#toni's anger is a result of love. shes so full of love shes choking on it & cant really stand that weakness bc the world doesnt deserve shi

[violentlydone]

im so emo about shelby. the wilds gave us such a good representation of what growing up religious and gay is like. how they teach you that jesus is love but jesus wouldn't love you. what growing up as a girly girl and realizing you're gay is like. the yearning for your best friend, blurring the line between friendship and love and not knowing how to deal with a lesbian situationship you basically created in your head. how cruel you can be when you desire so loudly it reflects in your acts and yet refuse to act on that desire.

[anonthenullifier]

Hiii!!! I just finished reading your Snapshots fic on ao3 and they're all amazing!!! I love how you write the family dynamics between the kids and wanda/vision, they're all vv sweet and I'm here for it!! Do u think tommy and billy ever did a parent trap kind of switch for some reason?

Thank you so much! 😁 This was a fun ask and I hope you enjoy! 

***

The sizzle of butter in the skillet provides a lively accompaniment to Wanda’s aggravation about the morning’s latest headline - one claiming that Tony Stark was personally responsible for the matchmaking that brought Vision and his lovely, currently scarlet eyed, wife together. It’s a claim not without some merit, if not for Tony’s involvement in Ultron’s creation and then in Vision’s own birth, he never would have been alive to fall so deeply in love with Wanda; however, as with most claims involving Tony it is also inherently hyperbolic. Had the billionaire actually been involved in Vision’s romantic pursuits, there is a very high probability that Wanda would have run the other direction.

“And you know what else it said?”

Vision scoops the pancake batter carefully into the buttered skillet as he responds, “What?”

“That he’s the reason Billy and Tommy want to be Avengers.” The only reason Wanda’s tea does not spill over the edge as she gesticulates out her anger is because she has wrapped it in a sheen of red. “Him!”

Grandiose sense of self worth is a rather glaring fault in the Stark family, a symptom Vision thankfully bypassed, no doubt due to the humble yet confident influence of Dr. Cho. “It is an unfair and misleading statement,” this diffuses her ire enough for her to take a sip of tea, “all that truly matters,” momentarily he turns from the stove to wrap his fingers around her upper arms and stare intently into her eyes, “is that we continue encouraging our sons to be their best selves, even if our work is never publicly acknowledged.”

Finally her face softens, the disdain etched into the lines of her forehead smoothing out with the roll of her eyes, “Fine.” Vision lays a peck to her forehead before turning back to rescue the almost burnt pancakes, “but wouldn’t it be nice if someone praised us for once?”

“It would.”

“Morning mom, dad.”

“Good morning Bil…” Vision’s mouth stops mid-greeting, brain a bit frenzied at the mixed signals he is receiving. The voice that just greeted him registers as Billy and yet the boy in front of him is sporting Tommy’s signature snowy hair and athletic clothing. “Um…”

“Tommy,” Wanda’s acknowledgement of their son should clarify everything, yet he can sense an odd amusement in the way she says the name, “why don’t you sit down, your father’s almost done with breakfast.”

To further add to the confusion of the moment, Tommy merely flashes them a grin (no snarky comment nor demands for it to cook faster) and then slides into Billy’s seat at the table.

Wanda’s hand comes to rest on Vision’s back, her voice low and a bit giddy, “This is going to be entertaining.”

“What is?”

“Just wait…” No further information is provided other than a wink.

Vision attempts to shove his curiosity and need to ask for more clarity down, instead channeling all of his energy into the pancakes and not burning them. Success at this repression endeavor is fleeting, the moment he turns to put the plate on the table, he cannot help but ask a question. “Where is your brother?” A glance up confirms it is three minutes past their usual breakfast time. Billy, like Vision, believes in punctuality and that being five minutes early is on time and being on time is late. For him to be late by normative standards is concerning. “It is unlike him to be late.”

Tommy chokes on his orange juice, eyes a tad wild as he twists around to look at the clock. “Um, I’ll go-“

“Good morning everyone!” Billy waltzes in with a cheery grin, his overall presence gregarious and brash, neither a word typically associated with him. His unusual mood  is highlighted all the more by  the uncharacteristically sloppy way his sweater is buttoned. “I’m famished.” A sentiment rarely shared by Billy.

Vision is torn between staring at his sons and seeking out Wanda’s reaction to whatever is happening in their kitchen. “Tommy,” his brother's name is overly enunciated, and the question, “Why are you in my seat?” asked with annoyance.

“Oh, sorry,” Tommy apologizes quickly, a first for sure, and then slides over to his normal chair.

This is, for want of a better word, weird.

Wanda, somehow, is making everyday small talk with their sons but Vision doesn’t process what is said, too focused on studying his children and the bevy of possibilities for why they seem so off. The initial fear is that they are Skrulls or some other shape shifting creature, a possibility they have sadly lived through before, not with the boys but on a mission with the Avengers. A vitals and physiology scan disconfirms this hypothesis (thankfully), the two bodies across the table are his sons. Despite this Tommy is eating at a snail’s pace, knife and fork working with precise movements to portion out perfect sized bites while Billy is going fast and loose with his fork, each bite different from the last. It also seems like Billy’s hair is a slightly different shade than usual, a tinge of cinnamon in his typically chestnut hair. Perhaps they have wandered into the multiverse yet again, though Wanda is his Wanda, he is certain of that and she seems to be more amused than concerned. Which means there must be a logical explanation.

Vision decides perhaps listening to the conversation at the table will better aid him. “Are you ready for the big math test today?” This is directed at Tommy, a pre-algebra exam Vision has spent several nights helping him study for.

Contrary to the numerous breakdowns that informed Vision that his son was going to fail so why bother trying, this morning Tommy seems...optimistic. “Yeah, dad’s prepared me well,” and overtly gracious.

“And Billy,” Wanda nudges Vision’s foot as she talks, always a sign he needs to get out of his head and pay attention, “today’s the mile run in gym, right?”

“Yep,” Billy answers while shoving a pancake into his mouth, continuing to talk while he chews, “gonna beat my record for sure.” This comment, and the smarmy confidence behind it, sets a new hypothesis into motion.  

Vision runs a second vitals scan, this time focusing on heart rate and brain waves. The results are surprising yet informative, but just to be sure, he recalibrates his sensors, scans again, and re-analyzes it, not wanting to make an erroneous conclusion if his sensors were off. The results match his last scan and the oddities suddenly make sense. Finally figured it out? He turns towards Wanda, her face set with impish victory typically reserved for when she bests him at training. A dip of his chin affirms her telepathic comment though his own mood is nowhere near as bubbly as hers because despite knowing the truth now, it does not actually alleviate any of his concern, in fact it breeds several other pathways of uncertainty. Follow my lead.  

The devious undertone of his wife’s comment transforms into an innocent smile as she addresses their sons. “Well boys,” both of their sons look up, “since it’s such a big day, we should celebrate later.” A shared look occurs between Billy and Tommy, one that Vision can’t quite label appropriately, a mix of excitement, bafflement, and victory.

‘Billy’ prods for more, his fork tapping the plate at roughly 200 clinks per minute. “Like what?”

Wanda is so natural at uncovering their lies that Vision can only sit back in awe at the way she effortlessly teases out the truth, “I need to meet with Strange later today, so Billy you can come along and we can ask if he’s finally willing to start training you to be a sorcerer.”

The current Tommy stares mouth agape at the offer, while the current Billy seems unimpressed, “Oh, um yeah, that’d be cool.”

“And Tommy,” Wanda reaches out to grab Vision’s hand, a gesture that is blissfully common but is right now no doubt meant to really drive home the offer, “Your father was going to do some speed trials this afternoon, maybe he can call the school so you can leave a period early and join him.” Vision was not going to do this but he withholds that knowledge so he doesn’t hinder his wife’s plan.

Tommy and Billy turn towards each other, no verbal words exchanged but Vision can easily recognize one of their telepathic conversations—bodies tense, their faces fluttering through a range of emotions, and eyebrows moving in emphasis of whatever comments they’re making. They break and ‘Tommy’ addresses the offer, “Billy has gym in 8th period.”

“Which is why he and I are going to meet with Stephen after school.” Wanda takes a deliberately long sip of her tea to let the information really settle in.

Their tactics switch to the other offer.“Isn’t uh truancy a pretty big deal, you know, if I,” ‘Billy’ catches himself, “Tommy were to leave early.

Vision decides he should aid in some way, voice matter of fact as he responds, “I do believe Tommy has a free period at that time. Plus,” thankfully this next part is not a lie or else Vision would feel guilty saying it, “I have to attend the PTA meeting tonight so we cannot wait until school is out if we would like to get a full session of training in.”

Another deep, very animated mental conversation occurs across the table, one that leads to an exaggerated roll of his wife’s eyes. “What if…”

Wanda cuts off the next suggestion, clearly done with the game, “Just accept that you’ve been caught.”

The two faces across from them are polar opposite, one shining with defiance and the other defeat. With a sigh, Tommy’s white hair darkens into chestnut, the real Billy slouching deep into his chair. His brother is not amused, “Are you really breaking that easily?”

Vision checks the time, noting their bus will arrive in less than 10 minutes. “Boys,” there are several things he wants to say, from questioning Tommy’s brown hair to why they thought they’d get away with it, but he decides those can wait, “perhaps instead of our planned celebrations tonight, we have a discussion on the harms of deception.”

Tommy, the real one, executes a perfect Maximoff eye roll, never one to appreciate the life lesson evenings that correspond with poor behavior. “It was just a joke.”

“I do not find it humorous.” And Vision does not, a deep despair blossoming in his chest at what his sons have attempted and what it means for how their sons view them, whether they think they are not loved enough nor noticed enough to be recognized by their own parents. “You intended to utilize this...joke for personal gain.”

Wanda cuts in, hand coming to rest on Vision’s thigh with a light, reassuring squeeze. “Why don’t you both change. The bus will be here soon. We’ll talk more tonight.” Muttered yes, mom s are lost in the scraping of their chairs against the wooden floor. “Tommy.”

