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wolferine · 3 years ago

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Unforgivable - Part 3

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Summary: When the reader loses their temper, it causes them to commit an act they can never take back...

Warnings: Violence, blood, language

Word count: 2413

Part 2

Tags: @yeetus-thyself @phoenixofash @lilclownx @yeeterthekeeper @alessiapn @diaryoflife @user19422004 @zoldszemulany56

You sit alone on a park bench, wearing a heavy black backpack filled with Hammer’s latest invention. He’s here too, more than a mile away, watching you from the shadows. Your task is to do all the talking and distracting; Hammer wants to take the kill shot. You don’t really care, as long as Tony Stark dies for what he did to Natasha.

At midnight exactly, Tony walks up to you, wearing a hoodie, jeans, and his signature sunglasses. However, you know from experience that Jarvis is inside the sunglasses, providing him with information about you and his surroundings.

“It’s a little late to be wearing sunglasses, isn’t it, Stark?” you say, standing up. Hammer lined your backpack with lead so Jarvis can’t see into it, but you’re still nervous.

“You know I have astigmatism,” he says.

“I don’t really care,” you respond. “Take them off.”

He doesn’t need a second warning.

“So, what’s up with you, Y/N?” Tony pockets the sunglasses. “Where have you been lurking all this time?” He stops about ten feet in front of you.

“Just…working through some things,” you reply.

“For six months?” Tony scoffs. “We waited for you to come back.”

“You know I couldn’t do that.” Your jaw clenches. “But for you, Stark? I’d make an exception any day of the week.”

“What’s up with all the theatrics tonight, huh? Would’ve been a lot simpler to have this chat at the Tower,” Tony says.

“I’m not an Avenger anymore.”

“Says who?”

“Says me,” you snap, trying not to let your impatience show. You’re waiting for Hammer’s signal, but he seems to want to take his time. Your eyes drift to the glowing blue arc reactor in the center of Tony’s chest and you put your right hand in your pocket casually.

“Just spit it out, Y/N. Why am I here?”

“You’re here to die, Stark.”

“Well, have at it.” He opens his arms tauntingly and you tense, ready to tackle him to the ground and beat his head inside out.

“You killed Natasha,” you snarl, and his expression changes. But you don’t have time to process it, because suddenly, the watch on your wrist vibrates.

Hammer’s signal.

You take your hand out of your pocket, now holding onto a tiny sensor disk, which you throw at Tony’s chest. It latches onto his arc reactor and powers it down instantly, preventing him from activating his Iron Man suit.

Then you dive to the ground, because Hammer starts blasting away with his rifle.

Tony catches a few bullets in his chest and legs, unable to react to both threats at the same time. He falls onto his back, blood pooling around his body as he gasps for air. You activate Hammer’s suit, which tears out of your backpack, covering your torso and limbs in a thin layer of metal armor.

You climb to your feet, your helmet snapping over your head, and charge towards Tony. But something—or someone—completely blindsides you, sending you skidding in the direction of the carousel.

It looks like a variation of Iron Man, although the suit is smaller and more feminine. The colors are black and red, evoking a pang of familiarity in your chest. You stand again, an eight-inch blade shooting out of your right wrist, and you beckon the Iron Woman (?) to come at you.

She does, but when you swing your blade at her, she blocks it and punches you so hard in the chest you fly back into the carousel and knock a horse completely off its pole. You’re pretty sure you cracked a rib as your breathing sends a stabbing pain up your side. You hang onto a bench to get up, and suddenly the carousel comes to life, lights flashing and music crackling through the speakers.

You’re transported back to the day you were last here with Natasha, when you asked her to be your girlfriend.

Both of your horses are out of sync. When she goes up, you go down, and neither of you can stop laughing. You’re pretty sure you’re the oldest adults on the carousel without kids, but you don’t care.

The way her hair effortlessly blows in the wind and the way her eyes crinkle when she laughs lights up your heart, and you still can’t believe she chose you over everyone else in the world. You’ve never been so in love with another human being before, and you don’t think there will ever be another like her.

When the rides end, you take her hand and lead her to an empty patch of grass in the shade of a tree.

“Natasha, will you go out with me?” you ask, your voice trembling. She nods and brushes her fingers over your cheek. “I promise to keep you safe and love you every day for the rest of my life—”

“Calm down, it’s not a marriage proposal.” Natasha laughs as you sweep her off her feet. “Not yet, anyway.”

“Just preparing.” You kiss her and feel her smile against your lips. You’ve never been happier.

You’re so stuck in your head you don’t even notice the Iron Woman coming after you until she punches you in the face. You stagger back, stunned, as she punches you several more times. The face of your helmet snaps off and you feel your nose bleeding. You slash out with your blade wildly, forcing the Iron Woman to back off.

“Y/N,” the Iron Woman says, and you don’t even care how she knows your name, “You need to stop.”

“Get out of my way.” When you leap towards her, she lifts her foot and kicks you in the chest. You somersault backwards, head over heels, as she retreats. The rotating platform of the carousel does nothing to help your balance and the lights and noise distract your focus. You crouch behind a stationary horse, searching for her amongst the painted animals.

You break the blade off your wrist, poised to throw like a javelin. When the Iron Woman pops out from behind a black horse, you bring your arm back to throw the blade, but she fires from her gun before you can. The bullet bounces off a pole and buries itself in your left cheek.

The pain is like a branding iron as you scream and fall to your knees, the blade slipping out of your fingers. Blood pours out of your mouth, the taste of metal coating your tongue as you gingerly reach in to swipe the burning chunk of lead over your teeth. You finally spit the bullet out, but the pain persists.

The Iron Woman holsters her gun and approaches you, thinking you’re too distracted to notice. But you do, another blade flicking out of your left wrist and you ram it into her thigh as hard as you can. The blade crunches through the plates of her armor, but she elicits no reaction to being stabbed.

“Y/N,” the Iron Woman repeats.

“Just die already!” you scream, withdrawing the blade and trying to stab her again.

The Iron Woman’s helmet slides back and you freeze when you see her face.

It’s Natasha.

Immediately, your anger melts into confusion and happiness.

“H-How…How is this possible?” you stammer, more blood spilling from your lips. “T-They…They told me you died.”

“No.” Natasha shakes her head, kneeling to your level. “But you never came back for me.”

“Because I hurt you—” Hammer had said she was dead, and that Tony—no—you—had killed her.

“I forgive you, Y/N. For all of it.”

“I don’t deserve your forgiveness.” You stumble back, tears and blood mixing on your face.

“Please come back to me, Y/N,” Natasha begs, as your head spins from the turn of events. “I still love you.”

Suddenly, it’s like all of Hammer’s training reverses. Tony was never the one responsible for harming Natasha—you were. And now Tony’s bleeding to death, which was again, your fault. You won’t let this rest on your conscience. You’ve done enough damage and now it’s time to redeem yourself, as little as you can.

“This is all Justin Hammer’s doing,” you say, letting Natasha pull you to your feet. “He’s had me kidnapped for the past six months. He thought I would be able to help him kill Tony, but he’s not going to be successful anymore. Because you weren’t part of the plan.”

Natasha smiles and you feel your heart melt. Whether or not she’ll take you back, you owe this to her.

“He’s about a mile out, west from here. He has no guards—arrogant bastard—it’s just him and his rifle. You go get him and I’ll get Tony,” you say. Natasha nods and flies off. For a moment, you’re filled with jealousy over her suit. How come Tony never made you one?

You make your way off the carousel and find Tony still on the ground. You check his pulse. It’s weak, but there.

“Tony, I’m so sorry,” you say, as a spray of bullet rips through the ground. You grab his arms and pull him to take cover under a bench.

“Y/N?” he mumbles.

“Yeah. I’m sorry. This is all my fault.”

“No…” Tony says, grabbing your hand. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I was a complete asshole to you that day—”

“No, I’m the one who tried to shoot you, for God’s sake—” You rip his shirt into ribbons to wad up against the wounds in his chest and legs. “You’re gonna be okay,” you promise. “It’s Justin Hammer who’s behind all of this.”

“I recognized his work from your suit,” Tony gasps. “It looks like shit.”

“You can tell him that yourself.” You find yourself smiling despite the circumstances. “He wanted my help to end his ultimate rival. He manipulated me into thinking that Natasha was dead and that you were the reason for it—” You pause. “Thank you for taking care of her.”

“It was the least I could do for you.”

“I know she probably won’t want me anyway after all this, but it was good to see her again.”

“She only wants you. It was always you or no one.”

You throw yourself onto Tony when the bullets start again and you feel them bounce off your back and legs. Fortunately, when Hammer made your suit bulletproof, he probably didn’t think it would have to bulletproof against his bullets.

Suddenly, the gunshots stop and the silence is deafening.

When you finally look up, you see Natasha flying over, holding Hammer by the collar.

You don’t even mind when your face splits into a painful smile. “That’s my girl.”

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Two weeks after Hammer is arrested, Natasha convinces you to come by the Avengers Tower. It’s a strange feeling as you walk in for the first time in over six months. When you left, you’d never thought you’d be back, but here you are. Your only belongings are a single duffel bag with some clothes stuffed inside.

You ride the elevator up to the Avengers’ quarters. You’re a little more wary of the SHIELD agents that pass you, wondering if anyone will double-cross you again, but you remain courteous. You punch in your code to see if it still works and it does, the doors opening.

“Look who’s finally come home.” Tony’s there to greet you and he hugs you tightly.

“How are you feeling?” you ask, still guilty you almost got him killed.

“Good, no thanks to you.”

“Sorry again.”

He waves you off.

“Where’s—” you start, but then you see her. She comes around the corner in a wheelchair. Your heart drops to your feet.

“Things have been a little different since you left,” she says. So that’s why she had no reaction when you had stabbed her at the carousel. She has no feeling left in her legs after your bullet pierced her spine.

“Natasha, I’m…I didn’t know. Shit, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be here.” You turn around, but she rolls into your legs and grabs your hand.

“Please stay,” she says. “Like I told you before, I’m not mad.”

“But you have every right to be.”

“Can we talk?”

You nod numbly and let her lead you back to where your shared bedroom with her was. Nothing inside has changed. In fact, your clothes are still hanging in the closet like you’d never left. You sit on your side of the bed.

“What do you want me to say, Y/N?” Natasha asks.

You shrug. “Call me an asshole for what I did. Tell me you’d never want me back.”

“Okay. You’re an asshole for shooting me and leaving me,” Natasha says without hesitation, and you flinch. But somehow, you find solace in hearing her say the words you’ve played over and over in your head for months. “And yeah, after the whole thing happened, I didn’t think I could ever take you back. But I couldn’t stop thinking about you and told myself if I ever saw you again, I wanted you to know that I forgive you.”

“But I don’t know if I could forgive myself,” you whisper.

“Well, I forgive you, and I think if I can do that, you can, too.” It hurts her to see how much you’ve changed in the past six months. Your face and body are thin from malnourishment and Hammer’s torture. Your eyes are dull and permanently swollen from basically crying every day for six months. Some of your fingers are crooked from not healing correctly and you have scars running up your arms.

She reaches out and touches the puckered mark on your cheek from the bullet. “Besides, we’re kind of even now.”

“Hardly.” You chuckle.

“We can start slow,” Natasha says, putting her hands on your shoulders. “Because I’m not sure what still works down there, anyway.”

You smile, and her heart warms at the sight.

“Can I lie with you?” she asks and you nod, scooping her up and carrying her to the bed. You put her down gently and lie next to her. She pulls you close until your foreheads touch and you close your eyes as you breathe in her familiar scent. “Why did you pick the carousel as the meeting place?” she asks.

“I…I don’t know,” you mumble. “For some weird reason, I thought I’d see you again, at least in my memory. But then I did in real life, too.”

“I’m so glad you came back,” Natasha hums, brushing her lips against yours.

“I’m so glad I did, too.”

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AN: The end! :) Fun facts:

-Part 1 was inspired by the scene in X-Men: First Class where Magneto accidentally deflects a bullet into Charles’s spine (which resulted in Charles’s paralysis). -Part 2’s Iron Black Widow suit was inspired by a concept art photo I saw that was cut from Avengers: Endgame. Here’s the link to that post. -Part 3’s carousel scene was inspired by the season 1 finale of Netflix’s Punisher.

Join my taglist for future stories here! Thanks for reading, and until next time...

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff #black widow #natasha romanoff fanfic #black widow x reader #black widow fanfiction #marvel imagine

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blushing-starker · 4 years ago

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Anon asked for alpha Peter and omega Tony for a baby announcement. Thank you to the wonderful @vaguekiwi for motivating me and sharing her thoughts on the story. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did, anon.

"Tony, Tony? Are you up? It's 7:30am already, you have a meeting with Miss Potts in forty minutes. Tony?"

Soft hands curl into already silver hair, scratching at the strands in an attempt to wake him up gently. Butterfly kisses on a cold nape, a ridiculously hot nose nuzzling everywhere. Peter knows scenting the billionaire is basically the only way one can ensure a calm morning.

Not today. And not for the next few months either.

He loves his husband, appreciates the nearly romantic demeanor, he does. But "unless you have a cup of coffee for me, there is no way in hell i am gonna leave this bed. your child has kept me up with nausea the entire night. I wanna hurl my guts out more than that time Rhodes found Dad's liquor cabinet. please, tell me you have coffee."

"..." Tony is severely displeased by the fact he can read Peter like a book even with half his mind shut off because fine, he's right and dammit all.

"I want that weird drink you make. The one with milk, cinnamon and chunks of brownie. And French toast with waffles. No jam, not too much butter, as much sugar as possible. Now, go before I scream at you for having the only dick that could get a hormone fucked forty something omega pregnant. "

The kid scrambles from bed, practically face plants with all the covers tangling long legs and yup, this is the person that the universe designated as his soulmate. Because Tony Stark can never have a partner with a reasonable, normal amount of enthusiasm, stamina and a sense of balance.

That sounds like he's ungrateful, he's not. But it turns out being three months pregnant gives him plenty of perspective to peer at life in a whole new way that does not include caffeine, alcohol or sex.

Would he kill and die for this amazing human being that makes Tony's heart race no matter the day, that inspires him to be a better version of himself? Yes, no questions asked. No hesitation and no regret.

Would he clobber Peter for doing the impossible and technically causing Tony incredible discomfort on a daily basis thanks to what his doctors can only assume is a superhuman baby he already loves and adores more than life itself? Also yes.

Things aren't mutually exclusive in this household.

Pep, bless her, has yet to find out about their future mini Parker so there's been no respite on the whole 'running a multi billion dollar industry ' thing. And yeah, while it's not exactly easy, he can focus on other things and not fall into a panicky state of mind — because him? A father? Of a super baby? Tony Stark, infamous playboy with a hedonistic streak, a dad?

Just thinking along those lines makes shame and self doubt slither over a metallic plate. Working, dealing with innovative scientists, crafting the new world of tomorrow, guaranteeing the safety of their planet, shapeshifting into a role model, a mentor (for the interns and school kids he visits, not Peter, of course, thank God they left that dynamic ages ago), loyal friend, reluctant errand boy (fuck the assholes in charge of the Accords), great husband, good man, it all distracts a fearful child from thinking, what if I turn into Howard?

"I couldn't find brownies, so cookies it is! Aunt May had a few boxes sent in when I told her work was keeping you on your feet all the time. Said it'd be a good idea to snack along the day in case you—" Peter freezes, tenses with a not-so-narrow back held ramrod straight. Oh, his husband brought him breakfast in bed.

How could he ever think to clobber such a nice, wonderful—

"Your scent is odd."

"Yeah, well fuck you too then."

Five seconds of silence.

"I'm bringing you one cup of coffee and the hormone pills."

" Yup, that's a great idea. "

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Tony’s mumbo jumbo with self loathing is firmly put on the back burner after inhaling a delicious breakfast and chugging that one glorious cup of coffee. Until they go to the bathroom and he sees himself in the mirror.

"We gotta tell them."

"You said you wanted to wait a while before saying anything."

Peter strips, ducks into the warm shower, lets out a pleased little sigh and Tony wants to rip his fingernails off. Is it bad, having sex while pregnant? No! The doctors, every single one of them, said it's a perfectly normal thing to do. It'd be bad if they didn't have sex because Tony, thanks to his crazy hormone production, needs the extra attention for his body to understand this is a happy process that shouldn't include sad pheromones or stressed out moments. Will Peter put him out of his misery and allow a quickie in the mornings? No.

"Take more than five minutes in that shower and I'm joining you."

Listen, he grew up in the 80's and 90's, Tony wasn't immune to peer pressure. Did he cave and eventually do so many squat competitions with Rhodey his butt turned into a duck's butt? There's no evidence, he's made sure, but yes. And Starks have always turned out to be beautiful, doesn't matter your gender or age. Finding a companion for the night has never been a problem for anyone in his family tree.

That, and his work as Iron Man has kept him — well, not ripped like Cap, certainly not as lean and (God help him) athletic as Peter, but fit. Sturdy. Firm. Solid. (Peter once muttered the words 'daddy-like' in regards to his body and he nearly choked on water.)

The passage of time has made him a bit slower, dusted once black hair with, as his husband says, stardust and the corners of his eyes now show how much time Tony spends laughing or frowning. All in all, he looks fucking spectacular for his age and experience as a villain-punching-bag. Thing is, he has a belly. A bump. A curve where it was once, well. Less curvy. Is it a problem for Peter? Nope, as acknowledged every time his alpha tackles him if he so much as looks oddly in the mirror. Is it a problem for him? He'll get back to you on that.

The point is, there's a belly when just a few months ago there wasn't such a pronounced belly. It's great, of course. Proof their child is growing steadily and Tony's body is adjusting to it accordingly. A small part of him, the omega part he actually lets live, is fascinated and proud. He's doing that, Tony's the one growing a human being, creating life out of nothing in his own body. That child, although not the only physical embodiment of their relationship, is a result of his love for Peter. Of how much his husband loves him. They love each other so much they're gonna start another family together. That chokes him up a bit, reminds him how grateful he is for Peter and for the other Avengers. If they hadn't been so accepting of his status, would he have ever considered going through with this?

Anyway, he's not gonna start sobbing this early in the morning when there's no alcohol involved. It's fantastic seeing his child develop, good, warm and fuzzy feelings, yada yada yada, it's also not very easy to hide. And Tony...Tony wanted to hide it from his family because.

Because Peter hasn't been the only partner in all his life that has wondered about a future with a white picket fence. Because when he was Peter's age, in his goddamn prime, a doctor, ten doctors, all the doctors told him the same thing, smashed his dream into a million pieces. Tony was nearly infertile. There was a one in a million chances of him getting pregnant. If he did, they couldn't be sure his body would be able to maintain two hearts. And then the cave happened.

So yeah. It happened to his cousins, his aunt, a few uncles, his grandmother. Tony would do a baby announcement, but only the second that baby was outside of him and safely in his arms. Now there are still several months left and nothing certain. But time is a bitch and beginning to show the world, maybe those extra pounds aren't from eating the Parker's amazing breakfasts.

"Tony, you know I don't wanna risk-" Losing control of my strength. They've been together long enough that Tony can see quite clearly between the lines.

"Hurting us, yeah, I know, I understand. I'm getting too wide, we're gonna have to tell them or Natasha will take one look at me and whoops, impromptu announcement from someone else. It's a miracle she was out on those missions when we found out." Thank God for renegade troops.

He's still looking at himself in the mirror when Peter comes out, barely dries up and slides behind him. His husband is slightly taller now, can easily hook a curved jaw on Tony's shoulder to peer at the image they make. Contrasts, he supposes, have always enthralled Tony. The study of light and shadow. Variations of the same basic components. Where his body is aging, showing signs of wear and tear, Peter's is evolving into something beautiful, majestic. Silver hair, chestnut brown. Scarred canvas, silky smooth and sunkissed skin. Soft, fragile curves, chiseled lines that deserve to be revered more than Michelangelo’s David. But their eyes, their eyes are equally tired.

“We can tell them if you want, have dinner together and just, just say it. Like that -”

“No. It's our kid, we're not gonna act like it's ripping off a band aid. This is special, unique. Dinner is good. Fantastic, actually. Wait for dessert, and announce it. “ Peter comes ever closer, wraps arms that could carry the world around him and how did he get so lucky?

They've lied to each other in the past. Mostly in the beginning, when they were too worried about hurting their new relationship to show their desires and wants. Tony didn't explain the Training Wheels Protocol. Peter tried to fight high level crime on his own. Things got hard to understand, like being in the right place at the wrong time. Puzzle pieces that didn't quite fit together, an extra inch of space prohibiting them from seeing all the possibilities that the truth could bring. They were walking the same path, just in parallel lines that never crossed.

But then he'd been rejected, thrown away and able to realize how fucking stupid it was to let Peter go when being near the kid, it felt like finally breathing after residing in the deep end of a pool for a thousand years. So Tony ran after him one day, crashed into his AP English class, half assed an excuse for the baffled teacher, yanked Peter out of the room and proceeded to have the best make out session of his life with his back against the kid's locker. And now they don't lie, ever.

Which is why it's so hard to accept Peter's, “You're beautiful, Tony. The handsomest man I've ever seen in my life. I loved you before, I love you now, I'll love you forever, Anthony Stark. You carrying our kid doesn't change that, how could it, Tony? It's going to be ok. The three of us will be ok and I won't stop thanking whoever decided I'd get to marry my wet dream.”

Scorching kisses trace his pulse point slowly, sharp nails start dragging against a too thin shirt, but it's the fact that Peter hasn't looked away from him, is confidently holding his gaze through the glass, that makes Tony shudder and stop breathing.

The bathroom is flooded with pheromones, cinnamon and honey assaulting an unprepared billionaire, and he'll die if they stay like this, can't function properly, brain switching gears, trying valiantly to remember baseball stats, past wounds, May's cooking because Peter's gonna wreck his sanity if those hands keep winding down, if those lips don't stop unraveling him like a Christmas present.

“If I'd known you'd get this handsy and romantic, I would have complained about how I look earlier." It's a gasp, half murmur, half plea as Peter grins at him shamelessly. “I know it's rude and wrong and sexist, but I like comforting my omega, acting like a stereotypical alpha. Makes me feel like I'm doing my job of making you happy. “

He quirks an eyebrow, is glad Peter can be comfortable enough to take the reins every once in a while. “You're telling me that assuring me I'm still drop dead gorgeous, “ his husband snorts, nips at Tony's shoulder for that quip, “ makes you horny because you feel like an alpha comforting, and I quote, ‘your omega’? “

Peter reverts back to the shy teenager who could barely ask a girl out to the homecoming dance, ducks his head into Tony’s neck with a blush quickly spreading over damp skin. “Well, I've got news for you, sweetheart. Your wet dream also thoroughly enjoys it so you better break tradition and have sex with me to remind me I'm the hottest man you've ever seen. "

He's actually serious about this, his self esteem hasn't exactly been, you know, the best and Tony's mood always improves significantly after playing around in bed with Peter. Besides, it's a sign of trust. Peter won't hurt him or their child, will be able to hold back his strength. He always does.

Listen, it's not exactly moral, but he has more than enough problems to go ahead and analyze his attraction and dependency on Peter while pregnant.

“So, I can distract you from your bad thoughts by acting sort of possessive and taking you to bed? " Oh, he adores when his husband is afraid of showing a new side of himself and asks for permission ever so sweetly.

“Babe, if you don't, I'll kick you out of the apartment. Give me possessive Peter Parker any day you want, like I'm gonna complain about a gorgeous, brilliant twenty something year old all over me. Now what's it gonna be, alpha dear, bathroom or bedroom? I wouldn't mind the tile but, oh God, I forgot you could pick me up." Tony clings to broad shoulders, can't help but laugh because aren't they a pair?

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

After having what he's sure was the best sex of his life, Tony stumbles out of the bedroom with torn clothes, a dazed look in his eyes and several bruises blossoming around his neck. Peter's halfway out the doorway when Tony whistles, makes sure all their family is paying attention, blurts out, “Peter and I are having a kid. I'm pregnant, woohoo, it's great, it's amazing, save your congratulations for later. We'll do a proper thing soon, if anyone interrupts and they're not dying, I'll kill you myself. See you in a few hours, " and yanks him back in while Friday activates Sock on the Doorknob Protocol.

