience, so stressing the Hulkbusters being nothing but a trigger in an otherwise calm situation was what you’d do.

Ross shifts to run his hand over his mustache, lips pursed.

“That’s…an affirmative, but—”

“So then, if you stand by your word, of course, you admit that any collateral damage caused by Hulk after you or your Hulkbusters have arrived on scene is not the fault of Hulk himself since you actively and willfully provoke him into violence and initiate battle in civilian areas with him for your own means?” You pause to swallow, blinking faux innocently up at Ross in the process, “Whatever they may be,” you finish, raising your brows at him in challenge before relaxing back into your seat.

Everything was in his court now.

You’ve put him in an uncomfortable place. He’s either got to admit that all his tracking down of the Hulk is no more than posturing on his part, posturing that willingly puts civilians in danger for little acceptable reason, or he’s got to admit exactly what it is he wants the Hulk for to a room of the type of military personnel who cared about at least appearing too civilized for human experimentation and the utilization of mind controlled bio weapons.

“Now I did not say that,” Ross says in a huff.

You just shrug. If the shoe fit and all that.

“You’d think finding a better strategy than shooting a barrage of ineffectual weapons at a man in public who gets stronger and less coherent the angrier he gets would tip you off that you are indeed not as capable as you think you are at keeping your constituents safe,” you reiterate, expression remaining unchanged.

“Nonsense,” Ross snaps. Looking around at the officials in the room he seems to get even angrier at the contemplative looks on their faces. “What are you all doing? This woman hardly qualifies as a superhero, let alone an Avenger. She doesn’t mean jacksquat as far as this conference is concerned.”

“But, General—”

“Don’t ‘but general’ me, Stevens. Buck the hell up!” He swings his head around after chewing the younger man out then, and when his gaze snaps back to you he bares his teeth. “You! You and your bleeding heart bull! What do you know about the danger that monster inside Banner poses?”

Sucking your teeth, you stand, roller chair threatening to topple over in your rush.

“Oh get real,” you snap lowly, planting a hand on the table and leaning over it in a bid to match Ross’s big irritated movements and gestures toward you, “Hulk hasn’t been a serious threat to human life in years.”

“There’s no sufficient evidence of that!”

“As much as I’d been worried about that too, Thunderbolt,” Tony starts quickly, voice turning mocking as he tosses out the other man’s nickname, “the stats don’t lie. Hulk hasn’t caused actual human collateral in…ever, really.”

Ross glowers his way, “I have men who’d say otherwise, Stark.”

Tony shrugs, “Frankly, Ross, if they can still say anything at all then you’ve already disproven your argument here.”

“Exactly,” you sniff, rocking back on your heels and crossing your arms. “And it wouldn’t be too hard to prove that over the last few years Hulk has saved more lives than he’s ever truly hurt either.”

Some of the Suits in the room begin nodding shallowly to themselves.

At the sight of them Ross starts up another sheet of yelling in your direction: “You damned blight, who do you think you are, you’re nothing,” he rattles in the next breath, but doesn’t get any further than that before you take personal offense.

“Um, hello!” you say, voice rising for the first time the entire meeting as you attempt to talk over him, “is your name either of my parents’?”

Ross sputters at your question, “What?”

“Exactly! So don’t come up here yelling at me like I’m some child! Only two people get to just barely yell at me, and you’re not either of them, so you need to come better!”

“You don’t get to talk to me like that,” he growls out, clearly stopping himself from advancing towards you with a sneer. “Women your age have no damn respect. You are a subordinate, act like it!”

“First of all: not your subordinate,” you clarify, face scrunching at the idea alone. “Second of all: I wasn’t aware that as a so-called ‘subordinate’ I couldn’t speak my mind, you must want a pack of mindless slaves that agree with your every word if that’s the case.”

He grins something nasty.

Behind him Fortean scoffs.

“Oh I see. I don’t care what goddamn race you are, insubordination is insubordination—”

“—I literally didn’t say anything about race. I said that with the way, as your so-called ‘subordinate’, you do not think people should talk back to you in ways you personally deem disrespectful is akin to you wanting a bunch of slaves working under you.” Scoffing, you shake your head. What a pack of clowns. “Last time I checked slaves aren’t allowed to oppose their Masters, General, whereas subordinates are meant to keep you in check which requires opposing opinions to be—”

Ross starts to stammer badly enough you’re stopped from continuing because you honestly aren’t sure he'll be able to hear you over the stuttered flapping of his gums, the gnashing of his teeth and the blood rushing to his face at an alarming speed.