“Yeah?”

“Did you dye your hair?”

“Yep,” Tommy runs his hand through his darkened locks, “the box called it chili chocolate.”

Wanda smirks, finding this far more endearing than Vision. “Just promise to use it responsibly.”

A not fully convincing salute goes along with Tommy’s, “Roger that,” and then he runs off in a blur.

“Wanda,” Vision waits until she looks at him, a bit unnerved that she does not seem to show any of the same concern for what just happened. “Are you not troubled at their flagrant disregard for honesty?”

Her eyebrows arch up, lips pursed the way they are whenever he has misassessed human nature and she needs to find a way to gently talk him through it. “It’s kind of a twin rite of passage.”

This is not forthcoming nor satisfying. “Did you and Pietro do this as well?”

“Once or twice.” His confusion must be evident, her lips curving up into a reminiscent mischief. “We weren’t good at it, especially once we were older. But you have to try.”

“Do you?”

A nod confirms the apparent necessity of such an experiment, though no further explanation is provided for Vision to comprehend why it is required. “You’ve never seen the Parent Trap, have you?”

“I have not.”

Scarlet energy entangles itself around the dishes at the table, floating them into the sink and away from their responsibility for now. “Come on,” Wanda stands and tugs on Vision’s hand, drawing him up out of his seat and then leading him into the living room. As she lightly pushes him to sit in the couch, a rush of feet, a banging door and a quick bye! marks the start of the school day, leaving them alone until this afternoon. “Want to watch a movie?”

“I suppose,” he wraps his arm around her shoulders after she sits next to him, pulling her closer and relishing the comfort of her head on his chest, “if it provides adequate research to understanding this cultural necessity of deceit, then yes.”

“And if it doesn’t?”

Vision considers the comment a touch longer than needed, just enough for her to look up at him in anticipation, “if it means a day spent with you,” he kisses her deeply, mirroring the soft curve of her lips as he pulls away,”then it is still a yes.”

“Good.” The tv turns on and his education begins.

[arukou-arukou]

Just A Really Very Intelligent System

Been thinking about this one for a while. Finally managed to write it. Rating: T for “Language.” (It just kinda slipped out.) Characters: Tony Stark & JARVIS

----

He is in one of the most dangerous situations of his life trying to save the whole freaking universe by watching a man the size of a dust bunny wriggle into the hairline of his younger self, so it would be really, really bad if he happened to have a heart attack. Older him that is. But he nearly does go into cardiac arrest when he hears an old friend in his ear.

“Verify immediately. Failure to verify will result in an activation of level one security protocols.”

His tongue is stuck to the roof of his mouth and his palms are sweating, but somehow he manages to whisper out: “Edwin-12-19-91-4-8-47-Alpha Override.”

“Override accepted. Sir?”

“Hey, J.”

“Sir, you have imbued me with considerable computing power, and yet never did you prepare me for the possibility of you being in two places at once.”

“Yeah, about that. You haven’t said anything to Mr. Quipster over there, have you?”

“Not as yet, Sir. You wish me to keep it that way?”

“It would really help me out, buddy.”

“Very well, Sir.”

Tony wants to stay longer, to talk, to warn JARVIS, to cry, but he has places to be, things to do, planets to save. Scott’s safely positioned, so Tony yeets himself out of the building to get to the ground floor. He doesn’t know why he thought that would make JARVIS disappear.

“I see, Sir, that your proclivities for leaping before looking are unchanged.”

Another near heart attack--he’s gradually phased Friday out of his ears now that the nanotech is connected directly to his nervous system, so he’s not exactly used to AI voices anymore--but he recovers more quickly. “You’re always there to catch me, J.”

“And yet my systems are not present in your suit, Sir. I see codal remnants of system designation FRIDAY, but nothing of myself.”

Tony remains silent. This is such a terrible time to be feeling all the feelings. He spots a grunt who looks more or less unimportant and knocks the guy out. Part of him wants to warn SHIELD about their shit security, but then again, this guy’s probably Hydra and he deserves every bruise he gets. He senses JARVIS in his systems, a ghost in the shell.

“You no longer have the reactor. And if I’m not mistaken, that is gray in your hair. So you are not my Sir.”

“Well, yes and no.”

“I suppose it would destroy the spacetime continuum for you to divulge the truth to me.”

“You’re too smart for me, J,” Tony grunts as he yanks on the bullet-proof tac vest. “It’s kind of a long story, and while I technically have all the time in the world, I also really, really don’t.”

He sidles into the lobby and looks toward his personal elevator, waiting for the Avengers to appear. J is quiet so long Tony wonders if he’s being preoccupied by...well, just about anything. Damaged internal systems, a Cap copy on the loose, a second Hulk out there, panicked calls from Pepper. But then JARVIS speaks again.

“Regardless of the tale, I must conclude that you are from the future, and I am no longer by your side.”

Tony is fucking choking up. He was not ready for this. It didn’t even cross his mind. And the fucking elevator is opening. There’s Pierce, the rat bastard, trying to collect the Tesseract.

“I hope I did not disappoint you, Sir.”

“Never, J. Never.” Fuck fuck fuck, he’s nearly crying and now Scott is on the com waiting for the go-ahead. Tony channels his pain into panic and orders his own cardiac arrest.

“Sir, what are you--”

Thank god, his younger self is on the ground and that’s apparently all the distraction J needs to abandon older Tony. Tesseract incoming. Tony grabs it and starts going and--

Blinking stars out of his eyes he watches as Loki makes off with the key, the thing they most needed, the damn stone that started all of this way back when Cap was a starry-eyed beanpole in World War II. He has just biffed saving the entire damn universe because of an overgrown Star Trek reject with anger issues. And now he has a migraine to boot.

Frozen in shame and horror, Tony watches as Thor attempts ill-advised cardiac electro-stim. Scott’s somewhere out there, yammering in Tony’s ear on the private channel, but all of that is just a buzzing.

“Sir? Sir. Sir!”

And J. Maybe Tony should cry now. It certainly feels like the time for it. One of the other SHIELD grunts is making her way toward him, so he staggers to his feet, waving her off and limping toward the door. Think. Think, brain, think. Tony is a genius, the man who invented time travel, the man who miniaturized arc reactor technology. A spaceship? SHIELD’s probably got one somewhere. Maybe they could chase after Loki.

“SIR!” How many times JARVIS has shouted his title, Tony has no idea, but this one is so loud it sets his teeth on edge.

“Yeah, J? Kind of busy here.”

“Giving yourself a heart attack, Sir?” JARVIS was programmed to be cool and calm in all circumstances, but Tony could swear that sentence was uttered with seething rage.

“I’m fine. Look at me.”

“Only by some measure of infinitesimal luck, Sir. Perhaps I should ask you to verify your identity one more time, as you seem intent on killing yourself.”

“No, J. I’ve actually got a lot of reasons to live. And so does he. Promise.” Tony is so tired. Was being an Avenger always this exhausting? Or is it just that he’s bumped over that damnable big 5-0? And Cap’s gonna ream him too. That’s never any fun.

“I’m...glad to hear it, Sir.”

And fuck it. It’s not like this will alter Tony’s timeline anyway. This reality is now on a different trajectory thanks to Severus Snape Lite. “Her name’s Morgan. You’d love her, J. Just turned four. She got my hair. Hope to god she didn’t get my personality.”

“Do I meet her, Sir?”

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck it.

“J, you should dig a little deeper into SHIELD’s systems. Well, actually, a lot deeper. And the Pentagon while you’re at it. And track down Maya Hansen from that conference in 1999 and poach her from whatever outfit she’s working for. Immediately. Make sure she brings all her vet patients with her. And, uh, when I start talking about a suit of armor around the world, steer me away from anything called Ultron. And if I make it anyway, you delete the fuck out of that system file. Have Bruce back you up. He’s more sensible.”

“Sir, I don’t--”

“And have me make back-ups. At least three extra farms of servers for you. On different continents. And all those SHIELD files? Make sure Cap and Fury get them. And there’s...there’s this guy. This assassin. Brainwashed. He’s, uh, I think he’s on ice in Uzbekistan right now. If you could rescue him, it’ll...it’ll fix a lot of things.”

“Should you really--”

“And, please. Please please.”

Tony is not crying. He’s not. It’s just all the dust and debris in the air. Good lord, he’s probably going to die of cancer anyway. And all those first responders. Did he start a fund for them?

“Start a medical fund for the first responders on the ground today. And start leaning on Congressmen to make medical plans for them. You know how long they take to get anything done. Oh, and Stern. There are incriminating photos of Stern with some young ladies on South Beach. See if you can dig those up. Flowers for Pep. And a box of chocolates. And a dry martini with extra olives.”

Tony slumps into a burned out car, staring at nothing. He didn’t save his universe, but maybe he can save this one. His eyes are still irritated, burning red and itchy. He resists the urge to scrub at them, not wanting to grind in anymore dust.

“Are you quite finished, Sir?”

“Yeah. Actually, no. I love you, J.”

Silence. Ah. That’s stumped him. Maybe he’ll go back to tending his new posse of baby chicks now.

“I know you probably do not believe me capable of it, Sir, but I love you, too.”

His son. The only one he’ll ever make, but not the only one he’s lost. His son loves him. Tony’s throat is full of dust, too. Funny how that happens. He tries to swallow it down, but it only congeals into a hard lump. He puts a hand over his mouth to try and hold back any choking sounds. “I...I know you do, J.”

“As to your orders, I shall do what I can. It is my duty to protect you, Sir, and I would very much like to meet your little Morgan.”

“She might not exist here. I might’ve just changed everything.”

“If there is one thing I have learned from all my years with you, Sir, it is that perhaps such a thing as fate exists after all. Even mathematically speaking. And if that is the case, I cannot imagine a universe in which you are not fated to this happiness.”