Rhodey and Nat clink glasses while waiting on the others to pay up on their bets regarding Tony and Peter's odd behavior.

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

Later, much later, like, two days later, they have a proper dinner with their family in the tower. There are balloons and streamers, cake and ice cream, warm hugs and gentle cheek kisses, subtle tears and full on weeping (Happy had to borrow a box of Kleenex), pictures and videos and a pile of gifts taller than Tony.

The most important thing, though, is that the A.I recorded the reaction after Clint asked about baby names. He's grateful they went to the doctor before tonight. The visit revealed a treasure Tony thought he'd never have. Now it's time to reveal it to their pack.

His husband snuggles up to him, is so ecstatic the whole dining room smells like cinnamon and honey, like joyous love he'll never get enough of. Tony grins at him, curls their hands together and repeats the same thing over and over again in his head.

It'll be ok. They'll be ok. If the universe keeps giving Tony the greatest gifts he could ever want, maybe it's time he stopped looking at the horse's mouth. That's how it goes, right? Right.

He turns to look at Peter, loves him so much it aches, feels tiny feet pressing against his stomach. Guesses he's not the only one smitten with this incredible human being.

“We were thinking Marie,” Peter smiles at him, eyes lit up and lovely.

Tony is never going to forget this moment, this warmth in his chest.

“And Benjamin Parker-Stark.”

Their family loses their shit and both Friday and Karen have ample proof.

(@puppypeter look, omega tones! @tonystarkisaslut thank you so much for allowing me to use the prompt board! I am still accepting prompts! Although I can't guarantee getting them ready within a few days, I'll try to finish them on the one week mark depending on how long the fic is!)

#tony stark #peter parker #starker #peter parker x tony stark #ironspider #peter x tony #soft!starker #lovely anon #prompt fill #my writing #baby announcement #alpha!peter #omega!tony #omegaverse starker #did i love writing this?#yes i did #mpreg #a/b/o

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babybluebex · 4 years ago

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english love affair [tom holland x reader]

➽ pairing: tom holland x fem!reader ➽ word count: 2.1k ➽ summary: you attend the bronx school of science, and you’re immediately taken by the new student: ben perkins. ➽ warnings: deception ig? ➽ a/n: PART 1! no idea how many parts this is gonna be, but stick around! (taglist link is in bio)

As soon as you stepped off the bus, you heard the chattering that only came from one occurrence. A new kid. That confused you, though. It certainly wasn’t unheard of for kids to drop in halfway through the semester, but, at your school, it was rare. The Bronx School of Science was an elite high school and it took amazing test scores and the grace of God to get in, so a new kid in the middle of the year was a rarity.

You saw him the moment you walked into your first period chemistry class. After all, he was the only face you didn’t recognize. Dark, curly hair that was just a bit long, with rosy cheeks and wide brown eyes. He seemed nervous; as new kids usually were. He wore a red hoodie, his hands shoved deep into the front pocket, and he was looking all around the room. The seat next to him was empty and, while it wasn’t your usual place, there was no formal seating chart. “You new?” you asked, swinging your backpack to the floor.

The boy looked at you with a keen alertness in his dark eyes, and he swallowed thickly. “Yeah,” he laughed softly. He sounded a little Queens, maybe; perhaps even Brooklyn. “Just, uh… Just moved here.”

“Nice,” you said. “From where?”

The boy clenched his jaw. “Queens,” he said, and you nodded.

“Well, welcome to the Bronx,” you laughed. “I’m Y/N.”

“Ben,” he said quickly. “Ah, Ben Perkins.”

“Ben Perkins from Queens,” you repeated. “What brings you here?”

Ben shrugged. “Parents,” he mumbled simply. Ben seemed like a guy of few words, but you didn’t mind too much. It was a welcome change from the other guys at your school who wouldn’t shut up.

You decided to not really say much to Ben. If he didn’t feel like talking, you didn’t want to push him and make him uncomfortable. The first day at a new school was stressful. “If you need help with any classes or anything, just let me know. Getting into the routine here is hard as shit.”

“Thanks,” Ben told you with a nod. “That’s quite nice.”

You couldn’t place why the usage of the word “quite” tickled the back of your brain. Maybe because you had never heard anyone use it like that. “You’re quite welcome,” you replied, biting the tip of your tongue. Ben looked at you and the rosiness in his cheeks grew deeper as he smiled.

The class started normally, until your teacher got to the Ps on the roll sheet. “Oh!” she cried. “We have a new student! Benjamin Perkins!”

Ben’s face grew red, this time not from laughter. He gave a quick two-finger to the class, and he mumbled, “Just Ben is fine, actually.”

“Welcome to the Bronx School, Ben,” your teacher said. “I’m sure you’ll do great here.”

About halfway through the lesson, you looked at the boy sitting beside you. He wore jeans and scuffed sneakers with the red hoodie, a dark curl bouncing along his forehead as he looked at the board and diligently copied notes. He was cute, a lot cuter than any boys you knew, and you wondered what he was like when he was in his element. His hands were big, veins popping as he gripped his pencil tightly. You took a second look at the mechanical pencil, and your heart soared. Quickly, you ripped a page out of your notebook and scribbled a quick “i like your pencil :)”, and you passed it over to Ben.

He tore his attention away from the lecture for long enough to look at your note, then at the pencil. It was red and blue with various white spiderwebs all around it. You liked the Spiderman pencil; your dad had practically raised you on the Toby Maguire Spiderman movies, so you liked anything Spiderman. In fact, you had been Spiderman for Halloween three years in a row when you were little. Not Spiderwoman, you said, Spiderman. Ben wrote something down and gave you the paper back, and you bit your lip as you read his message.

“spiderman’s pretty cool i guess. you like the movies?”

“yeah!! toby maguire’s awesome”

“cool. i like them too :)”

You invited Ben to sit with you at lunch, and he did. You usually sat alone, and you secretly liked having Ben there with you. You two talked about Spiderman, mostly: how Toby was a better Peter Parker but Andrew Garfield was the better Spiderman. “You know,” you started. “In the comics, Peter Parker becomes, like, an intern for Tony Stark. Tony makes him this suit and he becomes the Iron Spider.”

“Really?” Ben said. His eyebrows went up, and he scratched at a few upturned hairs. “That sounds cool.”

“I wish they’d add Spiderman to the MCU,” you added. “I think he’d fit really well with everyone, ya know? I mean, I guess they’d have to cast the right guy, but…” You shrugged. “A girl can dream, right?”

“Sure thing,” Ben said. “I like Robert Downey Jr. a lot, he seems really fun.”

“Oh, definitely!” you agreed. “And Chris Evans! Man, I’d love to meet them, I would just die right there.”

Ben smiled and nodded along with you, and he slotted his chin into his palm as he listened to you chatter about Avengers: Age of Ultron and Ant-Man. There was a hint of a smile on his lips, and you stopped mid sentence when you noticed it. “I just think Elizabeth Olsen is so underrated, and-- Ben. You alright?”

Ben blinked a few times. “Yeah,” he said. “M’all good. Just listening to you.”

You flushed. “I’m not talking too much?” you asked, feeling the urge to sink into yourself. “I’ve been told I do that.”

“No, not at all,” Ben said quickly. “I like it. I like how people get when they get excited about something, you know? It’s cute.”

“Cute,” you repeated, rolling the word around your mouth. Did Ben just call you cute? Or did he call the whole concept of your dumb blathering about some movies cute? Did that still qualify as calling you cute? You raised your eyes to his and, nervously picking at a loose thread on your sweater, hazarded, “You think I’m cute?”

Ben shrugged. “I mean, yeah,” he said, as if it was obvious. “You just seem so passionate about those movies. I would listen to you talk about them for a long time.”

“You wouldn’t want to.”

“I do,” Ben said quickly. “I promise you, I don’t mind one bit. I’d tell you if I did.”

You nodded again, and you scooted just a bit closer to Ben. “For the record,” you started. “I think you’re cute too.”

Ben smiled, little dimples appearing in his cheeks. “Cool.”

Before the day ended, Ben had given you his phone number. “I don’t have Snapchat or anything,” he said. “Strict parents, ya know? But I’d love to talk to you.”

You liked the way that Ben texted. He used a lot of emojis and even a few goofy emoticon faces, a la 2012, and he signed every text off with xx. With texting, you felt like Ben was a little more open than at school, probably because it was just the two of you, completely private. And, man, did the boy talk. He sent two, three, four messages in a row, just spewing thoughts the second he thought them. You didn’t mind one single bit, though; but your parents did.

Even though the sound was off and your phone was in your pocket, the entire dinner table could hear your phone buzzing. “Is someone calling you?” your dad asked. “Your phone just keeps going off.”

“Oh, no,” you said, your face going warm. Quickly, you pulled out your phone and set it completely silent, and the buzzing ceased. “Sorry. Just texts.”

“From who?” you mom asked.

“A boy from school,” you began, fully intent on explaining the situation, but your little brother was quicker to the uptake than you.

“Ooh, Y/N has a boyfriend!” he squealed.

“Shut up, you little fungus!” you hissed. Brothers of any age were unbearable, but 13 was an especially difficult age, you had come to find.

“Don’t call your brother a fungus,” you mom sighed. “That boy’s texting you an awful lot, though, Y/N.”

You shrugged. “He’s new,” you said. “Just asking questions about school and stuff.”

“And his name?” your dad asked.

“Ben Perkins,” you said. “He just moved from Queens.”

“He’s a senior?” your mom asked and, when you nodded, her eyebrows creased. “That poor boy, moving schools in the middle of his senior year. Well, good for you, making new friends. I bet he really appreciates you.”

Tom slumped himself down on the couch. You weren’t answering his texts and, while he knew that you probably had homework or were eating dinner or any number of other things, he couldn’t help the anxiety that filled him at the thought that maybe he had scared you off.

Tom hadn’t had a normal high school experience by any means. Sure, secondary school was a thing that was semi-normal, but normal in the sense that everyone around him was in the same boat. And he was certain that British secondary school was a hell of a lot different than American high school. Hence, the joke that had landed him here.

“It would be funny if I went to an American high school for a few days. Just to see what it’s like, ya know?”

Apparently, Anthony and Joe Russo didn’t seem to understand his British sense of humor, because he was on a flight to New York within the week. The Russos had helped him come up with the bare bones of a backstory: Ben Perkins, originally from Queens. American. 17. Quiet. It was a far cry from Tom Holland, originally from London, British, 19, and loud. But the Russos, in their infinite wisdom, had seen through Tom’s joke and understood something that was integral to the character that had taken Tom a few days to really see.

Peter B. Parker was a high schooler. A smart one, an unusual one, but he was still 15 and trying to understand himself and the world. Tom didn’t have that knowledge; at least, not in the way that Peter Parker would have had it. He needed to see the inside of an American high school to get to the core of his character, and even Tom understood that. The filming for Captain America: Civil War hadn’t started and the news of Spidey’s introduction into the Marvel Cinematic Universe hadn’t hit the airwaves yet, but Tom knew that, if his contract was to be upheld in the way that Sony and Marvel had promised, he would have plenty of time to use this high school experience to better the character.

Tom really and truly did not intend to develop a crush on a girl. Yes, a beautiful, smart, and funny girl that shared a love for the same things he did, but he was sure that the Russos would disapprove of it. After all, he was only slated to go to the Bronx School of Science for three days. There wasn’t nearly enough time to have anything more than a crush. But you. There was something about you, something intangible. He had felt a pull in his stomach when you first walked into the room and, when he had texted Harry about it, his brother had only laughed at him and made a joke about wanting to get his dick wet. And, yes, while that thought was in Tom’s mind, you were already so much more to him than that.

As much as Ben Perkins was a character, Tom felt like he could be himself around you. He had shared stories from growing up, mostly about his brothers pulling shenanigans, and had shown you pictures of him and Tessa when he had first gotten her. The little squeal and sigh that had left you when you saw the puppy made his heart swell. Then, he had said something that still made his stomach turn: “Maybe you can meet her soon.”

What a great fucking thing to say to someone that he would have to abandon in three days. Sure, he could keep texting you after he left, but he would have to explain everything to you. He knew what your reaction would be, too; somewhere along the lines of laughing at him and going, “Dude, you’re fuckin’ nuts, bro.” Or, on the other end of the spectrum, getting mad at him for lying to you. He was sure that you would be more mad than amused. And, after the conversation that you two had shared about your requited love for Spiderman, he knew that trying to tell you wouldn’t land him anywhere except alone again.

And, God. Tom was tired of being alone.

#tom holland #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #tom holland fluff #tom holland x reader fluff #tom holland angst #tom holland x reader angst #tom holland x y/n angst #angst fanfiction #fluff fanfiction #tom holland fic #high school au #sorta??

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dykeninthdoctor · 4 years ago

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“people not realizing that tony and rhodey are together” but also basically a rewrite of a1 for @lovelyirony and @official-impravidus

Tony knows the minute he meets Rhodey that he’ll marry him, or that’s what he’d tell people, if he could tell people. In reality, he knows two years into their friendship, when Rhodey brings his favorite pasta dish home from his favorite Italian restaurant, when Rhodey shrugs and said, “You said today was a rough day.”

They don’t get together until three years after that, but the switch from platonic to romantic is as easy as falling into each other’s arms; it’s as easy as fitting two matching pieces of a puzzle together; it’s as easy as the love they feel for each other.

They don’t get married until 2004, until Massachusetts signs a law into place. Momma Robbie marries them on the grass outside the building where they met.

“You’re mine,” Tony says, promises, vows, “And I’m yours.”

“You’ll always be mine,” Rhodey says, promises, vows, “And I’ll always be yours.”

They have to hide it, for too many reasons to count.

Don’t Ask Don’t Tell, Stark Industries, the press…

It’s easier to hide it.

That doesn’t mean it’s not hard, but when Rhodey wakes up to his husband in his arms, and when Tony comes home to his husband trying to cook, and when the world falls away when they’re together, it doesn’t feel hard.

And then they lose each other.

Rhodey loses Tony to the desert, to the unknown, and he has to grieve not as a husband, but as a friend.

He doesn’t give up his search, no matter what his C.O. tells him, no matter what Obidiah tells him.

“Jim,” they both say, “He’s gone.”

No, Rhodey’s heart tells him. He’s not.

Tony loses Rhodey to the same men who took him, to monsters, and he can’t grieve at all.

“No survivors,” Yinsen translates one day.

Something breaks inside Tony.

He doesn’t give up his plan, because if there’s even a chance, he has to take it.

There’s a chance, he thinks. There’s a chance.

“Tony!” Rhodey screams, the desert wind ripping his voice away.

Tony stumbles towards him, a bloody mess of torn clothing and bruised skin and broken bones, but oh, so very alive.

They crash into each other like colliding stars.

“Hey,” Tony mumbles.

Rhodey almost collapses with relief, but he’s too busy holding Tony up to fall. “How was the fun-vee?”

Tony laughs, and it’s weak and raw and quiet, but it’s beautiful.

“Yeah, next time you ride with me, okay?”

“Okay, platypus.”

They fight about the suit, because Rhodey can’t lose Tony again and Tony can’t hurt people anymore.

They come to an agreement when Tony builds a second suit.

“But the truth is…I am Iron Man,” Tony says, and changes everything.

Rhodey’s never been prouder of him.

And then it all happens too fast.

Rhodey doesn’t know Tony’s dying until after he’s cured.

“You should’ve told me,” he growls, buried deep inside his husband.

“I didn’t want to say goodbye,” Tony whispers, skin soaked with sweat and face soaked with tears.

Rhodey kisses him like it’s his last night on Earth, because it isn’t anymore.

Tony wants to join the Avengers, the team that Nick Fury’s putting together.

Rhodey doesn’t trust a word they say, not after Rushman says volatile, self-obsessed, doesn’t play well with others, because Tony isn’t any of those things.

But he’s never been able to stop Tony from doing anything.

He can only be there to catch him after it all, inevitably, goes to shit.

And it does go to shit.

Phil Coulson is the one to tell them that Captain America was found, dug out of the Arctic inside the same plane he flew into it with.

Tony doesn’t want to process it. Rhodey makes sure he does.

“It doesn’t seem real–he isn’t real. He’s never been real, Rhodey, he was always–he’s not–“

“He was the thing that kept Howard from loving you,” Rhodey says, because it’s the truth, and Tony needs the truth.

“Yeah. Yeah.”

Rhodey holds him while he cries.

When Norse gods attack, because that’s what their lives are now, Tony goes. Rhodey doesn’t. He regrets it, later.

Fighting next to Captain America is younger Tony’s dream come true.

Now, it feels more like a nightmare.

Tony knows Rhodey doesn’t trust SHIELD.

So, he lets JARVIS take care of it, an easy quip sliding off his tongue and the hacking implant finding its place on the underside of a monitor.

“When did you become an expert in thermonuclear astrophysics?” an agent asks.

“Last night,” Tony says, shrugging.

Captain America’s eyes, Steve’s eyes, slide to him.

Tony likes to play with fire, or that’s what he’ll let them think, as he pushes Bruce over and over again.

What he really knows is what it’s like to have something that steals away his freedom living inside him.

“Hey!” Steve snaps. “Are you nuts?”

Possibly, Tony thinks, but instead of saying it, he keeps pushing Bruce.

“Is everything a joke to you?”

“Funny things are.”

Steve stares at him.

Tony banters with him, because Rhodey isn’t there to stop him.

“Big man in a suit of armor,” Steve spits, eyes blue as glass and twice as sharp. “Take that off, what are you?”

A husband. A mechanic. A man.

“Genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist,” Tony bites back, the words slipping from his tongue far too easy for half of them to be lies.

Steve scoffs. “I know guys with none of that worth ten of you.”

The worst part of it is that it’s true, despite what Rhodey says.

“And I’ve seen the footage. The only thing you really fight for is yourself.”

And doesn’t that just cut, because no, Tony fights for Yinsen, for Rhodey, for the people his weapons killed.

“You’re not the guy to make the sacrifice play, to lay down on the wire and let the other guy crawl over you–“

“I think I would just cut the wire.”

Because it’s easier to find a solution where he doesn’t have to die, where he doesn’t have to leave Rhodey alone.

“Always a way out. You know, you may not be a threat, but you better stop pretending to be a hero.”

“A hero? Like you?” And it’s from years of Howard, years of you’ll never be like him, years of he was my best creation and you’re nothing but a boy, that give him the courage, or the resentment, to speak. “You’re a laboratory experiment, Rogers. Everything special about you came out of a bottle.”

A bottle with a serum that Howard helped stabilize.

Steve doesn’t look away, so Tony doesn’t either, because Rhodey isn’t there to change his gaze.

It hurts, when they lose Coulson, but not as much as it hurts when Fury tries to use it to manipulate them.

Tony leaves before he finishes talking.

Steve finds him.

Tony lets him talk, says what he wants to hear, until Steve asks, “Is this the first time you’ve lost a soldier?”

It hits too close to home, and Tony aches for Rhodey.

Fury’s manipulation works. The Avengers assemble, a colorful team of people more broken than anything else.

Tony talks to Loki; showman to showman.

The entire time, his mind is on Rhodey.

Tony doesn’t know whether to be grateful he isn’t there, or fear that he doesn’t know where he is.

And then it all happens too fast again.

Tony’s flying into the wormhole before he knows it, because what he does know is that Rhodey’s already on his way to New York, knows that the second aliens appeared in the sky, Rhodey was in his suit, and this is the only choice to make. No more cutting the wire.

“Calling Colonel Rhodes,” JARVIS says.

Tony doesn’t take his eyes off the icon of Rhodey’s face as it rings, and rings, and goes silent.

And then everything goes silent.

Rhodey sees Tony falling, sees his husband falling, and then he catches him, like he knew he’d have to.

Tony wakes up with his head in Rhodey’s lap.

“Hey,” he says, trying to keep his voice from breaking.

“You idiot,” Rhodey says, and his voice does break.

“Did we win?”

“You almost died.”

“Yeah, but did we win?”

“I’m gonna kill you so bad, you promised–“

“I love you too, honey bear.”

It doesn’t matter who kisses who first, because they’re kissing, and there are camera shutters going off, and the Avengers are staring, and there are people screaming, and it’ll be all over the news in minutes, but Tony’s alive and in Rhodey’s arms, and that does matter.

#uhhhh so i rewrote all of the first avengers movie but made it iron husbands...this is Fine....this is Good #let's play i spy and point out all of tony's trauma in this #fun fact: tony was gonna be a dad until i scrapped that plot line #anyway i'm thinking of doing a whole drabble solely focused on rhodey's reaction to the palladium poisioning bc that part is my favorite #i'll consider it #tony stark #james rhodey rhodes #iron man #war machine #steve rogers #captain america #rhodeytony #ironhusbands #ironhusbands drabble #tony stark drabble #aven.writing #i still don't know how to tag

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shyinadarkplace · 4 years ago

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Bucky are you still there?

Summary: When their Soul bond is broken, the reader unable to bear the pain tries to end it all. The only question is will Bucky make in time to save her? (Please be kind this is my very first time publishing a work)

Pairing: Bucky x reader. *I do not own Bucky Barnes or Sebastian Stan or any of his works*

Word count: 5k (I am sorry I might have gotten carried away)

Back ground info: This is an AU where there are Soulmates. If the connection between soul mates is somehow broken the mates have usually at max four years before everything gets unbearable. Also Tony is alive.

Prompt: Mountains/Forest and the song “Jealous” by Labyrinth. I also included another song “Dark side of me” by Coheed and Cambria. There is also an original poem by me in there. *I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION TO USE ANY OF MY WORK AS A WHOLE OR IN PART, IN ANYWAY, ON ANY PLATFORM. *

Warnings: Proceed with caution. TRIGGER WARNING: There is mention of blood, extreme depression, suicidal thought and tendencies. That’s all I can think of, but please if you need help with any of the above mentioned things https://suicidepreventionlifeline.org/ 1-800-273-8255. Please please reach out.

Title: Bucky are you still there?

Outside a winter storm raged deep in the Taiga, and while you were warm physically inside you felt just like that storm. You felt like the swirling mass of ice and snow, like the -54° C that currently raged outside your home. The added fire that sat blazing in front of you did little to assuage the pain that wracked through your chest. The ring on your hand glinted in the firelight. A familiar wave of heartbreak began crashing through you, even after all this time. When the much too familiar tears fell, another layer of ice layered around your heart. You stared into the fire and let your mind wander where it would, allowing your grief take its course.

Memory of your first meeting:

There was a pull in deepest part of your being. A tingling in the back of your mind. He was close. You could feel him brush across your consciousness like a gentle rain, and you returned the gesture. The room seemed to full of people why did Stark tower feel so crowded today? All you could do was stand frozen where you were running up a metaphorical flag screaming here I am. Your eyes quested searching desperately for someone doing the same, for the one who turned your spark into a firestorm. Suddenly there he was. Your eyes met and suddenly it was like you were falling, but gently, into warm blue eyes, into dark strands of hair and stubbly jawline. In man and muscle. Falling into him. Your feet were moving before you even realized it. Standing face to face with him, you felt like your heart was going to beat out of your chest “Hello, I’m (y/n). I have been waiting for you.) Your voice barely above a whisper almost afraid that if you spoke to loud it would somehow be just a dream. “Hello doll, my name is James Buchanan Barnes. I am so glad you waited.” Thus began your world wind love affair with the Winter Soldier, Bucky, White Wolf. And it was perfect. You two were perfect for each other been through so many of the same things. It was like you had discovered the theory of everything right then and there.

