#Peter tried to take down an entire Hydra base on his own | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

rebeccccccaaa · 3 years

Text

TEᑎᔕIOᑎ

_____________________________

ᗩGEᗪ ᑌᑭ!ᑭETEᖇ ᑭᗩᖇKEᖇ ᙭ ᖇEᗩᗪEᖇ

ᔕᑌᗰᗰᗩᖇY: You and Peter have always been very flirty and touchy with each other. You chalked it up to just how he is, not that you minded. But what happens when Peter gets hit with Hydra’s infamous sex pollen and all he seems to be doing is moaning your name.

ᗯᗩᖇᑎIᑎGᔕ: smut of course lol 18+ (virgin kink?, first time!reader, experienced!Peter, etc, unprotected sex cuz i forgot to write that lol be safe though, and a digusting amount of fluff)

ᗩ/ᑎ: (non/dub con as per usual with sex pollen fics) although i tried to make as consensual as possible

ᗯOᖇᗪ ᑕOᑌᑎT: 4.0k (i’m so sorry this is so long lmao)

_________________________________________

“We’re back!” Tony shouted, his voice echoing in the building. They had gone on a mission to infiltrate yet another Hydra base.

Peter was currently sitting and watching television and you were watching from the kitchen making two drinks for you and Peter. You both looked to the team walking in before scurrying beside Bruce and Tony who walked straight into the lab.

“What did you get this time?” you asked excitedly. Sometimes the team brings back really cool things back from missions and in particular the Hydra missions have the coolest things. Unusually, Thor too walked in the lab before you all circled around the table and Tony placed a plant.

He backs away as did Bruce and Thor so after looking at Peter with wide eyes you both also stepped back.

“What is it?” Peter whispered.

“A plant,” Thor said.

“Not shit, Goldilocks. What does it do? You told us to take home, now what?” Tony said.

“Well, Man of Iron, it’s a sex pollen plant.”

“A what?” you gasped.

“Most planets use this as a sort of breeding plant; some species don’t really have the… stamina that Midgardians and Asgardians have.”

As Thor explained this, Tony and Bruce huddle away from the plant moving towards the computer to write down notes and data about what Thor was telling them. You followed pursuit also being intrigued by it.

Unfortunately Peter did not follow and instead moved closer to the plant to take a closer look. The flower was beautiful. The petals were a soft shade of periwinkle and the pollen was yellow almost like gold. The same shade of golden yellow dust swirled around the flower itself. It was hypnotizing. He really wanted to smell it.

Suddenly as Peter got closer just to give it a quick sniff, he could smell an almost overbearing amount of your scent. That delicious scent of vanilla and lavender that you smelled so nicely of. That scent that made Peter want to run his hands through your hair and his nose along your neck.

“One thing you should never do is inhale its pollen, if one does it could heighten their desires into madness.”

Peter looked up with wide eyes knowing he just did something he probably shouldn't have done.

“What desires exactly?” Bruce asked.

“Well, sex.”

Peter started coughing.

“Pete are you ok?” you asked walking up to him.

He looked you in your eyes and his own dilated insanely. You backed away slightly concerned for your friend only for him to take a step closer to you. The lab coated with silence analyzing his behavior since it was so unlike him. Tony got up from sitting on a stool and Thor puffed his chest anticipating his next move; he was certain the boy breathed in the plant’s pollen.

“It smelled just like you,” he whispered close to your face; his hands reaching under your shirt slightly.

The minute he put his hands on you, all three men ran you and Peter. Bruce pulled you behind him while Tony and Thor grabbed Peter dragging him away from you. You felt hot after what Peter had just done; in front of people too. He thrashed in Thor’s and Tony’s grasp, groaning and shouting from them to let him go.

You felt tears brimming your eyes. You did not like Peter like this. He was crying and begging to be with you, which you’ll admit surprised you.

“What’s happening to him?” you asked from behind Banner.

“The boy seems to have inhaled the pollen as I said not to do.”

“Yeah I get that! Why is he crying? Is he hurt?” you asked.

“Not exactly, the pollen will affect his mind and simulate pain as if he were to die, but his body will be perfectly fine.”

“What?” you all said at the same time.

“How do we fix it?” Tony asked.

“Y/n, baby. Please,” Peter practically moaned making everyone kind of uncomfortable.

“Well, the only way I’m aware of is, well, sex. And it seems like Peter desires the young lady,” you eyes widened and you shifted under everyone’s stares.

“No, no way,” Tony said; you were like a daughter to Tony and therefore boys were something he wasn’t too keen on the idea of you having. He still thinks you’re too young even though you’re already a consenting adult.

“Tony, the boy-”

“No, I’m not letting Y/n do that. We’ll find a different cure. Take him to his room and don’t let him out.”

“Tony, are you sure about this?” Bruce asked Tony.

“Yes I’m sure, Banner. There’s no way in hell I’m putting her in that situation. It’s not fair. Now come on, more time talking, less time finding a cure.”

“Technically there’s already a cure,” Thor muttered.

“Go!” Tony pushed him out.

“Is he gonna be ok?” you softly asked, hearing his cries and screams for you as Thor took him to is room.

“He’s gonna be alright, bug,” Tony said, hugging you.

Steve and Nat both walked in the lab after changing out of their clothes concerned with all the screaming they had been hearing.

“What happened?” Nat asked.

“Thor had us bring this plant home for analysis and turns out this shit makes anyone who smells the pollen horny as hell.”

“Really? Come on Tony, we heard the kid crying and screaming. What’s really going on?” Steve didn’t believe him at first.

“He wants to… have sex,” Bruce said shyly.

“Wait really?” Nat asked.

“With who?” Steve hesitantly asked curiously.

Tony and Bruce simply look at you, which you curled into yourself feeling embarrassed.

“Oh no, honey are you ok? Did he do anything?” Nat asked, holding your hand.

“I’m fine, I’m just worried about him.”

“Don’t. We’ll fix this I promise,” Tony said getting to work.

Well now it’s been 8 hours and Peter is still crying and moaning your name. You had been in Nat's room with her, Steve, and Bucky. Sam and Thor had been outside ‘patrolling’ Peter’s room making sure he was as ok as he can be, though it’s been proven that he seems to be in excruciating pain.

Tony and Bruce had been in the lab the entire day, you’d think they made wonderful progress and found a cure by now but no. All they’ve found was normal samples of Peter’s… everything. He was physically perfectly fine.

You were very quiet as they played video games and watched movies. You couldn’t help but feel burdened because you knew you could fix all of this. All you needed to do was go to Peter’s room and let him have his way with you. It’s not like you wouldn’t mind. You and Peter have always had this sort of tension and extra friendly behavior between you guys ever since you met.

To say you hadn’t developed feelings for him would be a huge lie.

“Are you ok?” Nat asked you.

“No, not really.”

“I know you want to help him but it’s for the better. Let Tony and Bruce find a cure.”

“Actually that won’t be happening anytime soon,” Thor said, walking with Sam.

“What happened?” Steve asked.

“They haven’t found anything and although Peter will be physically fine, mentally he could be extremely traumatized by the time they find something, if anything. The pollen mimics physical pain until sexual ‘needs’ are fulfilled by the person they desire most,” Thor looked to you at the end.

“I want to help him,” you said.

“Y/n, that’s not fair to you,” Steve said.

“And it’s not fair to Peter if I don’t help! He didn’t mean to smell the flower. I can't just sit here waiting for nothing to happen when I can go in there and help him!” you argued, “If I don’t, he’ll not only hate you for keeping me away from him but me too for not trying.”

“Don’t be silly, he’d never hate you,” Nat said.

“He will if I’m the reason he’s going to be traumatized for the rest of his life.”

“Come with me,” Nat said, holding your hand.

“Nat,” Steve warned.

“Steve, you and I both know this has to happen. They’re adults,” Nat shot back.

You followed Nat out of the room.

“Are you absolutely sure about this? Your first time should be special-”

“First time?” your eyes widen.

“Y/n, I know you're a virgin.”

“I’m not a virgin,” you mumbled.

“Really? When was your first?” she poked.

“It was- was in, it was high school,” you stuttered.

“With who?”

“... Tommy?” you said after a long moment of silence, trying to come up with a name.

“Tommy?” Nat smirked.

“Yeah, he was in my history class,” you lied.

“Ok we’ll work on that,” she said.

“On what?”

“Lying.”

“Hey, virginity is merely a social construct made by men who think their tiny dicks have the ability to change a woman’s life. It’s gonna be like a five second pump; I’ll be in and out,” Nat laughed at that.

“Ok, fine. Follow me.”

You followed her to Peter’s room where his moans and groans got louder with each step you got closer. Truthfully you were a bit nervous about the situation. Sure you did imagine your first to be extra special in a dim lit room with flowers and with someone you love. Well, now it looks like it’s going to be a dark room with your best friend who’s in the room driven by magic sex pollen, but at least you love him.

You got to the door and Peter instantly knew you were on the other side. His senses overwhelmed him with your scent, your racing heart beat. You exchanged a few words with Nat before she hugged you and left you to go into his room alone.

You slipped inside and immediately met with Peter crawling on the floor to you in nothing but a pair of boxers; a large prominent tent formed where his dick was.

“Y/n, you’re here,” he rubbed your legs and kissed your thighs softly still on the floor at your feet.

“Yeah, I am. I’m here to help you,” you said shakily.

“Oh god, you smell so good,” his hand reached up behind your thighs towards your ass and you panicked.

“Peter wait,” you pulled his hand away.

“What, baby? What’s wrong?” he too panicked.

“Nothing, I just… I’m kinda scared.”

“Of what? Of me?” he stood up and backed away from you.

“No! Not of you. I’ve never… done this, you know?”

“Y/n, why are doing this then- ugh!” he groaned, a wave of need and sexual frustration rushed over him making his body cramp.

“I want to help you,” you grabbed his hand; he pulled his hand back very quickly and retracted his body over to the bed.

“Peter, please let me help you,” you walked over to him.

“No, Y/n. I can’t do that to you.”

You were getting tired of his arguing. You wanted to do this. You rushed to him and took your shirt off hoping that’ll prove a point or something.

“Look, look. I want to help you, Pete. Let me do that,” you cupped his face making him look at you.

His eyes were so dilated nearly black as he looked into your eyes. His hands caressed your bare stomach and lower back making goosebumps rise across your body. He leaned forward running his nose along your neck breathing you in. He used every ounce of control he had in his body to not flip you on the bed rail you into the mattress. He had to be gentle. The idea of you never have been touched shouldn't have turned him on as much as it does.

Your stomach fluttered and you let out a shaky breath. Arousal pooled in your underwear with each move that Peter made. Your hands rested on his shoulders unsure of what to do but thankfully Peter moved your hands in his hair and you gently ran your fingers through his curly brown locks as he kissed and nibbled at your neck.

He moved your bra strap down your shoulder tracing his lips along your collarbone to your shoulder.

“I'm so sorry, baby,” he whispered against your skin.

“It’s ok Pete, I want to help you. Teach me. Teach me how to make you feel good.”

He practically growled picking you up and laying you on his bed. He kissed your stomach and left small bites and purple marks littered across your belly. He looked at you to make sure you were ok before pulling your shorts down your legs and off to the side. He continued to kiss up and down your legs growing harder at the small pants and gasps you made above him.

“I'm gonna give you a little taste, ok darling?” he whispered against your inner thighs.

You nodded and lifted your hips off the bed for Peter to easily take your underwear off. You grew embarrassed at how wet you were. Peter only chuckled before going in a licking along your entrance. You gasped and clenched your thighs together, only to wrap around Peter’s head pulling him closer to you.

This isn’t Peter’s first time eating a girl out so he was obviously quite skilled in bringing you a lot of pleasure from his tongue alone. Now in his twenties, after high school and after his identity was revealed, Peter somewhat tumbled his way into playboy town just like his mentor.

Girls left and right shot their chance to spend a night in the spider boy’s bed. But when Peter met you, oh boy, the kid fell in love. You were this innocent little thing that Peter just wanted to hold and take care of all the time. He couldn’t take his eyes off you. He stopped seeing other women in hopes that one day you’d be out of your mind enough to give him a shot.

Now here you were, laying in his bed like an angel, letting him have his way with you because he was shithead and smelled the flower when he wasn’t supposed to.

Your hips squirmed around, pressure building up in the pit of your stomach. You moaned loudly as you got closer to your oragsm. Your hands went to Peter’s hair making him hum when you tugged on his hair. His vibrations pushed over the edge and you came for the first time that night on Peter’s face.

“God that was hot, baby. Are you ok?” he asked, crawling up your body after discarding his boxers.

“Yeah, that was amazing,” you cupped his face, smiling.

He leaned down and kissed you for the first time ever. His hands roamed your almost naked body except for your bra of which you still had on. Not for long of course. Peter leaned back to sit up pulling you with him so you were now sitting straddling his lap.

You could feel his dick against you and your body shuddered in arousal. His hands wrapped around you to skillfully remove your bra, the last piece of clothing left on you. When he did so you covered yourself in instinct never having been naked in front of anyone before in your life.

“Don’t cover up princess. You’re so beautiful. I wanna see you,” he whispered, cupping his hand under your chin so you could look at him.

“Sorry, it’s- It’s a lot,” you whispered back.

“I know and I’ll try to go slow but if I’m not inside you right now I think I’m gonna pass out,” he moaned.

You looked down in between your bodies to find Peter’s dick big, swollen, and red. You felt bad because you don’t know if it’ll fit inside you and it looks painful.

“Please, Yn,” Peter had tears in eyes begging for you to take the pain away.

“Ok, I’m ready.”

Peter grabbed his cock and lined up to your entrance. You got up and slowly sank down feeling him stretching you out. With how aroused and wet you were after Peter’s mouth you were able to slide all the way down without feeling too much pain.

Peter moaned when he bottomed out and grabbed your face you kiss passionately. You moved slowly up and down and soon all the pain you felt subsided into pleasure and you too started moaning above him.

“You look so fucking good riding me, princess.”

His words made you moan even more embarrassed that everyone can probably hear you and Peter having sex. You bit your lip in hopes to silence the moans as much as possible, but Peter didn’t like that.

“Don’t. I want everyone in this building to know who fucking you this good,” he flipped you over onto you back and started thrusting wildly.

“Let them know what a good little girl you are for daddy. Let them know who’s name you’re gonna be screaming all night.”

“Peter oh god,” you moaned.

“Huh? You like it when I call you a good girl?”

“Yes!”

“My good girl. My little slut,” Peter groaned in your ear.

You were getting insanely close to your climax and Peter’s words only sped up the approach.

“Daddy, I think I’m close,” you whispered, pleasure becoming overwhelming.

“Let go baby. Cum all over my cock,” he said.

Your oragsm ripped through you and you practically screamed into his ear. Pleasure came over you in a huge wave. Your eyes screwed shut and your legs wrapped around Peter’s torso pulling him impossibly close. Your body felt limp under Peter’s and when you opened your eyes Peter's face held worrisome and frustration.

“What’s wrong?” you asked.

“I haven’t came,” his voice trembled.

“It’s ok. We can keep going,” you said tiredly.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he buried his face in your neck.

“You won’t hurt me, Peter. I promise.”

He kissed softly before gently flipping you over and thrusted into furiously.

Six hours later Peter finally came after you did so nine times; and that was before you stopped counting. Your body shook and Peter cleaned you up. He had a small fridge where he kept drinks from time to time and grabbed a water bottle for you to drink.

You breathed heavily after drinking a copious amount of water before laying back down. You turned to check the clock on his bedside and saw that it was around three thirty in the morning. Peter crawled into bed with you, both still naked not caring enough to change. He held you impossibly close, burying his face in your shoulder.

“I’m so sorry. Are you ok?” he mumbled in your skin.

“I mean it was a lot,” you chuckled.

“I swear if it weren’t for that stupid fucking pollen our first time would have been softer and special,” he said, making you look at him with surprise.

“What do you mean?”

“Uh, well, look. Y/n, I really like you and I know that timing is horrible but it’s true. I promise.”

“Well, I like you too,” you smiled at him.

“Really?”

“Yeah!”

“Wow. God, you’re amazing. Thank you for today,” he whispered, cuddling you close.

“Of course. I’d do anything for you.”

You both fell asleep soundly in each other's arms until you both woke up the next day from loud yet muffled voices downstairs. The sun was shining very bright, lighting the whole room up brightly. You stirred around and peeked over Peter’s sleeping body to find that it was around noon already and you two were still in bed.

Peter moved a bit slowly waking up. You turned around to face and watched his beautiful face slowly come to life. His eyes met your eyes and you both smiled before bursting into giggles; hiding your face in his chest.

“We’ll have to get up soon, you know,” he said, making you sigh dramatically.

“Let’s run away, before they make fun of us. They had to have heard, right?” you said, slightly panicked.

Peter just laughed and shook his head. He reached to kiss you, moving your hair off your neck eyes widening.

“Oh man,” he said, thumb rubbing the dark spots he left on you.

“What?” You pushed the sheets off your body feeling intensely sore. You heard Peter gasped as you trotted to a mirror.

Your body was covered in bruises and hickeys that Peter left for literally everyone to see. When you looked in the mirror you yelled Peter’s name completely shocked at the state of your body.

“I can’t believe you!”

“Well, in my opinion I think you looking fucking sexy,” he said coming up behind you.

“I like them,” you said shyly, “But everyone’s gonna see them, no?”

“I’m sorry, it won’t happen next time.”

“Next time?”

“Hell yeah. Only if you want of course,” he chuckled, “Let’s take a shower before we grab some food.”

That was filled with giggles and little touches. Kisses were exchanged practically every minute. You both came out of the shower and Peter so generously lent you a pair of clean boxers and one of his shirts fitting way too big on you. He wore these delicious looking grey sweatpants and a tight fitted black shirt. You practically drooled over him.

“No, later,” he winked.

He grabbed your hand, intertwining your fingers before heading down stairs preparing for what could be an upcoming disaster. You came down stairs meeting everyone appearing to be arguing probably over what you did. Everyone noticed you two and immediately stopped conversing.

Tony sat on a stool, arms crossed and an unamused look staring at you both while everyone else looked down or at each other, anywhere at but you guys.

“Before you say anything, everything that happened is my fault,” Peter pulled you behind him.

Tony simply looked at you and made you feel shy and ashamed somewhat under his gaze. He told you to stay away and you didn’t listen.

“Don’t even look at her. She has nothing to do with this,” he said when Tony shifted his gaze.

“Relax, kid. Look we all talked. Thor told me about the effects the pollen can have mentally and the trauma it can impact when ‘untreated’ for too long. We weren’t going to find a cure anytime soon and I don’t even want to think about the consequences you’d have to pay because I'm a stubborn old man who didn’t like seeing the kids not be kids anymore. You both are adults and I had no right to interfere with that. Besides everyone knows you two are in love.”

“We’re not in love,” Peter mumbled.

“Love is such a strong word,” you mumbled simultaneously.

“Don’t argue with me,” Tony said.

“Sorry,” you both whispered.

“I’m sorry,” he admitted.

“We also agreed that starting today we will be installing soundproofing in both of your rooms and Y/n, maybe put some ice on…” he pointed to your neck but then waved around your whole body because you were pretty beaten up.

“Thanks, guys,” Peter said holding your hand again.

“Congrats on getting the girl finally,” Steve said.

Before you two left you saw Nat wink at you and you smiled running away with Peter most likely to go cuddle and maybe fuck another round if your body feels better. As much as you hate to admit, thank god Peter smelled that fucking plant.

#peter parker #peter parker smut #peter parker oneshot #peter parker one shot #aged!up peter parker #peter parker sex pollen #sex pollen #tom holland #tom holland smut #marvel smut

3K notes · View notes

babybluebex · 3 years

Text

buggy code [bucky barnes x reader]

➽ pairing: bucky barnes x fem!reader (y/n) ➽ word count: 4.1k ➽ summary: everyone on the team has nicknames, and you wonder why bucky doesn’t like the one you gave him. ➽ warnings: mentions of injuries, insecure bucky ➽ a/n: enjoy!

Everybody had a special name for the Winter Soldier. For mostly everyone, he was Bucky. It fit him; short and curt, the hard K sound in the middle demanding attention. Bucky didn’t quite care for any other name. He had lived his entire life being called Bucky and, even after waking up in a different world than the one he left, he didn’t think a name change was in order. Nobody did.

And then I came along. The nicknames started as a joke between me and Thor when I couldn’t pronounce his hammer’s name right (in my defense, the name starts with M-J-O and only gets worse from there). Jokingly, one day, I called it Mojo, and Thor laughed. I don’t think that Y/N is a particularly hard name, but Thor found a way to butcher it every single time he spoke to me. The joke bled out from Thor and me and into me and Tony, which then led to the whole team having their own name for me. Wanda called me “ducky”; Steve called me “little one”; Thor used every nickname for Y/N that he could find (which was different every day, but the theme was consistent); and Tony called me “kiddo”.

However, once the nickname precedent was set, nobody bothered to tell me about the Bucky situation. He was nice, albeit cold at times, and I had only seen him truly angry once. I had called him James. He got quiet and I saw a muscle in his jaw jump as he clenched his teeth, and he said, “Don’t ever call me that again. You hear me? Ever.” He absconded from the room quickly, leaving me and Steve alone, and my heart sank. I felt like an absolute shitbag for upsetting Bucky like that. Steve sat down next to me quietly. Steve was one of those quiet and understanding types, and he cast a glance at the door that Bucky had stormed out of.

“That was… Odd,” Steve said.

“You mean you don’t know what that was about?” I asked.

“No,” Steve said. His brow furrowed, and he mumbled, “No clue.”

“Should I apologize?” I asked.

“For what?” Steve asked, turning back to me. “You did nothing wrong.”

“I still upset him, even if I didn’t mean to,” I shrugged. “I… I dunno. I feel like I should.”

“If you want to,” Steve said. “He’ll probably get mad at you for trying to apologize.”

I scoffed. “What’s new? Bucky’s mad at everyone, all the time. I just… He never snapped at me like that before.”

“Don’t take it to heart,” Steve told me, and his icy blue eyes helped convince me.

The door to Bucky’s room was closed like always, but even the energy that came from it made me uneasy. It was quiet-- again, not abnormal-- but it frightened me. I hated saying sorry; according to some, it was one of my major character flaws. I felt sick to my stomach as I knocked on the door. Would he even answer? I felt the burning of tears in my eyes, and I pawed them away with the sleeve of my sweater just in time for the door to swing open. My breath caught in my throat once confronted by the White Wolf, and I could barely stutter out, “I… F-Fuck, I’m so sorry, Bucky.”

His jaw was tight, his eyes unwavering. I couldn’t stand when he did that. I understand where the whole “no emotion” thing came from, but it was infuriating sometimes. This wasn’t Russia. I wasn’t Hydra. Finally, Bucky took a deep breath, and his demeanor loosened up. “Don’t,” he said softly. “Don’t be… S’not your fault.”

“I still feel like an asshole,” I mumbled. “I was just joking around--”

“The way you do with Thor and Stark and all of them, I know,” Bucky interjected. “But you didn’t…” He paused to sigh, and he brushed his hair behind his ear. “You did nothing wrong, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart was new. Bucky didn’t play the nickname game like the rest of us did, as evident earlier. He called Steve brother every so often, usually whilst roughhousing after a mission, but sweetheart was something that he had never called me before. He must have seen how I bristled slightly, because he said, “Oh, so Wilson can call you sweetheart just fine, but I can’t?”

“That’s different,” I replied quickly.