Not that you gave a fuck about his health, but still.

He stutters for a few more seconds, fists balling where you can see them from where his arms are now crossed tightly across his chest, before eventually giving up with a harsh curse and pointing angrily at you, voice going up an octave or two.

“Missy, you will get off of my base right now! I’m not running a hen house. Talbot, escort her out!”

Both your eyebrows jump towards your hairline. Your response is on the tip of your tongue too: ‘Missy’! Excuse you, I am a grown ass woman, but, again, you’re stopped before you can get anymore riled up by a sudden bout of noise.

When you knock your head up to lock fiery brown eyes onto the source of the sound towards the back of the room you do so fast enough for your neck to crack.

A snort.

Someone’s laughing.

Your eyes narrow.

Unlike last time, no one else is joining in, however. No, instead everyone’s looking at a still drugged Bruce — who your eyes finally land on before promptly widening as his bleary gaze locks coherently onto yours for less than a second. It’s an eternity of a second, though.

In the meantime Bruce’s snort turns into stilted chuckles that swiftly morph into low gasps of laughter as his shoulders shake and his heavy head lists to the side.

Then, against all odds considering the boatload of drugs he’s visibly on and the suppressor collar around his neck, he starts to transform.

Bruce’s voice shifts to Hulk’s in the ensuing moments and his voice becomes significantly more disruptive even above the sound of the collar snapping in half. Hulk breaks out into booming laughter with a bellow of: “Flustered Ross?”, absolutely amused by how fucked up you’ve gotten his oldest foe.

“Wha—? Bruce— Hulk,” you cut yourself off, just staring at the jade giant as he full belly laughs, head thrown back and everything.

It’s adorable.

A little bit of you perks up at the rumbling sound and the heaviness that’s been anchoring your feet, making every step harder and heavier than the next, seems to lift.

Every non-Avenger in the room freezes bar Ross, who twitches and seems to get notably redder around the edges.

Honestly though, you don’t think anything would have supported your case any better than Bruce — your sweet, usually dry humored man — laughing so hard he cedes control to Hulk, who’s laughter is even more infectious. In real time you can even see the officials in the room having their perceptions shift as well.

Didn’t hurt that the evidence of their ineffectual Hulk containment methods when Hulk actually wanted out had just clattered into pieces on the ground either.

A little giggle bubbles past your lips almost in spite of the fury still firing through you. Alright, Ross’s beet red flush and slew of tripped over words in the face of confrontation from a black woman who was no better than a civilian skill wise was pretty funny.

For the first time since the team and you were redirected to this stupid fucking room the anxiety and irritation tightening your abdomen to aching relaxes.

Subconsciously you feel yourself sigh, straightening up from where you were leaned over the table to better get in Ross’s face the same way he felt he needed to get into yours first, and shifting to pop your back in the process.

Shit you were wound up.

You had to get yourself together because Ross’s ass was not worth putting all this strain on your body.

Eventually Hulk’s boisterous laughter peters off naturally. A smile sticks to his face still though, a boyish type of grin that shows enough teeth to make most of the big men strewn throughout the room shift uncomfortably and have your stomach fluttering welcomely.

Shoulders dropping and jaw unclenching you smile over at him in turn, his green eyes locking onto your brown for a slew of moments before some Suit clears his throat— then immediately ends up loosening his tie as that drags Hulk’s attention squarely his way.

The man clears his throat two more times before he finds his nerve, “Well the way I see it the best course of action to keeping Hulk…stable would be to let the Avengers keep an — um — eye on him and Bruce Banner. As I see it, at least,” he adds in a rush at the unblinking stares the Hulkbusters start giving him.

Ross seems to double take: “What,” he barks out, “you can’t be seriously considering this!”

“General, I think it’s about time we consider the option of least resistance.” And the Suit considers you now, gaze on you noticeable but one that you refuse to return with anything but a bland expression and raised brow. He sighs. “Not constantly waging clearly avoidable war on The Hulk, especially when the money going into the Hulkbusters can be utilized better elsewhere, seems like a solid plan to me, and I can only imagine my compatriots agree.”