“6 years ago. Can you believe it Benji. Just six years ago Earth was upside down as a planet, but personally I was in heaven. I had met my soul mate.” The big wolf hound/wolf mix just laid his big black head on your lap, offering the silent comfort he always did. “We were married for three years. It was like magic.” A fresh batch of tears ran down your face. It had been 3 excruciating years. 3 years of feeling utterly alone. You had heard what it was like when someone lost their soulmate, it was like they were a zombie. They lost some of their humanity. It was like when a clinically depressed person masked, they looked and sounded fine for the most part but something was just off. Most of the time when one lost their soul mate they died too, unable to carry on without them or unwilling too. So many times you had been tempted to walk out in weather like this and let the Taiga take you. So many times you sat staring into the flames and thought about ending it all. After all there were thousands of ways to die. It had been 6 years since what the world came to call the Endgame. Since something had snapped inside Bucky during that battle and he had vanished. The end of the third long and bitter year was coming up, a person can only take so much.

Memory: You were probably 100 yards away from him when it happened. You could feel something wrong with Bucky, you had to get to him and help him. You got distracted next thing you knew a long thick metal rod had you staked to the ground. You couldn’t move it was embedded too far in the ground behind you. So you fought on like that, on the ground taking blasters and weapons from anything you fought with as the Super serum running through your veins kept you alive, easing the bleeding. You kept fighting hoping somehow you would be able to get up to get to Bucky. Hot tears streamed down your face and a scream ripped savagely from your throat as suddenly the constant connection that you had with Bucky was gone. It was like it had never existed. All you could feel was an iron wall. Utterly impenetrable. You couldn’t tell if it was just the limit of your consciousness or if it was him somehow cutting you off. Or if the worst had happened. Then the world went black.

When Steve found you, you had passed out from blood loss. You were in a coma for a week due to the severity of the wound but you remembered your dreams and they were sweet.

In your dreams it was just after you and Bucky had gotten married. A week to the day actually. You had curled up beside him and asked you could read him something you wrote. He didn’t need to say anything. All of his attention focused on you. A blush crept up your neck as you read what you had written.

“You always looked like trouble but the very best kind.

Even before I knew what you looked like.

You looked like everything I wanted at 16.18.20.26.

You looked like whiskey and smoke before I even knew the taste.

You looked like a hot rod idling at a stop light.

You looked like my addiction before it developed. Like my favorite kind of pain.

I don’t know how but I always just knew, that your eyes where blue. Blue. Such a cool tone. The kind that reminds you glaciers or ice cubes against passion heated skin. Like Blue flames, that seemed to sear clothes off with a glance, and pool fire in my belly. And when you smiled I really knew you were trouble then. But the best kind. The kind I couldn’t live without. The kind that kept me breathing. When you smiled at me the first time, I was yours.

The first time with you…oh god it was like nothing before. I had spent so many hours over the years before I met you, day dreaming about my fingers in your hair, your hands blazing trails of fire against my skin. Your lips crushed against mine…

By the time you placed your hand against my cheek and started kissing me, it was like you had kissed me a thousand times before. By the time your hands caressed my skin in expectant reverence (a shock to my system) it was as though your hands had always known my skin.

When I touched your skin, I was in awe at the newness of the sensation and yet it was so familiar. As I felt like your hands had always known my skin, I felt I had always known yours.

That first time didn’t feel like the first time. It felt like we had been together since the beginning of time. I didn’t need to question anything, because we knew each other so intimately words were not needed.

No need for words because I knew where to kiss you, as if some instinct worked within me. Knew where to touch. Knew how to kiss you wherever my lips landed. Knew when to bite and when to soothe. I knew it because you had always been mine. I was made for you.

No need for words because you knew, knew when to be gentle, when to be firm, knew everything you needed to get me high. With you it was natural as breathing. You brought me back to life the way a smith does a cold forge. With you it was the first time but it felt as though we had been there a thousand, thousand times before.

When I first saw you it all became real, I had already spent years falling in love with the idea of being with you. In the ease and comfort and debauchery of your presence. Suddenly every dream I had ever had about my soul mate blazed into existence.

You looked like my addiction when it formed, like my favorite kind of pain. You looked like someone I had loved a thousand, thousand times. “

You two had been so tangled up in each other it was hard to tell where he ended and you began, the line between him and you blurred. You were in complete bliss. At least while you were sleeping.

Steve was there when you woke up. As soon as you saw him and not Bucky your heart began to fracture. It looked like he had been crying, like he had not been to slept. Everything inside you went cold. Your mind reached out for Bucky, for the comfort of your soulmate and touched…nothing it was like he was dead. But he couldn’t be right? Even though you felt like you were dead, with the only sign that you were alive being the beeping of the monitors in the room, he couldn’t be, right? But that is what it felt like because there was just…nothing like the connection had never been. You tried again and again to push past whatever was stopping you but it was no use because there was nothing for you to grab on to. “(y/n) you have to stop pushing against that wall. It won’t help.” Steve’s voice broke and he took your hands. “It won’t help, he’s gone and…and we don’t know where he is or if he is gonna come back. So you…you have to stop pushing and focus on you right now.” He wiped the tears from your face and gave his best smile, though it did little to ease the pain “You have to be stronger than ever. I know that I am asking a lot. But you’re his best girl and you gotta be ready to kick his ass when he comes back.” All you could muster was a small twitch at the side of your mouth. “If …I was his best girl…why’d he leave me Stevie?” you whispered so softly he could barely hear but damn if it didn’t break his heart.

Then it was dark again. This time there were no comforting dreams. Steve sat there by your bed and let his chest heave as he cried quitely. He cried for a lot of reasons. After a while he stood up, and left the room for the first time in days. He knew he would have to be there for you if you were gonna make it so it was time to get cleaned up and eat something, maybe try to catch some sleep. There was a long road ahead.

It was a whole day later when you woke up again. Steve was sitting in the window of your hospital room. “Hey Stevie… see anything good out there?” He jumped at the sound of your voice and grinned at you. “Hey there sweetheart, how are you feeling?” he said softly coming to sit next you once again. He took your hand and when he squeezed gently, you squeezed back. You closed your eyes and took a few deep breaths. “Honestly? I feel like my insides have been scrubbed with sandpaper. I feel raw and bloody…I feel the most incredible pain and yet completely numb. But…” You paused trying to steady the sick feeling in your gut. You looked directly in Steve’s soft blue eyes and they offered a little comfort in their familiarity. “But…” you continued “I know I need to get out of this hospital bed. I need to regain my strength and take care of myself, because I know he is out there. I have to find him Stevie. Now I need you to tell me everything.” Steve nodded a slight grin coming to his face “I knew there was a reason you were meant for that punk. I will tell you everything but how about you shower, get changed and we get you some food first huh?” You sighed, it bothered you to put off the inevitable but you knew you probably smelled like a trash truck and you were hungry. So you did what Steve asked and you two had lunch together. For a couple hours you both pretended like all was right in the world.

When Steve finally started talking it sounded more like a debriefing and less like his best friend was missing, honestly though it was almost easier that way. Thinking of it like another mission rather than losing your soulmate. “Well, to be honest I can’t tell you a whole lot. All I know is that Buck and I were maybe 10 feet apart. Everything was fine. Everything was fine until it wasn’t. I can’t say what happened, one second I looked over and he was fine. He was Bucky. The next he was Winter Soldat. Then Tony snapped and the fighting stopped, but I lost sight of him. I guess once there was no enemy he just took off. We do know that he stole a Wakandan air ship, but he must have damaged enough of the important components to make it untraceable. We don’t know where he is. I can guarantee though that he learned from last time, we won’t be able to find him if he doesn’t want to be found.”

You took a deep breath eyes closed. The urge to just give up right then and there was almost overwhelming. You knew there were ways to kill a super soldier. Hell you had come pretty close to it in the past. “Sweetheart, don’t go there. We both know it won’t it won’t work.” Steve’s voice yanked you sharply from the dark thoughts that crept into your mind. You sighed “Yeah, I guess you are right Stevie.” There was nothing either of you could do, except move on. Survive.

After that you and Steve were as close as could be. When you couldn’t sleep you it always seemed like Steve was up to. If you needed comfort he was there. You did everything together. Both of you knew it wasn’t really healthy but at the same time it helped with the healing. You went to therapy and got mental help. You stayed combat ready. You continued blowing minds working with Tony and Shuri on tech. You picked up new hobbies like gardening, and painting and drawing. You did everything you could to keep yourself somewhat distracted from the hollowness that ate at you.

You never cried in front of anyone but Steve, but everyone knew. Even if they couldn’t hear the crying they could hear the music that came from your room. No matter the tune no one knocked when the soft static of your record player was on. You were living in the past, trying to cope the best way you could dancing alone to songs that you and Bucky loved. Listening to your past and his with every pop of the speaker. Sometimes Steve would stand outside your room with his head pressed against the door and just listen. He’d sway along with the music because it brought back memories for him too. Eventually he would feel guilty because he wanted nothing more than to go in and take you in his arms. Kiss you. Comfort you. Part of him believed that Bucky really was gone. Part of him didn’t think he even had a soul mate and he was so fucking lonely. But he never did. If anyone ever noticed, they never said anything.

A year had passed since Bucky left. A year you spent in therapy, spent pretending every god damn day that you didn’t want to just die so the pain would stop, clinging to Steve like a fucking life raft and Steve clung back. You both knew it wasn’t healthy but you needed each other in ways that other people couldn’t understand. Steve was the only other person who really knew Bucky. Who could understand the things that you had went through. Who was just as lonely as you. Steve was your best friend. The day after the one year Painaversary, something incredible happened. Steve finally met his Soulmate. It hit you like a slap in the face from Hulk. You had already lost your Soulmate but now you had to lose your best friend too.

Steve sat on the edge of your bed staring daggers in to the floor. He kept his eyes down when you came out of the bathroom. “Hey there (y/n/n). You wanna tell me why you have what’s the word ‘ghosted’ me for the past week.” His voice was cold and harsh. Not what you expected. Not that you had been expecting Steve to be sitting on your bed when you came out of the shower but the tone he used was the more shocking thing at the moment. “You know why Stevie.” You said moving quietly to get dressed, unable to bring your voice above a whisper. He didn’t look up until he heard a soft sob. You were standing fully clothed in Bucky’s sweats and a worn t-shirt, with your head against Bucky’s dresser. “You know why. Just because Soulmates can’t be unfaithful doesn’t mean this is okay, Stevie.” In his heart he knew you were right but it killed him, gently he picked you up, turned off the lights and tucked you into bed. Then like most every night before he climbed in behind you. His body heat a silent invitation more of a pull like a magnet, one that you couldn’t resist right now. So you snuggled into his arms your back against his chest. As he wrapped his arms around you, he whispered voice rough with emotion, “This doesn’t have to end (y/n/n). “You knew what he was trying to do. “Stevie. It’s okay. We’ve been holding on to each other so tightly because we both were drowning. You can’t make Janey hurt. It’s okay. We will still hang out, but no more late nights like this.” It hurt to say. If it was possible he pulled you closer and held you closer. His heat wrapped you up like another blanket. You sighed. He just nodded and pressed a kiss to the top of your head. He could feel your tears on his arm as he held you. Why did it feel like his heart was getting shredded? For a while there was silence. “Stevie?” “Yeah sweetheart.” “I miss him so much, this hurts so fucking bad. Why did he leave me? I wish I would have just died there. It would better than this.” You curled up in a ball, trying to make yourself as small as possible, hoping somehow it would help. Steve sat up, propped all the pillows behind him, picked you up like you were a child and tucked you safely against his chest. The sobs and half screams that tore from your throat brought tears to his eyes. All he could do was hold you, stroke your hair, kiss the top of your head and whisper “I know sweetheart. I know. I’m here. I got ya. We’ll find him I promise. We will make all of this right. I promise.” Eventually there were no more tears to cry and you relaxed. Your voice was hoarse when you whispered “I was to move to the Taiga.” “Alright sweetheart we will make it happen.”

A month later you had everything you needed to move. Tony had help you engineer a sort of mini arc reactor that supplied your home with 100% clean energy, and all of the wood used to build your house and furniture (which admittedly was a lot) was sustainably farmed, all of the pipes that brought water to the house from the lake had all been lain with minimal disruption to the landscape.

Stevie was the one who came along and helped you actually build the little house. It had two bedrooms, a kitchen and living room. It was a cozy little place, all the modern amenities but an old time feel. Plus you had your 1945 Jeep and a snowmobile. You had everything you needed.

You and Steve held hands as you stood back admiring the house one last time.

“Looks good sweet heart. You sure you are gonna be okay out here?” His voice was light but the concern was evident by the gentle squeeze he gave your hand.

You heaved a deep sigh “Yeah. Yeah. I think I will be fine. I feel better here and now than I have since he left. I promise I will keep in contact. I mean how could I not according to Tony I have my own satellite.” You returned the squeeze of his hand to reassure him. Gently he pulled you into a great bear of a hug. You were pretty sure if you hadn’t been a super soldier he probably would have broken you, you just laughed and hugged him back. “I want you to know I love you (y/n/n) and hell I’m going to miss you. So please be safe and if you need anything call, okay?”

“I love you too Stevie, I will miss you too. I promise I will call okay. Hey you better get going you got places to be.” He held you for a moment longer, kissed the top of your head and said “Yeah you are probably right. But before I do I have one more thing for you.” He goes over to his jeep and pulls out a box with holes in it. As soon as he sets it down you open it, to be greeted by the most adorable ball cute you had ever seen in your life. You picked it up finding that it was a puppy. “Janey picked him out for you. He is probably going to be huge, but she thought he would be perfect to keep you company out here.”

“Tell her I said thank you. I think this is just what I needed.” You said cuddling the sleeping puppy to your chest. Steve nodded and smiled. You watched as he went and started his jeep and drove away. You felt as close to content as you could with your heart in ribbons.

Present

By the time you snapped back to the present the fire was low. Benji was asleep at your feet and the howling outside had stopped. You decided to grab some coffee, bundle up and go outside to watch the night sky. It was breath taking. The Northern Lights danced and swayed shifting colors as they went. The stars shone brilliantly uninhibited by light pollution. You sipped your coffee and mindlessly started to hum as you watched the night.

No one knew you could sing. All evidence destroyed from your operative days, no one knew except Bucky. Your heart swelled and your eyes closed. You lifted your face toward the sky and started to sing and you thought it was fitting when the words only came to you in Russian, while the one person you wanted to hear was god knows where. Still he was the one you sang for…or perhaps you sang for the memory of him.

“Я завидую дождю. (I envy the rain)

Он падает на вашу кожу (It falls on your skin)

Он ближе, чем мои руки.(It’s closer than my hands)

Я завидую дождю.(I envy the rain)

Я завидую ветру (I envy the wind)

Она течет сквозь твою одежду (it flows through your clothes)

Он ближе, чем твоя тень. (it’s closer than your shadow)

О, я завидую ветру(oh I envy the wind)

Я завидую ночам. (I envy the nights)

Которые я не провожу с тобой (which I can’t spend with you)

Интересно, с кем ты лежишь рядом? (I wonder who you lay next to)

О, я завидую ночам. (oh I envy the nights)

Я завидую этой любви (I envy this love)

Любовь, которая была здесь. (this love that was here)

Осталось поделиться с кем - то еще (left to share with someone else)

О, я завидую этой любви (oh I envy this love)

Потому что я пожелал тебе всего самого лучшего. (Because I wished you all the best)

Все, что может дать этот мир.(all this world can give)

и все же ты меня бросил. (still you left me)

но мне нечего прощать.(but there’s nothing to forgive)

Но я всегда думал, что ты вернешься и скажешь мне, что все, что ты нашел, это ...

(but I always thought you would come back and tell me all you found was…)

Горе и страдания(grief and suffering)

Мне трудно сказать, я завидую этому пути.(its hard for me to say, I envy the way)

Ты счастлива без меня (you are happy without me)”

Your voice broke as the last note sounded. Subconsciously you reached for ghost of the connection you shared with Bucky. For a moment you almost thought you felt something brush back. Tears welled up as you fell to your knees in the snow. You couldn’t take it anymore. A scream of pure anguish ripped through your body.

After a moment you collect yourself and took the knife you always carried from its sheath. You stripped off your coat and laid it on the ground. Rolling up your sleeves you smiled softly thinking that maybe once you were gone in a way you would be with Bucky again.

There was no hesitation as you drove the knife blade into the pulse point of your wrist and slashed up, not waiting to repeat the process to the other side. You lay on your back and gaze up at the sky. In the distance you hear a motor. No it couldn’t be. Felt something brush against your mind. You smiled at the thought of your brain trying to make you fight. You knew it was going to take a bit longer to bleed out since it was so cold. You didn’t mind it would be over soon anyway.

You weren’t sure how much time passed, but your eyes started to feel heavy. Black started creeping into the edge of your vision. You let out a sigh finally.

“(Y/N/N)!!!!!!!! NOOOOOO (Y/N/N) PLEEAASSEEE!!!”

You could see a blurry figure coming toward you. You knew that voice. It was like they were moving in slow motion and talking underwater. But that couldn’t be right.

Suddenly you heard that stupid motor again. Then something touched your skin. For a moment you felt fireworks. You opened your eyes. “Fuck (y/n/n) please hold on. I am so sorry doll. I’m so sorry, please don’t go. Please.” Bucky’s voice rang in your ears like a call to prayer. “Baby girl please.” His voice was hoarse and choked up. Barely able to speak through the lump in his throat at the sight of you.

You forced your eyes open and took in the sight of him for what would probably be the last time and whispered “Buck?” Then the world went dark as a scream that was like the torture of a thousand hells ripped and tore through the landscape.

In the aftermath a melody played

"In those discouraging days

I always missed the mark When we were comfort and close I would neglect to keep

Oh, you safe and unexposed A portrait of time repeats This moment now replaced With an empty wish to give I give, I gave

I gave my everything For all the wrong things In this cold reality I made This selfish war machine

Oh, this has become hell How can I share this life With someone else? I promise you There is no weight that can bury us Beneath the ghosts of all my guilt

Here in the dark side of me Here in the dark side of me

Now in your absence I wade Through the coursing, lonely, lost And in this tragic dismay I never could believe what I became

I gave my everything For all the wrong things In this cold reality I made This welcomed war machine

Oh, this has become hell How can I share this life With someone else? I promise you There is no weight that can bury us Beneath the ghosts of all my guilt

Here in the dark side of me Here in the dark side of me Here in the dark side of me Here in the dark side of me

Oh, I couldn't give you What you needed It's all my fault Too coward to believe I lost it all

I gave my everything For all the wrong things In this cold reality I made This selfish war machine

Oh, this has become hell How can I share this life With someone else? I promise you There is no weight that can bury us Beneath the ghosts of all my guilt

Here in the dark side of me Here in the dark side of me"

"Buck are you still there? I don't want to die."

#@imanuglywombat #@littlefreya #first ever posted fanfic #please be kind #would love feedback #bucky barnes x reader

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harderbetterfasterstarker · 4 years ago

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endless

oops my hand slipped and i wrote a very sad drabble that’s just tony missing peter, reflecting on it during the Blip, set pre-as if even now. read it on ao3 here, and if you haven’t, read as if even now (if only to get to their happy ending, i wrote an absurdly fluffy epilogue drabble for them damnit). preemptive tw that this fic reflects on a time where tony was suicidal, and thoughts and attempts are referenced.

The kid had gotten under his skin, into every breath he took, inside his lungs and running through his veins and pumping through his heart, in ways he hadn’t realized until he’d clutched his body as it crumbled to dust. All he’d known was that he’d felt empty in ways he hadn’t since before he’d become Iron Man, back to Earth and spending his days and nights looking for ways to fill the aching chasm that was always threatening to swallow him whole.

Tony has always been, if anything, at least self-aware when it comes to his many and myriad faults. And the truth is that he is a greedy man, never satisfied with what he has, always reaching for the next thing and the next and the next, always wanting what he can’t have, even when (especially when) it’s not good for him. And he knows that this is the truth, even though Pep always just pats him on the shoulder and gives him one of her softer smiles and says that he deserves to be a little greedy, after all he’s done, after all he’s been through. He hasn’t quite figured out how to argue with that one, even though he knows in his gut that he should. At least he hasn’t figured out how to argue without revealing cards he’d rather keep hidden, even from (especially from) Pep.

Because he’d nearly died, had thought he was going to die, and was ready to die. Another of those things he hasn’t quite worked up the courage to tell Pep yet. Her favored narrative, for him and for the press, is that he held on, fought for life, fought to stay with them for her, for Morgan. Morgan—Christ. So how is he supposed to tell Pep that he’d been lying there, fighting for consciousness through the pain clawing its way across his entire right side, and in what he’d been certain were his dying moments he’d looked at the kid, really looked at him, remembered the way his hair had smelled of cheap shampoo and sweat and dirt when he’d hugged him tight, here, real, undeniably alive, and thought, Oh. Oh.

And that had been enough.

Tony scrubbed his hands across his face, harsh and hard, as if he could erase the memory of that moment, before he’d felt whatever oddball magic Strange had begun working. What he needed to erase were the memories of the five years before that—or, hell, maybe back further. As if Tony would ever—could ever—try to excise Peter from his mind. He wasn’t even sure that he could, now. The kid had gotten under his skin, into every breath he took, inside his lungs and running through his veins and pumping through his heart, in ways he hadn’t realized until he’d clutched his body as it crumbled to dust. All he’d known was that he’d felt empty in ways he hadn’t since before he’d become Iron Man, back to Earth and spending his days and nights looking for ways to fill the aching chasm that was always threatening to swallow him whole.

After Pep had gotten pregnant with Morgan, he’d once, in a drunken spat of extreme bitterness, accused her of convincing him to retire and have a kid as a replacement for Peter. She’d been so mad at him for that one that she’d just left the house and called Rhodey, told them to call her when Tony was sober again. He regretted what he said, but he noticed that she didn’t deny it.

At least, in her eyes, he’d stopped trying to kill himself by the time Morgan was born, so she could reasonably assume that maybe her plan had worked. Shamefully, not even the idea of leaving his baby girl alone in the world without a father was enough to keep him away from that particular ledge—in fact, what he hadn’t admitted to Pepper was that it made him want to run away more, because if Peter was superhuman and brilliant and good, the best of them, and Tony hadn’t been able to protect him, what could Tony hope to do for this little girl? No, it was Nat who got the credit for ending his run of attempts. Most of his attempts had been thwarted by past Tony, who had dreamed up what felt like a thousand and one protocols and alerts for just this scenario, but the last one it had been Nat to walk into his workshop at just the right (wrong) moment, in what if it had been anyone other than the Black Widow he’d have called a coincidence.

“You’ve gotta talk to someone, Tony,” she’d said once they were settled on the couch in the corner of the lab he slept on most nights.

“You don’t think I do? I’ve seen every shrink this side of the Mississippi and several on the other, I’ve gone to those stupid fucking support groups, and it’s—none of it works, Nat.” He’d been drunk—he was always at least slightly drunk, then—and it made him more open. “It’s all wrong.”

Whenever his therapists asked him to talk about what happened on Titan, he clammed up, spoke in the vaguest of terms. He told himself he was protecting Peter’s identity (even in apparent death) but he knew that wasn’t right. He’d considered that he was trying to avoid admitting just how culpable he really was, for dragging a teenager into this fight, for dragging the best mind of a new generation, the sweetest boy he’d ever known, brash and a bit impulsive but with a heart of fucking gold, and let him die on a godforsaken desert planet with a bunch of aliens, Strange, and a man who thought Footloose was a great movie—because he’d had plenty of experience avoiding admitting truths to himself, and this wasn’t his first therapy rodeo—but deep down he knew that wasn’t right either.

“Have you gone to the right ones?” Natasha had asked softly, looking at him carefully, and he had the unsettling feeling she, as always, saw more than he wanted her to see.

“I’ve been to the general ones, the ones for everyone who lost people in the Blip, to family loss, to the ones for first responders and others who felt helpless, I’ve even been to the groups for parents who lost kids.”

He had—at Pep’s insistence, he’d gone. And it was—better, than the others. The scope of his grief felt… more accepted, there. Less out of touch with the experiences of others. But it still wasn’t—enough. When they talked about the future they’d been robbed of with their children, it was a future they got to watch, moments in their lives that were gone—graduations, weddings, grandchildren. And Tony felt that, all of it, deeply—that he should’ve been there to see Pete graduate, valedictorian, go to college wherever he wanted (MIT, it would’ve been MIT), invent something that floored Tony with his brilliance—but that wasn’t quite it. More than all of that, he missed the time he should’ve spent with the kid and didn’t, missed the idea of years of weekends in the lab spilling out ahead of them, hearing him laugh and seeing him smile. He wished he’d just hugged the kid that time in the car, instead of making everything some joke.