“How?” Bucky countered instantly. He looked like he was only in his thirties, but he had the arguing skills of someone his own age. Fuck, he annoyed me. “How is Wilson any different from me?”

“That’s not--” I began. “Wilson always calls me that. You don’t call me… Anything.”

Bucky hummed quietly. “So, you’re telling me that, as long as I don’t call you what Wilson calls you, you’ll tolerate the nicknames?”

“That’s not what I meant, Bucky,” I said. “I meant that you never, ever had a nickname for me.”

“Maybe we should change that,” Bucky said, and his lips quirked into a smile. “We have a long night ahead of us. You should go try to get some rest… Baby.” With a cheeky wink and a smile, Bucky closed the door in my face.

Bastard.

Bucky was right. The night was long and ended with more of us limping back to the Compound than walking normally. Bucky and Steve took care of each other when they got banged up in a fight, and, as the youngest (really, second youngest to Peter, but he never normally came on smaller missions like this), Steve usually took it upon himself to take care of me too. My shoulder was killing me in a way that it never had before, and I wasn’t sure that it wasn’t dislocated in some fashion. I sat on the couch in the common area, nursing my arm and trying to ignore the pain enough to gauge if I was tired enough to attempt sleep, and I expected the sudden presence behind me to be that of the super soldier. “Hey, big guy,” I chuckled. “Can you check out my shoulder?”

A cold hand landed on my bare skin, and I jumped in shock. Vibranium was less than fun to experience when unprepared. I had identified a super soldier, yes, but the wrong one. “Looks swollen,” Bucky observed.

“No shit,” I mumbled. “You scared me; thought you were Steve.”

“Sorry,” Bucky said easily. “Yeah… I’m no medical expert, but, based on how swollen and red it is, I’d say you fucked your shoulder up pretty good.”

“Gee, really?” I said and rolled my neck to pop it. “Thanks for your input, Dr. Barnes. Can I get a second opinion?”

“Woah, hostile,” Bucky chuckled. “I’m sure Strange can fix that up for you, baby.”

I nodded in agreement, choosing to ignore the nickname. If I ignored it, it would go away… Right? Bucky noticed, though, and he said, “What? Not into that name? Okay, I’ll come up with something else.”

“Or don’t,” I shrugged absentmindedly, and I hissed in a breath as my shoulder exploded with pain. Definitely dislocated. “Fuck.”

“Oh, jeez,” Bucky mumbled, and he moved around in front of me. He lowered himself to my height where I sat, settling himself on one knee, and his warm hand landed gently on my arm. “I learned about this a long time ago… I think I remember how to put it back into the socket.”

“I’m sorry, but fuck that,” I laughed. “I’ll get Strange to do it.”

“If I mess you up even more, I give you permission to yell at me,” Bucky said. “Let me try. Yeah?”

I sighed, rolling my eyes. “Fine,” I acquiesced.

Bucky shuffled himself closer to me, putting gentle but firm hands on my upper arm. He sat there for a moment, something happening in his brain, before saying, “C’mere, you.” His hands fell down to my waist, and he carefully tugged me further to the edge of the couch to allow himself closer to me. Something bloomed in my stomach when he grabbed my waist like that, but I pushed it aside. This was neither the time nor place to get horny. He replaced his hands on my arm, and the tip of his tongue poked out of his lips as he carefully maneuvered my arm, testing its mobility. He noticed my winces of my pain, and he finally mumbled, “Alright. On three, I’m gonna tug your arm this way. There’ll be a pop and it’ll hurt, but it should be back in place. Alright?”

“Yeah,” I said. I felt like I would pass out from the pain. “Hurry it up.”

Bucky nodded, and his vibranium hand carefully squeezed my thigh. “Grab my hand if you need to,” he said. “Alright… One--”

He tugged my arm sharply away from my body, and there was a sickening pop. I cried out in a mixture of shock and pain, and then a tepid anger. “You said three, you shitbag!” I groaned. “What happened to two and three?”

“Must’ve miscounted,” Bucky said, smiling and chuckling. “Feel any better?”

I rolled my shoulder hesitantly, but found there to be virtually no pain. There was an ache, sure, and maybe a torn muscle, but the joint seemed to be back where it belonged. “Yeah,” I said. “A lot, actually. Thanks.”

“No sweat,” Bucky said. He smiled and chuckled, then added, “You said my name when you yelled.”

I tried to recall only seconds earlier, but the moment was a blur. “Did I?” I ask. That was embarrassing.

Bucky nodded. “You called out ‘James’,” he told me.

My eyes widened, and my heart jumped into my throat. “Oh, fuck,” I mumbled. “Oh, shit. Bucky, I’m really sorry.”

“No, no,” Bucky said. “It’s fine. Don’t stress. I actually don’t mind it.”

“Mind what?” I asked.

“Being called James,” Bucky said. “It’s been a while since I was called anything but Bucky or the Winter Soldier or… James’s nice. Short and sweet and… Nice.”

“Why did you…” I began, and I pressed my fingers into my palm. “Why did you get so angry when I called you that earlier?”

Bucky sighed. It was a heavy sigh, the sigh of 90 years worth of emotions threatening to be released. “I… I don’t know,” he said finally. “I really have no idea. I guess because it was different. It was like my old life. You were trying to be nice and funny, and nobody…” He swallowed thickly, and his gaze dropped from mine. “Everybody still sees me as the Winter Soldier. Like, they think I’ll break at any minute, and Bucky will be gone. Nat and Wilson and Steve can tell you all about dealing with him, if you want to know about it. But you don’t see me like that. You see me as someone kind; even before the war, I was never really the kind type. You see me as someone different than what everybody here-- everybody, period-- sees me as. You don’t see me as Bucky or Sergeant Barnes or whoever. You see me as--”

“James.” I whispered.

“I’m not used to people like you,” Bucky continued. “I… I think I was confused. And I get mad when I’m confused. I’ve always done that. I didn’t--”

“James,” I repeated, firmer and louder. I wasn’t testing the name. I was addressing him. My hand went to his face, resting gently under his jaw, and I tilted his head up to look at me. “Don’t. I understand.”

Bucky gave me a small smile, the most he could muster when he wasn’t telling a god-awful joke, but he didn’t try to remove my hand. His eyes, as blue as the sky on a clear day, were watching me. Not watching; I had seen him watch someone. There was something more in his gaze that I couldn’t quite identify, and it scared the shit out of me. It was friendly, I could sense that, and I had a suspicion on what it was, but I didn’t want to know for sure. Eventually, I took a deep breath, and I took my hand off of his face. “You should get some sleep,” I told him. “You need it.”

“Right,” Bucky nodded. “You do too. Come get me if that shoulder starts bothering you; I’ll see what I can do.”

“Sure,” I agreed. “‘Night, James.”

There was a silence before the super soldier responded to me. “‘Night, bug.”

“Bug?” I scoffed.

Bucky shrugged. “Just trying something out.”

I nodded and kept my place on the couch as Bucky worked himself to his feet, and he left the room quietly. I watched him leave and I pressed my palms into my knees before I started to stand. However, my endeavor was interrupted by Steve hitting his knuckles against the doorframe. He certainly had heard our conversation. His arms were crossed and he was giving me a strange look, and I huffed in frustration. “What do you want, Rogers?”

“Buck had a girlfriend he left behind when we went to war,” Steve began. “Always talked about wanting to marry her when he got back.”

“And?”

Steve smiled. “She used to call him James. Never Bucky; James. I’m sure that’s why he got mad.”

“Oh,” I mumbled lowley. “I had no idea.”

“I didn’t either, until recently,” Steve said. “But guess what? He called her ‘ladybug’. ‘Bug’ for short.”

As much as I hated to admit it, I needed help. I tossed and turned in bed for hours, trying to find a comfortable position to sleep in that didn’t aggravate my shoulder too much, but, just as I was always about to drift to sleep, a spasm of pain woke me up. I had taken painkillers hours before and I was tempted to take more-- the kind that brought sleep this time-- but I remembered what Bucky had told me. Come get him if I needed help. I truly didn’t want to take him up on that offer, but I was sure that he was awake. I probably wouldn’t be bothering him. I hoped not.

I zipped up my hoodie as I carefully maneuvered through the Compound, trying to move quietly. Years of training under Nat’s tutelage had taught me how to be as silent as a ghost, but I was always worried that I would fuck up somehow. We were safe, though, and I had no reason to be on high alert. Finally, I wound up in front of Bucky’s door, and I saw the door cracked open. Bucky was the sort of guy that valued privacy, and he always had his door closed unless he wasn’t in the room.

“Oh.” A voice rumbled from behind me, and I turned to see Bucky. His hair was rumpled, his eyes tired and hooded. He wore sweatpants and a thin white shirt, the bulge of his dog tags visible under the collar. I heard the soft whirring of his arm in the silence of the hall, and he added, “There you are. You weren’t in your room.”

“Were you looking for me?” I asked.

“I was going to see how your shoulder was,” Bucky explained. “It’s been bothering me all night.”

“Been bothering you?” I repeated and stifled a laugh. “It’s been hell for me. I can’t sleep at all.”

“You took meds?” Bucky asked, and I nodded. He moved closer to me, and he added, “Drank some water? You might be dehydrated.”

“I’m fine, James,” I mumbled. “I just figured that you would be up too. My head’s still buzzing from tonight. Even without the shoulder, I don’t think I could sleep.”

I didn’t even realize that I had called him James. It felt natural now. “Well, I am awake,” Bucky chuckled. “I’m not gonna sleep tonight either. We’re about an hour from sunrise anyway; that’s sorta a foregone thing now, huh?”

I nodded. Bucky’s eyes canvased me, sticking to my shoulder and arm, and he mumbled, “Your one arm’s limp. Is it just your shoulder or your whole arm now?”

I looked at my arm, hanging at my side as my other was in my pocket. I could feel the shooting pain every time I moved it, but, when it was still, it was a dull throb of sorts. I relayed this to Bucky, and the wrinkles in his forehead grew deeper as he listened. He wordlessly took my uninjured arm in his warm grip and tugged me into his room. A single lamp was on, the curtains drawn and the bed made impeccably, as if he had never even touched it. I’m sure the tidiness was a result of his military training; Steve and Wilson were the same way. “I read something,” Bucky began. “About skin-to-skin contact. How it helps relieve pain and improve heart and lung function.”

I scoffed as I sat on the corner of his bed. “Yeah, for newborn babies,” I told him.

Bucky sighed jokingly. “Do you want my help or not, bug?”

Bug. Ladybug. “I didn’t really come for help,” I said. “Just company.”

“Just company,” Bucky repeated under his breath as he sat down next to me. “I can do that.”

“Can you?” I asked with a smirk. “Are you sure?”

“I’m not totally inept, Y/N,” Bucky said. “I can make conversation.”

“I know,” I sighed lightly. “Just teasing you.”

“You tease me so much that one would think that you don’t actually like me,” Bucky said.

I rolled my eyes. “Of course I like you,” I said. “Sometimes, I don’t think you like me.”

“Yeah, don’t take it personal,” Bucky said softly. “I sorta turn a lot of people off. The whole murderous, brainwashed soldier thing tends to do that.”

“That’s a shame,” I said. “You’re actually a pretty cool person.”

“Even when I’m killing people?” Bucky asked with a chuckle.

“Especially then,” I said, playfully pushing his shoulder. “Not too many girls are into that, but I’m in the same business, so I like it.”

“Into it?” Bucky repeated with a smile. “Like… In what way?”

“I think it’s cool,” I said. I knew what he was pushing for, and I guess that I was giving off that impression, coming into his room in the early morning for “company”. I had meant it in earnest, but, now that I thought about it, it certainly sounded like I had come to fuck him. “Not the whole… Being tortured, but… I admire that you’ve turned this into something that can help people.”

“That’s why I’m here,” Bucky said. “To help people…”

I saw his humor deflating. There was more he wanted to say, far more. If I knew Bucky, though, he was fit to clam up, and the conversation was about over. “You are helping people, Buck,” I offered. “Keeping them safe, protecting them…”

“Protection can only get you so far,” Bucky said, standing up and rolling his neck. “Y/N, when you’re like me, you’re never sure if you’re really helping. People tell me that I am, but I’ll never be certain. It’s a fucking curse, one that I haven’t turned it into anything good.” He swallowed thickly, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat.

“Well,” I began softly, standing up. I joined Bucky at the window and carefully took his hand, and I examined the metallic knuckles and the different slants of vibranium that made up each finger. I thought he would pull his hand away, tell me to stop, but his hand only whirred quietly and closed around mine. “Let me be the one to tell you that you are helping people. Like tonight, not only did you take down all of those goons, but you helped me.”

“What help did I do?” Bucky scoffed.

“I mean, it’s not fully healed, but you made my shoulder better,” I said. “Bucky--” I reached up for his face and pressed my hand to his rough cheek, and I forced his head down. His steel-blue eyes met mine, and I took a deep breath. “You are good. You are a good man and I will do whatever you need me to in order for you to believe that.”

Bucky was quiet for a few long moments, then he finally whispered, “You don’t need to do anything.”

“So you believe me?” I asked.

“I didn’t say that,” Bucky whispered. “You don’t want to help me.”

“Why not?” I huffed, dropping my hand. “Do you think you’re too far gone?”

“I don’t think it,” Bucky said. “I know it.”

“James,” I said, my emotions biting through my words. My eyes stung and my throat was tight, and I knew that I was seconds away from crying. “You are not too far gone. You know how I know?” I surged closer to him and put my hand flat on his chest to feel his heartbeat, and I said, “You’re alive. As long as you’re alive, you can get better. Stop being stubborn--”

“I’m stubborn?” Bucky laughed. “You’re so convinced that you can fix me that you won’t take no for an answer.”

“I don’t want to fix you,” I said quickly. “I want you to know that-- Fuck. Look at me, you prick.” Bucky fixed his eyes on my face, and I put my palms on his cheeks. He couldn’t look away. “James Buchanan Barnes, you are a good man. You help people. You are magnificent. I know it, everyone here knows it, and I will not rest until you see yourself the way I see you.”

The air between us was tense, and Bucky lifted a hand up to his face. He enveloped my small hand with his, his warm fingers carefully brushing mine, almost like he couldn’t believe that someone was holding his face so tenderly. He lowered his eyes, then lifted them back up to meet me, and he dropped his hands.

With that, his entire body language changed. The wrinkles in his forehead disappeared, his shoulders fell, and he let out a heavy breath. His bottom lip fell open as he looked at me, and I whispered, “Do you feel better?”

He nodded slowly, a lock of dark hair falling into his eyes. “I like the way you say my name,” he told me. I gently pushed the hair from his face to behind his ear, and he swallowed thickly. “Say it again. Please?”

“James,” I said softly. “Buchanan. Barnes.” I took a deep breath, and I quietly laughed, “Bucky Barnes. You are the greatest man I’ve ever met.”

Bucky put his hands on my waist and pulled me flush against my body, and he hugged me tightly. His mouth buried into my shoulder, and he held me for what felt like hours. He needed it. My tears finally fell, and I sniffled as I wrapped my arms around his muscled body in order to squeeze him tightly. “Are you crying?” Bucky whispered, his lips hitting my shoulder as he spoke.

“I just…” I began. “I love you, James.”

I didn’t know what to expect when I finally confessed to Bucky what I had tried to deny, but he stayed still. He barely had a reaction, unless you count a sigh as a reaction. Finally, just as I thought my anxiety would burn a hole through my stomach, his hands fell down my body, skating just above my hips and down to the backs of my thighs. With the strength of a thousand men, he pulled me up into him, wrapping my legs around his waist, and he pulled his face out of my shoulder to let me see his pink cheeks and radiant eyes. He said nothing as his lips pressed against mine, and I instantly kissed back. My Bucky, my soldier, my love, my James. The world felt right.

“I love you too,” Bucky whispered. “Y/N.”

“Did you really…” I started. “Do you call me ‘bug’ because… Because of ladybug?”

Bucky tilted his head as a soft smile came over his pink lips. “Did Steve tell you that?” He asked. I nodded, and he gave a little laugh that rumbled in his broad chest. He carried me to the bed and set me down carefully, and he laid down next to me. My head easily laid on his chest and his strong arm went around my body, holding me close to him. There wasn’t even an inch of space between us, but I loved it. “Yes and no. I got the idea from that, but it means something different. That girl back then, her name was Dot, so ladybug made sense… But you’re a different kind of bug. You’re a bug in the sense that you’re not supposed to be here.” He carefully tapped his forehead, and he closed his eyes as my finger replaced his. “You’re a bug in my code. I didn’t want to fall in love after everything I’ve done, but… Fuck, you managed to get in there.”

“Glad I did,” I whispered, placing a kiss on his forehead. “My James.”

“I’m glad you did too,” Bucky whispered. “My little bug.”

#bucky barnes #sebastian stan #marvel #avengers #mcu #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fluff #sebastian stan angst #sebastian stan fluff

515 notes · View notes

amhrosia · 3 years

Text

My Sun, My Moon, My Stars Pt. 1/? (Bucky x Reader)

1.6k Words // Masterlist // Requests are OPEN :)

Summary: After a mission gone wrong with the Avengers, you’re more than glad to see everyone made it out safely. That is, until you look down and see the blood stain spreading across your torso.

(Warnings: angst, mentions of blood, mentions of death, gunshot wound, did I mention angst?)

No one thinks about dying when they're young. Not really. Every young person in the world is convinced that they’re invincible until one day, they wake up and realize that their youth is slipping, that their back is aching for no apparent reason, and that one day, any day, any minute, they could take their last breath and succumb to the sweet kiss that death offers to the masses as they start their walk into the afterlife.

This macabre idea, however, was not on your mind when your arm nearly caught fire in the old, abandoned warehouse on Cherry Chapel Lane in Amhurst, Massachusetts. The mission had been going swimmingly until that moment. Get in, get the target, get out. Simple instructions given by Tony, who was keeping watch of the area while the rest of the Avengers carried out their supposedly simple mission.

The intel Tony received on the Hydra base was from a solid, reliable source, so the attitude of the team going in was less-than-prepared, to say the least. You found out rather quickly that the intel was dead wrong. Rather than the six barely armed and untrained foot soldiers you’d been expecting, the warehouse was filled with highly intelligent and deadly accurate gunmen. To say that you and the team had busted through the ceiling, only to be met with rapid fire machine guns and flaming cannons, was putting it lightly. You were all getting your asses handed to you.

It was a complete mess, and you were hidden in a corner, trying like hell to shoot as many Hydra agents as possible and locate an exit.

“FUCK,” you yelped into your earpiece, “If that had gone any more wrong, I’d need a metal arm like Tin-Man has.”

You were still shaking the burn out of your left hand when Bucky’s voice responded through the speaker, “What happened to ‘easy-peasy-lemon-squeezy, y/n’? Can’t take the heat?”

Heat flooded your cheeks as you smiled at his teasing tone.

“Okay, lovebirds, now’s not the time to have wicked com sex. Has anyone found a viable exit?” Natasha’s voice rang in your ear. She was right, this was not the time to get distracted by Bucky’s silky-smooth, velvety voice. There would be plenty of time for that later.

“I’m kind of in the middle of something,” Steve grunted as he shielded himself from an onslaught of bullets, “Language, y/n.”

“Sorry, Steve.”

You reloaded your gun quickly and snuck a peak around the stack of palettes you’d been hiding behind. To your left you could see Natasha shooting at Hydra agents while standing back-to-back with Peter, who was doing his best to incapacitate people with his web shooters. Steve was in the middle of the warehouse fighting off two soldiers. Thor and Loki were out of your line of sight, but you could hear Loki’s arrogant laughter as sparks and lightning spouted off in every direction.

Your eyes searched for Bucky, who was obviously the most vulnerable in situations that dealt with Hydra. There were bullets flying in every direction and the fire that you’d almost burned your arm in was beginning its slow, seductive crawl up the wooden beams that kept the warehouse standing up straight.

A horrible thought crossed your mind, making you feel sick. If the fire got to the ceiling, the entire building could collapse with everyone still inside. Everything was going so terribly wrong.

“We need to get out of here!” You screamed into the com, watching the fire make its way up the side of the building.

“Don't worry, Iron Man is here to save your sorry asses, again. I’ll cover you guys at the East exit. Get out. Now. Run.” Tony’s tone was confident, joking even, but he'd used his serious “dad” voice, which made you feel worse about how very un-serious you had been about this mission before it started going downhill.

You glanced towards the exit Tony had mentioned, waiting for the blast that would make a sizeable hole in Hydra’s never-ending slew of soldiers.

“Brace yourselves, people!” Tony yelled.

You ducked your head as the entire building shook with the blast. Ash and wood shavings rained down on your head and the familiar stench of blood and death surrounded you, nearly swallowing you whole.

Bucky resurfaced in your mind. Is this what he experienced every hour of every day when he was the Winter Soldier? Would this push him back into the shell you had spent months coaxing him out of?

You shook your head, clearing your thoughts. You’d have to table those thoughts for later when everyone you loved wasn’t in danger of being shot to death or crushed by the feeble and burning walls of the warehouse.

You peeked around the corner. There was an opening that led to the exit. You took a deep breath and began to sprint.

Your legs carried you across the warehouse as you tried to avoid running on top of dead soldiers. Bullets were still flying in every direction and you kept your head ducked as you found the exit. The wood above you was beginning to disintegrate. You began to turn, wanting to make sure that everyone else had made it out before you, but the ceiling gave out before you got the chance.

Two familiar arms wrapped around your waist and hoisted you backwards out of the way of the flames and decay. You fell into a strong, hard chest with a grunt. Even after hours of fighting, sweating, and bleeding, Bucky’s musky scent grounded you. He felt like safety. He felt like home. You rested your hand on his metal one, letting the coolness of the metal relieve the burn that was sure to blister.

Bucky was breathing hard as he set you down near the rest of the team.

“Hey, handsome.” You smiled, looking over his ashy face for cuts or bruises.

“Hey doll,” he responded, smirking, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, just a small burn,” you said, holding up your left hand for him to examine.

“Is everyone okay?” You asked, glancing around at the other members of the group, silently adding up the headcount to make sure everyone was accounted for, “I almost didn’t make it out.”

You let out a stunted laugh, waiting for a witty reply from Tony or Steve. Bucky inhaled sharply, causing your eyebrows to furrow. Everyone in the group was looking at you with horror in their eyes.

“Geez, guys. I was joking.” You held your arms out in question. When no one replied, you looked at Bucky, whose wild eyes were focused on your stomach.

Your hands flew to your torso. An immediate wetness coated the fingers that brushed over your left side. You looked down and couldn’t fully understand what you were seeing at first. To the right of your ribs was a hole, the size of a small seed. A warm sensation began to crawl up your body, making the hair on the back of your neck stand. A crimson stain was slowly making its way across your shirt.

The world around you had gone quiet. You looked up, expecting to see the group still gawking at you, but there was a sudden flurry of movement that you couldn’t keep up with. Everything was happening too fast, and you were so, so tired. Even blinking felt like an effort you couldn’t muster the energy for. You sank to your knees, losing your balance in the process, and ended up lying flat on your back. There was a full moon out. How did you not notice that it was a full moon?

‘Where’s Bucky? I need Bucky.’ You thought, searching in the haze for the familiar face of the man that you loved.

A small pressure was being placed on your stomach as you focused on the stars above you. You could faintly hear yelling, but the stars were so beautiful that you tuned them out. Why was no one talking about the stars?

A sudden and alarming bright light faltered your focus. Steel blue eyes stared into your own.

You smiled. You’d know those eyes anywhere. They belonged to your beloved Bucky. The man who owned your very soul. But why did they look so scared? Why were they crying?