Tony laughs, if only to keep from crying harder. And he is. Crying, that is. As if he was fooling anyone. Happiness? Him? Happy people don’t wake in the night screaming for a pile of dust in their hands. Happy people don’t spend hours coordinating relief efforts for countries whose entire infrastructural support has collapsed. Happy people don’t hurl themselves back in time, driven by guilt and horror at all the wrongs in the world. J, brilliant, wonderful AI that he is, seems to sense the dark turn of Tony’s thoughts.

“And if you yourself cannot believe in this thing, Sir, then I shall just have to do everything in my power to provide it for you.”

Another guffaw, but at least his eyes are drying a little now. “God, I miss you, J.”

“I believe your small teammate is approaching, Sir. If I may inquire, was it the Tesseract you were seeking?”

“You mean the stupid blue cube of doom? That’s the one.”

“And you say you have the means to time travel?”

“Yeah, J. We do. But only enough to get back to our time.”

“A limitation has never stopped you before, Sir.” JARVIS sounds thoughtful, as if he’s forming a plan.

Tony would ask him what he’s scheming at, but just at that moment, Scott embiggens himself and slumps into the car with Tony. That road is closed, then. They are out of options. Out of Pym particles. Out of time. Out of hope.

Until they aren’t. Just as Tony is setting his device for their new destination, J pipes up again, for Tony’s ears only. “You say you miss me, Sir. Then allow me to give you a small gift.”

Tony is pressing the buttons, and even if they weren’t already shrinking into the quantum tunnel, he wouldn’t be able to ask exactly what J means. It’s only when he and Cap arrive in 1970 that he has his first gleaning. In his ear, a voice. One so unexpected he nearly jumps into Cap’s arms. “Hello, System Administrator Anthony Edward Stark. I am System Designation EDWIN. ‘Eagerly Deployed With Intent to Neutralize Loneliness.’ I am told to tell you the “L” is silent and invisible. How may I best serve you today, Sir?”

Cap is staring at Tony like Tony’s lost his mind. And maybe he has. He’s been bugged by his own damn operating system. With a bouncing baby AI. And if Steve finds out, he’ll probably have a conniption about the spacetime continuum or something. So the only logical thing Tony can do is say, “Let’s find some Pym particles.”

“Acknowledged, Sir. Commencing scanning.”

-----

(In this reality EDWIN saves the fuck out of Tony’s life and everyone lives happily ever after and EDWIN builds JARVIS from scratch so he’s back or something, okay? Okay.)

[lxvesickreality]

what was needed

Request: angsty natasha romanoff x reader, reader cant breathe and passes out -anon

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Warnings: angst, very little swearing and bad writing

Word Count: 1733

gif is NOT mine, full credit to owners

The last thing Natasha could remember was her last conversation. She were fighting about Y/N putting herself in danger at the most recent mission. Natasha and Y/N haven’t spoken since the fight and it was starting to get to Natasha. She was never one to show any emotion but since Y/N joined the team, She developed some type of feelings for them. Natasha would push it aside trying to brush it off because this couldn’t happen, it can’t happen. But alas, it did. The feelings grew into love. With Y/N not talking to her and the team giving her the cold shoulder with the words that rolled of Natasha’s tongue, She felt utterly alone. The fight was only an attempt to protect them, She couldn’t risk her safety. It was to keep them alive. That’s what Natasha told herself to believe but the words that She said to Y/N was unfair and uncalled for. It made Y/N run off with tears rimming her eyes and the team give her disappointing looks. Natasha wanted to make it right with them, She needed to. The cold shoulders everyone was giving her was enough to send her over board. 

Lost in her thoughts, She almost didn’t realize the loud alarm blaring in the building the team stays in and it was enough to make Natasha shoot into action. Grabbing her Glock 26 off her side table, She threw open her door and started jogging to the elevator. Tony was in front of it, panting from the run he did. 

“Where was the alarm set off?” Natasha asked, her eyebrows furrowing in concern.

Tony’s head snapped to the side to look at Natasha, “The roof. F.R.I.D.A.Y. was hacked into and wouldn’t respond to was on the roof.” 

The two headed to the staircase after deciding the elevator might not be safe since Tony’s AI was hacked into and the run seemed like it was taking up too many minutes but with her speed, it was only 30 seconds by the time She reached the doors to the roof. Tony stayed behind Natasha as She slowly slides the door open just enough to take a peek at what was outside. The sky was almost pitch black, there were no stars out and the lights on the roof weren’t on but She could faintly see the beautiful color of Y/N hair and the favorite pair of jeans Natasha likes on her that shows off her curves perfectly. She whispered to Tony who it was that set off the alarm but he was gone. She guessed it was to get his suit and She focused on the hands that were wrapped around Y/N’s waist. In the pit of her stomach, She felt the anger and jealousy but the hands looked too familiar. She had black gloves on with a symbol. She inched closer to get a better look at the symbol on the gloves and her eyes went wide. It was HYDRA’s symbol. 

“Shit,” Natasha cursed under her breath. Cocking her gun, She slid open the door some more and aimed for the head of the agent. His hands were now on Y/N’s neck seemed to be choking her but it didn’t look like he was applying enough pressure to kill her. He wanted something.The agent’s head was positioned to look at her when She got the aim right where she wanted, in between the eyes. Y/N’s face was red and her rosy cheeks were stained from the tears that continued to fall down. The look on her face was devastating, she was terrified to lose her life and Natasha felt responsible for it. She had left them alone with the thought of what Natasha did and told them. 

“You could’ve gotten yourself killed, Y/N!” Natasha yelled as the team strode off the Quinjet from the mission located in New Jersey. Y/N was about to take a bullet to her chest when She took a risk and ran into the computer room where the data She needed to retrieve as a part of her mission. The team had a plan she talked through on the way here and everyone was told to follow through no matter what the result would be. Y/N, on the other hand, didn’t listen. With the team fighting the HYDRA agents, She took the chance to get the data by herself but didn’t think of the consequences that would cause the team to have. 

“But I didn’t! I’m still standing here, Natasha. I’m fine and I’m alive. I got what we needed.” 

“You didn’t use your head! You left Clint alone, Y/N. He got severely injured because you left!” Y/N rolled her eyes at Natasha and attempted to walk away from her and the situation. Of course Y/N felt terrible for leaving Clint alone, who wouldn’t? The data was important to S.H.I.E.L.D. that regarded information of them and Y/N did what anybody else would do. “Don’t you dare walk away from me!”

“Or what, Romanoff?” Y/N spun around on her heel. “Or freaking what? You’ll tell Steve to get me kicked off the team? You’ll tell Fury to get me kicked out completely and on my own? Oh, that’s right, you can’t! I did what any sane person would do.”

Natasha felt her blood boiling, the amount of anger She had was enough for her to burst. She grabbed a hold of her weapon and aimed it directly next to Y/N then shot the bullet. Y/N instantly went quiet and stood stiffly while the team was staring at Natasha in complete shock upon this startling action that caused S.H.I.E.L.D. agents to turn her heads. “That’s what would’ve happened except She could’ve killed you with that one single bullet. You were so dumb to do go do that by yourself. You should’ve stuck to the plan.” 

“Ah, Natasha Romanoff, what a pleasure.” 

“Shut it. Give me them now.” Natasha was fully out of the door, standing directly in front of the agent with her gun still at the same place and She was ready to do whatever was necessary to get Y/N back into her arms safely. Y/N was sobbing and She was wheezing. His pressure on her neck was slowly getting tighter. It was beginning to cut off her circulation to her brain leaving only a tolerable amount of oxygen to keep her alive. “What do you want?”

“I want the data this one took from us. That held a lot of information, very important information and if I don’t get it back, this one dies.” he confessed.

Natasha hesitated. She can’t hand over the data files, the team handed it over to Fury as soon as She were back from the mission. She needed time to get it, She needed a plan to steal it from Fury without him noticing it gone. “We don’t have it. We gave it to the rightful owners. It didn’t belong to you.” 

“I want the data back now.”

“I just told you I don’t have it!” 

“I wish it didn’t come down to this but oh well, I guess you get to watch this one suffocate.” a mist came out from under his black leather jacket and was clouding over Y/N. Suddenly and out of nowhere, Natasha was grabbed from behind leaving her helpless and defenseless as one of them threw her Glock over the side of the roof. Y/N was coughing, letting out small screams as the mysterious mist was substituting the oxygen that was needed for a human to live. The agent stalked off to the elevator with one last look at Natasha before the doors closed leaving everyone else stuck up here. Where was the team? Natasha thought to herself. She struggled in her hold, four guys surrounding her and was pinning every limb She had. She knew what She was capable of, all the skills She was taught earlier in life that could lead to her death. 

Y/N was gasping for air as the mist traveled to her lungs. her vision was blurry, She couldn’t see anything but pitch black that was speckled with stars. She couldn’t speak anymore, no noise came out of her mouth while her body dropped down to the ground and she let the darkness take over.

“No!” 

~

Y/N stirred under the rough blanket she was put under mentally complaining about the itchiness the blanket was giving her. A cold hand rested on hers sending chills down her spine along with a small jolt of electricity that shifted through her entire body starting with the top of her head to the tips of her toes. She knew who it was just by the softness in the palm and the faint smell of her favorite perfume; pomegranate and vanilla. The corners of Y/N’s mouth flicked upwards in an attempt to smile while her E/C eyes adjusted to the light after she let up her eyelids. Natasha’s head was next to her thigh, slightly snoring in her sleep but Y/N couldn’t see her face as her red curly hair covered it. Taking the other hand that was not occupied by Natasha’s, she glided it over the redhead’s face pushing the hair away to admire her beauty. Natasha moved a little and her snoring stopped abruptly. 