Ross sputters for a few moments, Fortean’s frown crests hard enough you hope it sticks, and then the General’s mouth shuts with a snap. His pivot to turn your way is accompanied by a low growl from Hulk, but for once Ross is mad enough at someone else to not blow the rumble out of proportion.

“Get out,” he snaps, and like ants all the people who aren’t his (or The Avengers) in the conference room scatter.

You’d laugh if it weren’t so pathetic. Ross was only one single goddamn man, explosive anger or not.

Staring him down you cross your arms, cocking your head and hip and not hesitating to let a smirk grace your dark lips.

“Bitter?” You question before he can start.

Behind you some one of your partners’ teammates snorts.

You’d put your money on Clint.

Ross snarls and turns sharply to Tony somewhere behind you and to your left, features twisting nastily.

“Stark, take your team and get her the hell out of here now!” He jerks his hand towards the entrance, pointing some more. “She’s the most disrespectful, surefire example of why women shouldn’t be apart of discussions like this I’ve ever had the displeasure of meeting—!”

When you laugh it’s a mean melodic thing. Overly loud just to be as obnoxious as you can manage.

The others start to move around you too, mainly Cap and Clint, to push past Ross’s unit and get to Hulk. When they start releasing him from his bonds and he stomps from the trolley he’d been tied to, two feet finally firmly planted on the floor and making the room tremble for a moment, the Hulkbusters collectively recoil and bristle all at once.

Somehow you find it in you to laugh a little harder. Apparently it was your turn to bust a gut in Ross’s face.

Talbot and Fortean glowering your way in response makes you feel doubly accomplished on top of everything too.

“Oh, screw you, Ross! You’re nothing but a sore fucking loser on a power trip and, quite frankly— ah shit!”

In one singular movement you’re swooped up. Eyes widening you gasp, hands flying down to grasp onto the nearest thing you can as your balance is thrown off. Really you needn’t have worried though, the lighter palms of brown hands — the lightest part on you beside the bottom of your feet, honestly — meet the stern knuckles of warm green skin and your spirit instantly re-enters your body as you realize what’s happening.

Unfortunately though you’re covering ground too fast for it to mean much.

Ross shouts, “God-damn—” and then he’s cut off and you can’t do a single thing about it.

Well then.

Doors close with an unsatisfactory but resounding finality in your face, the image of Ross red and belligerent lost behind it, and you scowl; still huffing and puffing even after being swept up into a carry by the very man you were arguing over.

From where you’re being carried partially laying over Hulk’s shoulder, you glare at the empty corridor he’s stomping down with the rest of the Avengers, heart hammering in your chest.

That’s when you’re finally aware enough for it to truly click that you’ve been tossed over his shoulder and you balk.

“Hulk!”

“Y/n relax now,” Hulk rumbles, large thumb patting you on the back from where he’s holding you to him.

At that you have no choice, really. You slump. Arms hanging limply at your sides and head resting on his shoulder, you pant too. Sucking in large gulps of air and trying to get your heartrate back under control before your anger spurs on a headache.

“Alright, fine,” you mutter into green skin, relaxing into Hulk’s hold, “but only because you said it so nicely.”

Hulk hums. It’s too pointed to be anything but him calling you out on your bullshitting, but you’re too tired to riff on him in your defense and start a playful back and forth right then.

“Well,” Tony chirps from the corner of the large industrial elevator once you’ve all finally settled back into it for the day, “At least you riled old Thunderbolt up enough for him to let us go with the Big Guy pretty easily.”

Lips splitting into a grin, even slightly out of breath as you are, you push up from Hulk’s shoulder a little and turn your head to the side so you’re not staring at the side of his neck and the wisps of green hair that curls some at the base of it.

When Tony sees the smile on your face he balks. By the time you’ve started up a sheet of poorly held back laughter he’s caught on.

“I should’ve known,” Tony snorts, shaking his head. “You did have a plan.”

“Of course she had a plan,” Hulk intones, tone deadly serious even though you can feel the way he huffs out a laugh.

“Hold on,” Clint starts, “you mean you picked a fight with Ross on purpose?”