“Bucky.” You mumbled, reaching up to rest your hand on his wet cheek. A warm glow had overcome your entire body. It was getting hard to breathe.

Bucky’s mouth was moving, but the world had long since gone silent for you. The sharp angles of his face were becoming more and more fuzzy. A white light haloed Bucky’s head. You took as deep a breath as you could muster. Everything was numb, but you finally understood what was happening. You finally understood the worry in his eyes.

‘I’m dying.’ You thought, tears welling in your eyes, ‘I don’t want to die. We didn’t get enough time together. I love him. Please, please, no.’

You were pleading with whoever would listen, but the world around you was beginning to fade. It became clear to you that no one was listening and that this moment with Bucky would be your last.

“I’m so tired, Bucky.” You mumbled, a tear falling down the side of your face into the grass beneath you. You gently closed your eyes, using your last bit of energy to squeeze the hand that was pressed into your wound.

“I love you, James.”

As the last bit of light faded, you hoped that you’d said it loud enough for him to hear. He needed to know that your dying words were meant for him. That he was the beginning and the end for you. That he was the sun, the moon, and the stars of your universe. That there was love in this dark, cruel world and that he held all of yours in his hands.

‘Bucky. Bucky. Bucky.’ You repeated in your brain, until even thinking became too much effort, and you drifted off into the most restful sleep you’d ever experienced.

No one thinks about dying when they're young, not really, not unless they have to.

#bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes #mcu #sebastian stan #sebastian stan imagine #marvel imagine #tony stark #natasha romanov #natasha romanoff #peter parker #spider man #winter soldier #imagine #mcu imagine #angst #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #sebastian stan x reader #james bucky buchanan barnes

161 notes · View notes

imagine-loki · 3 years

Text

Omega Mine

TITLE: Omega Mine

CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: 43/?

AUTHOR: nekoamamori

ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Loosely based on: Imagine Loki discovers the Avengers have an omega who has healing powers living with them. He’s an Alpha and he wants her, badly.

RATING: M

NOTES/WARNINGS: Also on AO3 click here

Fuck. Shit. Damn.

Not only was Wanda presenting. She was presenting in the worst possible way, suddenly, unexpectedly, because of a new Omega, and in front of the entire team. And she had just challenged a room full of Alphas. The team was generally pretty forgiving, especially for the puppies acting like puppies. But Wanda had gone too far this time. It didn’t make it any better that she had enough raw power to destroy a city block, including most, if not all, of the Avengers in the tower.

You had to do something fast before things spiraled out of control.

Things were already spiraling out of control. The Alphas all had their hackles raised, their anger rising automatically at being challenged by a puppy. Wanda’s pheromones were all over the place and you could practically feel the heat radiating off of her as her presentation started too fast and too suddenly.

You had to do something. This was the exact kind of thing that was the reason the team had an Omega on staff. It was why all large companies did. This was your exact skill set, though you hated standing up to the Alphas, it was exactly what you needed to do.

You quickly evaluated the scene, then took charge, letting your calming aura sweep through the room. “Thor, Barton, get Doctor Banner and Cap out of here,” you issued the order. You expected Thor to balk at an order from an Omega, but thankfully he didn’t. He and Loki were raised differently than the Midgardian Alphas. They respected Omegas’ role in society. He was also 1500 years old and could shake off being challenged by a puppy more easily. You didn’t want to risk Wanda triggering Bruce into turning into the Hulk and Steve was unpredictable. He had been an Omega before the serum and you still didn’t have a good grasp of how Alpha-like he really was.

You needed to get the bombs out of the room before Wanda sparked an explosion. Thor and Clint accepted your order and herded Bruce and Steve to the stairs to get them out of the room.

That was one problem solved. Bucky, Nat, Tony, Aunt May, Wanda, and Peter were all still problems. Peter was overwhelmed and confused and whined softly in Wanda’s arms, but you felt his aura. He was trying to calm her and calm the situation. He was just untrained and new to his Omega abilities.

Wanda’s cheeks were bright red with fever and she was still holding the shield around herself and Peter, determined to protect the Omega. She was still a puppy, but just barely. Her presentation was hitting hard.

“Wanda, sweetheart, you need to drop the shield and let us take care of Peter,” you told her gently, turning all your attention to her. You knew that Loki and Bucky would be able to order the pup properly, but you didn’t want to traumatize her. You had to do this gently.

“They’re scaring him!” she protested with a whine. She looked up at you with wide, pained, trusting eyes. That actually reassured you more than anything else she could have done.

“I sent them away. They can’t scare Peter anymore,” you soothed her. “Aunt May and Mr. Stark are going to take care of Peter,” you added before she could protest.

Wanda considered that and looked to Stark and Aunt May. Aunt May was related to Peter and Stark was an Omega. You waited while she calculated. She swayed, unsteady on her feet from the fever of presentation. She whined softly, but lowered the shield. “They can take care of him,” she replied finally and let Pete go. You nodded to Tony, who came forward and wrapped an arm around Peter’s shoulders, leading him over to his Aunt.

You pulled Wanda into your arms. “I’ve got you, sweetheart. We’re going to take care of you,” you promised. She whined and practically collapsed in your arms.

Loki was there in an instant and had Wanda swept up into his arms. “Shh,” he soothed her as he let her cuddle close to his cold. “You’ll be alright, witchling.” He had a soft spot for the little witch and had taken to training her in how to better control her magic. That was part of why you’d let him stay in the room. Wanda trusted him.

Loki was also over a thousand years old. He could control a puppy or a new Alpha easily. That was also why you’d let Bucky stay. He was a hundred years old, an Alpha, and had been in the same hell of Hydra as Wanda had been.

“Meimei?” Wanda whined and reached for you.

You took her hand and gave her a reassuring smile as you squeezed it. “It’s alright, sweetheart. You’re presenting. Loki and Bucky will take you up to your room. I’ll be up in a minute after I make sure that Peter’s alright. Ok?” You asked her gently. She nodded and snuggled in Loki’s arms. Now that she knew that Peter was safe, she was succumbing quickly to the discomfort of the presentation.

Loki and Bucky could handle an Alpha-puppy for a few minutes while you checked on Peter. You knew they could. So you let them leave with her to get her comfortable and turned your attention back to the overwhelmed Omega. You summoned a fluffy blanket and wrapped it around him. “You did well, Peter,” you reassured him.

He looked up at you with wide eyes, but seemed to relax a little with the fluffy blanket to bundle in. “Well?” He asked, surprised. He didn’t think he’d done anything.

You nodded and gave him a warm smile as you led him over to the couch. Aunt May settled on one side of him and cuddled her nephew in his arms. “You instinctively tried to help Wanda calm down. That’s what an Omega does for an Alpha,” you reminded him. “You’ll learn to do it on purpose with time,”

“It’s… really ok?” He whined softly.

Aunt May kissed his hair. “There is absolutely no shame in being an Omega,” she reassured him.

Tony came over with a wrapped box. “We expected this, kid.” He handed the present to Peter. “Happy presentation-day.” Peter opened the box to find a few plushies, a fluffy blanket of his own and some other miscellaneous supplies that an Omega would need.

“You… you knew?” He asked.

Tony laughed and ruffled his hair. “Yes, pup, the signs were all there. And I can tell you first hand that there’s no shame in being an Omega. And you can still be who you are,” he meant Spiderman, but avoided saying it in front of Aunt May. “I manage it,”

Peter relaxed and beamed up at his mentor. “Thank you, Mr. Stark!” He said with his usual brightness.

All would be well in Peter’s world.

Especially when Wanda came through her presentation. You had a feeling those two would be an adorable couple soon enough.

#Loki #Lover #Submitted fic #omega mine #chapter 43 #nekoamamori

47 notes · View notes

masterthespianduchovny · 3 years

Text

At the beginning of age of avengers, someone assumes that Tony is the leader and he corrects them and say that it’s Steve.

And that surprised me because I assumed that Steve and Tony were co-leaders, but no, Steve was CHOSEN as the leader of the avengers. I was about to say that Tony was second in command, but I’m assuming that’s Nat.

But, as surprised as I was about this revelation (I literally hadn’t seen the movie in 8 years until 3 days ago), it instantly made sense.

As much as the anti Steve crowd hates on Steve, on several occasions we’ve seen Steve not only inspire people, but also get them to follow him. After someone commits to following Steve, they’re typically loyal to him.

We do not see this with Tony.

The issue with Tony isn’t that he’s flawed and has trauma, it’s how he treats others and how he processes trauma. When you lash out at others, ignore them, insult them (for your own amusement); don’t consider anyone else, etc, you more times than not will alienate people who are ok your side or, at least, want to be. A person having trauma doesn’t excuse how they treat others. And there is only so long most will people up with that behavior before leaving, which is their right.

I believe the only person who stayed by Tony’s side no matter what was Happy. Tony and Rhodey commonly fought and Rhodey even sided against Tony as well. Pepper had to take a break from Tony due to his own actions.

People can forgive flaws, but often struggle to forgive habitual poor behavior and various transgressions that comes with it.

We cannot except people to respect Tony or want to follow when he makes a joke about the PTSD (Capsickle), their traditional clothes (Thor), job endangerment (Rhodey; Tony made a transphobic joke about an event that didn’t happen), as well as sexual remarks (Natasha). And that’s not all that he did. This goes beyond being flaws, especially when you’re supposed to work with these people and they’re allegedly your friends.

He also doesn’t tell anyone about his trauma and OFTEN deflects, which may include insults or cracking inappropriate jokes. No one should have to deal with that all because someone is traumatized, especially as ALL OF THEM are dealing with their own and equally valid trauma.

Comparatively, Steve does not do that.

The people who work with Steve and are friends with him take him seriously. They support him and he supports them.

We see this going back to the 1940s. Peggy believed in Steve based off of his resilience and faith of convictions. She challenges him when he accepts his current circumstances.

After Steve saves literally over 400 men by himself, he earns the respect of not only colonel Phillips, but the men he saved as well. When he says he wants to pick his own team, in addition to the wish being respected, the chosen men flat out say that they’d follow Cap anywhere.

This must be stressed: these men were held prisoner and knew they’d encounter the most dangerous weapon and men in the entire war and readily agreed because Captain America asked.

In winter soldier, Steve is declared a criminal and is on the run. When he breaks into the shield headquarters, he gives his speech and EVERYONE minus hydra agents refuse to launch the coded because Captain America explain to them that some dangerous shit was going down. They believed his word because his actions and his character is THAT respected.

See the trend here: people listening and following Steve because they believe he’s genuine and wants to do what’s right.

In age of ultron, we hear a reference that he was chosen as leader. The events in this movie proves why Steve was chosen and Tony wasn’t.

Whether or not you believe Tony was right to crested ultron, he still should’ve told his team what Wanda made him see AND explained why he wanted to create this tech/weapon. Instead, he deliberately kept it a secret and pressured Bruce into helping him. Ironically, despite the claims that Steve feels like he knows that’s best, this is exactly what Tony assumes.

Let’s be clear: not only are Steve, nat, Bruce, hawk eye, and Thor adults, they are also avengers as well. They don’t need Tony to protect them and they all of the capabilities of deciding if they want to do something dangerous and risk their lives. And it’s ego centric as hell for him to actually believe that Steve, of all people, would guilt him by saying he should’ve saved them. Steve wouldn’t have done such a thing both saying that or even making Tony feel bad if he did all he could do.

Despite creating his murder bot due to not consulting his team because he knew they’d say no, Tony did it AGAIN.

Again, where’s the leadership? Where’s the accountability? Where’s the understanding that he may not like the answer, but he does owe it to his team to talk to them? And, again, he thinks he knows what’s best.

What does Steve do in this same movie? The twins start fighting besides him, which he doesn’t interfere with because ultron is the bigger threat. But, rather than fight them like his instinct tells them, he stop and listens to what they have to say.

I want to note that people like to say (and some are thinking), it’s good that Tony built what eventually became ultron, well, it’s good that Steve extended a hand to the twins. They also played a huge role in why the world didn’t lose half its popular, which was a consequence of Steve’s decision making.

Once Steve heard them out and was willing to let them into the fold, he defended them when other avengers tried to attack them. He didn’t leave them out to dry.

Then, when the actual fight happens Tony reveals a few minutes in that they have no other options but to abandon civilians and let them die.

Steve flat out refuses that as an option and makes the PERSONAL decision to stay until every civilian is safe. Not one person will be left to die.

I don’t know about anyone else, but Steve comes off as the clear leader and Tony doesn’t.

What happens next is that literally every current avenger and the twins stay to help. Nat literally tells Steve that this would be a beautiful place to die and explicitly says she’s fighting alongside him.

Whether or not Steve spoke to people, he inspired them to follow him by his actions.

Who is inspired to follow Tony?

Tony flirts with retirement, which no criticism against that.

But, alongside nat, Steve personally trains Sam, Rhodey, and Wanda for team avengers. After accepting Wanda into the fold, he treats her life everyone else.

In civil war, Steve was hands on with wandas training so she could control her power and made sure was protected. He accepted responsibility for not accounting for unforeseen threats, such as the explosives and explained to Wanda the realities of their job. He was realistic with her, but used that as motivation as to why they should strive to be better. Steve was outraged when he found out that she was locked up and freed her from Tony’s unlawful imprisonment.

Even if someone argues she should be locked up, Tony did not talk to her. Wanda didn’t consent to being confined to the house. This is another example of believing he knew what was best for people rather than talking to them and seeing how they feel. He isn’t giving others the right to make informed decisions for themselves and in general.

Steve, on the other hand, consistently considers what people feel because he TALKS to people. He has meaningful conversations with people, such as nat and Sam. Steve formed connections to people, which made them feel close to him.

But, let’s circle back to Tony, he takes a MINOR without the explicit consent of his guardian. Not only does he take Peter without May’s permission, he takes Peter OVERSEAS and to fight at that.

To make matters worse, Peter doesn’t know WHY he’s fighting or what for.

Where’s the oversight or accountability in any of that?

During the fight, someone flat out asks how old Peter is. Tony follows up after the fight, during homecoming, with almost inviting Peter to stay at the avengers compound. As a reminder, Peter was still a literal teenager and Tony still DID NOT ask peter’s guardian if this was okay.

Where as Steve explicitly tells people what they are getting into. He lays out what to expect and that you have a choice in it. Steve never pressures people into helping him and they usually volunteer. And, whatever happens afterwards, he’s there for them.

How was Tony’s mentorship with Peter?

He’s not actively involved with Peter after taking him in as a mentee, pawns him off in Happy, thinks at status reports are sufficient, and ignored Peter’s concerns. Peter was a minor who just had the most surreal experience of his life and Tony doesn’t think this kid would be amped and itching to do more?

Tony doesn’t think Peter might need some hands on mentorship? Tony thought he could mentor from afar with updates and camera footage, but it actually engage.

Them damned accords!

Tony signed the document due to guilt and tried to get others to sign it despite him being mostly responsible for why the accord even exist or, at least, did a lot of shit that is now being penalized. I’m not sure if he actually read it OR if someone summarized the point.

Whereas Steve DID read the accords and his stance wasn’t one of guilt, but concern and ethical issues with what’s in the accords. Steve was prepared to retire because his beliefs didn’t align with what was being asked of him and others. He didn’t ask anyone to back or follow him.

But, people do eventually back him and follow his lead. They know exactly what they’re getting into. And, despite knowing the risks and eventually getting arrested, they stick to their convictions.

When Tony finds out that Bucky killed his parents, despite knowing that Bucky was brainwashed for LITERALLY decades, he tries to kill him. When cap realizes this, he constantly tries to neutralize Tony.

Let’s go back. Steve knowing that Bucky needs to be arrested, decides to save Bucky both for Bucky’s protection AND so those trying to bring him in doesn’t get hurt/killed. Once Bucky is safely arrested, Steve lets the situation go.

Oh, before I really get into infinity wars, there is no mention of Wanda harming other people even accidentally. :)

Tony, as usual, ignores what others wanted, like strange, and think he knows what’s best. He plans to fight thanos henchman by himself as well as thanos completely ignoring the concept of teamwork. (He also jumps to insulting others for his own shits and giggles—keep in mind, these are people he doesn’t know).

What does Steve do?

He was successfully on the run with nat and Sam and they worked together as a TEAM to save vision. They then meet up with rhodey and formulate a plan as to how to stop thanos. Steve coordinates with various people to have the battle in Wakanda. He doesn’t assume he can fight thanos by himself or should.

Steve refuses to trade lives because every life is valuable.

When the Snap happens, Tony fucks up into his cabin in the woods and lives his life.

And what does Steve do?

Run a support group to keep hope alive for people who are trying to see the best in a shitty situation.

He stays an avenger and does whatever needs to be done because he’s there to serve the people regardless of the despair he feels.

Don’t get it twisted, Steve is not perfect, but he constantly led by example, put the wants and needs of others before himself, was a hands on mentor, listened and supported others, and refused to leave anyone behind and/or die. He was always willing to be the only man fighting the battle and even to die for his beliefs.

And this man is called selfish by some.

Where as Tony consistently believed he knew what was best for others, was willing to let people die, was a shit mentor, mocked and ridiculed others, put his own feelings first, etc.

And this is seen as a leader???

Let’s not forget that dangerous tech he left to a MINOR after he died. Peter was so overwhelmed by the responsibility, he gave it to the first person who listened to him and who he believed to be responsible. This isn’t a condemnation of people. Again, his a literal minor—15 or 16. Who is overwhelmed about the shit stark left on his shoulders.

When old cap spoke to Sam, he gave AN ADULT, his shield. One with loved experiences and who knew how to handle complicated feelings. He knew what Sam was willing to handle and could handle.

And another thing: the fact that people were willing to go on the run with Steve says a lot. This is the second time Steve has been on the run and people, Sam and nat, were willing to follow him and assist (both times).

Tony couldn’t even get people to stay faithful to the legal accords. Rhodey said peace out as soon as cap returned. Nat abandoned Tony to join Steve. Vision questioned his life choices, and then went black to be with Wanda. And Peter didn’t know what the fuck was going on.

And Tony stans think he should’ve been leader based off of using his money for the avengers and giving them a place to crash.

LOL!

People want Wanda to apologize to Tony for invading his mind when he should apologize for her parents dying. If you’re a weapons manufacturer, there’s no such thing as believing only the “good guys” will use your weapons. You know your weapons could and will get into the wrong hands. And you also know that without war, you’d be out of a job. But, also the “good guys” are usually imperialist who fuck over other countries as they undermined these government structures to steal resources from them and other shit.

Just because starks stopped manufacturing weapons doesn’t mean he can escape accountability for what his weapons did to others.

Tony also ratted out that Clint had a family and was fine with them being jailed because they took the “wrong” side. Did he apologize to any of these people? The ones he had jailed and the ones who were forced to go on the run for a bill he supported, and then admitted was fucked up? (The same law he later broke twice.)

But, he’s a leader???

#pro captain america #pro steve rogers #steve rogers defence club #Steve rogers #Captain America #pro tony stark #pro iron man #anti tony stark #anti tony stans #anti iron man #for every post I see mistagged I’m mistagging my own #if I can’t peruse the Steve tags without anti mess you can’t do that with the Tony tag #:)#childish but I don’t care

216 notes · View notes

mendesbadrepuation · 3 years

Text

Save Her // Peter Parker🕷

*This is based off a Tiktok I saw a long time ago and wrote a little something for it. I was scrolling through Tom Holland’s tag and saw that @lightholland was looking for someone to make it or have it. It was just sitting in my drafts collecting dust. So without further a do : )

I will add the link to the Tiktok...

〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️

“What do you mean she’s been kidnapped?!” Cap says in the small conference room to Tony.

“Shh!” Tony puts his finger in front of his lips to silence Cap. “The kid doesn’t know yet. If he finds out I’m afraid he’ll put himself in danger before we can get a proper plan.” Tony explains more. His words get quieter as more people pile into the room. Tony felt the weight of the world on his shoulders. His eyes were bloodshot from not getting any sleep the entire night. It was suppose to be a simple mission. She’s done it time and time before. HYDRA found an opportunity to trick everyone. All of them have been through protocol in the case that something like this does happen. He just felt ill not knowing what they could possibly be trying to get out of her.

The room was quiet as everyone was confused as to why they were being brought in so early in the morning. Peter was swaying side to side in his chair with his eyes glued to his phone. He was texting her repeatedly wondering where she was. He hasn’t spoke to her since the night before. He had an important Chemistry assignment to complete that occupied him for hours. The last text he had from her was a simple “I love you spider bug” That was one of her many nicknames she had for him.

“Okay so-“ Tony begins to speak to the group and everyone turns their heads away from the distractions. Peter cuts him off. “Wait Y/n isn’t here yet.” Peter says softly as he looks at Tony. It was easy to see how Tony was fighting his thoughts on how to break the news. He sighs as his shoulders drop. Cap looks at Peter then back at Tony. Peter had been sensing something all day but he wasn’t sure what it was. He knew he felt off. “What? Is someone not telling me something?” Peter tries to keep his cool from all the silence. The group looks around in confusion.

“Mr. Stark.” Friday comes in through the A.I. system. Her voice sounded a little concerned. “I think you will want to see this.” Tony had a feeling he knew it was about her. He was expecting some kind of news soon and much rather than later. “Pull it up.” He disregards Peter’s questions and turns his attention to the glass screen. The room goes deadly silent as a image of Y/n pops up. Peter stands straight up out of his chair as his heart jumps into his throat. The video begins to play and she was crying in pain. The right side of her face had taken some serious impact. A serious busted lip was causing blood to ooze down her chin and her tears were mixing in with the dirty blood. A scene that none of the avengers wanted to see on their teammate. Especially their sweetheart.

A blood curling scream pierced through everyone’s ears from her torture. There was no face to the voice but it was easy to tell it was a man that was speaking. “Where is the stone?” His voice was dark, brisk, and cold like a windy winter night. It cut through Peter as if he was made of paper.

“I don’t have it.” She says breathlessly. “Please I didn’t take anything!” The camera zooms out and there was a knife sinking deep into her flesh. He twists it ever so slightly making her scream out in horrific pain. “PETER!” She cries out for her boyfriend. The only thing that was keeping her from crossing over to a dark place.

Peter turns his body and Cap knew what he was about to do. Cap leaps after him holding him in his arms before he makes a B-line out the door. “Let me go!” Peter struggles around trying to fight his way out of his masculine grip. The video continues in the background as they offer up a deal to get her back. “I have to get to her. I have to find her!” His legs kick around as a way to create space between the two. The team all rise from their chairs to keep him cornered in.

“Calm down! Listen Parker!” Cap tries to stop the squirming so that Tony could propose his plan. “You can’t do this alone!”

“No! She needs me!” A soft whimper pulls from his mouth as he slowly stops his fighting. Cap knew that Parker and him could be an even fight if he wanted. He also knew that Peter was in no state of mind to fight him off like that. He knew deep down that he couldn’t get her back alone.

“We’re going to get her back kid. But I need you to calm down. We have to be smart about this. We can’t lose you in the process. You have to stay focused with us. You know everyone in this room is hurting. We have to do this strategically. It has to be done together..” Tony says. Peter’s eyes were watering at this point. The frustration and pain he felt seeing his girl like that took a toll on him. Peter swore to himself he’d never let anything happen to you. Not like this. His heart was shattered and his gut was empty. All he can hear is his name being called from your horrific state. He couldn’t get to you and help you. It was his own torture that surely would leave scars for him.

“Please. We have to get her back.” Peter fumbles to his knees and Cap does his best to cushion his fall but it was no use. The video goes on a little longer. A few more screams are heard and it shuts off.