“He was just… you know what he said to me, when I first met him and asked him why he was doing what he did? A broke fourteen year old kid, suddenly has superpowers and instead of being captain of the football team and stealing enough to set them up for life, he’s chasing down muggers in a onesie? He said, when you can do what I do, and you don’t do anything, and then bad things happen, they happen because of you. I mean, Christ, Nat. He was the best of us and I—I lost him, and I—and it feels like I can’t breathe.” He realized that his hand had gone, unbidden, to the shell of where the arc reactor had been, clutching at it desperately. Ripping his heart out would’ve maybe been less painful. Natasha had given him another penetrating look and then, whip sharp and faster than certainly his inebriated brain could keep up with, she’d grabbed him by the chin and turned him to look her in the eye.

“I actually like you, Tony, which is why I will say this. You loved Peter, you really truly did. And when you love someone, and they die, it fucking hurts and it never goes away. I like Pepper, I do, but the house in the country and hanging up the suit and the baby? Those won’t make it stop hurting. That pain lives inside you now, because so did Peter. So the only question is whether you can choose to live with it. Like I said, I like you, so I hope the answer is yes, and I think that’s the answer the kid would want for you. But if the answer is no, you call me. I’ll make it quick, and painless, and tidy, and Pep and the baby would never ever know what it really was.”

For once in life, he’d been speechless, left to stare at the spot on the couch she’d vacated as he considered her words, considered that Natasha had had a life, in Russia, before the Red Room had stolen it from her. Considered whether he’d want Pep to think he’d just… had a heart attack. Gotten old, put too much stress on himself. Considered the kid, wondered if there really was a place you went when you died, what he’d say to Peter.

He’d called Natasha once after that, at 3 in the morning a few months after Morgan was born, when he hadn’t been getting enough sleep and when the silence around the house had felt oppressive.

“Tony,” she’d said, quiet and gentle, the kind of tone she took when she was lulling the Hulk back to peace. “Is this the call we talked about?”

“No,” he’d gasped, scrabbling around the kitchen for the picture of Peter and him together, their fake internship picture. “No, I just… Thanks. Thank you.”

“You already had your heart-to-heart, Stark. Don’t think this is a regular thing,” she’d said, sounding more like herself. He’d snorted, clinging to the sense of normalcy.

“Yeah, yeah, I got it. Won’t put you on the list for talking about our feelings.”

“Atta boy. And Stark… you’re welcome.”

#starker #fanfic #tony stark x peter parker

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notfeelingthyaster · 4 years ago

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Imagine (based on the incomplete fanfic Son of the Underworld) (Son of Hades! Percy AU) (5/5) or (5/10)

Hey so, this is the last part of PJO - I follow into HOO, so before you read this, check on the masterpost - and read the warnings before proceeding :)) Good reading!

Annabeth comes to him, at the end of his fifteenth birthday party, and shows her Daedalus laptop. There's a document open in it, and it's labeled Achilles' Curse.

Percy doesn't read it - he hates reading, in any way or form or language - but she does, out loud.

"I'll think about it"

They have a year. Most of them, even those who aren't year-rounders, are going back to camp, to draw battle plans and stock on the armory.

He feels kinda selfish - for a whole five seconds before he remembers he'll probably die next summer, so he just shrugs it off - Percy deserves this year.

They all leave to go back to camp. Nico seems conflicted over something - but Perseus doesn't question it, there's enough bad blood between them.

Paola is really cool - and Sally really loves her. It's kind of bizarre at first, to see his Mom dating his teacher - and of a subject he hates - but Paola is calm and well-tempered and she laughs at his stupid ass jokes.

He visits Persephone afterward - and it really feels like he has three moms to fulfill his lack of a father - well, he is absolutely grateful for the women in his life.

Percy isn't truly in good terms with his father. The man doesn't really seem to care much for him as a person - he is much more of a trophy son.

Perseus loathes being a trophy son, but at least he has someone to help with his powers - not something a lot of half-bloods can claim.

So he goes back to school with Rachel, and they pretend everything is normal. He tells her about his quests - all three of them. He thinks she understands him better now.

He opens up to her. Tells her about Annabeth - the adrenaline-fueled kiss - and Rachel stops talking with him for a week.

She apologizes when she comes back. She needed to figure some things up - firstly, the redhead tells him she is probably asexual - and maybe aromantic too, but she is not certain because the internet wasn't really clear about that.

Then Rachel confesses that she is not jealous of him in a romantic way - she is envious of his friendship with Annabeth. Percy is her first genuine friend that really appreciates her.

This is the first grudge Perseus lets go for real before it even takes place - Rachel didn't leave him because of teenage drama, she ignored him out of confusion. Everyone is allowed space - he knows this better than anyone.

They don't kiss anymore. Not because Rachel doesn't like it - no, she is all for it - but because Percy is starting to think kisses should mean something - he is saving them.

They kiss once - when Rachel father calls for the first time this year - not to ask about her, but to tell Rachel he found this amazing all-girls school. To Percy, kisses mean comfort.

They cuddle a lot, though. These past few years of fear have made Percy very touch-starved.

It's sophomore year - and Percy is in five AP classes: Macroeconomics&Microeconomics, Statistics, Calculus AB, Physics 1, and Comparative Government and Politics.

He is planning on taking both AP Computer Science classes, Psychology, Physics 2, and Calculus BC next year; leaving only Electricity&Magnetism, Mechanics, Chemistry, and World History for his senior year.

If he lives, he is working on a tight schedule here. He doesn't know what he wants yet - and if he is in constant danger, it's already pretty lucky he can do high school - but probably something with Math.

Rachel says fourteen AP courses are ambitious - that he'll burn out. But math comes to him easily enough - it's in his blood.

She is also overworking: She is taking AP Environmental Studies, Art History, Drawing, 2-D Art and Design, and English Literature and Composition.

They complete each other. Rachel is planning on taking as many Art, History, and English courses as she can - he is taking as many Physics, Math, and Science as he can handle.

(She is also going to take on Japanese studies for some reason - probably for her GPA, but Perseus just teases her that she is getting too invested in anime)

Perseus doesn't care about languages anymore - the only languages that matter to him are C++ and JavaScript now.

They study together, they take naps together, they climb to the roof together, they flee school to visit Sally together - he is the Pinky to her Brain, the Scooby to her Shaggy, the Lois Lane to her Superman, the Robin to her Batman.

They look like troublemakers - They are honor roll students, but she is always with ripped pants dirty with paint, and he is always full of flowers everywhere, even in his muddy converses - a cliche to kill all cliches.

They're both nerds - he is the classic one, all polo shirts now, the first chair for every number-related class - and she is the artsy one - there's a brush behind her ear and her hair is so messy that half the time it covers her face.

Paola gifts him a pair of cheap frames without lenses once - saying it adds to the aesthetic - he totally uses them.

Persephone just makes him flower-crowns, and giggles when he matches them with his polo shirts.

When winter comes, he goes back to his hoodies and sweaters and gloves - to find out he doesn't miss them a lot.

Rachel introduces him to polaroids - and they look eerily pretty in the winter, her hair looking like blood spilling over the snow - and he loves it.

If he survives - he can feel Rachel slapping him - when he survives, his college credits will be remarkable. The idea of doing SATs makes him want to cry - reading always does - but he'll get somewhere good - he knows it. Perhaps Stanford. Or NYU. Or the dream of his life, MIT.

He is living his life to the fullest - he starts reading comic books, he gets really (really) into Tony Stark once Iron Man 1 comes out (even if he has to kill at least three monsters just to go to the movies), he plants trees and Rachel starts teaching him how to play her ukulele - but half his mind is still on the upcoming war.

Christmas vacation comes - and he goes to visit Camp Half-Blood, before heading back to his mom. It's quite memorable, if only by the fact that Nico Di Angelo freaking betrays him.

He tells Percy to come to the Winter Solstice with him. Most of the campers are not going - the war effort is in an all-time high - but Percy has never gone before. Hades will be there - it'll be great!

Perseus should absolutely be less surprised with the outcome - seeing that Nico is inviting him in Cabin 1, post-dinner, and they don't even stop to talk to Chiron about it.

But Percy goes. Because Percy wants to make amends.

There's no time to really talk to anyone. They travel in Blackjack for the Empire State Building - and it's fine.

They go up to Olympus, Nico shows him everything in the god's land, the temples are a work of art, if not kind of old, and the meeting is kind of okay, even if the gods are squabbling children.

Then the gods leave, and Perseus thinks they're leaving too.

"My father needs a word with you"

Perseus feels the betrayal claw on him. There are no shadows in the white hall, there's no way for him to escape. Nico looks apologetic - Percy wants to clock him in the face.

"He promised to tell me more about my mother" Nico pleads "He will tell me more about where I've come from. Please, Percy."

Nico is cute. He is, for a soon-to-be fourteen-year-old. But his pretty face and exquisite white eyes don't make him any less of a freaking liar. All his handsome male straight friends betray him - it's a worrying pattern now.

He muses for a second that they also all have a crush on Annabeth - gods, the blonde attract the worst types.

It's double-crossing - Percy ends up in an all-white cell that burns his retinas without any weapons because Zeus wants praise in the middle of this freaking war - doesn't matter if a hundred demigods die, if he only has the glory.

Nico ends up with barely any information - Zeus didn't promise anything. The god of the skies is a lying-ass motherfucker - literally.

And Zeus justifies it - He says Perseus is a criminal because he awakened Typhon. So Hephaestus issues a quest so he can save a hundred demigods, he destroys a powerful titan weapon of doom, and he is the villain? Sure, Jan.

Perseus writes this grudge in his heart - that's where trust will take you. To a cell. Betrayed by a "friend". Again.

He flinches when Nico comes into his cell, pins him to the wall and promptly begins to try and strangle him. He wants to melt in the boy's shadow - to go and never give him a chance to explain - but he looks so guilty Percy waits for his repentance.

The son of Zeus saves him, but Perseus is still pissed off. The god of thunder has threatened to kill him off at least two times now, what is to say he wouldn't have killed off Percy for the sake of glory?

He half hopes Zeus had killed him off. The war is close, too close - Nico wouldn't be the Prophecy's child. There would be no child. Olympus would fall - and Percy would have seen it all from his very comfortable couch in Elysium.

He wants Kronos gone - but he kind of wants Olympus to fall with the Titan.

Nico flies him down to the Earth - the elevator is monitored. Zeus has left, like many others - not to bother with the war effort against his main enemy, but to go to the human world mess with people.

Some gods are doing something - He has heard from Annabeth that Artemis is leading the widest hunt ever, with her brother by her side; Hermes (with Hephaestus help) is delivering Celestial Bronze, other metals, old schematics and a whole lot of fuel to Camp Half-Blood every few weeks; Poseidon is fighting his own war, in the ocean; Dionysus is at Camp - and this time, he is really helpful with the battle formations; Demeter is on the Underworld - Chiron seems to think his father is preparing for war, but Percy sorely doubts it.

Percy is taking some people with him to Sally's Christmas dinner. Just Annabeth, Clarisse, Rachel, Connor, Travis, and Charles - people who don't have a present family to celebrate it with.

Grover is coordinating the dryads up in San Francisco with his second cousin, Gleeson Hedge - they are the first to fall if anything goes wrong in Mt. Othrys.

"I think you should stay." He tells Nico.

"You don't trust me anymore." It's not actually a question.

Percy doesn't trust the boy. Not at all - it's the third time he does something shady to achieve his ends based on emotional turmoil. But he is a good person - it's just his father's cursed temper and his grief.

"It's not that. You're needed for the war effort."

Both of them know it's a lie. Percy doesn't care - he deserves to be bitter a little longer.

Percy goes back home. Christmas is amazing - even if Rachel asks him where Nico is because he is talking about making amends with the boy for a while now.

He goes visit Persephone - but she is occupied, so he wanders through the Underworld after Bianca di Angelo - someone he, for some reason, never been able to reach. It's a pointless endeavor by now.

He finds her. Or else, he finds a shadow of her - she is blocked from his view. Bianca doesn't talk to him - they weren't close - but she guides him to a girl.

Her name is Hazel Levesque.

She seems lost - like most ghosts - but something in Percy calls for her. It's the color of her skin and the sparkle in her golden eyes - Hazel remembers him of himself.

He promises to visit more - even though he doesn't think she'll remember it - and leaves to go back to the surface - he will finish the sophomore year.

And Percy does. After a very distressing break, he is doing his best. His grades drop a little in English because he can barely focus - half his mind is on the war and Nico's betrayal and Hazel Levesque's golden eyes.

Miraculously, his GPA doesn't fall - he still is taking a ridiculous amount of AP classes, and barely has time to breathe - dark circles grow under his eyes, and he looks like a mess - but now he is a Junior.

That's why, as soon as the year ends, Rachel takes him on a road trip with Connor. They go all the way to Boston, then Portland, Quebec, Montreal, Ottawa, Syracuse, Baltimore, and Filadelfia, before going back to NY.

They are stopped five times by the police - because Percy is black, and it's Rachel driving the Camaro, because she has a learner's permit and Connor is, somehow, an approved license holder.

They are on a pier, enjoying the view of the beach. They did the last week alone because Connor wanted to go check on one of his cousins - at least, that's what he said, with an over-exaggerated wink that both Percy and Rachel ignored for the sake of their sanity.

She tells him about Clarion Ladies Academy - but that her father is at least mildly happy with her GPA this year, even if he disapproves of her Art focused AP classes. Percy thinks Mr. Dare would love him, with his APs on Economics and Politics, if only he was rich. And white.

This time, when Charles Beckendorf arrives in a Pegasus to tell him it's time, Rachel doesn't kiss him - she justs hugs him and makes him promise to call her.

Perseus doesn't go to the Andromeda Ship - he is needed in Camp. He is useless on the water - but they do need him to improve battle strategy.

Charles Beckendorf is dead. Thalia is the one to tell them - she was in her father's palace helping with a monster under her Lady's orders - he went on the mission alone.

Percy talks briefly with Beckendorf's ghost - is his worst developed power, and he can barely hold the "seance" for more than a few minutes. He does it with only Nico di Angelo for witness - the others are the way to close to the situation.

There's a spy passing information to Luke.

They look at him. Doesn't matter how much he does, he is always the first suspect - he is a son of Hades. He was friends with a lot of people on the other side. He was gone for a year and a half, who knows where.

Perseus wants to say that he has helped to save their asses four times now - that without him in the Labyrinth, they would all be dead right now - and that Charles was basically his older brother.

Then he points out he wasn't even here - he had no idea of any plans of anything - and he told him about the spy, so he is not the freaking spy, go point fingers at each other instead of him.

When they start yelling, he stops them - this is not the time, he was just angry at their accusations. They have to burn Charles shroud. Silena is inconsolable - Percy is not very far from it, but he is not a public crier. The last time he cried in public, Luke was dead on a cliff.

Percy speeds up the line for Elysium to Beckendorf - his brother deserves it.

They read the prophecy together - Perseus already read it last summer, he doesn't even care anymore. They look at him anxiously - no one has forgotten that he abhors most of the gods.

Clarisse and Michael Yew fight, but Lee Fletcher - with a mechanical arm built by Beckendorf himself, still re-learning how to shoot arrows and forever incapable of playing the guitar again (but the keyboard is not ruled out yet) - stops them: They can share the chariot. The war is more important - is not the time for petty fights.

Chiron shows them Typhon - and Perseus has a sliver of hope that they can destroy Kronos and be free of the gods at the same time - It's a horrible hope, because he loves Persephone and some of them are even okay sometimes, but he really wants Zeus to go to Tartarus for at least a century, so Perseus doesn't meet him again in this life.

But he also wants the gods to win, because there's a lot of dead people - innocents, people who have nothing to do with this war.

He dreams of Rachel. Rachel is painting Luke - and Percy wakes up crying, for the boy the gods took away.

Annabeth takes him aside and reminds him of Achilles' Curse. He is off to May Castellan's house - the last place Luke has been - for it's his best and only chance, its what Annie thinks. And she is scarcely wrong.

Perseus hates the gods. They wrecked a family - and for what? May Castellan - forever waiting for a son that will never come back, haunted by visions of his future, plates of burned cookies everywhere.

Perseus doesn't pity her - he rages against the gods, who brought madness upon this woman and then left her to it. Where was Apollo, the god of health? Dionysus, who is supposed to control mental health? Artemis, whose job is to protect women?

Hestia is kind - but she is still a goddess. She could've prevented this - but she hides in her hearth and abstains - and that's enabling. Hestia enables the other gods to do as they please, even when she is the oldest. She says they ignore her - oh well, she ignores them right back! He has no time for the laments of another all-powerful being.

So he goes to his mother and asks for her blessing. Then, just to be sure, he asks Persephone's too.

He thinks about his anchor - where does he want it to be in his body. He doesn't want somewhere in his back - where he can't see it - or in his gut - where anyone can stick a sword. He settles for the bottom of his back - where he can at least touch it and it's well protected by armor - and dives.

Perseus hates water - and he has an uncanny fear of drowning. He feels pain - everywhere, horrible pain.

His vision now doesn't have Annabeth's face - the blonde is his link to the demigod world, Persephone is his link to the Underworld and his mom is his link to childhood - but the person who grounds him is Rachel.

He is stronger. He feel his powers at his fingertips - Perseus feels the Underworld as a whole, and it's overwhelming.

Green flames explode from his hands. Flowers made of shadows curve around his ankles - he has been training since he was 12, but now his body can sustain all of his power. This is all his.

He goes meet with his father - Perseus manipulates him. He tells Hades he'll be the hero, but the god himself can be praised for more than being his father. That he should join the battle against Typhon - That's his chance of proving himself. Also, there's less paperwork for him if there are fewer dead people.

His father is amused with his blatant bribing, but he thinks about it, Percy can tell. In a way or another, he excuses himself and goes back to the surface where he is needed.

Persephone stalls him. She asks him to stay, just for this night. He can go back in the morning - he sleeps, and dreams of Rachel again, drawing in the sand. In greek.

He is scared for her - she is having demigod dreams, but she is mortal. Something is wrong.

Typhon is getting worse - and Kronos draws closer to NYC. It's time - he calls for Blackjack and leaves - Mrs. O'Leary, who has become more or less of a mother to his own hellhound, follows. Persephone promises to convince Hades.

They have about sixty campers able to fight heading for the Empire State Building, and five healers. The ones too young to lift a sword or string a bow stayed back at Camp with Argus - fifteen children between 5 and 9 years old.

Percy knows he looks different - he looks just like his father. He has gained a godly aura - he has no scars anymore, no imperfections. Perseus looms over all of them - he went from 5'7'' to 6'2'' - it's a weird view, from up there. It's still strange when they look at him with a mix of fear and admiration.

Perseus Jackson is officially their leader. He hates Olympus - but he will give his life to defend every single one of his demigods.

The vision Hestia shows him just makes him want to tear this throne room with his bare hands - Luke was a kid. He was a kid - and the gods corrupted him. Thalia was a kid - and the gods took her life, twice. Annabeth is still a kid - they all are - and she is here planning battle strategies.

Annabeth missed an extra year of formal education - while Percy is a Junior, Annabeth barely qualifies for a Freshman - because the gods took this from her too.

Percy rages. The ground of Olympus trembles beneath him - he wants to kill something.

Then Hermes appears - like this whole war is not his fault in the first place, the literal bastard - just to relay a message from Athena that gives them a plan that Annabeth was already putting into works and tells Percy to stay away from Annabeth.

Like she cares. Like Athena has ever, ever, done anything for Annabeth.

Perseus can't punch Athena, so he punches the messager (also, because he freaking guilt trips both of them about Luke). He has nothing to lose - he is going to die by the end of the day anyway, and they need him too much.

He has punched a god before - Ares, in a desert in the middle of Los Angeles - but this time, it's satisfactory. He feels good after it.

Hermes seems strangely resigned - He feels guilty about Luke too, but Perseus doesn't think it's enough. It'll never be enough, not while the gods leave their children to rot in a cabin of rejects and May Castellan bakes cookies for a son that will never come back.

Hermes leaves, ashamed. It's only fair, Perseus thinks. They all should be ashamed.

They see the city asleep - the prophecy is in the works.

Perseus executes their strategy - every cabin is covering a tunnel, with the exception of Dionysus, because Pollux is with the Demeter kids, and the Hecate kids stay behind to use spells to overlook the city. Lincoln Tunnel is getting covered by Ares - who, this time around, is actively participating.

The undetermined who didn't desert are with Hermes - and the minor god's children are divided by specialty - most Hypnos and Morpheus children follow him directly, but the two sons of Iris go with the Apollo Cabin.

Annabeth executes Plan 23, automatons, mounting on Mrs. O'Leary (who has strict orders to take Annabeth anywhere she wants without stopping to play around) - she doesn't need his help with this, and Percy has a tunnel to defend.

That left the rivers uncovered - until Thalia appears, with magical sand money, and made the rivers cooperate.

The hunters join the Aphrodite kids - who are half a dozen children between 11 and 19 - the oldest being Silena Beauregard, who uses a crossbow that looks exactly like her immortal half-brother's one.

His bridge is completely covered on skeletons - but no monster comes, even if he hears explosions. He leaves an English Lieutenant from the Battle of Yorktown in command of the bridge - with Tyene, the oldest daughter of Morpheus, to be in alert and don't let Clovis sleep through the battle. Because he did it before - and while it is funny, it can't happen right now.

Perseus mounts Blackjack - and go see where the noise is coming from. It's the Williamsburg Bridge - where are most of Apollo's Cabin.

They fight - and Percy almost cries when he sees Luke, who is not Luke anymore. Luke, who is a puppet controlled by Kronos.

Perseus kills the Minotaur and the weight of his stone spikes collapse the bridge - and Michael Yew dies. This time around, the bridge falls silently into shadows, and he doesn't bother about searching for the corpse - he saw the boy falling, and his screams will haunt all of them, forever.

This time around, Annabeth is not there to protect him - Ethan also doesn't try to kill him. The Son of Nemesis doesn't leave Kronos side for a second - but there's regret in his eyes.

After the bloodlust is gone, Perseus collapses - Will has to bride carry him back. Overuse of his powers - he summoned skeletons and produced shadows, melted enemy swords (with the bonus of incapacitating them without killing), and sprouted stone spikes everywhere - there's even a vine or ten that he used to hold his friends from falling.

Perseus doesn't sleep quickly enough to not hear the yell of anguish that comes from Lee Fletcher - the pain of losing a brother and not being able to fight beside him.

But he does sleep - and he dreams. He dreams of Hades killing Maria Di Angelo, not Hera, like Zeus told Nico. He dreams of Zeus cursing the Oracle - and he seethes, because he also sees what happened to May Castellan.

He keeps getting angrier and angrier at the gods - it's building inside of him. But his friends are still here, still fragile. He can't let them suffer more.

Perseus wakes up, checks on everyone - most everyone is either injured and/or exhausted, but he checks on every camper. He knows all of their names, their ages, their cabins. - and promises to sit up to talk with Thalia and Nico - war makes him prone to peace - and promptly goes back to sleep.

He dreams of Rachel. He wants to scream for her not to come: but she'll anyway.

Perseus dreams of a boy. He is his age - maybe a little younger. His hair is blonde and his skin is whiter - but Percy glances at his eyes, and there are waves in them.

There's a girl by his side - she is familiar to Percy, somehow. They're climbing a mountain.

The dream ends and Percy can't make heads or tails of it. He asks Thalia if she has a brother, but she says that she doesn't, looking wistful.

Prometheus is tempting - but he knows there's no Luke anymore, there's only Kronos. And the gods are horrible, vile and immature - but they never killed any of Percy's friends. Some of them died for the gods - but never by their hands, so for now, Perseus would toe the line.