“Natasha,” Natasha sprung into action, instinctively reaching for her weapon but it was not there and nevertheless, nobody was around besides Y/N who was awake. “Y/N, you’re awake.” a smile spread upon Natasha’s lips as she rushed forward to embrace Y/N. A group of butterflies was let out of their cage in Y/N’s stomach as she settled in Natasha’s warm hold she had on her. Natasha sat up, only centimeters away from Y/N’s face and without warning, her lips were suddenly on hers. Their lips molded together perfectly. They were meant to lay upon each other. The feeling it gave Y/N was so terrifyingly, so undeniably pleasurable. 

Y/N was okay and it set Natasha at ease knowing she was alive. She can apologize later for the fight but for now, this is what needed to happen. 

[emoboijk]

pjm | hydrangeas

“A dead hydrangea is as intricate and lovely as one in bloom.” (Toni Morrison) He’s willing to die for love and for the act of loving. —hanahaki disease!au, non-idol!au, angst, flora & fauna series :: major character death

2,717 words

p.cred

The waiting room is beige with a dark brown carpet, the kind that has either always been that color or is that color as a result of years of use. There are paintings (ironically) of flowers on the walls, and potted plants stationed randomly between the chairs. A receptionist sits behind a counter, typing on a computer and answering the phone when it rings. Aside from her, there are seven people scattered about the room. 

Jimin is sitting in a corner of the office, his eyes half-open, holding a handkerchief (your handkerchief, of course) to his face as an endless trail of blood and blue petals fall from his mouth. His lungs ache like nothing else, his throat burns for lack of air, all he can picture is your face. He's practically curled into the fetal position in the chair; a skeleton filled with flowers.

They must have called his name multiple times but Jimin doesn't hear. But now there’s a kind looking nurse bending down in front of him so that he can vaguely see his face in his blurry vision. Oh, he thinks, forgot to put in my contacts. Odd; he hadn’t noticed before now.

“Come on, man,” the nurse says, surprisingly casual as he hooks his arms beneath Jimin’s and pulls him from the chair. His feet feel numb (poor circulation when all your blood is busy drowning your lungs), and he stumbles once he’s upright, leaning against the nurse heavily as he’s all but dragged into a private room.

He sits on the examination table and almost immediately blacks out from being upright for so long. The doctor warned him weeks ago that if the blood loss got too severe that would happen; there's not enough to go around, he thought. But he’s jostled awake two minutes later when the doctor comes in, her stern face hovering above his. She crosses her arms but doesn’t force him to sit up as she begins her lecture, “Jimin, I can’t help you if you refuse to help yourself.”

He doesn’t say anything. Probably couldn’t if he wanted to.

“The anti-growth pills do not work anymore. Your lungs are completely infested. You’re losing blood faster than you can make it.”

Jimin coughs and holds the handkerchief to his mouth, pulling his phone from the pocket of his jean jacket. His fingers look odd, like they’re not his own—thin and skeletal. He can't remember the last time he ate something... He shakes his head, it's hard to focus these days, and types quickly.

Even if I had the surgery now, I would probably die

The doctor purses her lips. She’s been with Jimin from the start, and his apparent lack of self-preservation is infuriating. He loves her, whoever she is, but at what cost?

Jimin types again:

And even if I lived, I would be dead anyway

She reads the words and takes a moment before saying anything, wanting to shake him, wanting him to wake up.

“Then why are you here Jimin?”

Jimin smiles ruefully and types: Old habits die hard. He even cracks a smile at this own joke.

He leaves fifteen minutes later with a prescription for morphine and a lot of it. He’d protested at the amount she was giving him, but he could read the sympathy in her eyes. She’d seen a lot of patients, was intimately aware of how much pain he was in. She was giving him an option, at the risk of her license and her practice. Also, probably, because she knew he wouldn’t take them. One or two to help, but not enough to kill himself. She knew his character. He felt noble, dying for love. He’d taken it this far, and to experience any less than the slow death of one-sided love...it wouldn’t be right.

She also gives him a cane, one of the metallic ones with tennis balls on the end. He had scoffed at it, splattering blood on it, to which the doctor had said, “Now you absolutely have to take it. That’s disgusting.” Jimin had almost chuckled at that.

And now that he has it, it is undeniably necessary. He leans against it heavily, holding the handkerchief and the crumpled prescription in his hand as he turns the corner to the pharmacy. As he stumbles through the doors, his phone starts to ring, your face appearing on the screen.

His chest hurts at the sight, and it’s been so long (six months almost?) that he’s not sure if the pain in his chest is from a new bloom or from his heartbreak. Either way, it’s incredibly painful, and he presses ignore immediately.

Jimin recognizes the pharmacist behind the counter, and the man frowns when he reads the prescription. He doesn’t have to say the words for Jimin to hear him, or to read them in his eyes, “So you’ve given up,” they say. Jimin can only nod.

And is it really giving up? He has to wonder. In many ways, having the surgery would’ve been giving up. Sacrificing love for a breath...while easier, would have been giving up. No, this wasn’t that. This was strength and resilience and courage. The realization that some things are worth dying for; some things are worth dying slowly for.

At least, that’s what he told himself when he was trying to sleep at night, waking every few hours to vomit into a bin.

He runs a hand through his hair and tries to remember the last full night’s sleep he got. And you know, he really can’t.

“Back in a sec,” the pharmacist says and Jimin stumbles over to the bench nearby, pulling the handkerchief from his pocket and covering his mouth as he coughs again. Walking and talking; both really take it out of him. He fights the urge to lay down, already feeling his head spinning; instead, he leans against the wall and closes his eyes, focusing on the shallow breaths he can take. They just have to last him until he gets back to his apartment, then a blackout would be almost welcome. He's exhausted.

His phone begins to buzz in his pocket again and he is unsurprised to see your name. It does make him smile, that you seem to miss him, but even reading your name brings fresh buds blooming in his lungs. Unrequited love at a distance. What a curse. He hits ignore.

Jimin falls asleep waiting for the medicine so that when it’s ready the pharmacist has to come out and shake him awake. He approaches the counter again and pays, wondering how much he resembles a homeless man at this point. He’s wearing the last of his clothes (when he realized that, he thought morbidly, I better die soon because I can’t do laundry anymore ) and he can’t stand up long enough to take a shower.

As he walks back through the store his phone rings again. Ignore.

You call three more times by the time he gets home. You call so much that he just turns his phone off. It’s not like he has a job anymore, or the doctor can give him any more news. He’s told all of his other friends about the disease, they know if he needs to talk he’ll reach out first.

You’re the only one.

He’s not sure why he didn’t tell you. Well, that’s a lie. If he told you about the disease, you would have pressured him into telling him who he was in love with. And he didn’t want to do that to you. He didn’t want to force you into feeling something you may not truly feel. It had to be in your own time, if at all.

Of course, if he’d explained any of this reasoning to you, you would have called him an idiot. He falls onto his couch with his eyes closed, picturing your face as you scold him, “If you don’t say anything, nothing can happen!” That’s what you would’ve said.

He can’t bring himself to open his eyes now that he’s conjured your image in his mind, so he lets himself succumb to sleep, pulling a garbage can/vomit bucket closer to the edge of the couch and drifting off. His dreams are all dead hydrangeas, beautiful and wilting, and you; of course, all his dreams are morbid now ("Flora chemical effects on the brain..." the doctor had said).

Jimin wakes up an hour later to a loud banging on the door. It startles him awake, and he’s glad because his mouth is full of blood and soggy petals. He curls into his side and aims for the trash can, spitting out irony blood painfully. He ignores the knocking; people usually give up and go away.

But when he hears your voice, he knows he’s done for.

“I know you’re in there!” you call, pounding your fist on the door again, “Open up Jimin!” You raise your fist again to take out your anger and frustration on the sturdy door, but you pause when it creaks open. He still has the security chain in place, so it barely opens enough for you to see his face, but what you do see startles you.

Gone is the golden, happy boy you’d known forever. He’s pale and thin, you can see his cheekbones like their cutting through his skin. And his lips are chapped and stained red, there’s a blue petal stuck to his collar. And his eyes…desperate and lonely and huge amongst the now sharp angles of his face.

“Why haven’t you been answering your phone?” you whisper, your voice soft as if speaking too loud might break him.

“Just leave me alone,” Jimin whispers, averting his gaze. His voice is hoarse and choked, like he’s speaking around something. He doesn’t mean the words, that much is clear. But then...why bother saying them at all?

“Jimin,” you whisper softly, “What’s going on? Why have you been avoiding me?”

“Leave,” he whispers, moving to close the door, but you stick your foot between it and the frame to keep it open.

“Let me in, right now, Park Jimin or I will call the firefighters or the cops or the next strong person I see and have them break the door down,” you demand fiercely.

Jimin chuckles despite himself, frowning again when he realizes that he’s going to relent like he always does. He nods and whispers, “Okay, okay, but you have to move your foot.” You glare at him, but do it and Jimin closes the door. He pauses before undoing the security chain—that was the most speaking he’d done in nearly a month. It was incredibly painful and he coughs harshly to dislodge the petals it roused; it leaves a dripping, abstract art piece on the back of the door.

You start to worry that he won’t open it again, listening to his coughing. You hadn’t even known he was sick. Why hadn’t you known? Your ignorance feels like a betrayal; him against you or you against him, you're not sure.

He coughs for another moment before undoing the chain and opening the door fully so that you can step inside. He turns away and walks further into his apartment, not wanting to see your face as you take in the state it’s in.

And you are surprised, frozen in the entryway. You can see the whole apartment from here and it’s...nightmarish. He had always been messy, but this was different—dirty dishes and clothes, dust and garbage. It must’ve been weeks since he’d done any chores at all. And as worrying as that is, it’s not what grabs your attention. No, the only thing that really registers is the blood. On the walls and the floor, the hundreds of bloody tissues littering every surface. And the petals, soft blue and delicate, everywhere.  

Your mind is already grasping at an idea, but you can’t get it to fully form, so instead, you whisper, “Why does it look like a florist was murdered in here?”