“I was able to trace the video back sir. It looks like it was sent from a server in a remote location in Canada.” Friday speaks.

“Everyone get suited up. We will debrief on the air carrier.” Cap says and everyone quickly goes to their stations to get suited up. It was an intense feeling in the air. Everyone of them had a one track mind. That was to rescue their teammate. No matter the risk they were getting her back alive. Peter couldn’t bare another second of this. He had his suit on in a matter of seconds and was pacing in the air carrier first.

Once they were all inside they viewed each layout of the blueprints Friday sent them for the set location. They managed to track her phone in a closed off portion of the abandoned building. All of their thoughts were said to find the best way to get her out swiftly and safely. Each plan was ran over a couple of times to outsmart Hydra and their evil intentions.

“Peter it’s your job to get in that bunker and get her out. You need to understand that she’s going to be really out of it and the scene could stun you. You can’t hesitate. Get her out of there.” Tony says sternly to him. There was no else best fit to get her out. Everyone knew that. Peter just had to realize that any hesitation or delays can cause the plan to backfire tremendously.

“I will.” Peter says. He would walk through fire at this point just to save you and hold you in his arms again.

The air carrier lands a little ways away from the secluded location. They were all careful to keep things in stealth mode so none of the sensors would be detected. The plan is set in motion and one by one each member is deployed. Each of them tackle the obstacles set in the way. They wanted it to be in and out so no extreme force would have to happen. Tranquilizers were used to put Hydra agents to rest out of harms way. We’re they mad about the kidnapping? They were beyond furious. It didn’t matter. Once they had her safe then it was time to discuss wars.

Peter sweeps his way through the rusty old building. He blends in with each surrounding and is careful not to tip his whereabouts. Once he finds the bunker door he uses his A.I. system Karen to break in. The door opens with an unusually loud creek. He swiftly creeps inside checking for other agents. There he sees her passed out laying on the floor almost lifeless. Holding her arms and legs together is some raged black rope that left her horrible laceration burns from her fighting it. She’s only been held captive for 12 hours and they managed to hurt her this terribly? Peter felt the anger boil up inside of him.

“Y/n!” Peter whispers to see if she would respond. She doesn’t move and his heart drops. There was blood all around her. Her suit was ripped in places where the knife had been. Peter picks her up slowly and that’s when she stirs. Immediately she tries to fight her way out considering she had no idea who it was.

“Let me go! Please.” She whines. Her voice was so hoarse.

“Shh. Y/n it’s me. It’s Peter. I’m here baby.” He moves some of her hair out of her face to get her to look at him. The head of his suit comes down so she could actually see it was who he said it was. He uses his tech to cut the rope around her arms and legs, freeing her instantly.

“Peter.” She cries in relief and clings to him tightly. He takes her body and places her legs around his waist. His arms tightly wrap around so she’s hugging him. He was not about to let her out of his grip. Not until they were out of harms way. Even then he may never. Her head nuzzles into his neck and he wanted to sigh in relief from the feeling. When she was being clingy that was her thing to do. “You smell good.” She weakly whispers. It was so innocent that it made Peter’s stomach release butterflies. He knew how strong she really was and that she’d have this shaken off in no time. He still was not letting her out of his sights for awhile. Peter gently placed his chin on her head to cling to her more. He easily moves his way through the abandoned building without being spotted. Once he reaches the air carrier everyone else was starting to regroup.

“We got her. Is everyone counted for?” Cap says as he looks around. A small count of people was taken and the doors to the carrier are sealed shut. Peter just falls to the floor with her in his arms.

“We’re going to get you some help here soon baby.” He starts to rub her back. She remained in the same position but never lost her grip around his neck.

“Has she said anything?” Tony asks as he bends down to rub her head softly.

“She didn’t know it was me at first. I say she has a concussion. She’s a little out of it. She said I smell good.” Peter lightly smiles and so does everyone around. It was their y/n being herself even in the state she’s in.

“You really do. Did your side chick buy you some new cologne?” She jokes and the mood in the carrier lightens tremendously. Everyone laughs including Peter. Y/n kept her eyes shut and her head rested in between Peter’s neck and shoulder. A smile still formed on her face from her comment.

“You did goofy.” Peter replies and places a sweet kiss on the top of her head.

“Just making sure it’s really you.” The tip of her nose brushes up against his neck giving him goosebumps. “Sorry I got a little blood on your suit.” She adds.

“I think it will be okay. As soon as we get to the compound we’ll get you stitched up. I promise. Just keep talking to me. I’m so glad you’re okay.” Peter’s chest vibrates to each word he says. It was hard for her to keep her eyes open with being in the arms of her saving grace. She knew she was safe now.

“I could go for a nice shower. I’m sure I don’t smell as nice as you do.” Her words were turning into low mumbles now. “I’m really tired Pete.” She takes in a deep breath to try and relax the searing pain that was pulsing in her arm and leg.

“I know. Just stay with me a little longer.” He scoots over to a wall so he could lean his back against it and stretch his legs out. He resumes rubbing her back once he gets situated. “Where is our next date going to be?” Peter asks to keep her awake.

It was silent for a good minute. “The beach.” She replies.

“Why the beach? You hate sand.” Peter states.

“The sound of the waves, plus the view. It would be so romantic. And I wanna surf.” Her words were a little dragged out.

“We should make it a team vacation.” Tony adds to the conversation.

“None of you all better wear a Speedo.” She hesitates and then whispers to Peter. “Except maybe you can Pete.” The group laughs again. Big smiles on their faces knowing they had this sweetheart back.

Her head slowly raises up this time to look at Peter once more. Her weak arm manages to go up and she placed the palm of her hand against his cheek. His eyes softly look into her and he tilts his face into her palm.

“Thank you for saving me.” She whispers and leans her forehead against his.

“I will always save you.” He replies just as soft as her whisper.

They lean into each other and like magnets their lips connect ever so softly. Y/n felt the warmth she had lost from all the torture she endeavored. Peter could finally breathe a little better knowing she was in his arms. This kiss allowed him to be grounded from all the fear he had trapped in his mind.

“Get a room!” Tony says in disgust. The two teenagers just smile into the kiss.

Y/n was eventually back the Avengers compound safe. There she was taken care of from all the wounds she had. And just like everyone assumed Peter didn’t leave her side the entire time.

〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️

Tagged accounts:

@im-not-here-dont-leave-a-message @nerdy-collector-festival

#tom holland #peter parker #spiderman

107 notes · View notes

wkemeup · 4 years

Text

By Any Other Name (13)

series summary: When Special Agent Bucky Barnes is tasked with infiltrating the notorious gang Hydra and gathering evidence against its leader, Brock Rumlow, Bucky finds himself drawn to the woman who doesn’t seem to belong in this world of violence, the wife of the head of Hydra… you. pairing: bucky x reader chapter word count: 4.1k warnings: smut (18+), a relief from all that angst, a bubble where nothing bad can happen (if only for a moment) 🌹series masterlist 🌹

The air was cool as you followed James into a third story apartment of an old brownstone. Faded bricks lined up the street-side wall and a couple dozen plants in desperate need of watering sat under the windows. The hinges squeaked as the door closed behind you, a few scuffs on the interior and a deadbolt near the lock. You handed him the baseball cap he insisted you wear to obstruct your face and the heavy overcoat you borrowed.

James smiled nervously at you as he started to shrug off his jacket, watching the way you stepped further into the quaint, one-bedroom apartment. The couch looked to be a few years old, well-worn with use from the dip in the cousins and the faint discoloration of sunlight draped along the backrest. There were newspapers and mail piled high on the kitchen table, an empty mug on the coffee table in the living room, a sweatshirt hung over the back of a chair by the television.

It was so domestic, so genuine; a glimpse into the place where he felt most at home. Safe.

“It’s cute,” you commented, gesturing to the open floor plan that allowed you to step from the furthest end of the kitchen to the wall of the living room in less than ten paces. You touched the exposed brick along the wall by the fireplace, the slight prickles of the cement scraping your fingertips.

“It’s a closet,” James laughed, shaking his head. The edges of his hair fell into his eyes but he quickly brushed it away. “It’s nothing compared to--”

“Maybe I like a closet,” you said, cutting him off before he could even bring up the home you’d been kept locked away in like a prisoner. It was extravagant and spoiled in riches, but it was cold and unkind. You trailed your fingers along the edge of his couch, soft under your nails, as you made your way back to him. “It’s nice to see something that’s really yours.” A pause as he nodded, smile brimming on his face though his cheeks were flushed. “This is your apartment, right? It’s not just part of the cover?”

James laughed at that. “Yeah, it’s mine. Bureau wouldn’t dare spend an extra dime to get James Karpov a nicer place.”

You stood in front of him, tips of your fingers gently dancing around his own until your hands intertwined and you felt the bare warmth of his palms heat the chill of your skin. Leaning into his chest, you cherished the oaky scent of his shampoo, letting your gaze wander around the small, Brooklyn based apartment, that held so many clues to the real identity of the man whose heart you could hear thumping inside his chest.

Baseball cards were framed, but not hung, leaning against the wall on the top bookcase. Sneakers kicked off by the front door like he’d just come back from a run and didn’t quite have the energy to get them in the closet just yet. The manila envelopes stacked on the end table by the couch with coffee rings on the top.

There were a dozen pillows floating around between the couch and the love seat, an old woven rug placed underneath and candles sitting on the fireplace mantel. Photos hung on the walls of the faces you’d been reacquainted with just hours ago; their smiles beaming, mid laugh, dressed in what looked like matching softball outfits with ‘FBI’ embroidered across the front. All so exceptionally normal.

“Y/n?” he called softly, a strain in his voice that surprised you.

“Hmm?”

“You think you might--” he paused, a heavy breath out. “You think you might ever forgive me?”

You pulled back, startled by his question, to find him chewing on his lower lip, tugging at dried skin and trembling exhales past his tongue. Careful hands reach up to the sides of his face, thumbs tracing over cheekbones and grazing the scratch of bristles along his beard line.

“For what?” you asked gently. “For working tirelessly to put a dangerous criminal behind bars where he belongs? For being so impossibly kind and patient with Peter and treating me like maybe I was worth something more than just a trophy on my husband’s arm? For being the good man I always knew you were?”

You felt the muscles of his jaw clench under your palms, eyes darting down to the floor, but he stayed silent.

“So, I don’t know your real name,” you conceded playfully, trying to pull a smile from his lips, “and maybe you weren’t entirely truthful about what you did for a living, but, James, tonight I found out that the man I love doesn’t blindly kill people for a living, doesn’t willingly work for the same vile monster who trapped me in a marriage and threatened to beat my sixteen-year-old cousin within an inch of his life. You don’t need my forgiveness, James, because what you’ve given me is just... relief.”

You were smiling, weightless almost, and it surprised you to find him frozen under your touch. Wide eyes bore into yours, blue faded to dark grey in the dim lighting of his kitchen, and he slowly unclenched his jaw.

“What did you say?” His voice tense, almost aching, a little desperate and you stitched your brows at the center.

You pursed your lips, repeating the last thing you’d said. “There’s nothing to forgive, so you don’t have to—”

“Not that.”

You narrowed your eyes, confused.

“You said,” James started, unsure as he watched for your reaction, “you said you loved me.”

Had it really slipped out that easily?

You thought about it for a moment, considered the gravity those were held; that they hadn’t been spoken since they were told to a perceived notion of a man who never once cared for you in the way you’d believed. They were an act of manipulation, of deceit, and they had held nothing but disdain.

Until James. Until the beautiful man with a name you didn’t know and the bluest eyes you’d ever seen.

“Did I?” you exhaled; throat dry suddenly.

A flash of panic quickly crossed James features, a harsh breath in and he nervously stuttered out, “you can take it back if you—”

“No!” you blurted out without much of a second thought. You didn’t need one. This was something you were absolutely certain of. You tucked a fallen hair behind your ear and confirmed, “no, I… I don’t want to take it back.”

Leaning onto his chest, you could feel the rapid pace of his heart pulsing beneath your touch. The unsteady rhythm and the deep rise and fall of his breaths, the physical manifestations of the nerves rushing through your own body, though you waited patiently.

“Good,” he said after a while, like he’d needed a moment to find his bearings.

“Is it?” you teased, chewing on the edge of your lip.

He nodded, smiling growing on his face. “Will you say it again?”

“What?” you replied, grinning wildly and feigning confusion. “’The man I love’ or ‘I love you’ or--”

Lips on yours, a laugh in his breath and a smile etched to his cheeks, the words died easily on your tongue. There wasn’t anything quite like the way he kissed you, all warmth and comfort, wet and aching; he kissed like every touch of your lips might be the last time, like he had novels worth of last words to say and all he had was the gentle tug of his teeth to your bottom lip, the sweep of his tongue over yours, to convey what he was desperate to say.

“Any of it,” he gasped, breathless between kisses along your jawline. “All of it. Say it a million times.”

“Greedy, aren't you?” Your stomach was aching with laughter, his lips kissing along your neckline, the crease of your jaw, your collarbone, and his hands roaming along your hips send goosebumps and tingles up your spine.

“Maybe. You should try it yourself sometime,” he teased, labored breath and stunning red color on his lips. Slowly, he cupped the sides of your face, and pressed a tender, chaste kiss to your lips. “I love you.”

You knew and yet your heart was threatening to burst straight out of your chest. It was in the way the plump red of his lips curved into that smile you adored, the winkles up by ocean blue eyes, dimples caved into his cheeks and the faint outline of scars he’d earned protecting the only family you had left.

“I love you,” he said again, followed by a kiss to your forehead. Lingering, gentle, and sweet.

“I love you,” and a kiss to your nose. Brief and chaste.

“I love you.” Lips on your clavicle. Warmer, open and wet.

“I love you.” He sank down to his knees, the wide surface of his palms resting ever so slightly in a feather’s touch upon your waist line, fingers pressing against skin hidden under your shirt.

You watched him, waiting under bated breaths, as he slowly slipping his hands up under the fabric, tracing along your spine. It lifted the edge of the shirt just enough for him to press a kiss to your stomach, just above your jeans.

A sigh escaped you, and you lifted your arms above your head, the tension burning in your skin as he took the hint without question, and slowly peeled the fabric from your body. Up and over your head, brushing your hair from your eyes and you quickly tried to tame it again, but he was smiling so wide you couldn’t be bothered to care for the flyaways.

“I love you.” A dozen times over and every time the words left his lips, silk and butter on his voice, it felt like the first time; it carried goosebumps prickling on your skin and shivers in your spine.

Coming back to his feet, his lips touched the hill of your breast, forcing your eyes to flutter shut. Though, when his tongue flattened, and the warmth of his mouth trailed down to your sternum, you gasped.

He grinned against your skin, knowing exactly what he was doing to you.

“James,” you tried, warning him to stop his teasing, but he hushed you.

“Shh, sweetheart, I’m not done.” His hands snaked up along the indent of your spine, over curves and edges, until his fingers touched the clasp at the back of your bra. His forehead rested on yours, a slight look to your eyes for approval, and with your nod, he swiftly released the clasps.

The material slipped down from your shoulders, straps hanging loosely down by your elbows and he slowly pulled the cushion away from your chest. It fell to the floor and the slight chill of his apartment pebbled at your nipples.

You moved to cover yourself, in the cold and the flush of embarrassment as his eyes had yet to leave your breasts, but there was something about the way he was looking at you; like you weren’t a prize to be won or a stake to claim. You were something of beauty, of astonishment, and the disbelief in his eyes, the genuine awe, allowed your arms to rest at your sides, leaving yourself open and vulnerable to him because for once, you trusted a man to keep you safe.

“So beautiful,” he murmured, fingers trailing around at your hips as he leaned forward to kiss your neck. His lips lowly peppering kisses down your collarbone, over your heartbeat, until he kissed the valley of your breasts. Hands snaked up into his hair, a slight gasp, as his tongue touched the hardened bud.

“I love you,” he whispered, heat of his breath against your breast and he wrapped his lips around the bud. Tongue swirling in gentle circles, teeth grazing ever so slightly over the sensitive peak, though never once in pain. You gasped, digging your nails to his hair and arching your back to the kitchen table.

His hands were everywhere; holding you still, caressing down your waist, anchoring you to the ground while his mouth pushed you high above the clouds.

He moved to the other breast, his right hand coming up to gently massage where his lips could not, a thumb brushing over the nipple, still wet and aching from where he’d left you.

“James,” you whined, a dull ache between your legs and you squeezed your thighs together in refuge. Your hands left his hair and he only smiled in response, sucking harder on the bud and pulling another shaky breath from your lips. Fingers gripped in tight to the edge of his shift, just above his shoulder blades, and you started to tug. “Off. Take this off.”

“Whatever you want, sweetheart.” He bent down, let you tug the material up and over his head, discarding it to the floor next to your own. In the moment he tried to lean into you again, to pick up where he’d left off as if going even a moment without touching you – kissing you – was pain within itself, you spotted a faint discoloration on his his chest, one that stilled you in an instant.

“Oh God,” you gasped, a hand pressing to his shoulder to keep him where he stood. There was a heaviness in your voice as your fingers grazed over the raised, light pink edges of scars littering his chest, carving over his shoulders.

He paused, watching you nervously, the playfulness fallen from his face in favor of bated breaths and tension in his jaw.

Fingertips brushed over a particularly prominent one under his ribs, two inches wide, dark in color, like it had healed over a few times. It sat between his muscles, the dip between hardened lines of his stomach, and he shivered under the touch.

“Trafficker in New Orleans,” he said simply, voice low, a thick swallow. “I told you I’ve survived worse than a few punches.”

“You were shot,” you exhaled, hands shaking over the scars and he quickly gathered them in his own, kissing sweetly at your fingers.

“It was a long time ago, love. I’m alright.”

It looked years healed over, like maybe he’d opened the stitches a few too many times because he couldn’t simply sit still and listen to the doctor’s orders. It sounded like him to do such a foolish thing. Too impatient to care for himself when there was work to be done.

“Y/n,” he called gently. “Sweetheart, come back to me.”

Blinking a few times, you found yourself caught up in stormy blue. He smiled sweetly at you, kissing at your hands nestled gingerly within his own.

“I guess I forgot that your job is still as dangerous as it was yesterday,” you admitted, eyes darting to the ground. “But it’s worse than that, isn’t it? Being undercover where you are… it’s more dangerous than just being connected to Hydra.”

“It is,” he confirmed, slow and steady. He had no interest in lying to you anymore, that much you could tell by how easily he replied. There was no hesitation, no pause. His breath was warm over your fingers. “But we’re almost at the end of it. Just one more month. Until the shipment comes in. Then, we’re out.”

“I don’t know if I can last that long,” you confessed quietly and James quickly wrapped you tight into his arms. Chest to chest; skin to skin, and his arms enveloped you close. Hands trailing down the bare of your back, your cheek pressed to his heart.

“You can,” he said, the vibrations of his voice purring against your ear. “I’ll be there with you. You and me, love. I’ve got you.”

Tears blinked over your lashes, touching the skin of his chest. “I’m scared for you.”

“Hey,” he cooed, gingerly pulling you away just enough to see you face. He frowned at the redness in your eyes, the reflection of tears on your cheeks. A thumb brushed up over your cheekbones, carefully sweeping under your eye. “Nothing’s gonna happen to me, okay? I’m good at what I do. I’ve been on dozens of assignments like this and even when shit hits the fan, I still come out on top. I’m still the one walking topside while the bad guys are rotting in jail.”

“But Brock—”

“—doesn’t suspect a thing,” James sighed. He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Just let me take care of you tonight, sweetheart; forget about all that waits for us tomorrow. Let me love you.”

There was so much on your mind; images of what Brock might do if he were to ever discover James’ identity, questions of how you were going to spend a month with the knowledge that could get him killed and lie to a master manipulator, fear that you might be the very reason it all comes crashing down.

Your heart rate started to beat a little faster, breaths come in a little quicker, but you felt a slight tug on your hand that pulled you out from under the water.

“Come with me,” James asked, gesturing to the door at the edge of the living room. He had that beautifully sweet smile on his face, one that was exceptionally light and barely even curved the edges of his lips but it lit up bright in his eyes.

You nodded, following him as he guided you through the door. It was dark inside, walls baron white and he flicked the switch to a small lamp in the far corner of the room. It cast a light orange glow over the room, almost like the glow of a dim fire on the edge of extinction. It was just enough to see him; the curves and lines of his muscles and the slight dishevel of his hair.

“It’s just you and me tonight,” he said, gently sweeping your hair away from your shoulder and as his lips touched down along your collarbone. Wet and warm, tracing the bone to your neck. “There’s nothing else. It’s just you and me.”

You nodded, lost in the feeling of his tongue trailing your skin, sucking sweetly at the crevice of your neck until a sigh left you, one that ached deep between your legs. He must have noticed or perhaps it was the way you gripped at his hair or clenched your legs, but James carefully ushered you to the bed, helping you to lay down on your back as he hovered over you. His lips didn’t leave your body for even a second.

His hand trailed down along your stomach, finger tips dancing around the waistline of your pants, and he paused. No question needed to be asked, but one he sought an answer for anyway, and you reached down to unbutton the clasp yourself, slowly wiggling the jeans down your hips and kicking them off the edge of the bed.

A hunger grew in his eyes as he began crawling down your body, peppering kissing along the way; your neck, your breast, stomach, hipbone, until the warmth of his tongue touched over the fabric of your underwear.

“We’ve waited long enough,” you whined, simply wanting him and you were certain you were aching and wet enough from the tension alone. You could feel the gathering pool between your legs, the shift of it when you moved your thighs, the dampness of the fabric.

“There’s always time for this,” he purred and he pressed an open-mouthed kiss to your clothed core.

You gasped, hands quickly gathering in his hair, yanking and pulling, though it only seemed to make him laugh. He likely imagined you were just sensitive. It had been almost eight months since you allowed Brock to touch you, though even in his best efforts it was never like this. He was a selfish lover, using your body for his own desire.

The truth was, a man had never kissed you there before, over or under the material covering the most vulnerable, most sensitive parts of you, and James was one that seemed to revel in the privilege of it. He hooked his fingers under the waistband of your panties, a quick look up to you in wait, and with your nod, he slid them down your legs, discarding them with your jeans.

In the cool air of his bedroom, you tried to squeeze your legs closed, but strong hands curled along the insides of your thighs, holding you open and expose. Fingers dug into the soft skin of your legs and though you strained against him, there was give, enough that you could have overpowered him if you really wanted to.

“Easy, love,” James mewled, lips grazing over your inner thigh, slowly skimming up along your curves until the heat of his breath touched your core and a jolt rocked through you. He chuckled, deep and low, and the vibrations of it trembled through you.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered, kissing sweetly at the very edge of your leg, right along the curve, and he moaned when your nails dug into his hair. Your eyes fluttered shut just at the sound, the way he rutted against the mattress, his arms snaking around your thighs and caging himself to you.

“I love you,” he said again, teasingly, as he pressed an open-mouthed kiss to the very place you’d been aching from, clenching around air in anticipation, and your free hand wrapped tight to the bedpost behind you.

“Shit, James, I—” You couldn’t find words, couldn’t string more than a few together because suddenly, his tongue licked a long stripe through your folds, lapping up the wetness and swirling it around your clit with the tip of his tongue. You gasped as he sucked the bundle of nerves between his lips, sliding two fingers easily inside of you and stroked at your walls.

You could feel his grin against you, the satisfaction of you withering and whining under him. His hips jutted along the bed with every gasp he pulled from you, with every pump of his fingers, and lick of your clit. You’d never known a man to enjoy this the way he did, to find his pleasure in your own.