He does want to punch Hermes again. He takes the Pythos - if everything goes wrong, he will not hesitate in going down for the sake of his friends - but there have been six deaths, and it's enough.

"Was it worth it?" He asks Ethan.

"Alabaster is alive" And it's all the answer Percy needs.

He dreams of Ethan and Alabaster. Alabaster is alive, yes, but he is missing half a leg - courtesy of Clarisse herself. Luke - Kronos - is indifferent, and Ethan curses the daughter of Ares - "The sword that took from us will take from you"

He contains Hyperion with his shadows. Then he helps Grover (who was half asleep, because of Morpheus) to make the Titan into a tree. It's a pomegranate tree - then he sets hellish fire to it and sacrifices it to Hades and Persephone.

A pig is in the sky - this time around, Annabeth and her frightening army of automatons kill it with Nico's help.

Perseus laughs - because Annabeth has about two hundred automatons under her command, Martin Luther King and Alexander Hamilton leading the charge with a giant bull being ridden by the Mad Hatter behind them.

It's weird to see historic figures Percy admires - like Jane Bolin, Sylvia Mendez, or Abraham Lincoln - fighting alongside people he downright despises - Thomas Jefferson and the goatfucker, herpes-ridden, Colombus. His Comparative Government teacher would have a field day.

Annabeth and Nico's pair up is amazing - They fight alongside like they have been doing it all life.

Nico is a force of nature, flying and commanding the winds to do his bidding - His eyes shine in the midst of the stormy clouds. His specialty is weather manipulation - he hasn't had much success with direct energy or electric discharges.

Annabeth has her mother's tenacity for war - and her clever mind for strategies. It's clear in her eyes - she is racking the weaker points of the Clazmonian Sow in her mind and destroying it. The automatons hold the pig in place - and she makes bacon of it.

Hercules couldn't do it. Nico and Annabeth can, because they have the power and the mind.

Perseus is still fighting off monsters - but they're too widespread, so they retreat to the doors of the Empire State Building.

Percy does a mental tally: of sixty-two campers, six are confirmed dead, twenty are injured and nine are out of commission on exhaustion. There should be 27 orange shirts here - but there's only twenty.

Percy wonders if the seven missing are injured, or dead, or under a pile of rubble somewhere with no one to help them. Is there someone being slowly eaten by monsters? Is there someone alone and injured and abandoned? He doesn't know.

He prays that those seven deserted them - at least that means they probably are alive and well.

Perseus looks at Phoebe's grief-stricken face, and he knows it's not probable - she had almost three dozen hunters with her, and now there's barely fifteen still fighting, Thalia nowhere to be seen.

They prepare for their last standing - Percy keeps conjuring skeletons, but they're no match for the sheer strength of the hyperborean giants. Nico is shoulder to shoulder with the Stoll brothers against a group of telkhines - Clarisse is bringing down a whole giant by herself.

After the Party Ponies save them - Chiron leads the charge against his own father, and Perseus is so proud of his mentor he can't even put in words how much - he goes to sleep. Fighting gets him tired quickly, and they'll come back.

He dreams of Dionysus. Perseus is not fond of any god who is not Persephone, but Dionysus is mostly okay sometimes. He seems to care about his children.

Perseus couldn't care less about the Western Civilization - but he'll care for Pollux. It's one of his demigods, after all, and Underworld people are possessive of theirs (i.e. Hades and Persephone).

He dreams of Thalia, in her father's palace, begging Poseidon to leave the underwater war and help with the invasion - His wife is none too happy with the presence of his immortal bastard daughter.

He wakes up to Rachel's helicopter falling - how is Rachel even awake, is a mistery.

The improbable pair Nico and Annabeth strike again: The girl knows how to fly helicopters, and the boy can fly himself. They save the redhead and the pilot - everything is fine.

"You're not the hero"

"Why did you risk yourself to tell me something I already know?"

Rachel doesn't explain - she can't. But she has a vision that says that he is not the hero. The hero of what? Perseus has no idea. But there's no way any of his cousins is dying for this stupid prophecy.

Suddenly, there's a drakon there. Rachel has another prophecy - Perseus fears she will walk the path that led May Castellan to destruction - that only a child of Ares will be able to kill it.

Bad news: All children of Ares are otherwise out of battle.

Clarisse is resting after a nasty concussion - and her brothers and Apollo's children are fighting yet again because Lee Fletcher is in no condition to stop them and Michael Yew is dead. Ares' side refuses to fight without the chariot - which Cabin 7 has hidden somewhere.

The best they can do is fend the drakon off until a miracle occurs. And it does: Clarisse, in full armor, manages to lead her brothers into battle.

Clarisse is dead. Something shatters inside of Perseus - and he leaves the drakon for the Ares' children to solve - he can't kill it anyway - and starts to vaporize the army behind it.

He is so caught up in bloodlust, that he almost misses Clarisse slaying a dragon. Clarisse, who has no armor. Clarisse, who is alive.

Ethan's curse rang true - Clarisse's weapon took something from her.

Silena is a traitor. She is also dead - which makes her a martyr, and probably going to reunite with her boyfriend in Elysium.

He remembers how easy is to fall for Luke's charm - he was - is - still in love with the guy. Percy thought the son of Hermes could do no wrong - and he wonders how much of his rage against the gods sprout from his influence.

Something evil inside of Perseus's mind tells him she deserved it. It tells Perseus that better her than Clarisse - but he shuts it down, and concentrates on his shining red friends.

He hates Ares. But he might just have an okay side if he can produce such a magnificent daughter.

Silena is the Patroclus to Clarisse's Achilles, and the Drakon is Hector - and the daughter of Ares is sure to parade its dead body.

It's the first time they feel like they are winning. It doesn't last - but as he hugs Clarisse tightly, he thinks he might cry of relief.

Clarisse looks tough - but she is a wonderful human being. She loves Silena with her whole heart - even more than she loves Chris, her best friend. Silena might've been in love with Charles - but she and Clarisse? They are soulmates.

The damned Pythos is following Perseus - and he is done with it. He knows where hope will survive best. Rachel wants him to give it to Hestia - but he owns the fire goddess nothing.

She has never interfered, not once, to help the dozens of demigods with no family that is abandoned in Cabin 11, and he won't forgive her for it.

He sacrifices hope to Persephone because that's what spring is. Spring is the hope of a new life. Maybe, Perseus thinks, it'll convince his father to come.

They go down to make their final stand against the forces of Kronos. There's not a lot of them - but they're not getting through those doors.

Well, his father doesn't come. But Poseidon does, with his whole army, Tyson and Thalia behind him, and the scales seem to turn.

And then Kronos cuts the barrier. Perseus can see his Mom (why is his Mom here with a handgun?!) and Poseidon fighting against the monsters under the eyes of extremely confused mortals.

Some are trying to break the barrier - but it's futile. Kronos has corraled them like sheep for the slaughter.

It's just him, Grover, Annabeth and Nico, fighting against Kronos vanguard - which is big, but not as strong as they are.

Kronos passes him without resistance - Ethan follows, but there's anger in his eyes - not for Percy, but for the monster he is leashed to. Alabaster is not there.

As soon as Kronos powers stop working on them, the four follow the titan - and some things never change, no matter the universe.

This time, it's Nico who falls because of Hera - it's her curse over all of her husband's bastards.

Ethan takes one look at Perseus, and they don't even need to fight. They have been friends for longer than they have been enemies - and they both loathe the gods, but Kronos is as much of an all-powerful controller being as any of the Olympians.

They battle against Kronos - Perseus has only his ax against his scyther - a true Underworld fight.

Ethan dies. And Perseus bloodlust consumes him - it clouds his eyes and he can only keep fighting.

"If... if we've had cabins... and they had thrones"

It's true, and more than ever, Perseus wishes Kronos wasn't such a bastard. He wouldn't bother killing the gods - but the titan is a way worse option.

"LUKE, PLEASE" It's Annabeth. He doesn't have her faith - she didn't saw his transformation. But he tries anyway because he loves Luke just as much as he hates Kronos.

"Luke, remember our summer" But his words are caught up in his throat when the titan throws him against the wall.

But the amalgamation of his friend and an all-powerful being looks confused, so props for his genius best friend.

Kronos shows them a rainbow message of Typhon - and that's where Perseus it's pretty sure he starts liking his father.

Because the Lord of the Dead opens up the earth and gets out in a black chariot guided by skeletal horses like a king. By his right side, is Persephone, in armor battle as a queen should be. By his left, is Demeter, who looks every single bit like the matron she is supposed to be.

Behind him, a hundred thousand dead roars. Charon is mounting Cerberus - and literal hell is unleashed upon the Father of Monsters.

The gods strike down Typhon, sending him back to be locked away - this time, in the depths of Tartarus instead of Mount Etna.

Kronos gets mad. Utterly, undoubtedly mad. He talks about burning Luke's body. Then he hurts Annabeth and breaks two promises in one fell swoop.

"Luke.... remember family" It's what Annabeth utters, but Perseus, already certain of their own demise, is crying now.

"That summer Luke, you promised to never hurt her again. You remember it? YOU PROMISED LUKE!!"

Annabeth's promise was already broken - he had hurt her, all those years ago, in Mt. Othrys. But the promise he made to Percy - that he would never hurt her again - is new and broken, in the river Styx no less.

Luke regains his own body, for a minute, and Perseus runs to him like a man in a desert with no water.

"Please, please tell me there's a way to undo this, Luke, please, please"

"There isn't one, Percy" And it's the first time he hears Luke call him Percy, Percy and not Perseus, in his own voice, in two years. Percy cries.

"We... we don't have much time, hellebore. Give me Annabeth's dagger. Before he... before he takes back"

Luke calls him hellebore and it makes him start crying all over again. He gives him the dagger - and Luke kills himself, taking Kronos out with him.

Luke doesn't need to ask if Percy has ever loved him - Percy kept loving Luke, one-sided as it was, even when Kronos was there.

He still crying over Luke's body when the gods arrive. Luke is dead. Ethan is dead. Silena is dead. Michael Yew is dead. Charles is dead.

He lost three of his best friends in two days. Ethan is dead. Luke is dead. Luke is dead.

Perseus can't stop crying. They take Luke's body away - but he can't stop. Annabeth explains what happened to the gods - most of it, anyway. Apollo says he is in shock - his father says he is a hero.

Perseus doesn't feel like a hero. Was this all worth it? Was it worth it the pain and the death and the suffering?

Persephone touches him - and he has no tears to cry anymore. She can't hug him here, but she'll do so later.

He stares at the walls, listening to his friends being awarded - compensated by their siblings and friends' deaths - with a blank stare. Perseus wants his mom.

They call for him. He raised his head but doesn't bother getting up. He just saved their asses - for the fifth time in a roll. He deserves to grieve.

They offer him immortality. A place between the gods.

He laughs. Zeus looks murderous, but he can't stop laughing.

"My apologies, but I have to refuse," he says. But in his mind, he is thinking about how could they even think he might want to sit between them and be an all-powerful being, be another god ignoring his children and messing with mortal lives while thousands die for him.

"Promise me, on the river Styx, that you'll give me the wish that I want."

They promise him, that if it's within their capabilities, they shall grant him his wish.

"I wish for every child at the age of twelve to be claimed. I wish for cabins in Camp Half-Blood, for every single minor god, and my own father. I wish for Calypso to be free, and to the demigods from the opposite side of this war to be given amnesty. It's not their fault. It's not any of our faults."

"You dare to-" Zeus begins, but Percy is really tired of Zeus.

"We fought your war, we won your battles. We, the unclaimed and rejected stowaways of Cabin 11. We, the children of minor and Underworld gods. We deserve respect. Just like my father deserves a throne, just like the minor gods deserve justice."

"Don't you fear us?" Athena asks, something weird shining in her eyes.

"I thought I would be dead today. At least if I die now, I'm dying for something I believe in."

It stays unsaid that he doesn't believe in them. The other demigods look at him worried - but he is not afraid of the gods.

They grant his wish. Some of them aren't happy with it, but they have to do it. He meets Calypso at the front gates of Olympus - and her smile can brighten the pits of Tartarus. He sees Alabaster talking with Lou Ellen - they are both crying.

He thinks it's the end - it's not. Thalia tells him Rachel left for Camp in her Pegasus - and his father has lift the curse, the Prophecy is gone, but he fears for his best friend.

Perseus is too tired for shadow travel - he does it anyway. He flickers, but anyway, he is too late.

It works. Rachel - his best friend - is the new Oracle. Someone jokes they can't be together anymore and Rachel lifts an eyebrow.

"We never were. Didn't you see the last few hours?" Well, he did out himself. Mostly - they might say it's just friendship, and he will hate the way they twist it. Luke wasn't a villain, and Perseus isn't a pure hero with a heart of gold.

Perseus is healing from lost love - and Annabeth is too. His crush on her was only a crush, he thinks - She is his best friend first and foremost. They cry together at the bonfire that burns away the shrouds of 43 demigods - from both sides - and 16 hunters of Artemis. Their souls all rest in Elysium now.

Alabaster comes back to Camp and helps his siblings to build the new Cabin for Hecate, full of spelled blocks and magic chimneys. Clovis and Tyene have their hands full with their own cabins - it doesn't help they keep getting sidetracked with naps.

Somehow, Nico, Thalia, and his bond over helping construct Cabin 13 - They are both way too invested in the goth vibe, mostly because Cabin 1 looks like a temple, and Cabin 3 looks like a beach cabin. And both of them are so over it.

Perseus doesn't want a goth cabin - he is fighting against the aesthetic for years - but sometimes, there are no arguments. His Cabin is made of black marble, and there are skulls everywhere, with torches shining with green fire. Outside, at least. Inside, it looks like Persephone's garden, with input from the queen herself. It's ready just shy of the end of summer vacation.

Rachel tells the next Great Prophecy. Perseus isn't such a positive person to think it won't affect him - he hopes at least it'll wait until he is done with High School.

That night, he dreams of the blonde boy again - it's his first night without nightmares since the battle. He has a scar in his lip, and his green eyes pierce Percy's soul. Perseus wonders if they'll ever meet, wonders if this boy is one of the Seven of the Prophecy.

But alas, Perseus lets it go. The summer is over - he is sixteen, somehow. He is alive and going to go back to his mortal life and his junior year, and grief. Not everything is fine - but eventually, it will be.

It's not the end. Not yet.

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ofstarsandfireflies · 4 years ago

Text

And we’re back at it again! Thought I’d give something different a try this time

Terminator

A robot from the future travels to the past to kill the future’s hope.

Stephen remembered the day Ultron took over the world and killed anyone who tried to rise up against it.

Including the Avengers.

War had broken out between the machines bent on destroying what remained of humanity and the men who could still fight.

Stephen Strange was one of these men.

He and his group of New Avengers had been fighting for years to reclaim the time stone, and today they finally would.

While everyone else would keep Ultron’s Army busy, Wanda and Stephen, the last two magic users left, were tasked with stealing that infinity stone back.

And that was when they stumbled upon the device Ultron had created with it, and watched as Ultron himself stepped through the portal held within.

It had a back up plan.

With this device it could go back and take over the world at any point in time.

With this, Ultron could go as far back as it seemed fit, and as often as it needed, until it won.

They had to destroy it.

And before he could move to, something caught Stephen’s eye.

A photogrpah of Tony Stark.

Ultron had some ulterior motive for going back for Tony Stark and Stephen wanted to know what it was.

He pocketed the photo

The only way he would find out is to get to Tony Stark before Ultron could.

Maybe if he did, this timeline would erase itself, and the world would continue on, protected by the Avengers.

He turned to Wanda.

As soon as he stepped through, she would need to destroy the stone so it could no longer be used.

Ultron can’t use it to go back again.

And Stephen can’t use it to come back again.

And Wanda agrees, saying goodbye to him as he steps through and keeps her promise to shatter the time stone.

Stephen finds himself in a year not too long ago, racing in the opposite direction of the screaming crowds of people who wouldn’t live to see his time come to pass.

And that’s when he sees him.

Tony Stark’s Iron Man, suit battered and sparking, his thrusters spluttering as they tried to keep him airborne as Ultron flew after him.

A well timed blast had Tony falling from the sky, his suit managing to kick itself back into gear before he landed in a heap on the ground.

Stephen pushed his way to him, crimson ropes wrapping around Ultron’s neck and ripping him away from Tony before he could do anything more.

As Tony tries to get up, Stephen offers him his hand.

Without hesitation, Tony takes it, and Stephen helps him to his feet, dragging him with him to where he remembers the Sanctum used to be.

Tony’s full of questions but Stephen can only think to answer the first one he actually has an answer for, telling Tony how this Ultron and himself are from a possible future.

Tony is skeptical, but he has no choice but to believe Strange.

Tony’s fought bloody aliens of all things, time travel isn’t as crazy as he once might have thought.

Before they can reach the Sanctum and ask for help, Stephen falls through one portal and Tony through another, landing them in different rooms of their destination.

While Tony is treated as a guest and given a jacket to cover over his Iron Man armour, Stephen is getting grilled by the Master of this Sanctum, Daniel Drumm.

Master Drumm knows Stephen shouldn’t be here doing what he’s doing.

And Ultron shouldn’t be here either.

Stephen tries to tell them that they have to protect Tony when Ultron bursts in, Stephen just managing to escape as Sorcerers fight and die around him.

He manages to meet up with Tony and they get the hell out of there without being noticed.

They need a place to lay low and rest.

Pulling the hood of Tony’s jacket up over his head, Stephen transforms his cloak into a long coat, pulling the collar up high to hide in and rolling his eyes when he feels it brush his cheek affectionately.

Tony hails a taxi and pays in cash to get them a block away from Stark Tower.

It’s only when Stephen is starting to relax from the adrenaline rush of almost being killed that he starts to feel the pain from the hit he took.

Tony is on him in an instant, inspecting the wound and trying to distract him with more questions about the future.

He has to ask in a hushed whisper so their taxi doesn’t over hear them and kick them out for being nut jobs and bleeding over his seats.

But Tony finds himself answering Stephen’s questions instead.

He answers them as he pulls Stephen out of the cab, almost losing his footing if the coat hadn’t balanced him.

He answers them as he half drags Stephen into Stark Tower.

He answers them in the elevator to his private lab where he begins to patch up Stephen as best he can.

And Stephen hangs on to every word.

Stephen never got to meet his version of Tony Stark, but he wants this one to know he doesn’t blame him for creating Ultron.

His intentions were good, and Stephen knows a person is not the mistakes they make.

Even Geniuses get it wrong sometimes.

Tony can’t see how Stephen can think this after living in a future Tony helped destroy.

So, Stephen tells him that, even though that was true, the Tony Stark from his future never gave up fighting Ultron.

He was an inspiration to the people to get up and fight along side him.

To the few left with extraordinary abilities to come out of hiding and become part of something much bigger.

To him.

Tony Stark was a legend, a cause people rallied behind now and forever, and will always be a hero to them.

People loved him.

Stephen loved him.

And Tony, having tied off Stephen’s bandage five minutes ago, stops Stephen from pulling his robes back up, fingers lightly tracing the pale scarred skin, the only evidence of all the battles Stephen has fought and survived.

Because of him.

He wants to make it up to him.

So when he kisses him and Stephen doesn’t kiss back, Tony instantly thinks he’s overstepped.

But when Stephen finally kisses him back, Tony’s fears ease away.

Stephen can’t protect Tony like this.

Not against Ultron in a technological world.

If Ultron’s body becomes too damaged, he simply flees through network cables and wifi signals.

If they could get somewhere where Ultron couldn’t do that, and get their hands on a weapon that could do some real damage to that vibranium shell, they might have a chance of surviving the night.

The question was where the hell were they going to get those things.

Why, here at Stark Tower, of course.

With the highest security thanks to Ultron’s initial attack some years ago, and with Tony’s personal lab around them, Tony has exactly what they need to destroy Ultron once and for all.

Stephen is amazed.

Tony has something that powerful?

Tony pulls himself from Stephen’s side and walks over to a draw, showing him a large glass tube with different sized metal shards in it.

Adamantium.

And then they hear it.

Ultron is here.

Stephen can only watch Tony work in amazement.

It truly is a sight to behold, and even more so when Tony declares his work is finished.

It’s a glorified Nail Bomb to be sure, but one that will work on Ultron and tear his Vibranium shell to pieces.

Stephen had never seen anything so dangerous be constructed so quickly, and would have offered some form of congratulations had the elevator doors not opened and Ultron stepped out.

Tony grabs the bomb and Stephen tells him to throw it.

They can’t let Ultron win.

If he wins against them tonight, Stephen’s future will become a reality, only there won’t be an Iron Man to inspire the people to fight back.

So he has to throw it and throw it now.

And Tony can’t.

He’s not willing to risk Stephen’s life.

But Stephen knows he doesn’t belong here.

This world, this life, this Tony, all belong to the other him.

So he does the only thing he can think of.

He grabs the bomb from Tony’s hand and throws it at Ultron’s feet, spinning around and throwing himself on Tony to shield him from the blast as the Adamantium nails shoot out in every direction, many piercing through Ultron’s vibranium body and severing it in half.

One pierces through Tony’s leg, but that’s incomparable to the amount Stephen’s body protected him from as he lays still in Tony’s lap.

Tony calls to him softly and Ultron hears him, clambering over Stephen to get to him.

On a whim, Tony rips the five inch nail out of his leg and shoves it up through the jaw, watching those red eyes finally fade into darkness.

And just like that, Ultron is finally defeated.

And Tony is left all alone, cradling Stephen in his arms.

And a few years later, they meet again.

Quotes -

“Come with me if you wanna live.”

Stephen’s first words to Tony

“There was a nuclear war. A few years from now, all this, this whole place, everything, it’s gone, just gone. There were survivors. Here, there. Nobody even knew who started it. It was the machines, Sarah.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Defence network computers. New, powerful, hooked into everything, trusted to run it all. They say it got smart- a new order of intelligence. Then it saw all people as a threat. Not just the ones on the other side. It decides our fate in a microsecond. Extermination.”

Stephen tells Tony about how his future happened.

“Well, how are you supposed to get back?”

“I can’t. Nobody goes home. Nobody else comes through. It’s just him and me.”

Wanda and Stephen’s last conversation.

“Some legend. You must be pretty disappointed.”

“No. I’m not.”

“Kyle, the women in your time, what are they like?”

“Good fighters.”

“That’s not what I meant. Was there someone special?”

“Someone...?”

“A girl, you know.”

“No. Never.”

“Never?”

Just Tony trying to find out if he has a chance with his rescuer.

Protecting the Future -

Stephen can’t change this future.

But maybe he can change the past

Missed a Day? Catch up here!

Day 1 Day 2 Day 3 Day 4 Day 5

Day 6 Day 7 Day 8 Day 9 Day 10

Day 11 Day 12 Day 13 Day 14

#ironstrange #OSAF’s Movie Night #strangeiron

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imanativeofswlondondahling · 4 years ago

Text

Becoming A Stark? (28)- Peter Parker x Stark!femReader

Word Count: 3395

Warnings: swearing, IW emotional trauma, the usual.

Author Note: There is some dialog from Infinity War used in this chapter. I don’t own it, but also there’s new stuff after it so don’t skip it. This is the final chapter. There will be a sequel that I’m not sure when will be posted but it will be coming. If you want to be tagged when it’s posted, let me know! Thank you for reading all of this and giving me so much love on my fist PP story. Let me know what you think of the finale.

Chapter One || Previous Chapter || Master List

“Mom have you seen my jacket?” You ask as you walk from the living room back into the kitchen. You’re already dressed in ripped jeans, galaxy converse, and a grey AC/DC shirt.

“Which jacket?” Pepper asks as she stirs the eggs she’s cooking for you.

“My denim one? I wore it yesterday? Or maybe it was the day before?”

“Have you checked your room?”

“I looked there when I was getting ready. I didn’t see it.” Instead of being dressed for the office, Pepper is wearing running gear. “Are you going into the office today?”

“In a little bit. Your dad wants to go to the park for a run first.”

“Dad running? Since when?”

“I think your birthday is making him feel O-L-D.” Pepper teases as Tony walks down the stairs.