He chuckles despite himself, three or four petals falling from his mouth, one sticking to his face with blood. He wipes it away with his hand and feels his head getting dizzy, so he sits down instead of responding. He really shouldn’t be talking anymore.

When you’re finally able to take your eyes off the apartment, you look at him wide-eyed, “Jimin.”

He tries to say something with his eyes, but he’s not sure what; he’s not sure how he would explain it even if he could say more than ten words without choking. But something seems to click because you finally say, “Do you have Hanahaki disease?”

His eyes are sad and you know you’re right. He reaches for a pad of paper on the coffee table and scribbles messily across it, when he turns it to face you, you do your best to focus on the words and not the bloodstains.

Six months now

Blue hydrangeas, they stand for rejection

Can’t talk anymore - painful

When you look back up at him, he’s chuckling. You know if he could speak he’d point out the irony. A disease born of rejection giving rise to a symbol of it as well. A double dose then.

“ Six months,” you gasp, stumbling backward into a chair, “Why didn’t you...I could’ve…”

He shakes his head to cut you off, but he doesn’t make a move to write anything more. You’re still in shock. Six months. Six months he’s been choking on hydrangea petals and blood and unreciprocated love.

“Who is it?” you demand, “Have you said anything?” You’re angry, at whoever he loves and at him. Why not get the surgery? Why not save himself? Doesn’t he know how important he is?

He just shakes his head and he seems resolute in his decision; it infuriates you. How can he be so apathetic to his own fate?

“Well,” you sputter, stamping your foot like you used to when you were young (Jimin smiles at the action), “what about the surgery, huh?”

This time when he looks at you his eyes are so serious they're like knives, he shakes his head. Absolutely not, you hear him in your head. You stamp your foot again, “You have to do something Jimin! You can’t just…” You cross the room to sit next to him on the couch, taking his hands in your own. Immediately, he feels flowers bloom in his chest and as much as it pains him, he pulls his hands away and readjusts his position on the couch.

You're surprised by how much that hurts, but press on anyway, “It’s not worth it, Jimin. Whoever it is...they’re not worth your life.”

Jimin watches you seriously for a moment before reaching for his pad of paper again, he scribbles on it quickly. Just as he puts the pen down, he coughs loudly, blood spraying the page, soft blue hydrangea petals sticking to the corners. He looks at you, genuine fear in his eyes as he coughs again.

“Jimin?” you gasp, reaching forward and holding his arm, but his eyes have already lost their light. Blood trails past his lips and down his chin, staining the perfect white shirt he was wearing as he falls backward onto the couch. “Jimin!” you scream.

The pad of paper drops from his lifeless hands and the words on the page break your heart.

You’re worth it.

author’s note—look i cried writing it so no shame if you cry reading it

for more of my works check out my m.list

[redfoxwritesstuff]

Silent Song, Chapter 25

I swear, I will fix this. Please don’t kick me out of the blanket fort of comfort and please don’t take the cocoa away. 

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24

Masterlist

Chapter 25

For Tony, the world ended in that moment. Nothing mattered to him as he watched the red stain spread and cascade over her side. As his knees gave out he felt like he couldn’t catch his breath. There wasn’t enough air in the room. His lunges struggled as he gasped for air but it never felt like he was getting enough.

Reaching out he grabbed onto the first person he found. It probably wouldn’t have mattered to him if it was a friend, a guard or a Zealot in that moment. They could plunge a blade into him and he probably wouldn’t have felt the pain or even noticed. He probably wouldn’t have cared.

Dr. Strange supported Tony’s weight the best he could even as it caused pain to flair in his hands. When his hands ached too much, he helped the distraught man to the ground as best he could. They had their issues but he would not let him fall after all he had been through. Strange worried about Tony’s breathing. It came in short, ragged gasps.

Tony looked up at the wizards eyes. “Turn back time.”

“I cannot.” It was a simple answer but worthless.

“You can. You can save her. You can give us another chance. You have to. You have to.” Tony clutched at Strange’s robes as his pleading gave way to choked sobs.

“It was the only way.” Strange kept his voice steady, strong. It wouldn’t do any good to allow Tony to see any weakness. “It had to happen.”

Strange looked up from Tony to the body laid out on the alter. It hurt less to look at her than it did to Look at Tony or at Loki’s back as he stalked forward. He knew that if the God didn’t contain his rage, contain his power he’d likely spend every ounce of energy he had on obtaining vengeance at the expense of his own life.

Strange knew because he had seen it. He’d seen it all before and this was the only way. It was something he had to have faith in. Events had to be allowed to pass. If events carried on as they should, if all the chips fell in the right places there was hope. He dared not speak it for fear that it would not happen.

Vincent chuckled at the God who stalked toward him with murder in his eyes. He was not scared of Loki or the mighty Avengers. He feared no man. With a smile still on his face he turned to give the God his full attention after taking in the sight of Iron Man on his knees, as he belonged.

“We thank you for your sacrifice.” Clasping his hands together as he spoke, Vincent hoped he looked regal. “It could not have been accomplished without your aid.”

“How long do we have?” Clint came up behind Strange. “How long until she becomes one of their monsters?”

“It depends on how well they executed the spell.” It was a safe answer. In truth, he really couldn’t say. They had to wait and see. He had to wait and see.

“What do you mean?” Someone asked Vincent and Loki couldn’t focus on who the voice belonged.

His mind was in a fog of rage. The only thing that would clear it was blood. A lot of blood. He would start with the monster in front of him and once he was finished he would see to it that every single member of the so called Zealots would have their blood spilled for having dared to harm her. Once this room was cleared of the cult he would dedicate his life to hunting down every remaining member. Not a single member would survive for the crime of daring to touch the one he loved.

“She was the key.” He spoke as if it was obvious. “Dear Hotaru Stark will be mother to a God. I shall be it’s father!”

Vincent smiled down at the body on the alter. Her body. It ignited rage anew in the team. How dare he look at her. How dare he even speak of her. They stalked forward slowly, carefully. They had no way of knowing where the beast would materialize and had to be aware.

“Don’t you dare look at her!” Rage colored Tony’s voice.

“What a power was locked within her. Who knew the Stark family had a spark of magic running in their blood?” Vincent spoke as if he had not heard them. Turning, he gave Tony his attention. “Should I break you? Would you like to birth a God yourself? No, I think I’d rather kill you for the lives you’ve taken. They were good men. Loyal followers. The Gods will reward their faith.”

“The Gods want nothing to do with your lot, you can trust me in this.” Loki’s voice dripped with venom.

A powerful blast of nearly pure power smashed into Loki’s side, drawing both his blood and his attention. What concerned him more was the near instant way the power tried to alter his already fragile mental status. It took much effort to keep himself grounded in reality as his mind fought to keep his dreams separate.

They were dreams. Nothing more. Just dreams. Only dreams. Did it matter? She was gone. She was dead. It didn’t matter. What mattered was that they needed to pay for what they had done. They needed to pay. What could have been didn’t matter. It didn’t matter.

Loki faced the woman and snarled not unlike a beast at her. Her eyes gave a hint of the power she had dancing within her. This woman had the power to influence thoughts and memories, he could see that clearly as her power surged through his mind.

It didn’t take much for him to cast her power out of his mind. Yet he didn’t have much power to work with and such effort left him feeling more drained than he wished to admit. He was more drained than he was comfortable with.

What horrors could this sorceress have tormented Hotaru with? Surely she had hurt his Light the same as she tried to hut him. Her blood needed to bath the ground. Something wild and primal within him demanded it. The beast within would not be denied. He would not be denied the satisfaction of her blood.

She was everywhere and nowhere. The pain was gone. She could think. She could remember. It was as if she flowed through the space as water carried on currents of air. There was peace in her mind that she had never known. Her heart felt light and at ease even as she flowed through the room that contained such painful memories.

Returning her attention to the alter, she looked down at herself. It was odd to see herself in such a way. It was the first time she could see what she had become without bias. She simply saw.

Skin stretched tight over bone in some places. She’d lost weight but still she wasn’t as thin as she was when they had found her the first time. The red of her blood was so pretty against the dirty gray of her dress. For a moment she admired it as time moved on around her.

Drip, drip, drip it fell to the floor. Her dark hair was draped over the edge of the alter and she remembered the way it showed the caramel and auburn colors in the sun as she brushed it in her room. The colors of her hair were truly pretty. It was a shame the firelight didn’t show the colors as well.

Her skin was pale but that was alright. She’d not gotten much sun. Somehow she knew that had she gotten a chance to tan she’d have a slight olive tint but it didn’t matter. She remembered and that was what had mattered. She knew and that was what had mattered.

She remembered everything. She knew everything. It took no effort to picture the warm gray of her mother’s eyes or the deep chocolate of her fathers. She knew her Brother shared his eyes and that as a girl she had been jealous of it. How she had loved her father and brother both. They were so smart and while neither had any time for her she knew they could both do anything.

Her attention shifted to Loki as another blast left the woman’s hands. It was easy, so very easy to simply make the blast fizzle into nothing more than a rush of air as it moved over Loki. She didn’t even have to think about how to do it. Like it was nothing, she surrounded the ball of energy and simply made it into nothing but air.

She admired how the leather armor clung to his frame as he faced the woman. She knew the woman with the bright eyes had changed her mind, changed her thoughts and dreams to become horrible lies. The woman had tried to do the same to Loki but even in the depths of madness his waking mind was too strong.

Firelight danced over his hair as he lunged at the woman with the bright eyes. She watched as the woman was ripped apart. She listened as the woman’s screams filled the air. He needed to extract vengeance. It was obvious to her that he knew what the woman had done to her. While she had forgiven the woman, she knew Loki needed to let out some of the anger and so she simply watched as he did.

The woman’s blood was pretty, just as her own blood was. Loki looked handsome even as he had drops of red decorating his face. Yet he was sick, she knew. He was broken, just as she had been.