It was too much. It wasn’t enough. It was heaven.

“Ja—” you bit down on your tongue, your walls clenching at his fingers and he tongue didn’t let up for a second. Your hips moved against his hand, riding him, seeking more because his fingers just weren’t enough.

The peak found you before you were ready for it and you cried out, hips chasing at his fingers as he held you down, sucking furiously at your clit, until the gaze started to subside. A warmth spread through you, limbs heavy and tired, and you’d only come once.

“Come here,” you gasped, tugging gently on his hair as he looked up at you, cheek resting on your thigh, content to stay between your legs for an eternity.

He grinned, slowly crawling back up to you, kissing cervices of your body along the way; the curves that you hid under layers of sweatshirts, the parts of your body that felt used and put on display for a man you despised, now reveled, adored, by a man you so desperately loved.

“Hi.”

You laughed, kissing him on the lips, tasting the tanginess on his tongue. “Hi.”

There was a boyish look on his face, one of a playful kind of awe. “I love you.”

“Yes, I suspect you do,” you teased, smiling up at him. Your hands trailed down his chest, down past his scars, to his jeans where you started to fumble with the clasp. “Show me some more, won’t you?”

“Show you a lot more than that, sweetheart,” James winked, leaning back onto his knees. He straddled over your waist, slowly unbuckling the waist of his jeans. He was teasing you, grinning wildly as he watched the impatience form on your features and you sat up, sliding your fingers between his jeans and his hips, and tugged.

“Need you,” you murmured, pulling down just enough, but paused to let him take the step to fully show himself to you. You looked up at him, wide eyed and eager, chest panting a little, still high from the dull ache between your legs.

“I know, love,” James said sweetly. He pushed himself off of you and quickly removed his jeans, his boxers sliding down along with them. When he stood again, adoringly beautiful kind of smile on his face, he didn’t seem to mind when your eyes lingered downward.

Thick and heavy between his legs, standing against him almost painfully hard, with a drip of precum gathering at his slit. He stepped towards you and you watched how it jolted with his movements. Slowly, James crawled back over you, nestling between your legs as his cock brushed at your slit.

“Wanted you for so long,” he whispered, pained in his voice as he tucked his nose to the crook of your neck. “Loved you for so long.”

“I’m here,” you sighed as a hand slipped up into his hair scratching at his scalp, the other running along his back, tracing over hardened scars and exit wounds, the line of his spine. You pressed a kiss to his cheek. “I’m yours, honey. I’m yours.”

His cock brushed along your core, sweeping over your clit and drawing a moan from you. James shivered, a tremble chasing up his spine as he kissed along your jaw, slowly finding his way back to your lips. You brushed the hair from his eyes, meeting ocean blue for a moment under parted lips, and he set his forehead to yours.

His cock edged at your entrance, tip pressing between your folds and into your cunt. You took a breath in and before your exhale, he slid deep into you in one smooth push. He stretched at your walls, a slight ache you had expected quickly melding into a burning desire.

“Move,” you gasped, barely able to get anything else out.

James slowly pulled his hips back, enough so his tip just barely left you before he sank back in. Hot breaths on your neck and he rutted his hips again. The tension of it, the pressure of his width, the touch of his pelvis to your clit; it was like fire and flames, the clearest water, it was refuge and salvation.

Arms wrapped at his shoulders, his chest flush to yours, you lifted your legs, heels pressing to the backs of his thighs to urge him forward with every thrust. All you could take from him, every inch, every touch, every gasp, you wanted it – craved it.

This man, this beautifully selfless man, who volunteered his life to live in the shadows of his own name, to spend each day behind enemy lines at the right hand of the country’s most vile criminals, who managed to help you find pieces of yourself again. He brought hope back into your life. And love.

“Ah-ah, James… I’m—I’m close,” you whimpered, nose scratching along the rough bristles of his beard.

You could hear his heavy pants, the low hums of a moan in his voice, and he snaked a hand between you. His fingers touched your clit, circling gently at first before picking up in pace and pressing down, the pressure pushing you closer to the edge.

“Let go, sweetheart,” he whispered breathily, kissing sweetly, almost innocently, to your cheek. “I’m—I’m right behind you. Let go, love.”

Losing rhythm, his hips chasing his own release as your walls clenched around him, impossibly tight, and your nails dug into his shoulders as you touched cliffs. Running to the drop off, a free fall into the open sky to only clouds and heaven below, you jumped.

Legs gripped tight around him, arms trembling as you held onto him, rocking through the high pulsing down at your core and sweeping through you. James’ breaths were labored, uneven, as he held himself up on the slight shake of his forearms caged around you.

Then, as you leaned up to kiss tenderly at his neck, he released inside of you. A few slow, drawn out thrusts before he stilled, collapsing in his haze and sinking you to the mattress. Full, wet. You gently ran your fingers through his hair as he caught his breath again.

“I’d like to be able to call out your actual name, you know,” you teased, light and airy and cheeks flushed as he slowly raised his head from your chest.

His lips were swollen red, a line of sweat on his forehead, and he chuckled. “I told you James is my name.”

“Not the name you want me to know you as,” you added, remembering well what he’d said in the warehouse.

He nodded. “Soon, sweetheart. I can wait.”

“Not sure I can,” you shrugged playfully, looking away from him out to the window of his apartment to the stars littering the sky and James started to laugh.

“Let me keep loving you like that and you might just test my patience.”

“Maybe that’s my goal.”

He laughed again and you swore it was the most beautiful sound you’d ever hear. You could have spent forever like that, held under his weight, pressed to cotton sheets that smelled of him, full between your legs of the man you so adored.

But he slipped from you, gone before you were ready, and you whined as he stood from the bed. He chuckled at your reaction, bending down to kiss your forehead before he disappeared to the bathroom. The running water of the faucet carried into the bedroom and you settled against the mattress until he returned; the remnants of his release sticky along your inner thighs.

When he returned, he held a washcloth in his hand, warm as he aired it out and steam filtered around it. He touched it to his face first, testing the temperature, before he slowly bent down and ran it along your leg, almost teasingly, until he tenderly wiped along your thighs and pressed it to your center. You sighed, eyes fluttering shut from the lingering sensitivity, and he gingerly cleaned himself from you.

When he was done, he discarded the cloth back to the bathroom with a quick throw and settled in the bed beside you. He held out an arm, giving you space to curl up against him, cheek pressed to his chest, arm draped over his stomach, fingers tracing over a faded scar along his shoulder he told you was from a bad encounter with a slumlord in Chicago.

It was a dream to hold him like this; to be so close you touched every part of him, to be free enough to say the words as they came to your mind, to not have a filter on each movement, to feel safe.

“I’ll have to take you back soon, you know,” James said reluctantly after some time. You felt a kiss press to the crown of your head.

Your heart sank, knowing he was right, that the sun would be up soon and your husband would inevitably return from the ‘business venture’ downtown he’d taken a side trip on following his meeting at the Chinese restaurant.

“Just let me hold you a little while longer, won’t you?” you asked, trying to hold back the lump in your throat, the impeding reality that would come for you soon enough.

“Anything you want, sweetheart,” James sighed, his breath warm against the bare of your skin. It left goosebumps in its wake. “Within these walls, I am completely and entirely yours.”

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n

854 notes · View notes

spideyanakin · 4 years

Text

A Walk In The Skies

Peter Parker x Reader

~ This was highly based on Howl’s moving castle

Synopsis; Reader is cursed to be demon until someone loves her.

🧚🏼‍♀️masterlist🧚🏼‍♀️

You were cursed. Cursed to burn as bright as fire in the day, cursed to live in the night.

That’s what you get for swallowing a falling star.

You were burning bright in the Hydra head quarters, lighting up the main office. You peacefully rested your eyes, lighting up the bosses chimney. On days like this you were usually forced to make small talk with Hydra’s director and even give him advice, even though you weren't to supportive of his work.

You were one of Hydra’s most previous treasures; a talking fire. Lucky for you they didn’t know your true form. They kept you locked in that room all day and night, a few logs as food, and sometimes he would even throw in a few biscuits.

You gladly took them during the day, but the nights were getting lonely. You were left to sit by yourself, in an empty office, near a cold chimney you were supposed to light. No food and just a few books to pass time.

You survived six long months. At night you would read and think about how life could be if you just left.

You wanted to just walk out that window, but not knowing where to sit all day disturbed you. What if you accidentally lit up an entire forest? or even a house? What if someone threw a bucket of water at you?

So you stayed put, never adventuring further than this.

By now you knew every word of every book, you every corner of the room, every dent on each wall and every piece of important paper who were previously kept.

You peacefully slept, sat put in your chimney. You heard the loud sigh of Hydra’s boss.

“Fire Demon girl.” His voice made you open an eye.

“Yes?” You knew your voice was slightly altered when you were a fire, but that didn’t bother you.

“Here.” He threw you a cookie and you grabbed it, enjoying every last bit of it.

“Thanks.” You said in between chews.

“No problem. You must be bored sitting here all day and night.” He looked at you.

“Yeah.” You sighed and looked out of the window. “If only I could walk.”

“Though life ain’t it.” He chuckled before leaving. “Here have the rest. I’ll come back tomorrow, you keep my office safe.” He dropped a full plate of cookies in front of you before leaving and locking the door behind. You looked at the sky and the clock before sighing, you were once again left alone in Hydra’s most guarded office.

You snaked your fire tongue out and grabbed another cookie, chewing it louder then you would have liked. An hour after sunset, the clock showed the so familiar 10:00, and you felt yourself slowly cooling down. You stretched before fixing your clothes. You grabbed the plate of cookies and your favorite book before sitting on the boss’s chair.

You looked at the sky before starting your peaceful reading.

A few hours later the clock showed 06:00 and you felt your hair burning up. You placed the book on its shelf and the empty cookie plate back in front of the chimney.

A new boring night was over and a new boring day was starting. Your whole body burned bright before turning into only flames. You liked the warmth it brought you, it felt like a warm bed was wrapped around you.

So you closed your eyes, and fell into a peaceful sleep.

You were wakened up by loud noises coming from downstairs. You eyes darted to the clock it’s needles pointing 10:37.

“Weird. The boss usually comes at 9:00″ You whispered to yourself wishing you could walk up to that door. For six months the boss came every single day at 9:00a.m and left every single day at 9:00pm. His absence worried you as the noises were getting bigger and closer.

Loud bangs suddenly hit the door. You looked at it with wide eyes as it flew open.

“There’s no one.” A tall muscular blond looked around the room before his eyes landed on your eyes.

“What the-” He was taken aback. A smaller brunette came from behind.

“What?” He deadpanned. The tall blond pointed towards you and he was taken aback as well.

“What? What are you?” They approached you.

“Can’t you see, im a powerful fire demon. Waaalalalala.” You tried to scare them but you didn’t really do anything.

“A fire demon?”

You nodded along with their words.

“We have to evacuate this, should we trust her or um him?” The blond pointed to you and frowned.

“I don’t know. This looks interesting. I think we should bring it with us see what Thor has to say.” He looked at you carefully. “Im Tony by the way.”

“Y/n” You mumbled.

“How do we move you Y/n?”

“Oh no, no, no, no Im not moving!”

“You want to burn with the rest of the building?”

You looked around the room. You gulped. They had attacked the base, you knew they were good guys and you had to trust them.

You admitted you would miss the boss. He was a nice guy, just filled with anger and hatred, but he was always kind to you.

“You take that shovel over there. As long as my hear- My core fire stays untouched. You’ll see it when you get me out.”

“Alright!” He put his sleeve up and grabbed the shovel scooping you right out.

You became smaller as you had less things to hang on too.

“Watch out, crazy man with a shovel.” You screamed as he was wiggling you around not keeping the shovel stable.

“So we just walk you anywhere like this?”

“Yeah. As long as I don’t go out, I’ll be fine. Just drop be back again on some wood when your done”

“What is this?” A shubby man with short brown hair asked almost in shock at the sight of you.

“Happy, meet Y/n. She a powerful?” He turned to you and you gave him a look.

“Fire demon. A powerful fire demon.” You deadpanned and Happy backed away at your sassiness.

“I’ll go put her in the chimney,” Tony said before heading upstairs.

“What the-” You heard a boy’s voice as Tony slowly placed you down in the chimney.

“Here, you happy? You have some logs here.” He pointed to a beautiful pile of logs. “And um what do you eat?” He placed a hand to his mouth in question.

You gave a soft laugh.

“Just logs. I do enjoy some cookies tho.” You looked around the room, happy you’d have more space to travel at night.

“Alright. Cookies and logs it is!” He clapped his hands together and chuckled in disbelief. He could see you were harmless, just wanted somewhere comfortable to live.

“WhAt iS tHiS!?” A young boy about yout age which you had to admit was pretty handsome walked right in front of you, his eyes were sparkling at your sight.

“This is a um, a powerful... fire demon.” He pointed to you while you were casually taking a log and put it right in your mouth. It flopped right at the bottom of you. Peter blinked a few times.

“A fire demon? This is so cool.” He smiled and looked at you like an animal in a zoo.

“What are you looking at.” You deadpanned which made Tony burst out laughing.

“Alright, she is quite sassy I’ll tell you that.” He laughed and patted Peter’s shoulder. “I’ll go get Thor maybe he knows more about her.” Tony left, and Peter couldn’t take his eye off you.

“What?” You almost scared him.

“Nothing. I um, I never saw anyone like you.” He replied in the sweetest way possible.

You looked at him for a few minutes. No one in ages had been that interested in you. To tell you the truth you weren’t that interesting. You weren't human, you didn't have your powers, you couldn’t even fully use the powers of the demon you were bonded with. You were practically useless.

“Well, im pretty boring.” You said taking another log. “Just a fire demon with no full abilities.” You laughed and looked at him in the eyes. If you weren’t stuck with that stupid curse, you would have done anything to go on a date with him.

“No full abilities?” He tilted his head in question.

“Well, um.” You looked away not knowing what to say next. “I wasn’t born a fire demon if that’s what you want to know. I was merged with one. That’s why i can’t fully use my and his powers.”

“powers?” His eyes went wide open.

“Fire demon you say!?” A tall large guy came in followed by Tony, cutting your conversation.

“Yes. Fire demon.” You replied meeting Thor’s eyes.

“Um, interesting.” He replied and looked at you. “Haven’t seen any like her.” he bent towards you.

“That’s because im not like anyone else.” You snapped.

“Told you she was sassy,” Tony replied from the back of the room.

Thor squinted his eyes and looked at you.

“You’ve been cursed.”

His words took you aback and you stared straight at him, barely knowing what to reply.

“I-”

“You have. Or else you wouldn’t be stuck in a chimney.” He said. “It’s a nasty curse i’ll give you that. Not easy to get rid of.” He looked at you even more. “So what type of fire demon were you?” He asked.

“I don’t want to answer.” You said not wanting to reveal much of yourself to them.

“She’ll tell us more later. Let her cool down a little.” Tony chuckled at his own joke. “She’ll warm up to us eventually.”

“If you continue I swear that when this curse is removed im going to curse you as a fire too. ” You said in the calmest way possible.

“Oh, you burned me.” He placed a hand to his heart.

You laughed as you blew a ball of fire right no his face. The fire turning to smoke when it was only millimeters away.

His face turned white and the room filled with laughter.

“Watch out demon!” He pointed to you and left the room the others following.

The day went by and you stayed quiet. Thor didn’t question you much, but the others did. You didn’t mind, you quite liked the company. They laughed and shared their stories together, you watched from a distance, enjoying the lively home.

They all quieted down and left the room one by one.

“You good? You don’t need anything before sleeping?” Tony carefully asked before leaving.

You quickly eyed the clock, 9:45.

“No im good thank you. Just one thing. During the night I cool down, like I just turn to dust. I always come back in the morning don’t worry. Don’t be surprised if you don’t see me during the night.” You said before pretending to drift off to sleep.

“Ok.” Tony looked at you one last time before heading out. It was earlier than usual for the Avenger household, but today was quite a day.

The clock stroke ten and you were back to your human form. The warmth fully disappeared from your body and you felt shivers run down your spine.

You stretched before slowly walking around the room.

The couches looked so comfortable and the large tv seemed like something you could enjoy during your lonely nights. You looked around and admired everything, you liked the bigger space. You had more space to do whatever you wanted, and more space to move around. You weren't locked in a small room anymore. You smiled admiring everything.

The sound of the door made you freeze on the spot.

You were face to face with the brown-haired boy you saw earlier.

Peter Parker froze too. He’d never seen you before and liked the sight of you. His breath got caught in his throat as he stared at you. He’d never seen anyone like you. In an instant, he even forgot his name.

“H-Hi.” He shyly waved.

“Hello?” You answered not sure of yourself.

“I um. I forgot my um, web-shooters.” Peter went to the coffee table and grabbed two black cuffs. “I um, why don’t I know you?” He questioned.

You were frozen and didn’t want to say anything.

Peter frowned and his eyes drifted to the empty chimney.

“Oh no. She went out.” Peter bent towards the ashes. “Tony told me she would at night.” He sighed and looked to you, not making the connection.

“Who?” You played dumb.

“The fire demon Tony and the others brought back.” He said right before a yawn escaped his mouth. “Well, im going to go to sleep. See you later.” He gave you a soft smile that made you fall for him in an instant.

You let out a sigh of relief as he closed the door behind him. You shook your head not believing you were falling for a boy. You were cursed. A curse you couldn’t do anything about. A curse you tried so long so get separated from. A curse almost impossible to cure.

You sighed and turned towards the window. The beautiful scenery was breathtaking. The city never looked so beautiful under its bright lights. You smiled loving every second of the view, you’d never seen anything like it.

“What do you mean a girl?” Tony entered the room with Peter following making you opened an eye.

“I saw a girl yesterday! In here! I thought she was new or something!”

“I’ll see the security cameras, they’ll tell me if anyone entered the building.” Tony nodded and turned to you. “Morning demon.”

“Morning.” You groaned

“You didn’t see a girl yesterday in here did you?” Tony eyed Peter, not believing someone could possibly infiltrate his precious building.

“Nope, and I was out most of the night.”

“She wasn’t there when I saw her.” Peter pointed to you.

“Would have told you if anyone was there.” You closed your eyes again.

“Well, I don’t know,” Tony added in a questioning tone.

Peter looked half confused half disappointed. He was honestly sad the girl he thought about all night was a thief, or worst just his imagination.

On the other hand, you were just glad they didn’t think it was you.

Lucky for you that night the Avengers were all invited to a gala, leaving you plenty of time alone to visit the compound.

The clock showed ten and you took your humain form once more. You stretched like you always did and fixed your clothes in habit. You let out of soft sigh before you heard a squeak coming from the couch.

You snapped your head towards the noise.

“Oh no,” You whispered to yourself when you saw a wide mouth, Peter Parker.

He was in his pyjama’s, the tv remote in hand eating popcorn.

“Wha-” He pointed towards you and walked right in front of you.

“Peter. Peter, you can’t tell anyone.” You placed your hands in front of him.

“Did you just-?”

“Peter please.” You whined.

“I- Wha?” He looked at you up and down, speechless.

A few minutes of the staring passed and you decided to break the silence.

“You don’t have to be scared Peter. Im, im just a fire demon.” you gave im a shy smile. “Well, im cursed to be one.”

“You weren't always a fire were you?” He came a step closer. Concern painting his eyes

“No.” You sadly laughed. “I use to be a spellcaster. A pretty great one if I may.” You looked back into your memory as a spellcaster. “I was learning with my aunt until i- um. Until I was cursed.” You looked at him in the eyes this time.

“Oh. I um, im sorry...” his eyes soften.

“it’s not your fault.” You gave a sad smile. “Plus I get to be a human during the night.” You placed your hands in the air. “I just don’t get the full use of my powers.” You rubbed your arm while you stared into his bright brown eyes.

"You have, um had powers?" His eyes light up.

"Yeah! I told you I was a spellcaster." You smiled.

"That’s amazing! I didn’t know they existed." He smiled brightly.

A small silence fell.

"Well, um... what do you usually do all night?"

"Depends" you laughed. “Where I was... I just read books a night. I was locked in an office.” You laughed sadly rubbing your arm for comfort.

“Oh. Well um. Do you want to watch a movie with me?” He asked pointing to the large tv. “Im watching Star Wars... Don’t know if you um, like it.” He looked into your eyes for answers.

Your face lit up with a smile. For the first time in a while, you were going to watch a movie with someone. Enjoy someone's company in your human form.

You tucked a hair behind your ear.

“I’d love to watch Star Wars with you.”

The movie ended, a smile still on your face.

You and Peter brought the empty bowl of popcorn back to the kitchen.

Peter offered you a tea which you gladly accepted. You sipped the heavenly warm drink that you had missed for so long, the warmth of the hot liquid reminding you of the moments you would turn into fire.

You stared at your cup, admiring the past.

“So um. You did you get cursed.” Peter brought you back to reality. “You don’t have to tell me.” He let out a nervous chuckle.

“No, don’t worry. I don’t mind.” You played with the string on your teabag before meeting his eyes. “I swallowed a star” You said keeping the mystery.

“A star!?” Peters eyes widen before his brows knitted in confusion.

“A star.” You replied barely above a whisper, remembering the day. “It was a few years ago. My aunt was preparing dinner, I was enjoying the flower field we had behind the house.” You smiled at the memory. “Suddenly. The sky changed color. Stars began to fall all around me. The second I caught one, it's like I was transported into the galaxy. Everything was dark and things were flying everywhere around me. I felt trap. I could hear thousands of different voices begging me to swallow the star.” You swolled thickly remembering the feeling. “I couldn’t resist it. I put the star to my mouth and ate it. I felt like someone shoved a warm ball down my throat.” You paused in your explanation. “After that, everything calmed down. Took me a second to realize that my entire body was glowing. I came to my aunt in panic, asked her what was wrong, she quickly realized it was a curse.” You bitterly laughed. “Some wizard who hates my aunt. She tried everything. From then I was cursed to be a fire during the day.”

Peter looked at you with owl eyes. A small wow escaped his mouth, and guilt started to rise in him. He wanted to help you but didn’t know how. He cleared his throat.

“How did you um. End up over there.” He looked at you with concern, compassion filling his tone.

“Our village got torn down by Hydra. They um, took down all the spellcasters they could find.” You played with the string of your teabag, feeling your eyes getting glossy. “They took me and kept me locked into the bosses office.”

Peter didn’t know where to put himself. He placed an arm on your shoulder in comfort.

“You’ll be ok with us.” He smiled

“Thanks.” You chuckled and whipped your teary eyes.

A few weeks had passed and you were Peter’s little secret. He made sure no one was in the room when you transformed back. He would hide you in his room until dawn, and the days he wasn’t here, you would stay there.

The night's Peter spend at the compound were sleepless. He’d spent them with you, talking, getting to know you, laughing.

The two of you got along like peanut butter and jelly. You were almost inseparable. During the day Tony and the rest of the Avengers were even questioning Peter’s relationship with you, as you guys were always laughing and cracking jokes.

“Hey why don’t I take you for a swing tonight,” Peter asked a small blush tinting his cheeks.

“What?” You chuckled.

“I never took you!” He protested

“Because that would be terrifying!” You laughed.

“C’mon. I’ll protect you.” He gave you that shy smile you could never resist.

“Alright.” You stood up.

Peter chuckled before handing you his hand and bringing you through the small hallways of the Stark tower.

“Hold on tight.” Peter snaked an arm around your waist and shot a web, swinging you both into the air.

You let out a small shriek before taking a deep breath and hanging on tighter to Peter.