“I can still spell even if I’m getting old.” Tony responds. In his hand he’s holding your Rolling Stones jacket. “You left this on the stairs kiddo.”

“Oh, right! I meant to take it up last night.” You shrug it over your shoulders before sitting down at the food that Pepper made for you.

“What’s with the pep in your step today?”

“Field trip. I don’t have to be at school today.”

“Field trip?” Your dad asks as he sits down next to you. “Where to?”

“MoMA. My art class is going.”

“Ah so you and the young Parker are getting out of school to go look at art. How sweet.” Your dad says with a teasing tone remembering how Peter ended up in your art class after switching in in the second six weeks. “With how much it cost for you to go to that school, I would think you would spend more time at school than on field trips.”

“It’s educational. I promise.”

“Sure it is.”

“What your dad is trying to say is have fun.” Pepper says with a laugh. “He and I are going to go so can you lock up when you leave with Happy?” You nod. “Perfect. Have fun, love you, see you after school.”

“Love you kiddo.” Your dad kisses the top of your head. Pepper places a kiss behind him. You munch on your toast as they walk towards the door. Today should be a fairly normal day, apart from the field trip.

“Slow down, slow down. I’ll spell it out for you.” Tony tries to get Pepper to listen as he tries to explain his dream from last night while they walk through the park together.

“You’re totally rambling.”

“No I’m not.” Tony throws back in his own defense.

“You lost me.”

“Look, you know how you’re having a dream, and in the dream you gotta pee.” Tony ties his jacket around his shoulders as he says this.

“Yeah.”

“Okay. And then you’re like ��Oh my God. There’s no bathrooms. What am I gonna do? Oh, someone’s watching.’”

“Right.”

“‘Oh, I’m gonna go in my pants.’”

“And then you wake up and in real life you actually have to pee.” Pepper catches his drift.

“Yes.” Tony’s hand waves in agreement.

“Yeah. Everybody has that.”

“Right that’s the point I’m trying to make. Apropos of that, last night I dreamt we had a kid.”

“We have a kid. Y/N.” Pepper points out with a smile.

“No like a baby.” Tony explains. “It was so real. We named him after your eccentric uncle. Uh what was his name? Morgan! Morgan.”

“Right. So when you woke up…”

“Naturally.”

“...and thought we were…”

“Expecting.”

“Yeah.”

“Yes?”

“No.” Pepper smiles at him as she says it.

“I had a dream about it. It was so real.”

“If you wanted to have another kid, you wouldn’t have done that.” Pepper unties the sweater and taps on the nanoparticle home.

“I’m glad you brought this up, ‘cause it’s nothing. It’s just a housing unit for nanoparticles.”

“You’re not helping your case, okay?”

“No, this is detachable. It’s not a…”

“You don’t need that. Y/N didn’t need you to get that. I didn’t need you to get that. Your family needs you to put them first sometimes ok?”

“I know. I had the surgery. I’m just trying to protect us and future usses and that’s it. Just in case there’s a monster in the closet. Instead of, you know…”

“Shirts.”

“You know me so well.”

“God.”

“You finish all my sentences.”

“You should have shirts in your closet.”

“Yeah, you know what there should be? No more surprises. We’re going to have a nice dinner tonight. Hear all about Y/N’s field trip. Show off this Harry Winston. Right?” Pepper chuckles at his antics. “And we should have no more surprises. Ever. I should promise you.”

“Yes.”

“I will.” Tony leans in to kiss Pepper. “Thank you.”

“Tony Stark?” Pepper pulls away at the sound of someone calling Tony’s name. Tony on the other hand can only roll his eyes because this was exactly the kind of thing he was talking about. “I’m Doctor Stephen Strange. I need you to come with me.” Pepper grabs Tony’s hand at this. “Oh and uh congratulations on the wedding, by the way.”

“I’m sorry, are you giving out tickets to something?”

“We need your help. It’s not overselling it to say that the fate of the universe is at stake.”

“And who’s we?”

“Hey Tony.” Bruce appears by Stephen’s side, shocking both Tony and Pepper after so much time without him.

“Bruce.”

“Pepper.”

“Hi.”

“Oh.”

“Are you ok?” Tony asks as Bruce falls into hugging him. What has happened while he was away?

“Ready for this field trip?” Peter asks as he sits down next to you on the bus.

“I’m always ready. Getting out of school for the day? Hell yeah.” You nudge your boyfriend’s shoulder. “Are you ready to see MoMA?”

“I guess so. I haven’t been since Ben died so…” Peter trails off.

“Babe, you haven’t been to MoMA since then? Why?”

“Ben really liked seeing the new exhibits and he would take me with him when he went. It just felt wrong to go without him.” Peter explains as the bus takes off from MSST and heads towards MoMA. “But there’s a first time to do stuff since you lose people I guess.”

“It’s going to be fine. I’ll be with you the whole time.” You say as you take his hand in yours. Peter leans forward on the seat in front of you so he can look in your direction.

“Well that will make everything better.” Suddenly the hairs on Peter’s arm stand straight up.

“What?”

“Something’s wrong.” Peter mumbles. “Spidey senses are off the wall.” His voice is no louder than a whisper.

“Something like a giant donut spaceship floating over NYC seem off enough?” You say pointing towards the window beside him. He turns to look and the recognition on his face tells you all you need to know. Looks like Peter may not be on the field trip after all.

“Can you and Ned create a distraction?”

“Of course. But you’ll be safe?”

“Always am.” He kisses you on the lips really quick before you tap Ned on the shoulder. Ned spins around to look at you.

“Guy in the chair needs to distract everyone with me.” You say quickly, but as Ned turns he sees the ship out the window.

“Holy shit.” He then turns towards the back of the bus and yells, “We’re all gonna die! There’s a spaceship!” You follow him towards the back of the bus as people start calling out asking what’s going on. But your eyes catch Peter’s one more time before he opens the emergency exit window with his web shooter. While everyone else is watching the spaceship, your eyes are trailing out the back of the bus as Peter jumps off the bridge. You know he’ll web himself to safety, but it makes your stomach fall to your toes every time.

Peter swings into the park where he sees a big angry alien… if he had to guess, swinging a sword/ax at Tony. So he does the one thing he knows how to do, he grabs it. “Hey man. What’s up Mr. Stark?”

“Kid where did you come from?”

“Field trip, to MoMA.” Peter screams as he’s thrown in the other direction. “Uh what is this guy’s problem Mr. Stark?”

“Uh he’s from space. He came here to steal a necklace from a wizard.” As the alien throws cars around and Tony tries to laser him, Peter webs the car and swings it back at the alien. Which might just make him more angry, but that’s half the fun. Right as the alien swings his ax down again, a red object zooms by. “Kid that’s the wizard, get on it.”

“On it!” Swinging across New York, he finally grabs the wizard when a blue light grabs the wizard and pulls them both up towards the sky. “Uh, Mr. Stark, I’m being beamed up.”

“Hang on kid!” Wong traps the alien in an icy tundra, slicing off the hand that reaches up towards them. “Wong you’re invited to my wedding.” Tony shouts before jetting off to rescue his daughter’s boyfriend, who happens to be climbing up the side of the alien spaceship. “Give me a little juice FRIDAY. Unlock 17:A.” His boots morph together to form one big foot thruster. “Pete you gotta let go. I’m gonna catch you.” He says over the comms to Peter.

“But you said save the wizard.” Peter pulls his mask off as he says, “I can’t breathe.”

“We’re too high up. You’re running out of air.” If your boyfriend dies in space, you might kill your dad, so he’s going to do everything he can to save the kid.

“Yeah, that makes sense.” Peter’s hands slip from the ship as he runs out of air. But the Iron Spider suit Tony had been working on arrives just in time to grab hold of Peter and save him from falling back to Earth. Instead he just hits the ship a time or two before having air to breathe again. Peter grabs a hold of the ship and stands back up. “Mr. Stark, it smells like a new car in here!”

“Happy trails, kid. FRIDAY send him home.”

“Yep.” A parachute deploys and pulls Peter off the ship.

“Oh come on!” As Tony cuts into the side of the ship, FRIDAY alerts him of something else.

“Boss incoming call from Miss Potts.”

“Tony are you alright? What’s going on?”

“Yeah I’m fine. I just think we might have to push our 8:30 res.”

“Why?”

“Just ‘cause I’ll probably not make it back for a while.”

“Tell me you’re not on that ship.”

“Yeah.”

“God, no, please tell me you’re not on the ship.”

“Honey, I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I don’t know what to say.”

“Come back here Tony. I swear to God. I will take Y/N and I will leave for good. No more surprises. You promised.”

“Pep.”

“Come back here right now.” Static starts to crackle. “Come back.”

“Boss we’re losing her.”

“I’m going too…” Pepper’s voice breaks off as the call drops. While Tony is dealing with this call, Peter is climbing up his webs, back onto the ship he had been told not to be on.

All he can mutter is “I should have stayed on the bus,” as the doors shut on the ship.

The ship is no longer in the sky. You watched it fly away. But you don’t know if that’s a good thing or not, because now you can’t get a hold of your dad or Peter. So you call the one person who has always had to be in the same position as you- you call your mom.

“Y/N? Are you ok?”

“Mom tell me Dad didn’t do something stupid and get on that ship.” Your school group is starting to walk into the first exhibit hall, but you need reassurance right now, not art pieces. Pepper doesn’t say anything for a moment, trying to figure out how to tell you that your dad is on that ship. “He’s on that ship isn’t he?”

“Yeah.”

“Why? Why would he be stupid enough to get on an alien space ship?”

“Because he’s stupid enough to think that saving the world falls on his shoulders and his alone.”

“I think Peter might have been stupid enough to think that too.” You say as soon as you know your class is out of hearing range.

“What?”

“I’ve tried calling him and he’s not picking up.”

“I thought he was on the field trip with you?”

“He was until he saw an alien ship in the sky. Then he decided that he needed to be a superhero. And now he won’t pick up the phone and he always picks up the phone, even when he’s in his suit.” You voice the concerns you’re having. “And my calls to Dad aren’t going through either which makes me think that Peter is with him.”

“He wouldn’t be stupid enough to take a fifteen year old with him on a space ship.” Pepper tries to reassure you.

“But just because he doesn’t take Peter doesn’t mean that Peter isn’t stupid enough to follow him.”

“Sounds like we both need to date smarter men.”

“They’re book smart. I’m just not sure if they’re life smart.”

“I think I’d agree with that.”

“But we also love them too much to let them go.”

“That’s also true.” Pepper doesn’t comment on the fact that you just admitted that you love Peter. “But I also know that your dad will do anything to keep Peter safe if he’s with him. So you just focus on your school trip and at the end of the day, they’ll all come home safe.” Pepper’s promise doesn’t hold much truth to it, but you know your mom is trying to calm you more than anything. “I’m going to send Happy to pick you up from the museum and bring you to SI.”

“Right now?”

“No, but he’ll be there to pick you up when everyone heads back to school.”

“That’s not necessary. I’ll just head back to school and then he can pick me up from school. But Mom, if you hear from Dad, can you tell him I love him?”

“He knows you love him.”

“But I didn’t say it to him this morning and if something happens to him…” You feel the tears welling in your eyes.

“Nothing is going to happen to him. He knows you love him.”

“You don’t know that. Every time he walks out the door to play Avenger, he could leave and not come back. He could die out there today. And I couldn’t take the two seconds it would have taken to tell him I loved him this morning.” The tears drizzle down your face as you mutter the words you feel in your soul. Out of the corner of your eye you see Ned waiting by the door leading to the next exhibit area. You wipe the tears from your cheeks. “So just if you hear from him tell him ok, Mom?”

“I will. Now just for now, don’t think about all of this. Just focus on the field trip and I’ll see you after it ok? Everything is going to be ok.”

“Mom? I love you.”

“I love you too Y/N. So much.” You hang up the phone and Ned walks over.

“Everything alright?”

“No, but the universe doesn’t usually ask me before it makes it’s decisions.”

“Have you heard from Peter?” You shake your head.

“I can’t get a hold of him or my dad. My mom said my dad is on that donut that flew out of the sky, which makes me think if I can’t get a hold of Peter…”

“He’s on it too.” Ned finishes your thought. “Peter’s in space with Iron Man. That’s so cool.” Ned mumbles but then sees your face. “Ok, not the point right now. What’s our plan?”

“We don’t have one. We’re not Avengers. We just wait around until the rest of them hopefully show up.” And you do what you hope is the next best step, you text your aunt- SOS.

N:Don’t worry. Avengers are on it. Focus on school.

Why does everyone think you’ll be able to focus on anything when your dad and boyfriend disappeared on an alien spaceship?

Y:you all think i’m going to be able to focus on learning when my dad and boyfriend have just gone missing? that’s the stupidest thing i’ve ever heard of coming from two of the smartest women i know.

N:I’m not saying it’s going to be easy, but this isn’t on your shoulders. The Avengers will take care of this fight. I promise you, we’ll get them back. Anyway we have to.

“Anything?” Ned asks quietly, as your tour guide goes on pointing out different pieces of art. You shake your head.

“Apparently it’s an Avenger problem, not a me problem, according to Aunt Nat.”

“It’s still cool that you can just text Avengers.”

“Ned, my dad is literally an Avenger. It loses the coolness factor when your dad leaves on missions and you don’t know if he’ll come back alive or not.”

“That’s true I guess.” He looks at the art piece next to you. “But still you get to text the Black Widow! Isn’t that cool?”

“She’s just my Aunt Nat. I’ve hung out with her watching horror movies and talking about crushes. It feels different than saying I text the Black Widow.” You glance over at the statue, trying to take it in so you can write your report when you get home.

“They could have tried to put at least one blemish on it.” MJ mutters and you nod in agreement.

“Uh, Y/N?”

“Ned?” You turn from MJ to see Ned staring at his hand. It’s turning to dust in front of his eyes. “Ned, what’s happening?”

“I think something’s wrong.” His other hand starts to turn into dust and you don’t understand.

“What is happening?”

“Something that can’t be good.” MJ says and you turn to see her hands turning to dust as well. “Y/N, something is wrong. Really wrong.” Your friends are turning to dust in front of your eyes. You can’t stop it, you can’t figure out what’s wrong. So you do the one thing you know to do when something is wrong- you call your mom.

“Y/N? Please tell me you’re not turning to dust too?”

“Mom, I don’t get what’s happening.”

“I don’t know either. But something isn’t right.” Your mom sounds stressed and worried at the same time you lift a hand to run through your hair and that’s when you see it. Your hand is disappearing before your eyes.

“Mom. Mom, I’m scared. My hand, it’s going.”

“Y/N, everything is going to be alright. It’s going to be ok.” Pepper doesn’t tell you that she has tears streaming down her cheeks. She needs to stay calm for you. You’re the one fading into nothing. She can stay calm for you in this moment.

“Mom, Mom. I don’t want to go. Please. I don’t know what’s happening. Mom, please make it stop.” Pepper closes her eyes as she listens to your pleads.

“It’s going to be alright sweetheart. Everything is going to be ok.” You watch in horror as Ned fades into nothing but a pile of dust.

“Mom, Ned’s gone. MJ’s seconds away from going. I don’t want to go too. Please make it stop.”

“Everything is going to be alright baby. Just breathe. Everything is going to be ok.” Pepper lies to you.

“Mom, I love you. Tell Dad I love him too. I don’t want to go. Tell him that. I never wanted to go. Having you two as parents was the best thing that ever happened to me.” Your eyes look in horror as MJ turns into dust too.

“We feel the same about you.”

“I love you. I love you so much Mom. I’m sorry. I don’t want to go. I love you.”

“We love you too.” Pepper knows she only has seconds left with you so she wants to make sure you know this before it’s too late.

“I love yo-”

Permanent tag list: @wormonastringonastick

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buckmecaptain · 4 years ago

Text

With you.

This is my entry for the #fangirlovestuffbdaychallenge for @fangirlovestuff. My prompt was to write for the couple who is each other’s Ride or Die. I was going for utter fluff, then fell down a rabbit hole. Hope this is good enough, and I hope your birthday was wonderful! (Image is not mine. Rico and the typing errors all belong to me. :D )

Summary: Bucky finds the one he’s needed all along. Word count: 2966

Warnings: Mentions of death/loss, grief, canon-typical violence, guns, blood, pain, a few naughty words and allusions to makin’ whoopee.

For hearts that are weary, broken, lost and lonely, there is no better balm than loyalty. Bucky Barnes's heart was in dire need of said balm and it came to him in the form of a sweet and lovely woman with a hot temper and the energy level of a Redbull-swilling hummingbird.

She was there when Steve left and tore "I'm with you 'til the end of the line" asunder. She was there when he had those sleepless nights broken by night terrors and resurfacing memories. She was there as the former Fist of Hydra became James Barnes once more. She fought the press, social media, and the government for him.

Joining the revamped Avengers and taking on the worst of the world - and beyond - was a no-brainer for Bucky: he'd found a new life, and a way to move on. It was a chance to be a protector and a shot at redemption for all the wrongs that still lay heavy on his heart.

He didn't expect to fall in love.

The great tales of sweeping romance tell of the beautiful maiden, sweet and demure, who somehow manages to get under the scars and skin and brutality of the battle-hardened warrior, warming his heart and making him feel human again. They don't usually tell stories of maidens who throw hands at media personnel, curse like longshoremen, and are most likely batshit crazy.

Bucky's initial impression of the woman codenamed Ricochet was limited to glimpses of her in the final battle with Thanos. Her ability to project a shield capable of absorbing and redirecting kinetic energy and projectiles had helped save several of earth's mightiest heroes during that epic fight, most notably Tony Stark.

Somehow, in the final moments she had figured out what Doctor Strange already knew and made a beeline for Stark, shooting or stabbing enemies as she sped past, showing impressive parkour and combat skills while keeping her eyes on the prize and spewing a string of curses that increased in volume and creativity the closer she got to him.

Ricochet bounded from a pile of rubble and landed, skidding to a stop behind Tony just as he said those fated words; "And I am Iron Man." As he snapped his fingers, she threw everything she had into a shield unlike any she'd conjured and pushed. The ensuing power surge had overtaxed her shield's absorption capability and rendered her unconscious for almost a week. A small price to pay; Stark had lost his hand but kept his life, and the battle was won.

After the fight, the team thought they would finally have time to recover and heal from the pain of losing Natasha, but it wasn't meant to be.

When Steve stepped onto the platform, taking with him the only sense of normalcy and grounding Bucky had left, Ricochet had walked up to the damaged man and simply held him. This woman, with whom he'd exchanged only a handful of words since meeting her, was comforting the big bad Winter Soldier. Shoring him up against a flood of emotions that were threatening to overtake him from all sides. All she said to him, quietly, was “I'm with you.”

That moment sparked a connection between them that both desperately needed. Bucky began to lower his walls and engage with the others, and “Rico” was calmer in his presence. Soon enough, they were inseparable – or as Sam would say, insufferable – and melded into their places on the team, helping to ease the feeling of void Steve and Natasha left behind.

Eventually, there were late-night drinks and movies when one or the other couldn't sleep, long conversations about the loved ones they'd lost and mistakes of their past, and so many nights where Bucky was the little spoon after his mind bombarded him through the veil of sleep with another nightmare.

When Rico's mother passed away suddenly, Bucky held her while she cried and accompanied her to the funeral, silently lending her his strength and support. On the days when she would miss her dear friend, Natasha, spending hours in the late Black Widow's quarters, lying on the bed and grieving, Bucky would silently follow. He always took a seat across the room and read a book while Rico connected with her lost friend in the only way she could.

“No matter how often we win, there's always a fight and we always lose pieces, don't we?” She mumbled quietly into Natasha's pillow. “Nat had everything together. She coped so well. I always hoped I could learn that from her. Just ran out of time. There's never enough time.” She sniffled as her eyes burned with unshed tears.

Bucky sat on the corner of the bed and slowly stroked her calf and ankle with a feather-light touch. “That's why we have to make the most of the time we have, baby.” He placed his palm against her thigh so she could feel the comforting weight and warmth of him. “And you do have it together. I'm with you.”

She smiled and patted his hand. "As long as I have you, I can hold on," she vowed and sniffled again. "You know I've always got your six, right Buckybear?"

He hooked his pinky finger with hers. “Always, sugar.”

One had fled Hydra, the other had fled the Red Room. Together, they comforted one another, chasing away the darkness and pain, so perhaps it was inevitable that their close friendship sparked something more. In no time at all, the spark became a blaze, then became a full-fledged inferno. Rico's passion was Bucky and she was his, and the team soon learned not to blindly enter rooms in the tower or risk mortal embarrassment.

They took to the field with a bit too much gusto on occasion, much to the chagrin of Sam Wilson, Captain America, who was tasked with running this version of the Avengers. On any given mission the poor guy facepalmed and rolled his eyes more than humanly possible and oftentimes his scolding went unnoticed or at least unheeded.

Calls of, "How the hell did you even get up there, Rico?" Were often answered with a giggle and "Don't worry! Winter will catch me!" and Ricochet would fling herself off of whatever anxiety-inducing height and angle her body toward Bucky. Usually, this resulted in Sam swooping in to snatch her in mid-air.

Admonishments such as “Oh hell no, Buck. Come on, man!” were usually met with a snort and, “Don't worry, I have an idea.” These were most often followed by giant explosions and fire. So much fire. It always worked out in the end and Bucky was happy to peacock about his skills, though Sam and the others called it “dumb luck”. Sam always stressed the “dumb”.

All in a day's work for a superhero team, right?

Skills or no skills, at some point luck runs out for everybody, and on one particular mission, Bucky and Rico's luck headed for the hills.

They had just blown a Hydra bunker all to hell and were scattered throughout the expansive courtyard dealing with the stragglers in the aftermath and debris.

“I got at least three dozen, south-southeast, comin' in hot!” the Captain yelled over the comm.

“Little busy here!” Ant-Man replied as he and Wanda traded blows with a swarm of operatives.

"Who's in the south tower- oh no," Sam groaned.

“I have a plan!” Bucky answered.

“He so does!” Rico chimed in.

“I swear it's a good one this time,” came the retort, followed by mechanical clanking and whirring.

Sam facepalmed and sighed. “Bucky... no.”

“Bucky yes” the Winter Soldier snorted, and the team heard the distinct sound of his grappling hook firing, then attaching to a half-destroyed wall.

Rico whooped from overhead. “Hell yeah, zipline!”

The Avengers looked up at the tower window just in time to see Bucky launch himself onto the grappling hook line, using his vibranium hand for a carabiner, his other arm wrapped around an AK-107-toting Ricochet. When they cleared the ledge, she wrapped her legs around Bucky's waist, leaned backward until she was upside down, and rained bullets down on the invaders in the courtyard below.

“Death from above, bitches!” she hollered as she emptied her magazine and body after body crumpled to the ground.

Once they were close enough to land safely, they detached and helped the team sweep the area, searching for survivors among the fallen.

“Tic Tac, how's it looking up north?”

“All clear high and low, Captain, Sir!” Ant-Man replied enthusiastically.

“West is still and good to go as well,” Scarlet Witch reported.

War Machine reported that the eastern route was good, so the team began the southern sweep over uneven terrain filled with the heavy cover of demolished outbuildings.

Rico and Bucky were silently and swiftly approaching a small guard shack that had somehow remained intact, their movements completely in sync with one another. Over the last year, they'd developed a line of communication that worked through the slightest of gestures and facial expressions, and it paid off time and time again. Without a word, she threw up a shield in front of Bucky as he kicked in the door of the shack and the agents inside began shooting. The bullets bounced harmlessly off of the shield and back at the gunmen, as he and Rico returned fire.

Unfortunately, the gunshots masked movement behind them. Bucky barely had time to register Rico's scream of pain before his body was contorting in agony. Bullets ripped through him from behind and he was staggering, turning, stumbling, falling. He landed on his back, dazed and weak.

With her breath rattling and blood pouring from her mouth, Rico crawled over to him, grasping at his tac suit and trying to apply pressure to his exit wounds.

“Babydoll,” he croaked out, fighting for air, “you okay?”