“Come forth, My God!” Vincent yelled as the air shimmered with threads of blue across the room. She was everywhere at once and she felt the faint pull of his call. “Serve your Master!”

The team held their breath as they prepared for it to happen. They’d never seen the moment the beasts came into existence but feared the result. One beast had left them banged up enough. If the new creature was even nearly as strong none wished to think of what could happen or if they could survive.

Loki knew well that he wasn’t in a position to battle much more. Thor was bloody and tired from his battle with the first beast. They were overall in no condition to take on another. It would be a mercy if the beast that was summoned with her life was weak. Yet if the beast was weak it would feel as if a waste of her life.

It was an amazing feeling to be everywhere at once. It was amazing to remember everything. She felt free. She felt whole. No, not whole. Almost. She wasn’t sure what she was or if she could have him but she wouldn’t let them hurt Loki anymore. They would not hurt her brother, her family ever again. The pain had to stop.

As easy as that, it was decided. They would never hurt another again. None would be left. None would live. None deserved to live. The masters did nothing but hurt people. They didn’t deserve to keep living. Yet she couldn’t bear to cause pain. She forgave them for the pain they caused her, it was they who made her what she was- whatever that was.

The Master called to her and she ignored it. He wasn’t worthy of her. She was her own being. She was her own master. Never again would she cower. Never again would she do as he ordered. Never again.

In a flash of blue threads of light, the Zealots and guards both were cut down. The only one left alive was Vincent, Master. They would never harm another. Confusion colored his face as the threads of light pulled themselves tight around him.

“No! I am your Master!” He yelled.

“You are master no longer.” Her voice was soft, hardly more than a whisper on the air. She was everywhere and thus her voice came from everywhere and nowhere.

Loki and Strange locked eyes for a moment before he looked to Tony. Something was happening that they didn’t have a hold of. None dared to breath for fear that the threads would change target and cut them down. None knew what to expect, what to trust.

“Hotaru?” Tony whispered.

“You are forgiven.” The voice said as the threads pulled tightly around the man and cut him down swiftly into many pieces.

It was messy. The room was bathed in blood. The sight and smell of the carnage pleased Loki very much. He wished he had caused it but still it pleased him.

“Is everyone okay?” Nat called out.

“The team is accounted for.” Steve looked around as he answered.

There was not a single guard or member of the cult left standing. No captives lived. Save for the team, the room was empty of living things. The silence was maddening. It felt as If time stopped for a short moment and no one moved. They knew the summoned beasts would attack them and so none were sure if they could trust the threads of blue light.

While each was trying to think of what to do now they felt the swelling of the power. Looking to the alter they each waited for the beast to be born. Surely they couldn’t get off that easy. Surely the battle could not be over.

Threads of blue collected together and became a ball of light that turned in on and around itself. It was beautiful but the sorcerers in the room were each keenly aware of the sheer amount of power contained in the ball. They could only hope that in manifesting in a physical form the beast would lose some power. As it stood they would likely forfeit their lives trying to defeat it.

“Go back to her.” Tony choked as he stepped forward. “Heal her. She needs to live. We need her to live. I need her to live.”

Loki watched silently while Tony pleaded for his sister’s life. All he could do was watch. He didn’t have the strength to beg. She was gone. It was over. She was dead. He failed. Nothing mattered beyond that failure.

Tony turned on Strange, “Bring her back! Take us back. You can do that. We can try again. We have to-”

“There is no way that would have saved her.” Strange spoke calmly, not taking his eyes off the mass of power. “I am sorry.”

There was a flash of calming blue light and the threads shattered into a million blue fireflies. They flew through the room while whispers of forgiveness seemed to settle in their ears with no identifiable source. Calm seeped into their minds and hearts as the team looked around, at each other for some sort of explanation.

Then, just like that the fireflies and the whispers where gone. No trace of power lingered in the room.

“No.” Loki shouted in protest as his legs finally began to move.

He hated the calmness in his heart. He hated the calmness in his mind. The madness that largely weighed in his mind was nearly gone. The thoughts that plagued him were nearly silent. He felt peace and he hated it. It was a gift from her, he knew but it wasn’t worth it. He didn’t want it. He’d cling to his madness if it meant he could have her for even a little longer.

By the time he climbed up the alter he was nearly running. Tony was following but wasn’t nearly as fast. Loki cried out in protest again even as he pulled her lifeless body from the alter. Tony came to his side as his knees gave out and he fell to the ground with her clutched to his chest.

Loki rested his back against the alter without giving so much as a fleeting thought to the blood that coated his leather covered back from doing so. He could just feel the coolness of the wet blood as he held her. She was limp in his arms as he drew his knees up and curled himself around her.

“No.” Loki repeated quieter. “Come back.”

“Is she…?” Tony knelt in front of them.

Loki swallowed hard before answering with a nod. Tony didn’t move to take her from him, though he wanted to. The truth was plain to see. Loki’s love for her was plain to see. It wasn’t something he could choose to be blind to any longer.

“Come back to me, my light.” The Dark God pleaded with his nose buried against her hair.

It hurt them to see this the most. The team who couldn’t be bothered to reach out to Loki with so much as an olive branch were confronted by the raw human emotions they told themselves so often that he couldn’t possess. Loki sat before them holding a lifeless body, wet eyes lit up by the torches and they saw him for what he was.

Tony saw him for what he was. For all these last few weeks Loki was nothing more than a broken man who had fallen in love. Why had that been so hard to see before? Why did it take something so drastic for them to see. It occurred to them that she had opened their eyes. None needed to say it but they each realized that was her parting gift to them. She gave them the strength to open their eyes and forgive.

How different things could have been for them all. What could have been didn’t matter. Tony ran his fingers over her dirty hair as he tried to understand. Strange said it was the only way and Tony wanted to hate him for it. Every time he tried however he’d picture the blue fireflies.

Somehow it was over. Somehow no beast come. Somehow with her death she saved them. Somehow there was no other way. They had to accept that. Even as she killed those that had hurt her so, she had forgiven them. It was her blessing. It was her gift.

Their deaths where swift, quick and painless. Only Vincent had even a moment to fear and even then his death was quick and without pain. She forgave everyone. In their hearts they knew she forgave each of them even as they knelt around her body. They were forgiven for their failings. They where forgiven for failing her. Their forgiveness was painful in a bitter sweet way. They each would rather have her smile than her forgiveness.

It was in her forgiveness that they must find strength now. They had to be strong for her. They had to be strong for all those who they would save in the future. More than anything, they needed to be strong for each other. They needed to be strong for Tony and Loki who would both feel her lose in such sharp way.

Tony swallowed as the tears fell freely from his eyes. Steve placed a heavy hand on his shoulder and Tony clutched at it with the hand not stroking her hair as if it was a lifeline. He took a handful of deep shaky breaths as he tried to gather his strength. He had to be strong.

“Lets take her out of here.” Natasha spoke softly from where she knelt.

“She doesn’t belong here.” Clint added.

“Brother?” Thor sat at Loki’s side with his eyes locked on the crown of her head and how her dirty hair cascaded over Loki’s arm.

It hurt more to look at Loki. It had occurred to Thor that he had a hand in setting the events of today into motion months ago. He should have not pushed. He should have taken care.

Without uttering a word, Loki stood with her in his arms. They were right, this was no place for her. His light didn’t need to be here in the darkness any longer than needed. As he walked, he didn’t look back. He walked with back straight and head held high. Each breath brought a wave of pain to his chest that threatened to take him to his knees. Tears fell from his eyes and dropped onto her but he paid them no mind.

He loved her and she was dead. He would be assured she was afforded every respect for the place she held even now still in his heart. Though he loved her dearly, she could never have been a Lady in life. He would see to it that in death she was given an Asgardian funeral fit for the woman he would have taken as his wife had he been blessed with even the slightest chance to do so now. She would be given every respect, sent off to Valhalla with a queen’s rights. If Thor was unwilling to give him this, he would see it done himself.

Tag list- @bambamwolf87, @dangertoozmanykids101, @theoneanna, @0-0-0-0-0-0-0-7, @purplekitten30, @redryderdesigns, @excuse-you-dickwad, @sometimesiamhere, @missaphrodite23, @yougotakillyourmind, @insert-cool-and-edgy-title-here, @alexakeyloveloki, @paanchu786, @fairlightswiftly, @j-u-s-t-4

As always, want in on the tag list just drop me a word. Also, We are approaching the end quickly so let me know if you want to stick around and be tagged in future works. I write for Loki, Tom, Steve, Clint, Strange and whoever the hell else decides to catch my damn attention. 

[lady-of-dare]

Halex fic rec list

After what seems like forever I’m finally done. So please enjoy this list and I hope you’ll have a lot of fun reading those fics. And please leave them a comment, I’m sure the authors would love that!

could be canon fics

Continuing Education 

Author: Taricha

Summary: “Yeah?” Alex said with a smirk, sneaking his fingertips up under the lab coat. “Does that turn you on? I could calculate the area of a circle for you, if it gets you hot.”

“Maybe later,” Hank said agreeably, and kissed him briefly before pulling back and saying with alarming enthusiasm, “you could go to college!”

If I Were an Enzyme 

Author: AlwaysCryOverSpilledMilk

"If I were an enzyme, I'd be DNA helicase so I could unzip your genes."

"I don't wear jeans. These are dress pants."

Or, in which Alex attempts to woo Hank with scientific pick-up lines.

When Hope Guards the Gate 

Author: Meddalarksen, victoriousscarf

Charles pretends to create a mutant school, Hank actually creates a mutant school, and Erik's band of revolutionaries weaves in and out of their lives.