“It’s like a walk in the skies.” You laughed lightly while he dropped you on a roof top an arm still wrapped around your waist.

“Yeah.” He smiled, getting lost in the moment. You barely noticed the sun slowly rising as it approached six.

You looked deep into his eyes forgetting everything around you. You felt the gap between you and him slowly disappearing, the air you breathed getting mixed up with his breath.

Your mind completely shut down the second your lips touched.

Barely a second into the kiss and you felt your body warm-up. It wasn’t like anything you felt before as you felt your body shine.

Suddenly you felt something warm came up your throat and come out your mouth, the light from your body turning off. The ball of light slowly dropped into your hands and kept shinning bright.

“You broke the spell.” A voice came out of the shining star. “True love breaks any spell.” You snapped your head from the star to Peter, who was staring right at you. You both gave each other shy smiles as the star continue talking.

“Im sorry, my master cursed you.” The voice became softer and apologetic.

“It's alright.” You smiled.

“Well goodbye.” The star’s voice rang in your ear before flying away into the sky. You looked at it while it slowly faded from view.

You laughed in happiness as Peter snaked his hands back around your waist.

“Im free.” You smiled.

“Yeah.” You looked at him before pressing your lips to his once again, finally free.

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker x reader #Peter Parker x you #Peter Parker x y/n #tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland x reader fluff #TOM #The Avengers #spider #spiderman #spider man x reader #spider man x y/n #howls moving castle #curse #cursed reader

239 notes · View notes

greetjk · 4 years

Text

0814

Fic Submission for @friendly-neighborhood-exchange: By: @gr-eet for @badmcuposts Rating: Teen+ Warnings: Hydra!Peter, brief discussion of human experimentation, torture, and kidnapping. Read at your own risk. Words: 19k Characters: Tony Stark, Peter Parker, Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanov, Mentioned (Bucky Barnes, Pepper Pots, Norman Osborn, Wanda Maximoff, Curt Connors, Secretary Ross)

Summary: Tony scrolls through all of the documents then, trying to ignore the nagging feeling in the back of his mind that something is really wrong. Each document he skims through only solidifies this feeling in his gut until its crawling up the back of his throat like bile. Osborn and his disgusting ambition somehow found a way to justify human experimentation for his cross-species bullshit. And it all seems centered on this TS 08-14 individual.

All he feels for that brief, fleeting moment of consciousness is pain. That’s all he knows now: pain. It’s not always the same type of pain. Sometimes it’s sharp and it takes his breath away as needles dig into his skin. Sometimes it’s dull and throbbing, the waves of agony rolling on him in waves, worsening with each breath he takes. Sometimes it’s so bright and blinding that all he sees for hours is white. He can sometimes feel his teeth crack as he bites down on a thick, rough object wedged between his lips. Whenever he’s awake, it’s just pain. He vaguely remembers a time where the pain wasn’t a constant. He remembers warmth in the form of a golden smile and a warm embrace, but each time the faceless men with white coats visit him, he remembers less and less of that warmth. It grows colder with each passing minute.

“We’ll need another round of Benzos,” a voice says. It’s a voice he recognizes as one of the faceless men. But as he cries out in agony, teeth and jaw clenched, body rigid, he’s not sure which one it is. “We can’t keep working with the Паук squirming.”

He hears a sickening crack, and another sharp wave of agony strikes through his side. It takes his breath away; he’s gasping against the cold, metal slab beneath his bareback. It’s so cold. He’s always been so cold.

“Boss, the mutation has severely altered… his body burns right through…” The words are lost to him in his pained haze. He tries so hard to latch onto each word. It’s impossible, it’s always been impossible. He feels a prick and an insufferable burning in his arm before a familiar heaviness seeps into his bones. It spreads through his body like water, and with each passing second, the excruciating pain dulls into a constant buzz in the background. In only these moments, he finds rest.

“So Hydra has another little base doing their lame science experiments,” Tony says as he faces Steve, arms crossed against his chest. “What’s that got to do with us right now, Rogers? I’ve got a gala to attend, and you know, I’ve really got to put more thought into what I’m going to wear. The red satin is really calling my name, but Pepper thinks that sapphire-”

“Tony, focus for one second please?” Steve says with his arms crossed against his chest. He’s staring at Tony with as much disappointment as he is sure Rogers can muster. It’s impressive, really. “We’ve made good progress destroying major Hydra bases. All that is left are the smaller, sister locations. That doesn’t mean that they aren’t equally as dangerous.”

“Can you even uncross your arms, Rogers? Like, is it even physically possible?” Tony asks, tilting his head as he looks at the Captain. It’s not that he’s totally against the raging excitement of taking down a useless little Hydra base. The suit was itching for a run-in with some bad guys, but he really did need to attend this party. Not for himself, really, but Pepper would have his head on a silver platter if he didn’t at least pull through with one Stark Industries event this year. “Why do you need me? I mean, I’m flattered to know you have such a big crush on me. But I’m sure it’s nothing you and Romanov can’t do yourselves.”

“Usually you’re the one talking us into doing stupid things.” Natasha quips from her place across the room, although her voice is too weary to seem teasing. She stands against the kitchen counter, arms braced against the granite behind her. “C’mon, you’re too lazy to show us up?”

“Not lazy,” Tony insisted. “Just self-concerned. I, for one, don’t see anything wrong with that.” Again, he’s self-concerned because he knows that if he misses this gala that Pepper will have his head. But he thinks that Steve and Natasha don’t need to know anything about that. His fear of his girlfriend should be kept entirely to himself. Otherwise, he’s sure Rogers will use it against him.

“Tony,” Natasha huffs, stepping forward from her place by the kitchen counter. “You know it’s serious if I’m asking you for help.” The corner of her mouth tilts up in a half-smirk. She kept walking until she stood in front of Tony, arms crossed. She looks up at him, expression shifting into something more jaded. “It’s Oscorp. We think they’re making mutants, like the twins.”

Her words give Tony pause. It’s been a while since he’s heard any wind of the rotten Osborn and his company. It wasn’t long ago that the bastard horrifically failed at his attempts at using cross-species DNA mutation to solve medical crises across the globe. Tony’s fairly certain that that fiasco ended with him imprisoning a very scaly, slimy Dr. Curt Connors in the Raft. However, that was over three years ago, and Norman Osborne managed to cover it all up and the world would be none the wiser to the mad science hidden in Oscorp��s walls. Really, Tony hates the building more than anything. A tall, slate black skyscraper in the middle of Manhattan? It’s tactless and ugly if Tony has anything to say about it. At least Avengers Tower has some character to it. Now they’re involved with Hydra of all people?

Tony’s sure his luck is just rotten at this point. Hydra and Oscorp in one day? It’s like the universe is screaming for his overinflated ego to get involved and rub their sorry faces into the dirt just one more time. “The last thing we need after Sokovia is more mutants running around,” he says. “I’ll bite. You get in there, free a bunch of mutants? What’s your plan there, Spangled?”

Steve breathes a deep sigh. He moves from where he stands near the doorway towards Natasha and Tony. Tony still thinks he looks a bit constipated. “On our last raid in Oslo, we found… files in their databases. I think they’ve been drawing our attention to these bigger outposts to distract us from something bigger going on.” He pulls a thumb drive from his back pocket, holding it up between two fingers to show Tony. “We think Oscorp is involved in this smaller base, but we need you to look at these and tell us where and who they come from.”

Natasha stares up at him, face like a stone. “We wouldn’t come if it wasn’t serious, Tony. This is bad.”

Tony presses his mouth into a line. “Gotta admit, Stripes, didn’t think you knew how to work a flash drive.” He extends his hand out as an invitation. “Give it here. If we’re going in, I better know that it’s actually worth it.”

Steve tosses him the flash drive, and Tony turns it over in his fingers. He doesn’t waste a second spinning his chair around to face his laptop. He pushes his glasses up further on the bridge of his nose as he plugs it into the side. “Got some data coming in, Fri,” he says. Before he can finish the sentence, virtual files unfold themselves on his laptop screen, extending out into holograms across the desk and through his glasses lenses. There are thousands of files, each titled with an encrypted code that Tony can’t decipher at first glance.

“There are 14,657 files stored on this drive, sir,” FRIDAY speaks across the speakers. Natasha and Steve move in closer, their eyes glued to the broad spread of undecipherable data and folders across the table. “Where would you like to begin?”

“Scan all the files,” Tony says. “See if you can grab anyone’s faces from any of this and run it through the database.”

“On it, boss.” The display of holographic files starts to turn and flip, each image and document from every folder folding out like a deck of cards. FRIDAY moves quickly, unraveling each folder and zip file until only a few images are pulled up on his screen. The first shows a group of three men standing in a room. To Tony, it seems like nothing more than a slightly glorified solitary confinement cell. Even the cells at the Raft rivaled this tiny space. But what stands out most to him is the three men. They wear large, white medical masks that obscure most of their faces. All he can see are dark, steely eyes staring back at him through the camera. “Play it back for me, FRIDAY.”

White noise fills the room as the video starts. The man in the middle- the tallest of the three- steps forward and looks down at his clipboard before he speaks. “TS 08-14,” he reads. “Day 15 of Prototype testing, beginning now.” The clip ends there, leaving the three of them in a moment of stunned silence. Tony notices a timestamp in the bottom left corner of the video: January 4th. Two weeks ago.

Without comment, Tony swipes away the previous recording and selects the last photo. It’s a frame from what seems to be a security camera -- a man in a suit stands in an empty hallway with a phone pressed to his ear and a lab coat draped over his arm. Tony grabs the corners of the image, stands, and enlarges it over the whole table. “I’ll be damned. Osborn, the son of a bitch.”

“His name and Oscrop were all over the files in the base in Oslo,” Natasha says. Her eyes move to Tony’s as they both look away from the projection.

“And if he’s getting involved with Hydra, it means he’s up to no good,” Tony muses aloud. He knows Norman Osborn, unfortunately, and as hard as it is to admit, he’s not that different from Tony himself. He seems to have a few more screws loose than himself, but Osborn has always been the man to go beyond the limits for his science. Tony knows his limits. He knows when he needs to stop. When his work is no longer used for good. He doesn’t think Norman Osborn has this same capability. The man has proved himself time and time again to be unhinged. “Wouldn’t be surprised if…” Tony pauses for a moment. He’s got an idea as to what Osborn could be up to.

Steve moves to Tony’s right, placing a hand on his shoulder. He tries to catch Tony’s eye, but he’s too deep in thought. “Tony, what is it?”

Tony shakes Steve’s hand off of his shoulder. “FRIDAY, do a deep dive. Search for anything with the words cross-species or hybrid.” If Osborn felt the need to team with Hydra, then that meant he needed help with something. Something he’s failed at before in the past.

“He’s trying again?” Natasha balks. “After what happened with Connors?”

“Isn’t insanity doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results? Einstein said that, right?” Steve ponders, moving to the opposite side of the table to try to see what FRIDAY is unraveling. Several files pop up across the screen, all with different encrypted labels and dates ranging from August 2014 to three days ago.

“That’s actually a myth. Einstein never said that,” Tony teases. “As much as I think Osborn is a nutcase, I’d chalk this up to Hydra having the resources that Osborn doesn’t. I just don’t know why.”

Tony opens the most recent document, dated just a few days before the video that he watched. When it opens, it looks like some kind of medical lab report. The top left corner reads TS #08-14, and below it are several charts like electrolyte levels, a complete blood count, cholesterol levels, and pages upon pages of EEG charts. He scrolls through, unsure of how to interpret the overwhelming amount of medical information and jargon. At the very bottom, there’s a handwritten note.

TS #08-14 exhibits adequate progress in Prototype testing. The patient is alert and disoriented to time and place. The patient is tachycardic and hypertensive but is now easily subdued with enhanced tranquilizers. The patient presents with no memory. Receptive to Electroconvulsive Therapy, plan to continue with this treatment as indicated. The projection for 08-14 deployment on track. Cross-species mutation and enhancement considered successful for the first trial.

“That’s what they did to Bucky,” Steve mutters under his breath, starting at the report with a mixture of horror and confusion. “The therapy-- it’s how they completely wiped his memory.”

Tony scrolls through all of the documents then, trying to ignore the nagging feeling in the back of his mind that something is really wrong. Each document he skims through only solidifies this feeling in his gut until its crawling up the back of his throat like bile. Osborn and his disgusting ambition somehow found a way to justify human experimentation for his cross-species bullshit. And it all seems centered on this TS 08-14 individual.

“There’s a video attached to this file, boss. Would you like to open it?” FRIDAY asks, breaking the silence.

Tony goes silent for a moment. He’s not sure he wants to see it. A gross, selfish part of him wants to stuff this in a drawer, eat a nice dinner with Pepper, and go to this stupid gala. But he knows he can’t. He hates to admit, but Natasha and Steve are right. He was sure that they had eradicated whatever human-experimentation whackjobs were left in the fragmented Hydra structure, but he was wrong, and now someone is in danger.

“Open it,” Natasha says. She’s now standing opposite of Tony and Steve, her arms crossed over her chest as she stares at the hologram in anticipation. The video plays without a beat of hesitation. It’s footage from a security camera poised at the top corner of a room. Tony immediately recognizes it as the bland, white solitary room from the first video, but instead of three masked men in white, there’s a figure sitting upright in the bed. Despite the low quality, Tony can immediately tell its a young boy, no older than 16 years old, sitting on the bed with his head hung low and hands tangled in the sheets pooled in his lap. He can only see the side of the kid’s face which is completely covered by a mess of curly, matted brown hair.

As the video carries on, the boy doesn’t move. He sits still in that bed like a statue, so still that Tony thinks for a moment that it’s a freeze-frame rather than a clip. A heavy feeling settles into his gut. He should’ve listened. “A child,” he says, somehow standing angry, confused, and dumbfounded all at once.

“Yes,” Natasha replies, her face stone-cold and her mouth set in a thin line. There’s no hint of emotion on her face. Her gaze flicks over to meet Tony’s, something determined and stern there, before turning on her heel and walking towards the exit.

She pauses for a moment as she reaches the door, tilting her head ever so slightly to the side. “We’re leaving tomorrow,” she calls coldly, before walking out of the room.

“What is your name?”

He forgets his name. It’s somewhere deep inside his head, but it hurts too much that he can’t be bothered to search for it. That’s how they start each day, asking him his name. He used to answer it with his own-- that much he remembers-- but the sound of his own name is foreign to him now and he forgets. They seemed pleased now that he forgets his name, but he also forgets his new name, which makes the faceless men angry.

He doesn’t respond this time when they ask him. They want him to answer a specific way, and they’ll hurt him if he doesn’t. But something in him tells him that it’s wrong-- that he shouldn’t say what they want them to, because it isn’t true. At least, he thinks it isn’t true.

“I said, what is your name?” They seem angrier than before. He doesn’t look at them, his eyes glued to the surface of the shiny table he’s sitting at. He can almost see his reflection in the stainless-steel. They’re going to hurt him. If he doesn’t answer, that means he’s not ready yet and they’ll put the thick, metal band around his head again. They’ll strap him down into that chair and all he will feel is pain. Every hair on his body stands up, and he feels the fear creep under his skin, crawling like an army of insects and screaming for him to get out. Danger, his body cries out, but he can’t answer it, chained down to the table by his wrists and ankles.

“I… it’s,” he tries. The words are falling flat on his tongue, and despite the desperation nestled in his chest, he cannot say the words. He hears the faceless man’s deep sigh of disappointment. The boy curls his fingers around the arms of the chair and the metal crumples underneath his touch. The sharp edges of the bent alloy slicing into his palm and pads of his fingers. The pain is dull, and he almost welcomes it as a disruption to the dull white noise constantly buzzing in his head.

“Паук,” the faceless man says. His voice is cold and unforgiving when he speaks. “You’re a Паук designed to obey. Won’t you obey, boy?”

The boy suffocates in his silence. He’s biting at his tongue, too afraid to speak. They’re going to hurt him again. He’s failed-- he is only meant to obey. He can’t even obey. He hears the man to the left stand, moving around the table to stand at the boy’s side. He snaps his neck around, unable to ignore the scream of terror his senses give as the man draws close. There’s a prick in the side of his neck, and the world turns on its axis. He registers hands grabbing him from all sides, a thick copper ring clasped around his neck as he’s forced into a new chair.

He can’t see or hear. The world passes by in twisted, colorless blurs, but he knows where he is based on the cold plunge of dread barrelling through his stomach. There’s something locked onto his head, and he can feel the whirring of the machine staring vibrate throughout his entire body. “Please, no,” he whispers, though he can’t hear the sound of his own voice over the roaring of blood in his ears and the sharp ringing that’s screaming at him to RUN.

The haze clears just enough to hear the faceless man’s final request. “I’ll ask you one last time.” His voice is dripping with venom that causes his blood to run cold. “What is your name?”

The only thing he can manage is a pitiful whimper. The fear is so debilitating that he can’t move, he can’t breathe. He can’t do anything but suck in strangled breaths through his trembling lips, strain his wrists against whatever cold restraints, and wait for the pain to come.

When Tony meets with Steve and Natasha that next morning, he is not well-rested. Not that sleeplessness is new-- he’s gone several nights in a row with 30 minutes of sleep and sixteen cups of caffeine-- but it’s been the first time in months that something other than his own trauma and self-destructive behavior kept him awake. He spent the majority of the night standing in his lab, the Hydra files pulled up and organized across the entire room. He managed to make some resemblance of a timeline. There was no evidence of this base even existing before August 2014, when the first documentation of TS #08-14, who he assumes is the kid in the security footage, was created. Since then, there have been weekly reports, updates, and test results for subject TS #08-14 up until a few days ago, January 15, 2016.

He tried running pieces of the kid’s face through any type of database or scanner that he could to no avail. Nothing from foster care or missing person cases from all over the country. It was as if the kid never went missing, or as if he didn’t even exist to begin with. There was absolutely no paper trail that Tony could find to link this kid in the video to anything or anyone across the globe. It kept him up for hours, as did the files he couldn’t access with the encryption codes embedded into them. Typically, Tony could decrypt codes like these in his sleep. However, he wasn’t sure if its the sleep deprivation or if maybe for once in his sorry life Osborn has actually outsmarted him, he can’t get them to budge.

His night is also ruined by the very difficult conversation he has with Pepper when he, yet again, has to bail on another Stark Industries gala. He knows that she understands, deep down, but the feeling of disappointing her is one of the worst things he thinks he can feel. Well, other than the knowledge that there’s a kid in an underground hydra base and he almost completely abandoned him for a gala he didn’t want to go to in the first place.

So he prepares to raid the base with heavy, dark bags beneath his eyes and his nerves buzzing. He prepares his newest suit-- the Mark 46-- as Captain Rogers straps his shield to his arm and Natasha waits for them by the car. She seems just as pissed and impatient as she did yesterday. He can’t blame her now. He can be insufferable, he knows, but he’s ready to help them bust down the last of these Hydra bases, and hopefully, that will be the end to both them and the madman Osborn.

“I trust you’ll get us into Oscorp without an issue,” Natasha says as Rogers walks over to meet her by the car. She prepares to get into the driver seat, securing the gun at her waistband as she watches the rest of the Iron Man suit close around Tony. “We’ll meet you there.”

Tony watches as the two climb into the car, taking off towards midtown. For now, Tony has a slightly less low-key job he has to do. He should’ve guessed that Osborn was too far up his own ass to base his secret experiments anywhere other than the Oscorp building itself. He wishes that maybe the mission will go just a little bit wrong, that way he could erase that hideous building from New York’s skyline. It’s a wishful thought, but no, the priority is to bust these assholes and make sure that Hydra and Oscorp won’t crawl out from the remains like a cockroach. Best case scenario, they’ll be able to release whatever sorry souls are trapped in there, and then that will be it. He’ll make it up to Pepper, throw a whole fundraiser in her name, end world hunger, and all that shit. He’s just got to take care of this first.

He takes flight, FRIDAY’s HUD directing him towards Midtown. It isn’t long before the towering, black building enters his sight, giant silver letters spelling OSCORP vertically across the side. Tacky. Tony thinks that Osborn really needs to hire a new architecture, but he, unfortunately, won’t have the opportunity once he’s thrown into jail. Hell, maybe he’ll share a cell with his best buddy Dr. Curt Connors, Tony jokes to himself.

“Arriving at Oscorp Industries at 200 feet,” FRIDAY tells him as he approaches the building. Tony takes a nose dive into the busy streets of Midtown. Taking the front door wasn’t really his style, but Rogers insisted that crashing through the top stories of the lab was gratuitous. He wasn’t wrong, but that doesn’t mean Tony isn’t bitter about it.

He lands on the sidewalk directly in front of Oscorp’s revolving front doors, the pavement beneath his iron-clad boots cracking from the force. He wastes no time peeling the suit from him, the iron and machinery folding down again and again until it sat in his hand in the form of a briefcase. It’s a new addition he managed to whip up last night during his long, sleepless hours in his lab. He holds the briefcase in his left hand, reaching up to fix the collar of his shirt before he steps inside.

There are people staring as he enters Oscorp’s lobby. A group of what looks like high school students stand to the far right, tucked against the back of the wall beneath a giant screen with the newest Oscorp project statement playing on a loop. They’re no longer paying attention to their teacher, their heads turned around like owls to stare at Tony Stark as he strolls through the front doors of Oscorp Industries. Tony hopes there are no paparazzi or press around. The last thing he wants is for a picture of him standing anywhere near Oscorp to exist. He shudders at the thought of it.

He walks to the desk, the frail-looking woman sitting behind it staring at him with disbelief when he clears his throat to get her attention. “Mr. Stark,” she fumbles, standing up behind her desk and reaching up to push her glasses further up her face. “What are-- How can I help you?”

“I’m here to see Norman,” he says. He leans against the desk, his elbow braced on the marble as he bears forward to look at the elderly receptionist. He glances down at her nametag. “Linda, dear. If I could just slip past you here.”

The woman, Linda, starts clicking at her keyboard, squinting between Tony and her computer screen in confusion. Obviously, he actually has no scheduled meeting with Osborn. He’d rather be caught dead than in that man’s conference room. “I’m sorry but I don’t see any such meeting on Mr. Osborn’s schedule,” she stammers.

“Ah, well you see it was more of a last-minute arrangement,” Tony says, rubbing at his brow with his free hand. Linda reaches a hand towards her earpiece as if moving to make a call, and Tony sucks in a sharp breath. “Best not to call him, I know how precious Norman’s time really is.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Stark, but I really can’t just let you in without authorization. I’m sure Mr. Osborn wouldn’t mind me calling.” Before Tony can come up with another excuse, her hand is on her ear, and Tony can hear the muffled dial tone through the phone.

He sighs in faux defeat, twisting around to take a glance over the entire lobby. With his back facing Linda, he clears his throat, reaching a hand up to fix the position of his glasses on the bridge of his nose. “Intercept that call would you, FRI?”

“On it.” He turns back to find Linda speaking to someone on the other side. She can’t seem to get a word in edgewise, and Tony holds his breath. If Norman catches wind that Tony Stark is here to see them, it will bust their plan wide open before it even has a chance to begin. He picks at the cuffs of his shirt as he waits, trying to mask his nerves as Linda speaks a hushed goodbye and taps on her earpiece once more.

All suspicion she seems to hold against Tony falls away. “I just spoke to Mr. Osborn’s assistant,” she says, plastering a large grin across her wrinkled face. Tony smiles back at her, trying not to look as pained as he feels. Linda opens a drawer beneath her desk, pulling out a guest pass and handing it to Tony. He tries not to feel offended. A guest pass? For Iron Man? “You can go ahead, I’m sure you know where Mr. Osborn’s office is. I’m sorry for the trouble, sir.”