“Sure did,” you start, curling back into Hulk’s hold and turning away from everyone else again. “Ross hates Hulk, yeah, but he can’t stand a woman stepping up to him either. I knew if I screwed him over he’d focus on tempering my loud mouth more so than fighting to keep his arch enemy or whatever.” You raise a limp hand to wave in their direction, “Plus, with only Cap as backup somebody had to pick up the Hulk Defense slack.”

“Okay, don’t do us like that now,” Tony complains, the metal of the Iron Man suit clanging lightly as he shifts.

“Oh, I’m gonna,” you scoff. You snort too, though, as a bout of Hulk’s more subdued laughter reaches your ears and shakes your entire body. “Just a little.”

Still, you didn’t miss the team’s broader unwillingness to stick up for the bigger and greener of your partners before today, though— and your reclusive white man too, by extension. Hulk didn’t miss it either, you'd bet, and some definite developments would have to come of that.

For now though, that could wait till you were no longer in a fucking American military base.

Once this was all over, and things settled back down, you’d have to ask Hulk if he wouldn’t mind letting you talk to Bruce. If Bruce wouldn’t mind coming up for a conversation.

That was something for later though, for now you’d just let your nerves calm and bask in not having to worry about walking.

Without another word you curl more securely into Hulk’s hold, tucking your head into his neck, your umber skin and tight curls brushing over the protruding veins there, and moving one of your arms up to wrap around Hulk’s neck.

As you all make your way down the elevator and back to the quinjet you’re fully content to keeping silent. Fingers tangled lightly in the dark hair at the base of Hulk’s neck you lean in to press plump two-toned lips to his skin in a lingering kiss.

Hulk huffs. Big hands secure you to his chest even more than you already are and his thumb and forefinger squeeze fondly, delicately, around your waist, his giant head leaning just enough to press lightly over yours for a second.

Eyes watering, you smile into him, hands trembling in his hair as you hug him harder.

You missed him, and you missed Bruce (missed the knowledge that he was safe even when you couldn’t directly talk to him because Hulk was safe) and that had strained on you badly.

At least you had them back now though. And this time around you’d be far meaner and a lot less lenient about parting from them again.

NOTES: Hope you enjoyed!! Didn’t expect that this would be the first fic out of all the Bruce/Hulk fics I’ve started this year that I’d post, but it worked out anyway.

Also, honestly, I forgot how the episode began and was sequenced so this is more inspired by “The Deadliest Man Alive” - S2EP22 episode of EMH than a rewrite of it. Fortean is here too so that doubly doesn’t support this being a direct rewrite; I just needed to throw some shots his way too though so that’s why he’s here.

And the title is from the Coco Jones song bcs I was listening to it on repeat while finishing writing this, the fic isn’t inspired by the song tho.

btw: if you’d like to leave a comment I’d very much appreciate it!

[ksascriptt]

You’re Gonna Go Far | Avengers x Reader

Avengers x Fem!Avenger!Reader, Mildly implied Tony Stark x Reader

WARNINGS : PLEASE ADHERE BY THESE. Very heavy topics. Depression, suicide, blood, gore, scalpel, talk of ripping things out, anxiety, probably mild ptsd. Some fluff, the most severe angst I’ve ever written, not proofread I wrote this in like an hour, kinda horrible

Word count: 2367 (longest fic yet!)

Notes: This is not very accurate or anything. For some context, Reader has always had banshee-like/sonic scream powers but when she used it consistently, it kinda tore up her throat and voice box so she got a new bionic one. And she lost her eye in battle somehow so she’s got a robotic one.

✦ ⎯⎯ㅤִㅤ୭ ୨♡୧ ৎㅤִ ⎯⎯ ✦

You never showed the signs, at least not easily.

They weren’t blatantly displayed in behaviours or messages, there wasn’t a book of those thoughts or days where it was obvious what you planned to do.

So really, nobody was to blame for what happened. Let alone you. How could they hold it against you, when nobody could even recognize it was happening.

There was nothing they could’ve done to stop it, to stop you, because it was fated to happen, scrawled in the fabric of the universe. It had to happen. You had to do it. Every arrow pointed to it, it was just a fact. But, truthfully, that was what made it the worst.

It was quick, like a snap of your fingers, and then all of a sudden, it was like the world had shifted; because it did. You were the greatest thing they had ever lost, and nobody could figure out why you left them so soon. Not even Earths Mightiest Heroes.