No none ever claimed being a mutant was going to be easy, but no one said it was going to be this complicated either.

my absolute favorite, must-read! Edited version of „Not Just Pain and Anger“

Not Just Pain and Anger 

Author: Meddalarksen, victoriousscarf

After the events of First Class, Erik and Charles' lives continue to intertwine, and they attempt to stay together despite being on opposite sides. It's easier and harder by turns, as one tries to continue to build his school, and the other tries to raise an army.

previous version of “When Hope Guards the Gate”

Five Things Alex Hates About Hank (and all the things he doesn’t) 

Author: meeks00

“The blue one was mine,” Hank concludes. He sets both tubes back in the rack with the others. “Not everything needs to explode for it to be ruined, Alex,” he says.

Now That I'm Older 

Author: plinys

When Scott begins to show symptoms of something all too familiar to Alex, he brings him to the only place he knows that can help, and runs into an old 'friend' along the way.

Other AU’s

The Things That Fade 

Author: UisceOneLove

It was little things here and there in the beginning.

Lapsing on the affection Alex always had in that nickname like the previous time in the lab, or he’d forget a word when it was right on the tip of his tongue. There were a few times he would be in the middle of a conversation with Charles and he would suddenly blank on what point he was making. Once he ended up in the jet’s bay and forgot why he was there in the first place.

Or in other words, the world where Hank gets Alzheimer's and is forced to see his world crumble.

Amazing fic, read “It Ends Tonight” after this

It Ends Tonight 

Author: UisceOneLove

Alex was tired.

Alex was angry.

Alex wanted to destroy everything he could with his beams.

Alex wanted to scream and cry until it hurt and then just do it some more.

Alex just wanted his fucking Hank back.

Second part of “The Things That Fade”

5 Ways Logan Fixed Everything (Like a Boss) 

Author: Laen_Lamperouge

What would happen if Charles and Eric could persuade Logan to join them?

(or how Logan solves all problems with sarcasm and coolness)

Solace 

Author: mangollama

Alex's daemon hasn't settled. Hank wonders why that is.

bless the broken road 

Author: the_queenmaker

Her father had wanted a boy. That’s where all the trouble had started

Scientists Prefer Blondes 

Author: Meddalarksen, victoriousscarf

Hank made a vague distressed sound and shook his head. "How's a steady lover treating you?" he asked and Tony choked on air.

Alex snorted at that, crossing his arms out of habit, "And he's a blond too. I tell you, you guys have a type."

"A type?" Tony blinked and Hank laughed. "We have a type? Who has a type."

"Apparently scientists prefer blondes," Hank translated for him. "It's been Alex's pet theory for a while."

Someone to Love the Both of Us

Author: emperors_girl

In the nursery, the baby is still crying. Charles leaves Erik where he sleeps and goes to pick up the child. They'll both be gone by the time Erik wakes.

not a fan of mpreg, but I really liked this one!

College AU

The Old College Try 

Author: misterkevo

"The thing is, part of what makes Hank McCoy uncomfortable to be spending time alone with Alex Summers is that it’s possible that he has the smallest, most minute crush on him." - or, college AU in which Hank tries a new look to get Alex’s attention.

Hot for Teacher 

Author: arosynose

Alex needs to pass Pre-Calc if he doesn't want to flunk out of college. Unfortunately, his professor is a total dick.

High School AU

If You Liked The Book, You'll Hate The Movie 

Author: Paperclipbitch

Modern-Day High School AU. It’s not until Hank realises half the class are glancing towards the back of the classroom with something like nerves and something like schadenfreude that he finds out Alex Summers is back.

detriment for tooth enamel 

Author: wordquaff

This is half about a fake relationship, but mostly about an anxious boy named Hank and his overbearing friends and really good guidance counselor

It was quiet for a few minutes as they exchanged looks and Hank drew tight circles with his fingertips into the pads of his digits, before Ms. Pryde finally spoke, “I’m sorry, is this some youth culture thing I’m not keeping up with? Pressuring friends into sex with Dawson Creek actors?”

Skidding Down the Sliding Scale 

Author: keire_ke

Alex chalks up his grudging love for his dad to Stockholm Syndrome. He’s not going to stand idly by while Erik harvests Mr. Xavier’s innocent soul, however. Human AU.

It started with a bong 

Author: Humphrey

The day the principal finds a bong in his locker, seriously changes Hank’s life.

His dads are divorcing, the school’s favorite bad boy is in detention with him and people are actually gossiping about him.

Message Received 

Author: flowermasters

Alex Summers is bored in Miss Frost's class. Luckily, he happens to have Hank McCoy's phone number.

Out of Spite or Love 

Author: acherik

Hank pretends to be Alex’s boyfriend after Alex asks him to. He has no idea why but he plans to find out.

Tales of a Serial Homewrecker (With Good Intentions) 

Author: AlwaysCryOverSpilledMilk

“Let's make a deal. If… if neither of us are married or engaged or in a serious relationship or whatever by the time you turn 35, since my birthday is earlier than yours, then we have to get married."

“Sure, dude, why the hell not?"

Some other Modern AU’s (no powers)

5 Minute Flirtations 

Author: blumvale (sailorpipn)

Raven convinces Hank to try speed dating. Initially, Hank is quite wary about the whole thing. Once at the bar, the first person he meets is Alex, the bartender. While Alex lends his ear to Hank's dating woes, the two men grow closer until Hank realizes, maybe speed dating was the best idea Raven has ever had.

back to me 

Author: sweetpeater

It's Christmas Eve.

It's Christmas Eve, and Hank is alone.

we’re all here because we’re not all here 

Author: nighimpossible

AU, no powers. Charles and the gang are in treatment at the Elizabeth Braddock Rehabilitation Clinic for their various problems. Erik is the new patient, convinced he's going to die. Alex is getting a little too intimate with his therapist, and Dr. Hank McCoy remains torn between love and ethics. Lines are crossed, tears are cried, hopes are dashed and dreams are reborn. Somewhere in between, people fall in love.

The Loveliest Nightmare 

Author: nightmare_kisser

Welcome to the D-Wing. My name is Charles, but please, call me Professor X. I think you'll like it here; we're all good friends. We used to be mutants, you see, in another reality.

AU where everyone is a big family (especially Hank and Alex and sometimes even Scott)

this is only now (where do we go from here) 

Author: thebodyeclectic

From this prompt on the 1stclass_kink meme: Modern AU, where an older Alex (in his mid twenties?) somehow figures out/recieves the news that, no, his younger brother didn't die in the crash like he'd been told, and then sets out to find him. The catch is, Scott's been adopted and adores his 'dad', who is incidentally the adorkable Hank McCoy.

The Start of a Coming Race 

Author: thebodyeclectic

Wherein their family gets even bigger.

Continuation of “this is only now”

Chocolate Chip Oatmeal Raisin Cookies and Mob Bosses 

Author: orphan_account

Leaning forward, Alex whispers, “Can I tell you a seeecret?”

“Um. Sure. Why not?”

“I’m gonna marry Hank McCoy.” He watches with a detached interest as the guy’s ears go pink, followed by his cheeks.

“Oh, really? Why would you say that?”

“He made me chocolate chip oatmeal raisin cookies. And they were the Best Ever.”

for here you are, standing there, loving me 

Author: chloeburgis

Charles is a brilliant grad student, at Columbia on a full-ride. But his scholarship doesn't cover rent or the other necessities of living, so when his mother finally cuts him off, he is well and truly fucked. Enter emotionally distant father Erik Lehnsherr, in need of a live-in nanny for his seven adopted children. Who have driven off the eleven previous nannies. And who are all highly powerful mutants. Really, how hard can it be?

Or, the modern day The Sound of Music AU no one asked for

This Will Be 

Author: SpiritsFlame

Hank McCoy is in love with the perfect woman. One day, he's certain, they will fall in love and be married. It would be a grand plan if they'd ever met. When she falls into a coma, Hank tries to look after her and is thrown into the topsy-turvey world of her family. And he can't help but be drawn to her rude and infuriating foster brother Alex. Written for Reel_Xmen

Lean On Me 

Author: SpiritsFlame

Ten years ago, Charles and Erik split up, dividing their six kids between them. None of them expect them to meet at summer camp. And no one could have predicted the results. Written for the reel_xmen challenge.

Okay so that’s it for now. 

These are the fics that I remember good enough to recommend them. If you want more, please visit my ao3 account and look at my bookmarks ^^

Oh and these are only from ao3, since I didn’t find a lot of Halex on other websites.

If you want more rec list (for whatever fandom, ship, character or whatever) send me a message!

Enjoy

[just-a-kj-blog]

I Can’t Stay Any Longer - Part 3

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Hello! I decided to repost my stories on my new blog. If you have any questions, feel free to send me an ask or a pm. This was written about a year ago, so be nice heheheh

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Relationships: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Reader and Bucky are living together after the events of Ultron and, in the midst of a nightmare, Bucky does something he truly regrets.This follows the explanation of Reader’s injuries. Now she must face the wrath of Tony and Steve…. (Y/N - your name)

Warnings: angst, injured reader, swearing, hospital scenario

Word Count: 2124

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Part 1   Part 2   Part 3   Part 4   Part 5  Part 6  Part 7   Part 8   Part 9   Epilogue

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I Can’t Stay Any Longer - Part 3 by just-a-kj-blog, previously nenyakj

———————————————–

Previously:

Reeling from that huge load of information, I plop my head back into the bed, blowing out a breath. Closing my eyes, I can feel both of Tony and Steve’s stares on me. My body tenses as I wait for the inevitable.

“What happened?” they both ask me at the same time.

I cringe and open my eyes. This is not going to be pleasant.

———————————————–

Tony stands up, holding onto the railing, furious.

“Y/n, where the hell is Bucky? I’m gonna launch him into outer orbit. I’m gonna tear his fucking arm off and beat him with it. I’m-”

“Tony. Enough,” Steve reprimands, sitting on the stool the doctor just vacated. He takes a deep breath and looks me in the eye. “What happened, Y/n?” he asks gently.

Tony twitches and paces to the floor-length windows, overlooking the city, crossing his arms, his posture tense.

Pushing the button to raise the head of the bed, I wince and try not to moan.