“No trouble, dear,” he says with a wink. He tightens his grip around his briefcase, taking the guest pass and clipping it to the front of his shirt with poorly-hidden disgust. He wastes no time headed towards the entrance gate to the left of the receptionist’s desk. He steps up to the large, slate elevators, pressing the down button. He glances over his shoulder; no one seems to be too keyed on his presence now that he’s left the lobby. Now the only people that pass him by are business officials with their heads shoved too far up their Bluetooth headsets to notice him. The elevator arrives in a beat, and he steps in, spamming the close door button. They slide shut. There are three buttons beneath the lobby floor, and Tony presses the last one, but the elevator beeps at him. He furrows his brow and notices the fingerprint scanner beneath the last button. As idiotic as Osborn was, he at least knew how to protect his darkest secrets.

“FRIDAY. Let’s get into the mainframe, see if we can’t persuade this bad boy to go down.” He rests the suitcase at his feet, turning his head to see the tiny lens of a security camera embedded into the steel ceiling of the elevator. “And let’s knock out that camera while we’re at it.”

Tony watches as code dances across his glasses lenses, and he searches for the override key that he knows Osborn is too idiotic to hide from his mainframe. It’s as easy to hack into the central system as it was back when he put Dr. Curt Connors away, just with some more firewalls. It’s child's play compared to what Tony is dealing with. It makes him wonder even more why Hydra, a top-secret organization that has been working in secret for decades, would work with Norman Osborn, the most moronic genius Tony has ever had the displeasure of meeting.

As the last piece of code flies across his lenses, he instructs FRIDAY to push past this last firewall, implementing his own little invisible virus to disable their algorithms. “And we’re in business,” he says as he presses on the bottom floor button once more. The button lights up, the fingerprint scanner fizzling out until only a black screen remains.

“Security camera disabled, boss,” FRIDAY informs as the graphics on his HUD disappear as quickly as they came. Tony smiles with satisfaction, picking up his briefcase once more as the elevator starts its descent.

At the bottom floor, the doors slide open and Tony is met with what looks like a glorified storage room. Thick, metal containers line the walls on all sides with numbered locking panels on the sides. He looks at them warily as he walks through the narrow hallway, approaching the doorway at the end. The next room is just another hallway void of the shipping containers. There are two doors on either side of him with labels in silver plating across their metal surface. They seem mundane enough: a boiler room and crypto-storage. He moves towards crypto-storage first, checking over his shoulder before approaching the door. There’s what appears to be an iris-scan lock on the door, which FRIDAY makes quick work of. Within a second, Tony’s shoving the door open.

The room is freezing; Tony can instantly see his breath the moment he steps into the room. A soft, emerald glow basks the room, the light illuminating from clear glass containers taking up every inch of the room. In one glass case, there’s what Tony thinks is an ant farm, but the ants are alarmingly large. They’re frozen in place as if time had stopped in the middle of them constructing their home. The sight is unsettling. Tony swallows a lump forming in his throat.

At the back of the room, there’s a large display that takes up the entire back wall. There are multiple subdivisions in the class case-- at least 15 of them-- each filled with a singular branch, and…. spider-webs? He struggles to hold down a shiver of disgust. Spiders aren’t the most loveable creatures, he thinks, biting his lower lip. He approaches the cases and sees a singular spider occupying each box. He first stares at one in the center-- its body is bright blue and about as large as Tony’s palm. Its legs are long, thick, and black as night. It’s frozen as well, stuck in a place where it was sitting perched on the slender branch. Tony notices half-eaten flies and crickets littering the bottom of the case. He steps to the side, looking to the next spider. But the case is empty, to his surprise. In fact, it’s the only case out of all 15 that is empty.

There’s a label on this case. It’s a series of numbers that Tony isn’t sure how to decipher, but he sees a few numbers that strike him as familiar-- 0814-- and beneath the numbers is a singular word: dead. He’s not sure what it means, but despite his curiosity, he knows he can’t stand around and try to figure it out. He can’t waste precious time exploring Osborn’s dirty secrets. Well, he is exploring his dirty secrets, just not these ones. He’s got human experimentation and torture beneath his feet that he needs to figure out first. If he has time before his dinner reservation with Pepper, he’ll come back to solve the mystery of the missing spider.

“Can’t waste any more time, FRIDAY,” he whispers. “Can you see anything beneath me? Any secret lairs I should know about?” His glasses burst to life and he can see holographic outlines of structured beams and tunnels beneath him. Bingo.

“There seems to be an extensive structure beneath this boiler room. It extends at least two miles deep,” FRIDAY reports. A red line travels across the holographic floor plan, leading him out of the crypto-storage room and across the hall. “There’s an entrance in this room. I can see what seems to be an elevator shaft leading down into the basement.”

“How convenient for me,” he remarks with a triumphant smirk. He turns his heel, leaving the creepy spider cemetery behind as he leaves the storage room, shoving the door shut behind him. He heads straight for the boiler room, the eye-scanner already short-circuiting before he even has time to reach the door.

In the boiler room, he finds what appears to be a trap door. It’s hidden behind the large furnace on the left side of the room, practically camouflaged against the ground. If Tony hadn’t asked FRIDAY to scan the room, he would’ve easily missed it. It has an old, snake-like symbol stamped into the metal. He can’t see any retina scanner, fingerprint sensor, or even a simple keypad keeping the hatch locked. It’s odd, he thinks, that Osborn would leave such a secretive entrance without any technological protection. He kneels down, curling his fingers beneath the lip of the door. He pulls on it with all of his strength, but it doesn’t remotely budge. This will likely be a problem best solved with Rogers’ super-strength. Or maybe a blast from his propulsors. He’ll try Rogers first.

He taps into the comms channel through FRIDAY’s HUD. “Romanov. Rogers. You copy?”

He hears Steve respond through FRIDAY’s specs. “Loud and clear,” he says. “We’re a minute out. What have you found?”

“Our golden ticket,” Tony says. “There’s a trap door beneath the building in this boiler room. The structure extends a few miles down. If it’s anywhere, it’s here, but I need some help cracking it open.”

“Copy that,” Natasha responds. “We’re approaching Oscorp on the east side. Find us a way in.”

After nearly ten minutes of searching, he finally finds a back door emptying out into an abandoned alleyway. Romanov and Rogers announce their presence through his earpiece, and by the time he opens the door into the derelict alleyway, they’re already there waiting for him. Natasha looks restless, her face pressed into a cold, grim expression with her arms held tight at her side, pistol gripped in her hand. “We’ve got a potential mutant factory under our feet and you get lost on a tour of Oscorp?” she says bitterly. She pushes past Tony into the building, her steps careful as she scans the basement they’re in. Steve follows her, and Tony lets the door shut behind them.

“First, never say mutant factory again,” Tony insists, setting his briefcase down at his feet. He kicks against the case, and it completely unravels, the metal uncurling and climbing up his legs like vines. Metal plating and wires cover every inch of him until the Iron Man suit completely reforms around him. He leaves the helmet down, watching Natasha with crossed arms. “Second, it took a shitload of finessing to get down here. That Linda lady was much harder to swoon than I expected.”

“No one asked you to flirt your way in,” Steve says, deadpanned. He takes the lead towards the boiler room, outwardly confused when he enters. Tony points him in the direction of the door hidden behind the furnace, and the three of them crowd into the small space around the hatch.

“This isn’t Hydra’s symbol,” Steve notes as soon as he sees the logo stamped into the metal trapdoor.

“It looks more like a cheap knock-off,” Tony remarks, shifting his weight to his left side and leaning against the wall. “Poor logo design aside, I can’t hack my way through this one. Think you can muscle it open, Cap?”

Steve leans over the trap door, curling his fingers around the lip and pulling up. Tony expects him to rip it off the hinges without any resistance, but the door hardly budges. Rogers seems surprised at this too. He readjusts his grip, bends his knees and pulls up again. Slowly, the metal creaks and the door starts to move, the heavy slab of metal tilting up and back on its hinge. Tony steps in to help, bracing his iron-clad arms on the underside of the hatch and using a little extra power to tilt it open. Steve lets out the breath he’s been holding as soon as the door falls against the cement flooring. “Haven’t had that much trouble lifting something since I was 90 pounds.” The corner of Tony’s mouth tilts.

“Was that supposed to be a joke?”

Natasha audibly stifles a groan. “We don’t have time for this,” she says. The assassin is already climbing down into what appears to be the elevator beneath the trap door’s opening. Rogers climbs down, hot on her trail, leaving Tony to stand in his own shock that the ever up-tight Captain America just told a semi-decent joke.

“I’m being serious, that was kinda funny,” Tony defends, arms spread out at his sides as he looks down at his teammates. “Didn’t know Cap could be funny.” He drops down into the elevator behind them. There’s only one button on the stainless steel, and there’s no key or fingerprint lock to prevent them from pushing it. They’re in.

When they enter, the first thing Tony notices is quiet. They come out into a long, white hallway that resembles a hospital. Something about it immediately makes him uneasy. It’s not that he’s particularly afraid of hospitals. It’s the quiet that unsettles him. It’s not quiet he’s accustomed to at the Tower. There’s no background humming of machinery, no distant conversation, or far-off footsteps. It’s a completely empty silence.

The lights in the hallway are bright, and his glasses dim automatically to block out the fluorescence. There are doors on all sides of them, discrete and unlabeled. They look almost as if they are meant to be part of the wall. “You know the plan,” Steve says as he starts walking forward. His shield is raised to his chin as he advances down the hall, ducking his head around the corner where the hallway splits. Natasha isn’t far behind him, her Glock 26 drawn and her Widow’s Bite bracelets sparking to life.

Tony raises the head plate of his suit, FRIDAY’s HUD coming to life before his eyes. In the immediate area, his AI detects no heat signatures. “Let’s find their terminal,” he whispers to FRIDAY. He can see the flow of wires and electricity pulsing through the walls, stemming from all of the doors along the sides and converging together on the ceiling. Tony follows it through the twisting, labyrinth halls until he finally comes upon a large door at a dead end, the same snake-like symbol stamped on the front. He reaches for the handle on the door, but before he can, a deafening alarm shattered the quiet.

The hallway is blanketed in red in a second, flashing with each pulsation of the alarm.

The boy doesn’t know why the alarm starts, just that it jars him from his already restless slumber. His entire body buzzes with fear and anxiety. His senses are overwhelmed with suffocating danger and it’s coming from all different directions. He crawls out from under his thin sheet, pressing his back in the corner, staring at the door with wide eyes. He’s never heard this noise before, but it’s piercing and the pain that ripples through his skull reminds him of the copper headpiece they force on him when he’s been bad. It hurts, it hurts so bad he’s pressing his shaking hands against his ears. There’s danger, but the collar is locked around his neck. He’s trapped.

The normal, binding fluorescence falls to black before harsh, red light blankets the room. The boy stares at the door. He expects the team of faceless men to burst through the door, torture on their fingertips. There’s a sudden, loud sound behind his door, and he flinches, curling in as close to himself as possible. He feels something wet and sticky on his hands, the warm substance pooling around his ears and dripping down the sides of his face. The pain is unbearable, his skull feeling like it’s splitting in two.

There’s pounding at his door again, louder and more frantic with each passing second. He covers his eyes with trembling fingers. The terror crawls into his veins, his sense screaming at him to run, to fight, to do anything, but he can’t. He hasn’t been given instruction. He doesn’t know what to do. The thick scrap of metal around his neck prevents him from crawling up the wall into a safe corner like he does when he’s scared. He can do nothing but sit there as the metal of the door caves in and splinters.

He looks at the last moment, and through the crimson light of the room, he sees a large silhouette with glowing white, empty eyes and a bright circular stamp at the chest. He freezes, breath caught in his throat. His fingers are burning to move, but they’re frozen where they’re locked on either side of his face. He stares unblinking at the figure, and it seems to stop in its tracks when it sees the boy. Suddenly, the figure takes a step forward, and under the dim light, he can see the glistening of metal. Something about this figure triggers something-- he thinks they may be called memories-- but he shakes the thought from his head. Memories will only get him hurt. Memories will hurt him. An iron-clad arm reaches towards him, and the boy’s eyes lock on the circular lights stamped into its palm. Fight, his instincts scream. It crawls beneath his skin and chews at his nerve endings. Get up and fight!

He launches himself from the bed, twisting the arm at the wrist and pushing the figure back. He’s shocked at the cold of metal that meets his hand when he shoves the silhouette back into the darkness of the doorway. The boy trips over his feet, the sheets from the bed tangled around his ankles as he flees to the opposite corner of the room. He stares at the camera that’s perched near the ceiling pleadingly. Usually, that camera brings him fear, but the only thing he can think now is how much he wants the faceless men to come in and save him. At least with them, he knows what to expect.

“It’s okay,” a voice comes from the metal suit. The voice seems soothing, but it reminds him of when they speak to him through the radio in the ceiling. Cold, calculating, synthetic. He whimpers and clambers further into the corner as if it will swallow him up whole. “Kid, take a breath.”

He wants to fight, his fingers curled so tightly into fists that he can feel the blood budding in his palm. He waits, the figure in metal standing so still by the doorway with its arms outstretched. He seems cautious, but the eyes of light that stare at him with nothing-- all he can see is the blank stare of the faceless men glaring back at him. The alarm is still blaring, and his senses are exploding and going haywire. He can hardly focus on one thing at a time, and it takes all of his strength to hear what the intruder is saying. The figure lifts an arm slowly to its head.

“Turn this damn alarm off, FRI,” he whispers, but the boy can still hear it as he holds his breath. He continues to hold his breath until suddenly the alarm stops. He still cowers in the corner, shell-shocked and dumbfounded. He can’t remember a time when he’s seen anyone other than the men in white. No matter how hard he tries, he can’t remember any face or any name. In the few seconds he’s managed to see himself in the reflection of his empty dinner bowl, he doesn’t even recognize the person staring back at him. That’s why he stares in wonder at the intruder when suddenly the metal falls away and someone is staring back at him. His hair is dark and his face is pulled taut. The boy can’t recall the last time he’s seen such a face, but the moment they lock eyes he feels an undeniable amount of recognition spark in his brain. It’s a deep, hidden part of his brain. But it’s there. He recognizes this man, but he’s never seen him before. His headaches.

The man won’t turn away from him, and he slumps in the corner with defeat. There’s nothing he can do to defend himself when the collar is locked around his neck. He sucks in a shaky breath and holds it there, waiting for whatever pain the familiar man is going to inflict on him. “It’s okay,” the man says again, and now that the metal mask is gone, he sounds so human and kind. The tenderness of his voice is enough for tears to start burning in the boy’s eyes. He quickly wipes the tears away. He knows how much the faceless men hate his tears. He’s not supposed to cry anymore.

The stranger shifts and the boy thinks he hears a muffled, distant voice before the man is speaking again, but not to him. “I found him” he mutters as if trying to be discrete. “Can you guys hold them off?” There’s a muffled reply from somewhere inside the suit he’s wearing, but he can’t understand the words. His brain is screaming at him, still reeling from the overwhelming amount of input it was trying to process at once. He stares at the stranger with wide eyes as he inches forward, his eyes taking in the entire room before locking on the collar around the boy’s neck. “That’s gotta be uncomfortable, right bud?” the man whispers, kneeling down at the knee and holding his hands out towards the boy like he was approaching a cornered, wild animal.

He gnaws on his lower lip. Bud? No one has called him that before, but the feeling it gives in his gut reminds him of the warmth he has somewhere buried in his brain. It’s distant, and each day it grows colder, but he can still feel it at times when he’s deep in sleep, or right now when he’s staring into a stranger’s eyes. The constant screaming of danger settles into the background, now a dull buzz compared to the excruciating screeching it had been before. He can finally take a breath. He breaks contact with the stranger for one second and glances down at his hands. They’re coated in blood, both from the crescent-shaped cuts in his palms and the blood pouring from his ears and spread down his jaw and neck. He pitifully whines.

“I can take it off,” the man speaks, his arms still frozen in the air where they’re outstretched towards him. There are still a few feet between them, and it takes the boy every fiber in his being to stay still, staring at the man. He has to analyze and calculate his targets, the faceless men tell him. Watch for weaknesses, they whisper in the back of his head. He shudders. But he doesn’t want to hurt the man. At least, not yet. For the first time since he can remember, his overwhelming sense of danger has almost completely subsided. He almost feels… safe. But somehow that frightens him even more. He doesn’t want to fight anymore.

“Let me take it off,” he insists, voice still low. “I can hack into it and get it off. Easy peasy.”

He nods uncertainty, and the stranger starts to creep towards him, his steps careful and calculated. At a certain point, the boy flinches and presses himself further into the corner of the room, watching the man through the corner of his eye with distrust. What if this was a test? How would the faceless men want him to react? He can’t take off the collar, can he?

“Wait-” he chokes out, his voice hoarse from disuse. He raises his arms, shielding himself from the stranger advancing towards him.

The man pauses in his movement, eyes staring at the boy in surprise before softening. His face is gentle and, surprisingly, he smiles at him. “It’s okay,” he whispers. “I just need to see. You’re alright.”

Next thing he knows, the man’s hand is on the collar around his neck. His fingers curl beneath the edge of it, the cool metal of his gauntlet brushing up against his neck. He flinches, trying to squirm away but the man has a tight grip on the copper band. He hears a mechanical whirring after the man whispers something beneath his breath. In an instant, the collar falls from his neck in two parts, dumping in his lap. He reaches up, shocked, rubbing at his bare neck. The man retreats a few inches back, his hands held up. “See? Isn’t that better?”

As soon as the copper falls away, he can feel his strength return to him in surges, dancing at his fingertips. He can hear everything again, and the sound of distant shouting, gunfire, and banging catches his ears. He can hear the heartbeat of the man in front of him-- it’s fluttering and irregular, and he can tell the man in front of him is riddled with nerves.

“Alright, up and at ‘em, kid. I know you’re probably scared, but there are a lot of bad people here. I’m sure you know that,” the man says. He glances over his shoulder, and the boy can hear the increase in his heart rate. Something’s coming. “You have to trust me.” The man extends a metal hand out towards him.

There’s a sudden gunshot. The fear returns, crawling all over and burning through him like fire. He jolts upright, kicking aside the broken pieces of copper before launching himself towards the ceiling. He clambers along the top, launching himself out of the room. It’s the first time he’s seen this hallway, he has no idea which is the right direction but regardless he starts to run. He clambers along the walls, away from the sound of gunshots and shouting. He goes wherever his panic leads him, tries to find a corner where the constant feeling of danger will finally go away.

As he rounds a corner, he slams into something hard and solid, and he falls to the ground. The base of his skull cracks against the cold tile; his head surges with a black wave and he sees stars. He lies there, stunned, with his arms cradling his neck as he curls up into himself. He scrambles back, cradling his skull as he stares at the broadness that had blocked his path. It’s another man, his hair blond and eyes bright but troubled as they stare down at him. He looks like some kind of soldier with his tactical gear and helmet, and his circular shield poised on his arm stirred some sort of recognition. He thinks he’s seen this symbol before, but he can’t take another moment to ponder it. He swallows his fear, climbing to his feet in panic before the man secures a hand on his shoulder. “Calm down, son,” he says. “We’re here to help.”

Instinct takes over, his vision goes black, and he’s flipping the soldier over his shoulder, twisting the man’s wrist with a sickening crack. He can’t hear the man’s strangled cry as his back slams against the tile. The boy pulls up on the man’s arm, planting his foot on his shoulder as he yanks up with as much force as he could possibly muster. There’s a short pop and tear, and the downed soldier cries out for help, hissing out a curse. He’s about to let go and run when a boot sweeps his legs out from under him and he crumples to the ground. Before he can bound to his feet, the base of his skull explodes with MOVE, but he’s sluggish. He’s been slow to understand this extra sense buzzing beneath his skin ever since they started locking that horrific collar around his throat.

The moment he hesitates is enough for something sharp and burning to hit him in the small of the back. A ripple of blinding, white agony tears through his body, and he completely loses control of his limbs. There’s electricity running through him, seizing his muscles and stopping his breath in his throat as he crumples onto the floor.

He’s tied to the chair again. They’re wrapping thick straps across his wrists, ankles, middle, and forehead. He can’t move, but his entire body is screaming at him to run. It’s crying out as he lies still in that chair waiting for the pain to come.

When the pain does come, it comes all at once. It’s an insufferable wave of agony that starts in his head, tightening around his skull like an iron band. The electricity dances on his skin, running from his fingers to his toes. His heart skips a beat in his chest, and over the sound of the constant, violent hum of electricity, he can hear his own heartbeat fluttering in his chest and bounding against his ribcage. They’re going to kill him. They’re going to kill him.

He sees a woman with brown hair and kind eyes framed with emerald green glasses. He hears her whisper sweet nothings into his ears and feels the way she kisses him in his hair. He hears a name-- Peter-- and the gentle murmuring of “I love you” before what he thinks are memories are pushed far back into the darkness.

Natasha stands behind where the boy had been standing seconds prior, yanking Steve’s arm from his socket. Her wrist is still raised with her active Widow’s Bite aimed at the body convulsing on the ground. She watches carefully as he falls, the electricity jerking his muscles into a stop before its effects fade away. She expects him to leap back to his feet and lunge at her-- which is an expectation she feels with horror as she looks at the boy’s scrawny frame-- but the boy remains crumpled on the floor. His body tremors against the floor.

When the boy is finally unconscious, only then does Tony have a moment to think. Things went south fast. To be fair, he wasn’t sure what he had been expecting when attempting to rescue an enhanced child from an Oscorp-Hydra lab. If someone were to tell Tony that this is what his Thursday night would look like a few days ago, he’d laugh in their face. Now he wishes this was just a dream. He never felt as horrified as he did when he burst into the kid’s room. When the alarms were triggered and the entire facility went into an impenetrable shutdown, he had no other way to enter the room. And after he hears the boy screaming through the metal door, he knows he has no other choice.

That’s how he finds the boy, curled up in the corner of his bed against the wall with his hands clamped over his ears. Even beneath the red, pulsating light, Tony can see the blood pooling from the kid’s ears as he writhes at the horrific wailing of the sirens. While FRIDAY can’t undo the entire shutdown, the least she can do is disable the sound of the alarms blaring through the room. Almost immediately, he sees the child relax.

It was one thing to see the boy in a blurry photo on his computer. It almost seems fake that way-- that the reality of this child being a subject of human experimentation is nothing more than what he would read in a Sci-Fi novel. But it’s another monster to see him in person. Tony’s never felt less equipped for a mission in his life, though he’ll never admit that to Natasha or Steve. Children have never been a demographic he has particularly appealed to in the past and thus has very little experience with. The closest he’s ever come to interacting with a damaged super-kid was with Wanda. And he’s not entirely proud of his handling of that situation.

What haunts him the entire car ride home is the relief in the boy's eyes once he was freed from the collar. When he first saw it, Tony recognized it as a model similar to those power-suppressing collars Secretary Ross uses at the Raft. Based on how much of a fight the kid put up against Steve, Tony isn’t surprised that they would take such measures to keep him contained. If he was at his full power, he could rip those spineless bastards to bits.

It should bother Tony that the thought of those men dying doesn’t face him. It doesn’t.

The car ride home is a quiet affair. Natasha and Steve sit in the front, their face pale and taut as Tony sits in the back seat with the kid’s head cushioned on his thighs. The boy’s wrists are bound at the front in vibranium hand-cuffs. It’s the last thing Tony wants to do- to tie the kid up again after just setting him free- but Steve was adamant. It was for their own safety, for the child’s safety as they transported him to the tower.