Not even the leader of the elite profilers that you’d known and loved far too much. It took Tony a week to find the letter you’d left. Seven days, far longer than it should have. You didn’t want anybody to find out, apparently, and that’s exactly how it turned out. Tony said you nearly always got what you wanted anyway.

So maybe it was for the best, but none of your loved ones would ever be able to understand why. They didn’t have to. It was the secret that went with you into the ground, and that was what needed to happen. But the curiosity never swayed, the yearning for the reasons you could do such a horrible thing only grew as the days and weeks passed. Though, a small part of them all, knew exactly why you did it. They just didn’t want to admit it.

There was before it happened, and there was after. And before, there has been some rough days. It had been a rough week, In fact. For everyone, really. Nobody could deny that as a fact. The missions had been particularly grueling — one with losses that left everybody a bit more empty inside — and the legal issues were almost worse. Grieving the loss of normalcy and pieces of your soul was necessary after every mission for everyone. But after a few hours, someone typically made the move to bring some sense of comfort to the team. Sometimes it was ordering food, or going out for an activity. Other times it was a movie night, or maybe an arts and craft nobody particularly tried on but goofed off with. Today it was making dinner together, like a family. The family that wasn’t asked for, but needed. The family that couldn’t bring themselves to leave one another alone, isolated, pained. And they didn’t, at least not on the surface.

Via the usage of a vote (that was mostly useless), the group had decided on making pasta accompanied by salad, strawberries, and Peter (accompanied by Steve) got put on dessert duty — blondies, if they had to guess. For a lot of it, it was a few people splitting the tasks and working, while the others talked, brought comedic relief, and would probably eventually go off to the living room while they waited on dinner when they realized they would not be of use. So, in short, you and Tony were the only two remaining in the kitchen (aside from Bruce, but he had headphones in). You sat on the counter next to a large serving platter of sliced strawberries and on your right was the stove, where you eyed some noodles being cooked and Tony perfecting his craft of Alfredo. It was domestic, sweet, and you could see the others on the couch watching what seemed to be Up, based on the tears that welled in a few of their eyes. A smile you had been unfamiliar with lately had found its way back to your lips for just a moment. “What’s on your mind, honey?” The man asked, rubbing his bearded jaw. Dark eyes gazed over towards you on the counter, curious at the very least.

“Hm?” You hummed, making true eye contact with Tony. “What’re you thinking about?” He repeated himself, eyebrows furrowing as he tried to evaluate what was wrong with you. “Uh,” you almost slipped, “nothing. Just..tired; and my ears.” For the record, both were true. You hadn’t slept properly in weeks now, but the help of naps and energy drinks had been able to mask that for the first few. Maybe your luck was running out. Although, the ear pain and migraines were properly excused, an unfortunate downside of the odd abilities you’d gotten. A tragic one you’d found the hard way in childhood. One you couldn’t shake, even to this day. “Uh-huh,” Tony sarcastically murmured, brain prowling every possible thing that could be wearing you down. Tony always knew when something was wrong, it was just a matter of getting you to fess up to it. But this didn’t feel right, didn’t sit well with him.

It was a few hours later, after everyone had eaten and gone to bed, that the reminder of just how alone you were really set in. The darkness hit you, cracked through your bruised ribs and choked its way down your sore throat. With shut curtains and shut off lights, you truly couldn’t describe the feelings you held now. Tony had started to catch on, and surely the others had too. You hoped maybe you could take that piece of pain from them, keep it hidden in your chest and away from them. It wasn’t theirs to see, to feel, or at least it shouldn’t have been.

Being an Avenger was everything to you, but it took everything in you every single day. The missions, the cruel losses, the mental and physical battles that piled up the emotions. But the sense of family, of community, the feeling of being loved by people who had been through so much, made it worth it. There would come a day when the price to pay was too much. You’d been able to shake it off easily enough your first year or so of being part of the initiative, but now you started to hold something against it. Or maybe against yourself?