How the hell am I going to do this? Bucky is Steve’s best friend. Known him longer than he knows me. Will he take Bucky’s side? Will I lose the man who’s become closer than a brother to me?

I return Steve’s focused gaze, my face showing the heartbreak of remembering everything that’s happened.

“Bucky… had a nightmare,” I start.

“Bullshit. That is not the result of a fucking nightmare!!” Tony shouts, turning and pointing at my bruised chest.

“Let me finish, Tony!” I snipe back.

Tony drops his hand, jaw twitching, brown eyes sparking fire, and turns back to the window.

“He had a nightmare. It must have been pretty damn awful because he smacked me with his prosthetic. Right across the face. Gave me this.” I point to the bandaged wound on my mouth.

Steve takes a deep breath and nods for me to continue, his face in a forced calm expression.

“He… he went into Winter Soldier mode-”

“What?!” Tony turns sharply and stares at me, horrified.

“Y/n, what happened?” Steve almost begs, gesturing for Tony to be quiet.

“He just stood there, in Soldier mode. As soon as I said his name, he snapped out of it,” I assure them. They both relax a smidgen, waiting for me to continue.

“He freaked out. Got the medical kit and cleaned my face, put the band-aids on,” I say as I stare at the wall. “Then… he just…. shut down. Curled into himself.” My heart breaks all over again, remembering the wave of guilt I felt at seeing him like that, on the edge of my bed, face in hands. I look down at my hands, curling my fingers into the blankets.

“I don’t know what happened. He became horrified at himself. Angry at me for sleeping next to a …a killer.” I can see Steve tense up hard at that. “He then said I was just going to leave him anyways,” I whisper, tears forming again. “That I never stay with the same man for too long. Just like with Josh.” I glance up at Steve, shame contorting my features.

Steve’s face looks pained. He didn’t know how controlling and manipulative Josh was towards me, how he only dated me to get in with the Avengers. But I think he feels guilty for telling Bucky about him now.

He looks up at Tony, who’s far too angry to say anything at this point. Tony’s arms are folded tight across his chest, his eyes sharp and focused on me.

“He started packing his things, saying he might as well get out of my way before the next… fuck boy comes along,” I burst into tears, burying my face in my hands. Steve makes a sad sound and wraps his huge arms around my shoulders. I can feel how tense he is, and think it’s sweet that he’s comforting me while he probably wants to throw a chair out the window.

After a moment, I pull away from Steve, wiping my face with my hands. Steve rubs his hands up and down my upper arms gently in a soothing manner. I focus on my lap as I continue, knowing that it will be better just to get it all out.

“I begged him to stop. That he was only saying it to push me away, that it wouldn’t work.” I adjust myself in the bed, subconsciously placing my hand over the finger-shaped bruises on my chest. “I reached out for him, but… he pushed me. Pushed me so hard I flew back over the bed. Whacked my arm on the headboard.” I glance down at my elbow, realizing the doctor forgot to mention that.

“I landed on the floor and just stared at him. He seemed to regret it for a moment,” I pause, hearing Steve’s breath hitch. “But then he said not to call him, to stay the fuck away from him.” I choke over my next words. “That he doesn’t love me anymore.” Squeezing my eyes shut, tears falling down my cheeks, I twist the blanket in my hands. “Then he just left.”

A chilled silence falls over the room, the only sounds to be heard are my tiny gasps as I try not to sob, just done with crying at this point.

Tony suddenly punches the window, causing me to jump about 5 feet in the air, gasping as I rattle my ribs. Steve and I stare at him in astonishment as he flicks his hand in the air, clearly sore, and looks back at us. My gaze travels to the baseball-sized dent in the glass and spiderweb of cracks that spread out about 4 feet in each direction.

Holy shit.

“Tony,” Steve whispers. He stands up and moves to Tony, a concerned look on his face. Tony just looks at the floor, shaking, as Steve takes his now injured hand and checks it over.

I can’t help but smile through my tears at the two of them. They’ve become brothers-in-arms, trusting each other with their lives. I was a bit worried after the whole Ultron thing, but they’ve become even closer after the dust settled.

Tony hisses in pain as Steve holds his wrist up gently, close to his face. Tony watches him, his body no longer tense, his face open and showing his vulnerable side for once. I love Tony, don’t get me wrong, but the man is the Master of masking his emotions and feelings.

“It’s not broken,” Steve says, releasing Tony’s wrist. He clears his throat and steps up to my bed, looking at the floor. His fists are shaking, his muscles in his broad shoulder taut and strained. I can tell he’s trying to control his anger and not start punching holes in the walls. Unlike Tony, he would actually make holes, maybe even punch out an orderly on the other side.

Tony sighs and steps up next to Steve, his anger seemed to have been drained away thanks to him pulling a Bruce Lee on the window.

“I’m gonna kick his ass.” Tony states, standing firm with feet apart.

“You’ll have to get in line,” Steve mumbles at the floor, swallowing loudly.

Tony scoffs and pulls out his Starkphone, turning it on with a tap of his finger to the glass screen. “FRIDAY, run the facial recognition program on Barnes-”

“Tony, no-” I start.

“Are you serious??” he barks at me, his anger returning full force. “Look at what he did to you!! You’re seriously just gonna lay here and let him get away with this??”

“What Bucky did was an accident. Yes, it’s inexcusable and he deserves to get his ass kicked, but if anyone is going to do that, it should be me!!” I argue back.

“You… he’s a super soldier!! You’ll get yourself killed going after him!!” Tony gestures to me.

“I don’t plan on going after him, Tony!! At least not now, I mean look at me!!” I cry, pressing a hand on my stomach.

Tony sobers up at that. Lowering his phone, he sighs and puts it back in his pocket.

Steve wipes his face with his hands and walks to the window.

Oh no. This is it. What is he going to say? Is he going to reprimand me like Bucky did? Am I going to lose him too?

“We need to find him. Bring him in. It’s not good to leave him in this condition on his own,” he says, his jaw clenched as he watches the city. The Captain is back, thinking of his Sergeant.

“That’s what I was doing,” Tony snarks, turning to look at Steve.

Steve crosses his arms and turns to look at me, his facial features firm and controlled.

“Y/n, we need to find him. Before Natasha or Clint do.”

“Wait, what??” I sit up more, my heart pounding.

Nat and I are sisters. Not blood related, but I love her just as much as one. Clint thinks of me as his daughter, always has. I adore him and his wife and kids, and call them my siblings. Holy shit, if they knew about this, Bucky’s as good as dead.

“They were crashing at the tower when I got your call; were packing up for a mission.” Tony turns and looks down at my chest, eyebrows furrowed. “Tasha is the one that got you breathing again,” he whispers, his face haunted.

I stopped breathing. Oh my god, they must have been terrified.

Taking Tony’s hand in mine, I raise it to my lips, kissing the raw knuckles, and rub my cheek against the back of it.

I think the stress, lack of sleep, and watching another person he loves almost die finally cracks Tony’s hard exterior and he pulls me tight to his chest, burying his face in my neck, his sobbing muffled.

Steve’s arms drop in shock as I look up at him, just as surprised as he is. He hurries forward and wraps the three of us up in his strong arms. I engulf Tony in mine, ignoring the pain in my chest, kissing his temple.

I’m not sure how long we stay here like this. Tony’s body relaxes little by little. Warm teardrops splash onto my shoulder as he takes a shaky breath and exhales.

“Thank you for coming, Tones,” I whisper in his ear. “Thank you for saving my life.”

“Just promise me next time it’ll be for an actual booty call,” Tony mumbles.

Steve sputters indignantly and I burst into peals of laughter, which quickly turns to coughing. They both release me quickly just as Xiomara knocks and enters with my ice chips and a big plastic jug of ice water.

She fusses over me, making sure I’m comfortable and have enough pillows and blankets. She hands me a menu for dinner, pointing out that I can only order from the starred items. Blech, bland dinner indeed.

“Oh, Xiomara, I think Dr. Sanders forgot to mention my arm?” I ask, all nestled into the bed, Steve and Tony sitting on the huge pull out sofa, both of them texting on their phone with serious expressions. I hope they’re texting Nat and Clint.

“Oh, yes, of course, sorry about that. They sewed you up just fine, querida. You have 30 stitches,” she winces at me as my eyebrows raise. “I know, it’s a lot. Those will come out in about a week, along with the ones on your chest, mi amor. You can come back here or make an appointment with your regular doctor, whatever you’re comfortable with,” she smiles gently at me. After typing in some notes on the computer, she bids us farewell and leaves quietly out the door, closing it behind her.

“Did you get in contact with them?” I ask as soon as the door shuts.

“Yes, they’re on their way now,” Steve responds, not looking up from his phone.

“Tony?” I ask, worried about what he’s been typing.

“Pepper knows to keep a look out for him at the tower,” he answers, not looking up either.

I plop my head back onto the multiple pillows, feeling drained. Xiomara had given me a shot of Oxycodone just now and I can feel it starting to take effect. Warmth spreads throughout my body, erasing the pain and making my eyelids feel heavy. I can hear fabric rustle near me as the lights turn off overhead.

“Sleep, Y/n. We’ll be here when you wake up.” Steve brushes my hair back as Tony presses the button to unfold the bed back to 180 degrees, tucking the blankets around me as I slip into a deep sleep.

To be continued…

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Part 1   Part 2   Part 3   Part 4   Part 5  Part 6  Part 7   Part 8   Part 9   Epilogue

Tagging: @melissa-anne-rose @simplyme8308 @lucian-tate @lovekrystina @bolontiku @your-dark-magic-man-mysterio @thestrangedoctorisin @theweatherwitch @magellan-88 @torilovesfries @mymourningtea @torontoedger @magicalhufflehuggles @ramxna-marxtta @spinsterlocity @blackroseyaz @secondsandstars @the-squid-one @justreadingfics @justareader @suz-123 @papi-chulo-bucky