She nodded weakly and lay her head on his chest. “'M with you,” she slurred, eyes fluttering closed, “ 'M okay as long as- as you're... here.” She coughed and blood flowed from her mouth onto Bucky's tac jacket.

“Hey- hey, stay awake, baby. Stay with me. I need you, you hear me?” He ran a shaky hand through her hair.

“I know,” she replied, her voice quivering and weak. “what... what would you do... without me?”

Bucky smiled. “Not gonna- gonna find out. Not this time.”

“Feels like the end of the line.” Her voice trailed off as she interlaced her fingers with his.

** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** **

More than a month passed, and Bucky was still in the deepest stage of grief. He'd lost weight because he barely ate, his hair overlong and greasy and his stubble had quickly grown into a full-fledged beard. He drank enough water to stay hydrated and Sam was able to force him to wash up every four or five days, thanks to Wanda's powers pushing and shoving him into the shower. The only thing he willingly did for himself was brush his teeth, and that's because he remembered how much Rico loved his smile.

“So perfect,” she murmured, studying his face in the muted light of the accent lamp, the one shaped like an octopus with the capiz shell head he'd bought for her when she' dexclaimed over it through the antique store window. Her fingers brushed over his jawline as she leaned on his chest.

“Perfect, huh? I did that good?” he teased, smiling fondly at her.

She snorted. “Not that, you dork. Though that was really nice. I mean your smile, it makes my heart go crazy and I love it.”

Gettin' sappy, Babydoll.”

She tapped his nose with a forefinger. “Maybe so, but I'm your sap and you'll just have to deal with it.”

“Oh, I'll deal with you, all right,” he growled and flipped her over, attacking her neck with kisses while she squealed, giggled, and shrieked for him to stop.

She never meant it, of course. She never wanted him to stop.

Late in the morning on the thirty-fifth day after the shooting, Bucky, fresh out of the shower and pulling on a ratty pair of sweatpants, heard a knock at his door. Shuffling over, he opened it to find Tony Stark on the other side, sunglasses in place and otherwise looking bored.

“'Morning, Elsa,” he waved with his Stark Industries Iron Man Edition prosthetic hand. “Got something for you to look at. Let's go.”

Bucky blinked, but had no clever retort for the nickname, and followed his visitor down the hallway barefoot while half-heartedly putting on his t-shirt.

As they entered the elevator, Tony broke the silence. “To the lab.”

“Huh? I didn't say anything,” Bucky's brow furrowed.

Tony nodded. “I know. Just putting it out there. That's where we're going. Lab.”

Bucky grunted.

“Still a brilliant conversationalist, I see. Not an issue. Here we are.”

The elevator doors opened and they stepped into the dimly lit lab, quiet except for the humming and whirring of various types of machinery. When Tony made no move to go deeper into the room, Bucky huffed, annoyed.

“Can we get on with it? I have to-”

“No you don't,” Tony interrupted.

Bucky shoved a hand through his hair. “Fine. What the hell is it?”

“FRIDAY, lights up to sixty percent, please,” Tony gestured at the super-soldier and pointed toward his favorite workspace.

As the spacious room brightened and Bucky's tired eyes adjusted, he was able to make out a familiar shape in the desk chair. He whipped his head around to look at Tony, mouth agape. “Is- is- is it...” he trailed off, his body unable to comprehend.

Tony rolled his eyes. “Great. I've broken the Manchurian Candidate.” He sighed and waved his hands at Bucky. “Go. Go, shoo!”

Tripping over his own feet, Bucky hurried toward the chair, stopping at the last second, stunned. Did he dare to hope again? Elation swept over him when Rico smiled up at him from the chair.

“Hey there, Buckybear. I'm still with you.” Her voice sounded tired, but she looked so damn good. Her smile was steady and her eyes bright. She held out her hands to him and he took them, then fell to his knees, trembling.

“Babydoll, how?” His eyes were glossy with unshed tears and his brain couldn't process speech at the moment, he was so overwhelmed with joy and gratitude. “They- they said you wouldn't... you couldn't-” he stammered, “You wouldn't wake up!” he shouted.

Rico slid out of the chair and held him, rocking side to side slowly. “I tried, baby, I tried. Fought like hell to get back to you. Machines kept me alive when my body gave up.” she sniffled, and he realized she was crying.

“But you're here... I don't understand.”

“Tony had a crazy idea in the middle of the night. You know the serum healed you in a few days, and, well, turns out we have the same blood type.”

Bucky's eyes went wide as he processed this new information.

Rico wiped her eyes and sniffled. “Yeah. They did a transfusion and my body started fighting back faster than expected. Got some new StarkTech in my spine, too.”

“So you're all better now?” he asked, hope filling his heart to bursting.

She kissed his forehead and brushed his hair out of his eyes. “No, baby. Not by a long shot. But I will be, thanks to you and Tony.” She explained how she would need lengthy intense physical therapy and conditioning, and how she might never be exactly as good as she was before but that wasn't going to stop her from trying.

Bucky's emotions were all over the place; he didn't know whether to laugh, cry, dance, smash things, or some combination of all of it. Instead, he stood and helped her to her feet.

“You know I'm with you on this, Babydoll. Anything you need, however long you need it. I'm here,” he vowed, kissing her hands.

“What I need is for you to be happy and healthy. That means I need you to help out the team. They need you and they've been hurting without us.”

Hanging his head, he let out a shuddering sigh. “I've really let them down, huh?”

“Not at all, Frosty,” Tony broke in. “They've had a certain multi-talented super-genius hero come out of retirement to take up the slack,” he smirked.

They shared a laugh and joked about the new, improved, actually iron-for-real-man before getting serious – and maybe a little mushy – about congratulating one another and thanking Tony for his insight and tech. The emotional healing had begun at last.

Later, up in Rico's room, she and Bucky lay on her long-empty bed, spooning and smiling in comfortable silence, dozing and being lazy. She traced circles on his vibranium arm and sighed happily.

“Somethin' on your mind, que Rico?”

She giggled at the pet name. “Stop it.”

He growled playfully and nipped at her shoulder. “Well, you are delicious.”

“You dork. I was just thinking... we actually did it. We made it to the end of the line, and we're still here.” She turned to face him.

“Can't get rid of me that easily, sugar. We're meant to be, y'know. You're my kind of crazy.” He kissed the tip of her nose and grinned.

“Damn straight. You're my ride or die, Buckybear,” she pecked his lips and smiled back at him. “And I love you so much.”

“You're my everything, Babydoll. I'll always love you.”

#fangirlovestuffbdaychallenge #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky fic

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sserpente · 5 years ago

Photo

A/N: Request from anon. I loved the concept… and then I couldn’t stop writing and it went so well with some other ideas I had and it escalated and ahhh, you guys were supposed to get this Imagine three days ago. Anyway… enjoy reading! ♥ Words: 4628 (oops) Warnings: gore/blood, fluff (the combination doesn’t sound right, now does it)

Here’s an extra warning: I got a bit inspired by “Coriolanus” so there will be a very bloody and graphic scene… stuff I usually don’t write myself. As I said though, I really got inspired by the play so I just went along with it, if anything to not repeat myself with this one scene we all hate so much. It thus also might rip open the wounds Infinity War caused. Therefore, the scene will be marked with “*” at the beginning and the end in case you prefer to skip it.

“It’s a myth.”

“It’s not a myth. They are omens of death.” Thor argued. Grinning smugly, he leaned back and took a sip of his beer.

Tony buried his face in his hands. “You know I started believing in many things when you fell out of the sky to help us fight aliens but… there’s a line. ‘Black angels’? With shimmering wings? Please, Point Break.”

“Well, you wouldn’t know. They say only those before their imminent death can see their wings.”

“Have you ever seen an angel then?”

“No! I told you, they are omens of death. Volstagg’s father… he saw one. He swore he did. One week after, he perished.”

“Coincidence.”

Loki rolled his eyes. He had known before that mortals were ignorant and refused to face reality, Stark’s stubbornness however surprised even him. Many creatures shared their stories in the Old Norse myths, stories which his mother had told him before bed when he was a child.

Angels… omens of death. Black, shimmering wings… they said whoever saw one before death, their soul would leave their body contently… that they were of such beauty it would not compare to any other being in the nine realms. As a young boy, Loki had told Frigga he wanted to see one for himself—and Frigga chided him for wishing for such an atrocious thing.

Shivering, you wrapped your black coat around yourself tighter. You had bought it from a street market for little money which you had stolen from a peasant. High up in the sky, you were never cold. You were free. Those human sensations were downright irksome.

Perhaps it was your own fault you had ended up on Midgard of all places. Stranded and stripped off most of your powers, they had cast you out and forced you to live a mortal life—knowing you would never find friends on a planet inhabited by beings that would not grow half as old as you.

Perhaps you should have joined your people when they swore their allegiance to the purple titan. But you knew you would have made the wrong decision. What Thanos wanted was impossible—and you sincerely hoped he would fail. His lackeys were already spreading dread, fear and death across the planet. You had seen them lurking about, watching his evil plans unfold and wreak havoc when it was fun.

A high-pitched scream ripped you from your thoughts. Turning straight on your heel to see what had caused it, your instincts kicked in. Altruistically saving humans wasn’t high on your priority list, kicking Thanos’ monkeys’ arse, however, was. It felt good to ram your poisoned dagger into their hearts… and it least gave you some satisfaction.

You frowned when you reached the dimly lit alley, scanning the area to analyse the situation. Somebody had beaten you to it. Clenching your fists, you recognised both Tony Stark and Captain America along with a raven-haired man with a sharp jawline and the most stunning blue eyes you had ever seen—Loki, God of Mischief.

Thanos’ lackeys were nowhere in sight. Instead, what part of the Avengers… and Loki put up with was a dirty burglar who seemed to have tried to rob a young woman who was currently shaking on the cold ground like autumn leaves in the wind.

“Are you alright, Miss?” You heard Steve Rogers ask her humbly, all the while the burglar—terrified for his life—scrambled to his feet, abandoning the knife he had held. Loki rolled his eyes. With but one effortless movement, he kicked him in the stomach the moment he attempted to run and proceeded to grab his collar to lift him off the ground.

“Please, please… please don’t kill me!” The burglar whimpered. You suppressed a chuckle.

“Let him go, Reindeer Games.”

“Let him go? What did we intervene for? Mercy? I disagree…”

“Nope. FRIDAY has already saved his fingerprints and appearance. The police will get him soon enough. Now let him go. I think he peed his pants.”

Loki’s face distorted when he spotted the wet spot between the burglar’s legs. Disgusted, he did as he was told and threw him back to the ground. He swallowed thickly before hurrying away clumsily. Then, he looked up—and his blue eyes locked with yours.

Paralysed, he captured you in his both scrutinising and fascinated gaze. Your lips parted when you realised that he could see your wings. Dark, shimmering and as soft as a crow’s feather dress they framed your form—petite compared to his—and complimented both your (Y/H/C) hair and (Y/E/C) eyes. You were beautiful.

Neither of you paid attention to the young woman who had stood again by now, approaching Loki timidly. Her ‘thank you’ went unnoticed even when Steve called his name.

“Who are you?” You blinked, reluctantly tearing your eyes away from Loki’s to face Tony Stark.

“(Y/N)… my name is (Y/N). I am what other beings would refer to as… a black angel.”

Tony snorted. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

One heated discussion after your confession led to another and Captain America and Iron Man—for Loki had remained completely silent—decided to take you back to the compound to speak to Thor. You did not take kindly in spilling your secret to strangers. Hundreds of years ago, humans, Asgardians and other species had hunted you down for amusement, using poison to make your wings visible and cutting them off to sell them on the black market—an ironic name, really.

But this… was different. Loki—the Loki, God of Mischief and Lies, Trickster… son of Laufey and Farbauti and Prince of Asgard—he could see your wings. Legends had been told about connections alike. They said that every living black angel in this universe served a purpose, was meant to follow a path and fulfil its destiny—and to be with one person who loved them dearly for the rest of their existence. Only those that fate chose to be a black angel’s partner would be able to see their wings—to see all of them—in their full glory and true beauty. Loki’s blue eyes were practically glued on you; and if you were not mistaken, there was a hint of panic glistening in his irises too.

Did he feel the connection, perhaps? That you seemed to have found the man your heart would likely belong to for the rest of your life? Strangely enough, you felt… oddly exposed. Only other black angels had ever been able to see your gift, unwillingly sharing it with someone you had but heard of and never met made you vulnerable… and it made you self-conscious.

“How exactly did you end up here on Earth?” Thor leaned forward, crossing his arms on the vast glass table in the middle of the conference room. Around him, the remaining Avengers which you had not officially met yet, squinted suspiciously in a desperate attempt to spot your wings as well. One of them—you believed he was called Rhodey—had even examined your back but found nothing.

“I was… banished. My own people abandoned me because I refused to join the new force.”

“Does that force answer to the name of Thanos by any chance?” Tony tossed in. You nodded.

“You have heard of him. He means to wipe out half of the universe. We have to stop him whatever it takes.”

You could feel Loki’s presence behind you. He was still silent, pacing up and down the room like a cunning predator waiting to strike.

“How do we know we can trust you?”

“You don’t. I am merely warning you. I don’t have the powers to stop him but you might. And I certainly did not ask to be invited to your humble home.” You snapped. They were hostile towards you, you could tell. Something about you unsettled them. If only you knew what it was.

Be that as it may, the Avengers decided to let you stay for a while. They hadn’t locked you in a room but if you were to try and leave without anyone accompanying you… then the Norns beware.

You sighed. You should have never mentioned you were a black angel, pretended to be human instead… pretended that Loki was hallucinating. His eyes had made you forget all reason. The invisible force pulling you to him was destructive. You wanted to be close to him, be with him, be there for him… lay your life, soul and heart in his hands… all the while he seemed to painstakingly ignore you.

You barely knew but you could sense that Loki was everything you could ever wish for. An intelligent, powerful, cunning and charming man, tall, blue-eyed and so outrageously handsome he even outshone his brother Thor. You had never spoken to him personally and yet, you felt like you would die for him. Now what if he never reciprocated those feelings? Tragic stories were told about black angels who found love and yet had to live without it.

At the very least, so you figured, you had access to a fully furnished kitchen tonight. It was your first warm supper in two weeks and bit more nourishing than a mere apple or a handful of nuts. It was almost midnight now and hunger had gotten the better of you… or maybe it was the prosperity of food being available to you at any time without you having to steal hard-earned money for it first.

Passing through the hallway, your tread entirely mute, you stopped dead in your tracks when you heard two familiar voices talking in the living room.

“Big… imposing… no, I did not imagine it, Thor. They were there. A pair of shimmering black wings…” Loki sounded worried, yet you could tell he was trying hard not to let it show. He had already seemed to have panicked a little when he first laid his eyes upon you.

“So what do we do?”

“I don’t know.”

“How much time do you have left?”

“I don’t know, Thor.”

“Don’t you… worry, brother… I’m sure everything’s gonna work out fine.”

There was a moment of awfully painful silence. Then, somebody left.

Frowning, you knocked. You were unsure of what they had been talking about. Loki’s expression darkened when he spotted you entering the room shyly, his eyes focused on the wings on your back.

“You… seem to be avoiding me, Loki. Have I… done something?”

Loki smirked—it was bitter. Now that he had told Thor, by tomorrow… they would all know he was going to die soon.

“You have not, dear. It is not something you did. It is your purpose.” Your heart skipped a beat. You had not expected such an honest answer.

“My purpose? I don’t have a purpose here on Midgard.” His eyes were ice cold when he looked up to meet your gaze.

“You are an omen of death.”

Your lips parted. “I am… I am not.”

“No man who sees a black angel’s wings survives. I can see yours.”

“B-but… but that… you’re not going to die.”

His bitter smile returned. “We are facing Thanos. If I was doubtful about my fate before, I am no longer now.”

“Loki, that’s not what it means…” It felt like your heart was shattering, to a million tiny little pieces. He thought you were his death… no wonder he felt uneasy around you. Where had that stupid superstition come from? Why would you be an omen of death?

You longed to tell him what it really meant. Only right now, in this very moment, it did not feel right. Would he even believe you? Probably not.

“Good night, Loki.”

When you returned to your room, you sent your pillow flying through the air all the while suppressing a scream of anger.

The following days were equally frustrating. Loki seemed to be avoiding you at all cost and even Thor and the others only spoke to you when it was absolutely necessary. They were scared. All of them. Dreading that at some point, they might see your wings too. You had already given up attempting to explain it to them. There were much more important things to take care of.

Figuring out your own feelings, for example. It was impossible to love someone you had just met, even for black angels… right? The invisible force linking you to Loki’s body and mind was so strong it almost physically ached to not be near him. You were worried. Loki thought he was going to die. It was obvious he had a past with Thanos, one that was about to catch up with him.

You had your dagger—it was the least you could fight with to protect his life. After all, that one superstition was indeed true. Yet when you stood in front of him, the purple titan who had stolen away your people, and the black angels you had thought of as friends and family… you were terrified.

All of them were ready to fight. Man against man, woman against woman and you… somewhere in between. You had never agreed to destroy him, had never promised to help. It was not in your nature to intervene in such things; even though you would not exactly call yourself a pacifist, wars held a bitter connotation. All you cared about was Loki—even if he did not care about you.

Proudly and arrogantly, he lifted his chin in pure defiance. You could feel he was anxious. His heart was beating so fast your own almost stopped. Thanos wanted the Tesseract—and Loki was denying he was in its possession.

The whole Avengers compound had become a bloody battlefield. There was debris, there were screams and the sounds of metal clashing. Clutching your dagger tighter, you watched how Thor was hurled through the air and landed on the hard ground.

“We don’t have the Tesseract! It was destroyed on Asgard!” He growled, spitting a mouthful of blood into the grass before two of Thanos’ lackeys managed to restrain him.

Loki briefly closed his eyes, guiltily. One single moment of negligence—and enough for Thanos to grab his head forcefully and throw him on the ground before Ebony Maw’s feet.

Loki gasped in pain but the ugly sorcerer did not hesitate. He raised his hands, fingers crooked… only to send shockwaves of agony through his blood. As a Frost Giant… the heat pumping through his veins was pure torture.

“The Tesseract…” Thanos remarked, seemingly unimpressed. Your eyes widened. Loki really had it. Of course he had it.

“Please, stop…” You heard yourself whisper, the pain he felt cursing through your own body. Only yours wasn’t physical. “Stop it! The Tesseract is not here. Let him live. Whatever he has done in the past, he did it to survive, wouldn’t you do the same?”

“He disappointed me,” the titan argued. “He failed.”

“We all do. It was not his fault. Look around you. Look at your forces fighting against a bunch of mortals. If they are having difficulties defeating them now, then how would you expect Loki to do it all on his own?”

Loki’s stunning blue eyes widened upon hearing your words. He kept grunting, growling and panting as Maw intensified the spell, making you panic slightly.

“I am not merciful, little one. If I were, I wouldn’t be where I am standing now.”

“You… don’t have to be.” You swallowed. “His life in exchange for mine. I shall serve you if you let him live.”

“Why would I want your allegiance?”

“I am an angel, too.”

Thanos raised his eyebrows.

“You would give your freedom to save him? Him?”

“Yes.” Blinking frantically to scare away the tears in your eyes, you watched the titan nod slowly. With a start, Ebony Maw stopped, earning him another pant from Loki. In his ugly hands… he held the Tesseract.

“You have a good heart, little one. Unfortunately… I don’t like being lied to.”

*It happened fast, almost too fast for you to comprehend. Thanos’ sword slashed through the cold air and Loki’s neck, blood spurting from the freshly cut wound and staining his skin and armour. His blue eyes closed, the downright repulsive sounds of him choking on his own blood filling your ears.

Then, he stopped moving, the red liquid still pouring from his neck.*

You screamed, both in pain and indescribable grief when Loki’s heart stopped beating. He had been right. You had been his very personal omen of death.

You didn’t sleep. You didn’t eat. You didn’t speak. Thanos was gone, two Infinity stones along with him. And while the Avengers were busy figuring out a plan to stop him once and for all, you spent your time sulking away in your room, your eyes red and swollen from the many tears you shed for the man you had never had a chance to love.

You had meant to save him. Loki had trusted you to seal his fate and when you had attempted to lay down your own life so he would survive, you had caused the exact opposite. It wasn’t your fault, not really and yet… it felt like it.

It felt like your heart had been ripped in pieces, like Thor had driven his beloved hammer into your chest repeatedly and shattered all of your ribs.

Dead. You had found the one man your poor existence as a god damn black angel had made sense for, the one man who could have made you happy. And now he was dead.

You were ready to do anything to get him back. And so you were plotting.

Whether Thor was grieving, you did not know. But you had heard of Ragnarok, the destruction of his home world, of Asgard, the realm of the gods. Hela had wreaked havoc and claimed the throne. Hela, the goddess of death… Hela, who could resurrect the dead and bring them back to life.

“Tony.” Your voice carried only feinted politeness. You simply did not care how worn out he was, noodling around in his lab. Neither did you care that Thor did not even look up when you entered.

“Can I speak to Thor, please? In private?”

He was his brother. If anyone was going to help you bring Loki back, it was him. Thor had complained about having lost Loki before. That he had thought him dead before. Whether he could not accept he was truly gone this time or had simply moved on, you could not tell. But you sincerely hoped Loki was important enough for him, worthy of saving.

The God of Thunder looked up, his brows raised in surprise. Nodding mutely, he stood and left the room, allowing you to close the door to Tony’s lab behind you.

“There is a way to bring Loki back alive.” You stated straight away, swallowing thickly. Thor crossed his arms before his chest, a defensive posture.

“What do you mean?”

“Loki is not in Valhalla, his soul did not… ascend. He should have been… he would not give Thanos the Tesseract to Thanos, he was enduring torture, he… wanted to save you. All of you, stop the titan himself. That… that means…” Again, you swallowed, forcing back the tears forming in your eyes. “It means he is in Hel. I’ve been there before, black angels… we are immune to… well, it doesn’t matter. But… the goddess of death. Hela, she could…”

“No.”

“What?”

“No.” Thor repeated sternly. “Hela is my sister. She caused the destruction of Asgard, she killed my friends and hundreds of innocent Asgardians.”

“I have heard the stories… but Thor, Loki is your brother.”

“Do you truly think she will resurrect him without asking for something in return? We barely managed to banish her again, I will not risk the subjugation of the nine… the eight realms.”

Angrily, you narrowed your eyes at him, your heart pounding in your chest.

“If Thanos gets a hold of the remaining Infinity Stones, say goodbye to the entire universe. He will be ten times worse than Hela. If anyone can help you defeat him, it’s your brother. Your brother, Thor.”

Why did he hesitate? As a black angel, you had never had brothers or sisters but if you did… if you did you would love and cherish them dearly. Did Thor not love Loki? Did he not love him as much as Loki loved Thor? You could see it in his eyes. Loki had a good heart, vulnerable and tainted but good.

“Why would you want to bring him back? You don’t know him. Loki’s been dead before, if it’s true this time… it is what it is.” Thor mumbled. “Look, (Y/N)… Loki is dead because of you. Your appearance… it was the sign… there is no way around that.”

“That’s bullshit, Thor,” you snapped. All of a sudden, the truth spilled from your lips uncontrollably. “I’m not an omen of death, who came up with this? Loki was the only one who can see my wings because he was meant to be my soul mate. I… I fell in love with him the moment I first looked him in the eye. I was going to sacrifice my life to save him, those were not empty words, you heard them!”

Thor paused. “That’s… impossible. All my life… I grew up believing black angels were deadly.”

“We can be. My blades of my daggers are drowned in poison but we do not promise death to those we show our wings to. It wasn’t my decision, Thor. Please… help me bring your brother back.” This time, you were unable to hold back your tears. Sobbing quietly, they ran over your reddened cheeks.

The God of Thunder took a deep breath.

“I can take you to the portal. The rest is up to you. But if you endanger this realm by setting Hela free, you will live with the consequences because we will kill you. I have to protect these people, (Y/N).”

Determined, you nodded. “I will make this right, Thor. I promise.”