It was tug-of-war in your mind, a psychological battle where you sat on the floor of the dark living room. Of course you all had dark days; that was guaranteed. But the days that you felt like you were trying to play catch up to your own life made you wish for something else, something more. Losing physical and mental pieces of yourself every mission was starting to feel like more than it was worth. I mean, really, the bionic eye and vocal box was probably a good example of that. Yes, as a family and community, the Avengers were caring and supportive, but the way you never seemed to get the same help on missions wasn’t discreet. Maybe they weren’t trying to do it, but you felt helpless when you were left to fend for yourself and wonder whether they even knew if you were still alive. Maybe that’s why you did it.

With a mind running rapid, soon enough, the tears fell — from one side, anyway. The lack of warmth streaming from your right eye was just another reminder of how you weren’t quite enough for them nor yourself.

Your sulking thoughts were interrupted by the gentle footsteps, though heavy, walking nearer in the dark. It was Steve, clear in true way he evenly held his weight even in a tired form at the late hour, the gentle sounds of his steady steps making your heart beat a little faster. Being seen meant questions, questions meant sharing more than you cared for. Though you didn’t see to care for much these days. When the footsteps stopped, you turned your head towards him, seeing the tall man holding his water bottle (what he’d come out for) staring at you with something close to understanding sympathy. You wondered if he could relate to the crippling sense of loss you felt in your own mind, or the anxiety that coursed through your veins as the serum coursed through his. “It’ll be okay, kid,” he murmured softly. Nothing intruding, no prying questions or unwarranted contact. Just — reassurance. It made you want to scream and cry like a child, cling onto him and every other Avenger as though if you let go, they would dissipate into nothingness. But you refrained, sniffing a bit before sending him a strained smile. “Mhm, thanks, Steve,” you replied with a hoarse voice. A hoarse voice that while, sounding exactly like your own, didn’t feel like it belonged to you. Something curated to make you feel whole again, like you were capable of more than you were.

“Get some rest.” You nodded silently, though he couldn’t see you anyway. It probably wouldn’t happen — sleep hadn’t been in your favour the past few weeks — months, even. It was another short moment until his footsteps began again, starting towards his quarters and you heard the door shut. A breath you didn’t know you were holding escaped your lungs. You eyed the digital clock on the wall; it was later than you’d intended to stay out of your room.

So with a heavy heart and heavier eye bags, you stood from the rug in the living room and trudged towards your room — the second on the left on the north hall — to find the solitude you’d left behind with the mandatory team bonding. When you reached your room, a bit messier than you could enjoy, you let out an annoyed breath. The light flicked on with a snap of your fingers, and dimmed automatically with the clock it was on. You spent maybe fifteen minutes organizing the clothes and keepsakes you’d earlier made a mess of, all the while trying to ease the anxiety thrumming beneath your skin.

When it was to your standards once more, slumping down in your chair in exhaustion seemed like the best choice. Your hands — scarred, scratched, shakier than you enjoyed — rested on the cool wood of the desk. Fingers tapped it as you eyed a notebook and pen, debating whether to do that or type out a message to the group chat. You could go for time and convenience or a last piece of sentiment.

The choice wasn’t terribly difficult, grabbing the light pink notebook with more aggression than you meant to convey and flipping to the next section of empty pages. Soon enough the pen was between your fingers, and you couldn’t find any words you wanted to write down — or maybe you couldn’t find the right ones. Because some part of you wanted to say everything, to beg and plead for help and admit everything that was wrong. But you didn’t; not really, anyway.

To Mr. Anthony E. Stark, you began to write, I’m sorry you had to learn the whole story like this, Tony. I have to come clean. For starters, I am choosing to leave the initiative. I hope you find it in you to understand.

You’d filled up two pages with the message to Tony, and had you had it in you to cry, the page probably would have been stained with tears. Then it was nearly a full page to Steve. One and a half to Natasha. Hardly over one to Thor. Peter and Clint both got a little over one and a quarter. Rhodey, Pepper, Strange, Bruce, and Happy all got their own as well. It took at least an hour, if not two. There was paragraphs of cherished memories, apologies, and finally what felt like an admission of guilt in every single one. It didn’t feel right to tell them like this. But when would you tell them if it wasn’t now? They had to learn somehow.

An ache permeated through your chest as you folded each message in half, sticking your signature seal — an origami sticky note heart — on the outside of them all, different colours for each person. You took a couple minutes to think it over anxiously before stacking them neatly on your desk. The next actions were the ones you regretted the most.