The portal was a church. At least, it looked like a church. Home of the angels… you snorted. If only you could live in a richly decorated church. The more you approached, the more of the dead energy did you feel. Helheim was near.

You had a plan, of course. It was risky and bold and perhaps a bit reckless… but at least, it was a plan. Thor had held his promise and he made sure to stay until you returned—with or without Loki.

Then, with one final deep breath—for there was no reason to breathe in Helheim—you stepped over the threshold of Durham Cathedral and disappeared into nowhere, an invisible force sucking you into another realm.

The stench of death filled your nose before you had even opened your eyes again, corpses, skeletons and bloody soil staining the dark landscape. Like you had expected, your presence in the realm of the dead as a living being did not go unnoticed.

“I’ve met black angels before. But they were dead.” Hela’s voice echoed through the minging air, her blue eyes, complimented by dark coal, boring into yours.

“I came to warn you.”

“Warn me? Child… Look around you… this place is dead. What do I have to fear?”

“Thanos. He means to wipe out half of the universe. Killing half of every single living being.”

Hela raised her eyebrows, seemingly unimpressed.

“Where do you think will most of these souls go? Half the universe… crammed in one realm. Your realm.”

“The Gauntlet. He has it then.”

“And he is collecting the stones. There is a force on Midgard… across the universe to stop him. They need all the help they can get.”

It was then the goddess of death began to smile cruelly. “Who is it you want me to resurrect?”

“How familiar are you with the powers of black angels?”

Hela shrugged. “They are meant to find their soul mates, the only beings they unwillingly reveal their true nature to.” As the goddess of death, she knew a lot more than the rest of the Asgardians then.

You nodded. “My powers were taken from me when I was cast out. They will return once I am reunited with mine.” That was a lie. But if Hela was Thor’s sister, you could imagine she did not exactly take a liking into Loki. “I need you to return Loki to the living. We stop Thanos, we stop this realm from destruction. And we both know that even Helheim could not take the masses of murderers and villains once the titan snaps his fingers.”

Snarling, she turned her scrutinising gaze away from you. “Loki?” She snorted. “You know what? Take him. Take that little cockroach and leave. Hel will be better off without his smug remarks.”

You were almost surprised by how calm you managed to speak with her. The prosperity of seeing Loki again filled your broken heart with joy and love, even if the God of Mischief himself, so you imagined, would hardly feel the same.

Hela narrowed her eyes. With but a flick of his wrist, she summoned Loki like a demon. Your heart skipped a beat when you spotted him. He did not look harmed, the atrocious wound on his neck luckily gone completely.

“I was trying to sleep. Forewarn me before you—“ Loki stopped his mocking complaint mid-sentence. His lips parted when he saw you—that’s when you had already thrown yourself into his arms and buried your face in his neck, inhaling his wonderful scent and enjoying the touch of his body, beginning to heal you instantly.

“Husband…” You murmured, knowing that Hela was still watching you intently.

Loki froze. “What?”

“Just play along. Please… I’m gonna get you out of here.” You whispered mutely. Then, you timidly pressed your lips against his, triggering an explosion of chemistry between you. You almost flinched… and apparently, Loki felt the same.

Hela rolled her eyes in a disgusted manner. Clearly, she was convinced. “Leave. Make sure not to return.” She flicked her wrists once more, almost as if taking a spell on Loki—whatever had been necessary to allow him to travel through the portal and back to the living.

Confidently, you reached for his hand, a touched smile spreading on your lips when he accepted it and followed you back to Midgard and into Durham Cathedral.

“Husband?” He repeated, ignoring Thor who received him with his mouth wide open.

“There is a lot of explaining I need to do, I’m afraid.” You began apologetically.

“Indeed.” He was still holding your hand, not pulling away. It filled your chest with a cosy warmth which you had never felt before.

“You… only you can see my wings.”

“I still do.”

“You… you can because… because I am your soul mate. I never was an omen of death, Loki. I.. love you.”

The God of Mischief’s face fell.

“What you said to Thanos… you did attempt to…” You nodded quickly.

“I… I had to try. Contacting Hela, convincing her to resurrect you…”

“Thank you.” He interrupted, looking you deep in the eye. It was surprise which you found sparkling in those blue irises. Surely… never had anyone done this for him. Surely, nobody else would have done this for him. Thor still went ignored.

“I… I can understand if you… if you don’t want me to stay. I can leave. Being my soul mate, it doesn’t… it doesn’t link you to me if you don’t want to.”

Your heart jumped when Loki began to smirk mischievously... but genuinely.

“Oh no, my dear. I think I am going to keep you.”

A/N: If you enjoyed this story, I would appreciate so much if you supported me on KoFi! kofi.com/sserpente

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hawkbucks · 4 years ago

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Hi, yes, listen - i am such a sucker for identity porn fics. And i need MORE of your stony identity porn au! With dumbass tony going on dates with his armor because he has to keep up the charade, and a pining steve and an exhausted JARVIS and and and... I just need more, pretty please?? With cherry on top? Please and thank you~ ♡

I don’t think Steve would try to ask Iron Man out on a date while under the impression that he’s dating Mr. Stark, so IM/TS must break up! Which means... *drumroll* light angst! Or something! It’s very light!

Saying that Tony has been having a bad day is an understatement. He’s been having a terrible day. Atrocious. Magnificent only in its ability to irritate him. His bruised ribs are flaring up again (thanks, Mole Man), he forgot to buy more of his favorite coffee brand so he had to drink--gasp!--Folgers, and everything is too bright and too loud and Jesus Christ, now that he’s thinking about it, he may or may not actually have a concussion. Add in the stress of trying to run Stark Industries, being a good benefactor-slash-mechanics for the Avengers, and his general sense of self-doubt, it’s a damn wonder as to how he hasn’t tipped over the edge yet.

He sits on the common room couch, tablet in hand, and one leg crossed over the other. His tie is thrown somewhere over the back, blazer discarded. If any qualified doctor were to see him right now, he’s pretty sure they’d be having a conniption trying to get him to rest. The steady march towards the future never rests, though, so why should he?

The answer to that comes in the form of Steve Rogers a.k.a Captain America a.k.a the object of Tony’s affections for the past 2 years a.k.a the one Tony has been deceiving into thinking that he’s dating himself walking into the room and smiling his golden smile while his eyes twinkle in the way that Tony knows Iron Man is going to be coming up in the conversation sooner or later. Surprisingly, Steve has been rather supportive about the entire thing, despite his own crush on Iron Man. It makes Tony feel a little bit worse about the entire thing. Okay, a lot worse.

“Hello, Tony,” Steve greets, voice light. Then, he takes in the way Tony’s shoulders are set in a stiff line, a deep frown on his face. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine. Dandy,” Tony replies. He smiles up at Steve, well aware that it doesn’t reach his eyes. “And you?”

Steve, of course, doesn’t believe him. You don’t need super soldier senses to know that Tony is not fine and he is not dandy. “You know that’s not what I meant,” he chides. “You can talk to me.”

“I know,” Tony says. “I’m just... tired.”

“Sleep, then. Your work can wait.”

“I can’t,” Tony murmurs. “I try, but I can’t. There’s so much on my plate, Steve, I couldn’t sleep even if I were dead. In between the company and the Avengers and I--” his breath hitches, the pain in his ribs making itself known again-- “Iron Man, it’s too much.” He clenches his fist. Fucking--Iron Man.

“Did something happen?” Steve asks, alarmed.

That’s how he knows his thought didn’t stay a thought. It’s always the worst of them that end up coming out of his mouth. Never anything about him having a dream about riding a rainbow with a poodle the other day. Never anything about him making a delicious chicken parmesan. Always the bad shit. “We broke up.” Like ripping off a bandaid.

“Shit.”

“It was a week ago.” Tony feels like he should be concerned with how easily the lie flows off his tongue. “Amicable, I think, but it just--it stayed with me. He’s always going to stay with me. I don’t know. You shouldn’t have to listen to me.”

“You’re as much of my friend as Iron Man is. I’ll listen for as long as you need.” Steve sits next to him and takes the tablet out of his hand, setting it on the coffee table in front of them.

“Thank you.” Tony’s voice cracks.

OKAY so now that’s out of the way I hope you do not mind bullet points because my brain is pulling me in 3 directions at once and I’m pretty sure if I actually tried to write it out the universe would implode.

It takes around 8 months before Steve even thinks about the possibility of asking Iron Man out. He knows that, technically, the man has been on the market ever since Tony cried during their little heart-to-heart on the couch, but he has too much respect for the man to make a move on his ex when it’s barely been 24 hours. Plus, even if Tony says it was amicable, who’s to say that Iron Man wasn’t also sobbing his eyes out? The only reason Steve doesn’t know is because he never brought it up, and he’s sure that if he did, Iron Man would’ve put a stop to the conversation fairly quickly.

But he does end up asking Iron Man out and Iron Man’s repulsors stop working for a good 0.3 seconds. “Are you serious?” Iron Man asks, the concern in his voice showing even through the modulator. “You haven’t even seen my face.”

“I don’t need to see your face to know you’re a good man.”

(Tony may or may not think about getting that tattoo’d on an inconspicuous part of his body.)

Every single date, Iron Man is in the armor. The only thing he can do is drink a milkshake or a soda through the straw. It honestly makes Steve feel a little selfish if he’s being honest. He’s over here, shoveling pancakes into his mouth, while Iron Man is sipping on a strawberry-banana smoothie. Iron Man insists that he doesn’t mind, but it still makes him feel bad.

Meanwhile Tony is stressing even more because he has to be extra careful because Steve’s taken to hanging around more and more on Iron Man’s floor lately and if he times it wrong, Steve could very well walk in on him changing into/out of the Iron Man armor.

“Might I suggest telling him, sir?” Jarvis suggests.

“No,” Tony curtly replies, “you may not.”

And on the other hand, Steve lies awake at night dreaming about how Iron Man looks like under the mask and oh god oh god he just wants to kiss Iron Man so badly he aches (and he feels like the lead character in a Victorian romance novel).

At some point later in the relationship:

“Jarvis? Could you tell Iron Man I love him?” Steve asks.

“Certainly, sir.”

“HE LOVES ME,” Tony wails. “HE HASN’T EVEN SEEN MY FACE.”

“Certainly, sir.”

And at another some point, Steve brings up the fact that he still hasn’t seen Iron Man without his mask. He’s not? Super Pushy about it, though? It’s like, “Would you ever unmask yourself in front of me some time? Don’t get me wrong, it’s been nice, but I would like to see your actual face.”

And Tony is sweating bullets like, “I’m a bit self-conscious about my looks.”

“Nonsense. You’d be plenty handsome to me no matter how you look like.”

And Tony thinks he might die on the spot, oh my god. He needs to tell Steve at some point, but he’s so fucking afraid of how he would react. Bar the fact that he doesn’t think he could measure up to Captain freakin’ America, there’s also the fact that Steve has been a stickler for truth and justice and blah blah since day one, and if he were to find out that Tony’s been hiding his identity for as long as he has... yeah.

#I'M SORRY I WISH THIS WERE LONGER!#Thank you for coming in and requesting though :D #It's always a joy to see you in my notifs!!#justsomeoneunordinary

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rambling-at-midnight · 5 years ago

Text

Meddling

Anonymous Request: #8 and #80 for Peter Parker, please?

#8: “You’ve got thirty seconds to explain to me what you’re doing here.”

#80: “Why is that your password?”

It’s a widely known fact at school that Peter Parker is sort of a dork. He doesn’t make the best decisions. He gets caught in the wrong places. He says the wrong things. He says the right things at the wrong time.

It’s a widely known fact in Queens that Spider-man is super cool. He always shows up where he’s needed. He can take out eight men at once without breaking a sweat. He’s got witty retorts ready any second. He’s got crazy powers that make him strong and sticky.

It’s a widely known fact in the Stark tower that Peter Parker is kind of a genius. He can keep up with Tony Stark and is in the workshop with him 90% of the time he’s there. The other 10% of the time Peter spends at the tower is with you.

It is also a widely known fact in the Stark tower that Peter Parker has a crush on Y/N Stark, and that you have a crush on Spider-man.

Tony takes great amusement in the irony of that statement, although sometimes the obtuse way both teenagers skirt around their feelings for each other can be frustrating. Peter is literally the only guy Tony will ever accept for you because he can trust the webslinger would rather die than hurt the feelings of someone he loves.

“Hey, FRIDAY,” Peter greets when he walks into the common area.

“Hello, Peter,” the AI responds.

“Is Y/N here?”

“No,” FRIDAY says. “She does not return from the cabin until Thursday.”

Peter wilts a bit but nods. “Okay.”

See, the reason the ratio of Tony-to-Y/N time is so wonky is because of how much time you spend in the super-secret cabin. Tony insists on it for your protection or something like that.

“I’m still here,” Tony points out, pouring himself a coffee, and smirks when Peter jumps.

“I didn’t know you were there!” the teenager gasps, putting a hand to his heart like he’s in danger of a heart attack.

Tony snorts. “Is your Peter-tingle still not working?”

Taken aback, Peter stares at his mentor for a second before shaking his head. “I have got to stop Aunt May from talking about me to you. And no, I’ve told you this a thousand times; it doesn’t work when I’m around people that aren’t threats to me!”

“Whatever you say, buddy,” Tony shrugs, yawning. “Now, as I’m sure my presence is more than enough a substitute for the presence of my daughter, let’s get to work, why don’t we?”

Peter blushes. “Okay.”

“Speaking of my daughter,” Tony adds, “when are you going to ask her out?”

Peter falls flat on his face.

~~~~

You seriously love having private jets at your disposal; trips are so much more comfortable and quick. Especially private jets that are eco-friendly, because it means you can flaunt your wealth without worrying about people on the internet dragging you.

Nah, you’re just kidding. You don’t flaunt your wealth that much.

Just a little.

“I’m home!” you call when you walk into the quiet common floor of the Avengers tower. All the lights are off. You frown. “Dad?”

Nothing. He must be on a business call. They seem to pop up unexpectedly all the time and you don’t begrudge him for them.

Besides, it’s late. You’ll go to sleep and greet your father in the morning. And hopefully Peter.

You roll your eyes at yourself and check your phone in vain for new messages, but nothing comes through. Not your dad checking to see if the flight landed on time, not Peter sending you a meme, not even Natasha texting you mission details in the rare occurrence you’re allowed to accompany the team.

Nothing. Complete radio silence.

Being a Stark is more isolating than one would think.

You sigh and rub your eyes, excited to go to sleep in your comfortable bed in your soundproofed room.

“FRIDAY?” you try.

“Your father is otherwise engaged, Y/N,” the AI responds. “He sends his regrets. If it is any consolation, I am pleased to see you again. So to speak.”

You smile up at the ceiling. “Thanks, FRI.”

FRIDAY lights up the walk from the common area to your room. You’ve seen enough horror movies to have a faint sense of how creepy it is to only be able to see a few feet in front of you at a time, but you trust the AI. It’s not like anything’s going to happen to you. Besides, even if there is something or someone there, you’ve been trained in enough forms of combat by literally every Avenger so you’re pretty confident you can handle yourself.

You open your door, still contemplating your phone’s screen as if staring at it will make people send you texts, but something crashes in your bathroom and you jump. The door swings shut behind you as you rush to the bathroom.

A trussed-up Spider-man struggles to his feet from where he is in your shower.

Wait. Spider-man in my shower?

You raise a single eyebrow, relaxing and crossing your arms while leaning against the doorframe. “You’ve got thirty seconds to explain to me what you’re doing here.”

“Did you let the door shut?” Spider-man squeals.

You frown, confused. “Uhh...” A quick glance over your shoulder confirms that the door is, in fact, closed. “Yeah.”

The superhero groans. “No!”

“Um, you still haven’t explained a thing, and you’re down twenty seconds,” you prompt, tapping your wrist that doesn’t even bear a watch.

“Long story short, your dad locked me in here,” Spidey groans. “And now that you’ve let the door shut, you’re locked in here with me too.”

You bite your lip. “Uh... why would Dad lock you in my room, Peter?”

“I have no idea,” Spider-man replies, then freezes. “Wait! Who’s Peter? I—I’m not Peter, I don’t even know a Peter!”

You quirk an eyebrow. “Uh-huh.” Spinning on your heel, you tug on your room’s door handle. True to his word, the door doesn’t budge.

“Seriously!” Spidey, hot on your heels, insists. “I really—I’ve never met you before in my life! I mean, I’ve seen you, because you’re famous because you’re Y/N Stark, but you’ve never met me! Or seen me! Or—”

“Peter.” You sigh and put your hands on your hips. “Honestly. Do you remember when my father announced to the world that he was Iron Man?”

“That’s a pivotal moment in history,” Spidey mutters, “so I’m sure that everyone remembers that.”

“Yeah. And did you know that he walked into that press conference with a fully detailed cover story as well as paid actors as witnesses to back up his story?”

“Uh...” Spider-man shifts his weight on his feet back and forth.

“And instead of simply reading off the cards like he was supposed to, he proceeded to announce to the entire world his second identity. So no, my father is not very good at lying or keeping secrets. And, Peter, do you remember that one time I walked in on you and Dad working on one of your suits?”

Spider-man crosses his arms over his chest. His mask reveals nothing of what he’s thinking.

“I made a joke about how cool it would be to meet Spider-man,” you continue, “and you proceeded to stammer on for five minutes about how that would be crazy for me because I’ve totally never met him before. So no. You and my dad are both terrible at keeping secrets and lying.”

You reach for the mask, hesitating for a moment to see if he’ll pull away. When he simply huffs, you tug the mask off, revealing Peter Parker’s flushed cheeks and bouncy curls. You can’t help the butterflies that flutter in your stomach. “You’ve known for months?”

“Months and months.” You grin crookedly at the flustered boy. “But seriously. Why are you locked in my room, Peter?”

“Okay,” the boy says quickly. “I came by today because I knew you were coming back and I thought it would be cool to say hi to you and show you this cool design we’re working on for your suit. We got repulsor rays just like Tony on the palms of your hands as well as the flight stabilizers, but it was tricky because your suit isn’t metal. But we got it eventually! And—”

“Peter,” you interrupt. God knows the boy could speak for hours by constantly going off on tangents.

“Right, right,” he says, biting his lip. He has no idea how attractive you find that action. “So I was here. And Tony thinks, I don’t know, that it would be funny to test the strength of the web formula we’ve been working on. And it’s not going to dissolve for two more hours,” he groans. That explains the weird white substance keeping his hands together. “I could get it apart, but that might rip my suit.”

“Yeah, I was wondering why you were wearing the old suit,” you remark.

“We were trying to blend the Iron Spider suit and my old suit together,” Peter explains. “So I was modeling this suit. But if I rip it now, it could destroy this suit completely, and what if there’s an emergency?”

You glance around your room. There’s a pair of scissors on your desk and, despite knowing it’s a long shot, you try to cut the web fluid holding his hands together. The only thing that happens is the scissors get stuck. Same with the pocketknife you try to use.

When you approach Peter with a stapler, he jerks away. “No! It’s pretty much unbreakable. You’re just going to get more stuff stuck in it!”

You can’t help the giggle that bursts from your lips when you see Spider-man, Queens’ very own superhero, with red cheeks and floppy curls, thwarted by his own weapon with a pair of scissors and a knife sticking out of his shapeless white cuffs.

“Great, now she’s laughing at me,” Peter groans. “Wait, can you do something for me?”

“Sure,” you say, still snickering a bit.

“Tony put my phone on the bed.” He gestures in that direction. “I’ve been hearing it go off. I don’t know if it’s Tony, or Ned, or May, or anyone else. Could you bring it to me?”

You retrieve the phone and hold it out to him. Peter holds up his webbed hands in vain, but it’s no use. No fingers are available to punch in the password.

“Just tell me it,” you sigh when he tries in vain to punch in the password with his nose.

“No!” Peter blushes furiously.

“Dude, May’s gonna be worried about you. Just tell me.” You roll your eyes. “Not that I couldn’t hack in anyway, but it would require FRIDAY and a lot more time and effort than you just telling me your password.”

“FRIDAY?” Peter asks hopefully, staring at the ceiling. Just as you’d suspected; your father either disabled the AI for your room or commanded it to not respond to their of your pleas for escape.

“Seriously,” you groan. “You do realize you can change the password right away, right?”

“It’s embarrassing,” Peter groans, which is absolutely the worst thing to say. You perk up immediately.

“What is it?”

“I’m not telling.” Peter crosses his arms and glares at the wall.

“Is it your old crush’s name? Uh... Michelle or something?”

“I never liked MJ,” Peter snaps. “She’s just my friend.”

You snort. “Uh-huh.” Quick as a flash, you snatch the phone up from where it was sitting on the bed next to his thigh. “Tell me. Tell me. Tell me.”

Peter closes his eyes and shakes his head. “I will not.”

“What’s the worst it could be?” you ask. “I promise I won’t tell Dad.”

“That’s a lie.”

“You got me there. If it’s something about My Little Pony or Dora the Explorer I’d have to tell him right away. You know me too well.”

“It’s not My Little Pony or Dora the Explorer!” Peter exclaims.

“Well, unless you tell me what it really is,” you tease, “I’m going to have to assume it’s one of those two categories. Want me to guess My Little Pony names until your phone locks you out forever?”

Peter groans and flops onto the bed. “I’m never going to live this down.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you say primly. “I’d never dream of teasing you, Pete.”

Peter mumbles something.

“What?”

“IsaidmypasswordisY/NParkernospaces” he rushes out.

“What?”

“I said,” Peter gets out through gritted teeth, “my password is Y/NParker, no spaces.”

There’s a long pause of silence and Peter chances opening his eyes to look at your reaction. You’re staring at him evenly, the phone in your lap forgotten. “Why is that your password?”

“Don’t make me say it,” Peter pleads weakly. “I’m never going to be able to live this down anyway.”

“Peter. Why is that your password?”

“Because I like you!” he bursts out, his tone a lot louder than he’d intended it to be. “Duh, Y/N. Like you said, I’m sorta bad at hiding stuff. Even your dad knows. It’s why he locked me in here.”

“What?” You unlock the phone quickly and check the texts. There’s two from May asking why Peter’s not home yet, one from Ned about a homework assignment, and three from Tony.

Tony Stark: You’re going to read this either when those webs dissolve or when Y/N unlocks your phone, which means she’s going to discover your password and your crush on her

Tony Stark: If so, hi, Y/N! Love you! Sorry I couldn’t be there to greet you but I had to play matchmaker for some oblivious teens

Tony Stark: Go get ‘em, tiger ;). You’re not leaving the room until you do. But no funny business!

“This is so embarrassing,” you and Peter groan at the same time. You exchange startled glances.

“What do you have to be embarrassed about?” Peter asks. You show him the screen of his phone.

“My stupid meddling father,” you glower, quite sure that he’s listening to your conversation now.

“I’m sorry,” Peter sighs.

“What are you sorry for?” You frown.

“For telling you how I felt. I know your dad thinks you like me back, but it’s totally fine if you don’t. We can stay friends. Or if you don’t even want to be friends, I guess that’s all right. It’d be awkward because I come to the tower so much to work with your dad but I’m sure we can work something out. Besides, you visit the cabin so much—oomph.”

He grunts with surprise when you lean forward and press your lips against his. For a moment you think he’s going to try to keep talking even while kissing, but then he sighs against your lips and his webbed hands go to your stomach. He groans with frustration. “This sucks,” he groans, breaking the kiss. “I can’t touch you at all. I can’t even feel you through the webs. And—oh my God, I could have stabbed you!” He leaps to his feet, looking at his webbed hands and the weapons sticking out of the mess with horror.

You double over with laughter.

“It’s not funny, Y/N!” Peter whines. “You could have been seriously hurt! Your dad woulda killed me! Do you have any idea—”

You stand and, avoiding the weapons, press your lips against his again. It seems to be an effective way to stop the rambling and keep his mind on one track. More or less.

“I bet the door’s unlocked now,” Peter mumbles against your mouth, breaking the kiss again, and you growl with frustration.

“Peter, shut up and kiss me.”

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