✦ ⎯⎯ㅤִㅤ୭ ୨♡୧ ৎㅤִ ⎯⎯ ✦

It was a decent hour the next morning when Peter made his way to come wake you, accompanied by Steve. Breakfast had been made and they had a briefing to discuss — but the teens scream of horror was heard by nearly everybody, even Clint. Though the screams were nothing to those they’d heard from you, it made Tony’s blood curdle.

Your body was collapsed on the floor, propped up against the wall with an open eye. Blood was nearly everywhere. A scalpel was discarded towards the side. The throat piece that kept you alive — a bionic trachea, esophagus, and vocal box — had been sliced and torn from your throat, thrown ahead of you. The bionic eye had as well, blood dripping down your cheek and staining the front of your body, leaking on the carpet. The droplets had gone everywhere when you flung the metal chunk ahead of you, spraying on the papers resting on your desk. It was the crime scene nobody deserved to see.

Soon enough everybody had come running to investigate why Peter had screamed and Steve had gone paler than ever before. Tears were flowing soon enough, more screams erupting from people’s throats at the sight. People were ushered out of the room. Someone ran to puke in the nearest bathroom. Tony had come in last, confused and concerned at the commotion. But when he saw you, an open eye staring at him and an unreadable expression on your far more pale face, he could have died then and there. His heart sunk, his stomach twisted, his brain pleading. It wasn’t right. How could this happen?

But even still, nobody could find it in themselves to make it your fault. Because it wasn’t. Maybe the signs were there, maybe it was their fault for not noticing, not helping.

[unistaryo]

Modus Vivendi [Bruce Banner/Hulk (Avengers: EMH) x Reader (Oneshot)]

// Requested by @lena-selenite

Summary: After a blast meant for Hulk injures you during a battle, both Bruce and Hulk debate whether they should stay in your life

 Who’s fault was it really?

 Bruce’s for letting the situation escalate so much or yours for not doing anything sooner? Come to think of it, maybe it was a common share.

 It was too quick, too difficult for someone to react on time. Plus, it wasn’t a soul that would ever suspect that something like this could even happen. After all, you were both Bruce’s and Hulk’s everything, their guiding light and grounding thought. Surely it was just an accident, everyone seemed to think so, except Hulk, and Banner.

 Yet, there you are, hurt by your lover, the one who vowed never to hurt you. He felt disgusted with himself, how did he even do this and why?

 It all happened because of him if he hadn’t been so violent if he had remained in control. Maybe, just maybe, you wouldn’t be looking at him with such fear, why did he do it?

 You are lying there, right in front of him, hurt, with your backside and arm damaged from the fight, and a face of pure horror. Your eyes, which were once so bright and delightful, full of love and the stupidity that came with it, were now made of a fallen light, you couldn’t even recognise your lover anymore. Did Bruce really want this? Or maybe Hulk?

 Hulk looked angry and emotionally dishevelled. How dare you put yourself in such a danger? How can you throw yourself in front of a blast that was designed especially to kill him? Did you not realize the possible outcome? If he didn’t react on time, you would have been dead. Why did you protect a monster, a misfit like himself? Hulk couldn’t comprehend why. 

 So, he did what he thought was right, he gently took you in his arms and carried you to safety, to the Avengers. After all, they’re the ones who see him as something else than a monster, beside you. The minute you even laid eyes on him, you saw the person in him, not the freak.

 Once he reached the Avengers who were now gathered after the intense fight, he slowly put you down, to let the others see your state. And he even updated them on your situation, “They took a blast that was meant for me, make sure they’re okay.”

 And then he left you, deciding to never speak to you again, for your good.

 But, some decisions can change.

 It was only after a few weeks that he started to pry on your home again. He needed to see you. After all, you are one of the few things that can calm him down in a way nothing can’t. And he needs you, both Bruce and Hulk do. That’s why Bruce started talking directly to Hulk again.

 “We need to see her,” Bruce began with a sad and commanding tone, “I am also afraid of what might happen, but… I can’t anymore and I know you can’t too.”

 Hulk only grumps in response, not moving from his hiding place near your home. 

 “Listen to me, at least leave before we have our hopes up.” The scientist’s tone was now one of pure defeat. But before Hulk could move, your voice echoed from his right.

 “Glad to see you again, Bruce- I mean Hulk.”