If Tony says he has any clue what he will do with the little science experiment once he gets to the tower, it would be a total lie. Though he’ll never admit to that. He sits in the back seat of the car, his palm absent-mindedly resting on the kid’s burning forehead as he thinks. If Nick Fury or the rest of whatever was left of S.H.I.E.L.D find out about this, they’ll surely have a field day. It’ll be only a matter of time before Secretary Ross gets involved and throws the kid in the Raft.

It’s a horrifying thought. Tony can’t even consider Steve Rogers spending cold, hard time in the under-water deathtrap, and Tony really didn’t like that man sometimes. He needs more time to think, more time to stall so that he can have some kind of plan in place before any government office comes raining down on Avengers tower like napalm. However, for the first time in Tony’s life, he draws a blank.

When they arrive at the tower, Steve and Tony settle the boy into a small, metal interrogation room in the basement. It’s not the place Tony would have loved to put a probably traumatized boy, but they didn’t know what they were dealing with. They had just kidnapped a Hydra-Oscorp hybrid experiment, and other than the fact that he could hold his own against Captain America, they had no idea the extent of his capabilities.

It hurts to see him in this tiny room. It’s hardly a step up from whatever hell they had the kid locked in beneath Oscorp. But Steve, ever the cautionary, insisted that the kid was too dangerous to trust yet. He was a product of Hydra, after all, and Tony had seen first hand what Bucky had been able to do. As much as he hated to admit it, Spangles was right. They have to air on the side of caution.

He stands outside of the cell on the opposite side of the one-way glass, pacing holes into the floor as he waits for the boy to wake up, Natasha leaning against the opposite wall across from him, while Steve heads to the infirmary. Inside the small room, the boy is strapped down to a chair with vibranium, his half-shaved head lulled against his chest. “Still want to go to that gala, Tony?” Natasha murmurs, her eyes unwavering from the limp figure on the other side of the glass.

Tony can see the strain in her lips as she presses them into a thin line. Her eyes are narrowed and cold, as they usually are, but Tony can tell by the way she leans into the wall, her jaw clenched, that she’s worried for the boy. Tony can’t deny that he isn’t worried either, nor can he deny the gnawing guilt that eats away at him for trying to bail on this child. Someone who needed saving.

“First of all, I resent that,” Tony chides, planting his feet firmly into the ground and turning to face Natasha. He can’t bear to look at the kid, not yet anyway. “You don’t think I know I messed up? I get it. But we got the kid, we did what you wanted.”

Natasha shifts, her lips twitching to the side with a grimace. “I guess I just didn’t expect it to be like pulling teeth,” she says, breaking her stare at the boy and finally turning to look at Tony. “When I tell you something’s important, I mean it.”

Tony’s mouth opens before he presses it shut again. He doesn’t have a quirky comeback. He’s messed up, and he can admit it, or at least not verbally deny it. All he can offer her is a curt nod before moving towards the window. He steps up to the class, leaning his forehead against the cool surface.

He’s not sure how long the two of them stand there in a tense silence before the kid finally stirs. Tony thinks he’s hallucinating— just for a moment— before the kid’s head lazily rises from his chest. His eyes are squinted and bleary, and for the first time, Tony notices the thick purple circles beneath the kid’s eyes. His skin is ashen and translucent. The kid just looks sick.

Tony waits for the boy to realize what happened, to realize he’s in a foreign space. He waits for him to start jerking against his restraints, to try to escape. Except, the kid doesn’t do any of that. As the cloudiness clears from his eyes and is replaced with sobriety, the kid’s shoulders roll back, his posture erect against the chair. His mouth is pressed into a line with his jaw squared off, but he doesn’t struggle. He doesn’t attempt to get free but instead stares ahead as if he can see right through the two-way mirror. Right at Tony.

“Interrogation time,” Natasha chimes, though there is no joy or amusement in her tone. She moves towards the door to the cell, but Tony catches her wrist.

“Nuh-uh.” He steps in front of the door, pressing his back to it to cut off Natasha from entering the room. ”Gentlemen first.” It isn’t that he doesn’t trust Natasha— he would trust her with his life— but something, call it his pride, insists that he has to speak to the kid immediately. Natasha can get to her business later, but Tony needs his own questions answered.

Natasha stares at him long and hard, her eyes flickering over his face until she relents. She steps back waving Tony away with the wave of her hand. “Suit yourself.”

Tony nods and turns to the door, fiddling with his silver cufflinks. He can feel Natasha’s presence behind him, a silent expectation in the soft lull. He presses open the heavy metal door, stepping into the barren interrogation room.

Immediately, the kid’s eyes lock onto his. He watches with calculated silence as Tony walls forward, slowly, towards the single chair at the opposite end of the steel table. It’s nearly six feet long, but Tony is sure it won’t matter. If the kid gets loose, he could be dead in seconds. It didn’t matter if there was a table there as a buffer. But the kid shows no signs of fighting. His white-knuckles fists are baller around the arms of the chair, his honey-brown eyes bearing into Tony’s own as he finally takes his seat.

The metal chair scrapes loudly against the tiled floor, and the boy cringes away at the sound, his head ducking down in a violent flinch with his eyes scrunched shut. Tony recognizes the exact defensive posture from when he first found the boy hunched in the corner of his cell.

“Don’t worry,” Tony says, and he can’t help but since at his attempt to sound comforting. Nurturing wasn’t his thing; he sure as hell didn’t learn it from Howard, so where else was he supposed to figure out how to talk to teenagers? “Just a loud chair. What, you’ve got super hearing or something? You could hear us coming, couldn’t you?”

The boy doesn’t say anything right away. He blinks his eyes open, squinting at the bright fluorescent light radiating from above the room. His chapped lips part, only for a moment. Then he snaps them shut. His eyes scan Tony up and down, his head tilts, and Tony swears he can see the slightest flicker of recognition in his eyes.

“You’re Tony Stark.” The boy’s voice is gravelly and rough, probably from disuse, Tony hypothesizes. But it’s nonetheless the voice of a child. He says the name with curiosity, the edges of his lips tugging down as he speaks. Tony expects to hear a product of Hydra to speak of him with disdain and contempt. But this boy simply seems confused.

“The one and only,” Tony sighs. The boy’s faint expression of curiosity doesn’t change. “Though you look like a roughed-up cabbage patch kid, so I guess that’s Mr. Stark to you.”

“Who’s the other one?” The kid asks. His eyes dart to the one-way mirror poised behind Tony, and a knowing smile tugs at the corner of Tony’s lips. “So you do have super-hearing, huh?” He looks over the kid— his skinny ribs, protruding collar bones, bright wide eyes. “Who are you? How old are you? Where did you come from?” He leans forward in his chair, resting his elbows on the edge of the table and clasping his hands together. “I need answers, kid.”

The boy seems taken aback at the questions— his lips parted in surprise and eyes wide as he stares at Tony. His fists are still tight from where they grasp the arms of the chairs, yet Tony can see the faint tremble in his grip. “Fifteen.”

Tony blinks. “What?”

“I’m fifteen… I think,” the boy whispers, his eyebrows knitted together. “I had a job to do, but I.. wasn’t ready yet. I wasn’t good.”

Tony fights the frown that’s tugging on his lips. He shouldn’t be surprised. This is Hydra’s entire M.O— to destroy these innocent people’s lives and turn them into superweapons. But to kidnap and torture a fifteen-year-old kid to do your dirty work? Tony wants to go back to that base and give them another beat down.

Instead, he maintains his composure and looks the boy in the eye. “That doesn’t do much for me, cabbage patch, but it is a start,” he says. “Let’s try something easy… what’s your name?”

“What is your name?!”

Zap. Pain. Bloodcurdling scream. There are hands all over him, and no matter how hard he tries to buck them off, they never let go.

“Please, don’t do this-“

Agony. It ripples through his skin like a million volts of electricity. It’s burning him from the inside out.

“What is your name?”

“Hey, kid!”

Tony isn’t sure what had happened. Upon asking for the kid’s name, the poor boy’s body went rigid, his eyes immediately springing with tears. He tried to crawl away and curl himself up in the chair, but the vibrating cuffs are keeping him bolted in place. He writhes and cries, head hung low as his breath comes in ragged and uneven pants.

Tony stands from his chair, completely terrified. He’s sure Romanov is watching him through the mirror with the smuggest look she can muster, but Tony’s not ready to give up just yet. He was never the best at dealing with his own panic attacks, so he doesn’t even comprehend how he will approach the kid. However, with each passing second, the boy is hyperventilating more and more until Tony is sure he’s not inhaling any air at all. He rounds the table, his hands held out in a peaceful gesture. The last thing he needs is to set the boy off, but if he continues to hyperventilate his way into a panic attack, Tony will get nothing out of him. Cautiously, he inches towards the boy from the side, but he flinches from where he’s bound in the chair. The boy whips his head around, wide, tearful eyes staring Tony down with a distrustful look. He pulls his bony wrists against the vibranium cuffs, and if Tony’s eyes don’t deceive him, he’s sure that the metal is slowly bending.

“Hey, hey.” Tony’s voice is low and quiet, and he keeps his hands out in front of him to show he’s not a threat. Without his suit, he really isn’t any kind of threat compared to this kid. “I won’t hurt you. No one’s going to hurt you anymore.”

Tony intends to keep this promise. He will figure out everything he can to keep this kid safe, even if he has to go through S.H.I.E.L.D, Nick Fury, Secretary Ross, or even Hydra to do so. The tears budding in the kid’s bright, wide eyes is enough to solidify this.

However, Tony’s words calm the kid down one bit. He’s openly crying now, ducking his head down and away from Tony’s outstretched hands. His posture is defensive and tense, his eyes scrunching shut as he tucks his chin to his chest in an attempt to make himself seem as small as possible.

“Kid, relax.” Against his better judgment, Tony rests a hand on the kid’s tense shoulder. He jerks violently at the touch before his eyes lock onto Tony’s. To say he’s unnerved by the horror in the boy’s face would be an understatement.

“I’m supposed to hurt you.” The boy’s voice surprises Tony, and the man can only stare at the kid as anger, disbelief, and horror cross his face all at once. “That was what I was supposed to do. I had to eliminate Iron Man and Captain America. That was my mission. That… is my mission.”

Tony steps back, just a bit, but manages to keep a grounding hand on the kid’s shoulder. It’s disconcerting that the enhanced teenager had means and motive to literally murder him, but he was trapped in a room of vibranium with Black Widow watching from outside. He has to stand his ground; this is the most amount of information he’s gotten.

“Do you want to hurt us?” Tony asks. It’s the last question he should be asking. He should be demanding more information about the Hydra-Oscorp laboratory, about why he needed to take out the two heads of the Avengers, about who was in charge. But the forefront thought on Tony’s mind is that this is a child who’s been kidnapped, manipulated, and experimented on. The kid’s face draws blank for a moment before his lips curl into a deep frown and he shakes his head. “No… Please, I don’t want to do this anymore. I don’t want to hurt anyone--” Tony shakes his head, his brows knitted together. “You don’t have to hurt anybody,” Tony whispers. “No one here is going to hurt you either. We just need some answers. Who… gave you that mission? Who’s in charge under that building, kid?”

The boy, his head lowered so that Tony can only look at the shaved side of his face, shakes his head. “I don’t want to talk anymore.”

Tony takes in a sharp breath, releasing his hold on the boy’s shoulder and backing away, stowing his hands into his blazer pockets. He doesn’t want to push the kid too far-- after all, he’s basically trapped in a room with an enhanced individual who could kill him in the blink of an eye-- but he’s short on time and has way too many questions to ask.

He figures that he needs to do some of his own digging before he’s ready to talk to the kid again.

“Alright, no more talking,” Tony relents as he heads back towards the door. “Are you hungry? Who am I kidding, of course you’re hungry. I’ll make sure someone brings you some lunch. Got any food allergies I should know about?”

The boy raises his head, exhaustion tugging at each movement he makes, his eyelids drooping as he stares at Tony in mild confusion. He can’t help but think that the kid looks like a lost puppy. A really sad kicked puppy, but a puppy nonetheless. “I’ll take your silence as a no,” Tony mumbles, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth. The kid is difficult to figure out, but Tony knows he has to give it time-- as much time as he can buy. “I’ll just avoid anything with nuts then.”

With that, Tony closes the door behind him, fighting the urge to look back through the window. When he enters the observation room, Natasha is long gone. Tony frowns. There goes his one safety net.

“FRI, pull up any missing kid cases in the eastern United States between 2001 and 2015.” He kicks his feet up on the table, narrowing his eyes at the array of computer monitors as FRIDAY pulls up thousands of case files from the public record. Thousands of child’s faces ranging from infants to young teenagers flash across his screen. He runs his hands over his face, humming to himself. There are simply too many cases to sort through each one.

“Narrow it down to caucasian boys from the New York area,” he says as he watches the files consolidate to a few hundred. “Body never found.” Even fewer files, probably no more than 150 are left. Still too many to choose from. “Any of their faces match the Hydra kid, FRIDAY?” FRIDAY scans through the files in the blink of an eye, countless unfamiliar faces flashing across the screen. Tony has never realized how many children go missing in such a small area in only a few years. He makes a mental note to come back to this for his future general welfare project. Green energy can wait.

“Negative, boss,” FRI chimes, her voice tight in frustration, “But I have found one case file dated from 2007 that appears to be tampered with. It’s completely encrypted.”

Tony’s brow furrows. That definitely seems fishy. “Well, what are you waiting for, dear? Decrypt it for me.”

FRIDAY gets to work immediately, the case file pulling up though its contents are completely scrambled. It’s an intense firewall, similar to the one Tony dismantled back at the Hydra base. It isn’t anything Tony couldn’t crack, and with the help of FRIDAY, it will be a piece of cake.

“File decryption at thirty-seven percent,” she says, a small green progress bar scrolling across the bottom of the center monitor. “The firewalls are incredibly thick and complex. This may take a moment.”

Tony watches the bar scroll by bit by bit, anxiously biting at his nails as he leans far back in his chair. This is a shot in the dark, at best, and Tony might walk away from his research project none-the-wiser. However, this kid was fifteen, and he had to have come from somewhere. There must be someone looking for their son. At least, that’s what Tony hopes. It takes a special type of monster to torture children. He witnessed this first hand with Wanda. She was far too young to enter their world, but a lifetime of suffering was bestowed upon her by that one Stark Missile. Tony will never let go of that guilt, and for some reason, he can’t fully understand, he feels that guilt with this boy as well.

“Any luck?” Tony jumps and turns in his chair to see Rogers standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed over his broad chest. He’s changed out of his uniform, now wearing a simple gray t-shirt and jeans. The domestic look is something that Tony never gets used to seeing on Steve Rogers. “What have I told you about sneaking up on me?” Tony snaps. Ever since the Battle of New York, he doesn’t particularly take well to being startled. He faces enough of that in his nightmares when he remembers what kinds of creatures live out of their reach. He shakes his head. Aliens are a problem for a different day. He turns to face the computer again, placing his feet back on the floor and leaning over the keyboard with his elbows braced on either side.

“No luck so far,” Tony says, defeated. “The kid’s face doesn’t match any missing person records. FRIDAY detected one being tampered with back in 2007, but it’s locked behind a pretty hefty firewall.”

Steve steps into the room, standing behind Tony as he looks at the screens-- at all of the missing persons reports still displayed across the monitors. His eyes flicker from screen to screen, his eyebrows knitted together as if trying to make sense of what he is seeing. “What’s your plan, Stark?” Steve tears his gaze away from the computer to look at Tony. He sits with his back still to Rogers, staring at the small progress bar at the bottom of the screen as it inches along, though he can feel Steve’s stare in the back of his head. The bar moves little by little-- forty-six percent, fifty-nine percent, sixty-two percent, and so on. He taps his fingers on the table impatiently. He needs to reconfigure FRIDAY’s hacking mainframe.

“Tony,” Steve insists, stepping up to Tony’s side in an attempt to catch his eye. Tony has no desire to talk with him about his plans because he has no clue what he’s going to do. Caring for mutant teenagers is far out of his genius scope, so he feels like he’s a fish stranded out of water. If he doesn’t think of something quick, Secretary Ross will be on him before he can blink, and the kid will be taken from him. The child may have been kidnapped and experimented on by Hydra and Oscorp, but that doesn’t mean the rest of his life should be doomed in an underwater holding cell. The kid has done nothing wrong.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do, Spangled,” Tony sighs, shaking his head. He finally tilts his head to look at Rogers, whose eyes are narrowed and lips are tugged into a scowl. “Do you have something to add Captain Righteous, because I’m open to suggestions.”

Steve Rogers doesn’t seem fazed by Tony’s sting, as usual, and he instead moves to face Tony, leaning against the side of the table with his arms crossed. For the love of God, uncross your arms and stop looking at me like I’m a delinquent teenager, Tony thinks. He has to hold himself back from saying it. “I don’t know, Tony,” Steve admits, the crook in his brow finally smoothing over. The man shakes his head and glances over the room. “He’s a product of Hydra, Tony. He’s dangerous.”

Tony scoffs. The nerve of this man-- everything just has to be a threat. “He’s a kid-”

“A dangerous kid,” Rogers retorts, pressing his palm on the table. Tony stares at the blond, not wanting to hear another word he has to say. “It’s hard to admit, but you saw the way he fought, Tony. He’s just like Bucky. They had to have been training him for something. Oscorp was just helping Hydra make their next super soldier.” “You seem like you’re an expert with curing Russian super soldiers, so why don’t you take point on this, then?” Tony is getting tired of hearing Steve’s voice. It’s utterly exhausting, and he can’t bear to think of that fifteen-year-old kid as anything other than a victim. He’s no super-soldier-- he’s absolutely nothing like Barnes. Tony didn’t see a single ounce of fear he saw in that kid’s face in the face of Bucky Barnes.

Steve hesitates. Tony can see the gears turning in his head as he pushes himself off of the table and paces across the room. He pauses by the opposite wall, running a hand across his jawline with thought, “I might want to bring Bucky in. He knows firsthand--”

Tony blanches and leaps to his feet, his chair sliding backward as he whips around to face Rogers. He clenches his jaw. “If you think for a moment that I will allow Barnes to come within one-hundred feet of this building, you are even more delusional than I thought. I barely managed to forgive you, but you’re a fool if you think I will--”

FRIDAY’s cool, calculating voice interrupts his tirade. “I’m sorry to interject, Boss, but I have finished decrypting the file.”

Tony shifts his weight from his right leg to the left, spinning on his heel to turn his back on Rogers and return to his seat in front of the computer. He pulls himself closer to the desk, tapping on the uploaded file in the center of the main screen. The digital document folds out, an old security photo of an alleyway pinned in the top corner as his eyes skim the following police report. “Tell me what I’m looking at, FRI.” “August 11th, 2007. Two parents and their six-year-old son were driving home along Queens Boulevard at 11:00 PM when they were rear-ended by another vehicle. The bodies of both parents-- later confirmed to be May and Richard Parker-- were found deposited in an alleyway adjacent to the crash site. Their son, Peter Parker, who was reportedly in the vehicle, was never found.”

Tony’s brow furrows at that. There was what seemed to be a minor fender bender that ended with two parents disposed of in an alleyway while their son was nowhere to be found? “Any witness reports?” Tony asks, to which FRIDAY denies. The rest of the file is suspiciously blank. There’s nothing that stands out in the report that would justify it being blocked behind mile-wide firewalls. He feels Steve step up behind him, reading over the report himself. Tony gnaws at his lower lip. If this Parker kid was six when he went missing in 2007, then he would definitely be fifteen now. This could be the kid.

Steve is the next one to speak up. “Is there a picture of Peter Parker attached to the report?” he asks. “The original missing person report seems to have a photo attached, but it’s been retroactively removed,” FRIDAY reports. “Attempting to recover now.”

On the screen, the Parker file along with all other missing person reports closes. After a tense minute in which Tony and Steve sit in silence, FRIDAY procures a single image on the screen. Tony feels as if his breath is punched from his chest.

It’s the kid-- with his eyes just as wide, brown, and innocent as they are now. His hair is long and curly in the photo, and the boy smiles. He has his hands on a fork as he stuffs birthday cake in his mouth, a small blue party head secured to the top of his head with a thin elastic band. Tony never thought he liked kids, but the innocent face staring at him through the photo is absolutely adorable. His heart aches for the child. He was stripped of this warm childhood when he was only six? The kid-- Peter, his name is Peter-- has been with Hydra for almost ten years?

“That’s him.” Tony mumbles. It still feels like a dream. He finally has a face to the name. He only has one more unanswered question. “FRIDAY, any surviving family of the Parkers?”

She’s scanning through several different files, all moving too fast for Tony to properly read before she comes across the face of a woman with long brown hair and clear-rimmed glasses. “May Parker, the wife of Richard Parker’s brother Benjamin Parker, is the only living relative in my database. She currently resides in an apartment building in the center of Queens. Would you like me to contact Mrs. Parker?”

Tony shakes his head. “No, no, that’s enough. Thanks, FRI.” She powers down, the files on the screen disappearing until all of the monitors mounted on the desk are black. Tony scowls at the reflection in the dark screen staring back at him. He’s horrified.

He leans forward, burying his face in his hands. “He has family,” he mumbles to no one in particular. It was one challenge that there was an unnamed, unclaimed kid on his hands, but now he has a name-- Peter Parker-- and he has family that may still be wondering where the hell their baby nephew disappeared to.

“All the more reason to get help,” Steve says. Tony stirs and lifts his head from his hands, casting him a wary glance. The last thing he wants is for Rogers to get his way, but if he has any chance at fixing a boy who's been brainwashed by Hydra for ten years, he’ll need help from someone more experienced, no matter how much it may hurt his pride.

When he comes back to the interrogation room, Natasha is sitting inside. She’s poised across the table from the boy, balancing on the edge of the table. Her body language is relaxed as she speaks to the boy, whose head is hung low, his eyes bleary and exhausted. Through the glass, he can’t hear a word she is saying. Well, he hopes that she won’t mind him crashing their party.

He pushes through the door. Natasha turns to face him as he enters and clicks the door softly shut behind him. He notices a small dinner tray sitting in front of the boy, completely untouched. Peter’s face is twisted into a scowl as he stares down at his lap, eyes flickering between the sandwich and Natasha from the corner of his eyes. Natasha and Tony exchange a brief glance. She gestures to the empty chair on the opposite side of Peter. “Come sit, Tony,” she insists. “I was just trying to get him to eat.” Tony looks at the kid, then down to the plate. Forcing food down his throat obviously wouldn’t be a smart option, but the boy looks so wasted away in that stainless steel chair already that Tony’s sure he’ll be nothing but bone after another day. “No appetite, cabbage patch?”

Peter doesn’t look up at Tony when he speaks, his lips pressed into a line. He can tell by the way his tense shoulders tremble that the boy is terrified. “Don’t want to talk either? You were talking to me lots earlier, kid. Or should I say, Peter?”

The boy goes rigid, his head shooting bolt upright as he stares at Tony, tears filling his eyes. His forehead creased and his eyes started to dart around the room as if solving a complicated equation. Tony watches with unease, and he can feel Natasha staring at him from his side.

He turns his head to face her. Her eyebrow is raised inquisitively. He nods her way, hoping she understands that she needs to trust him if they want to get anything out of this kid. The boy definitely reacted to his name, which means Tony was on the right track. From his brief conversation with Steve, he learned that making connections with his past life was the best way to clear whatever mind-control Hydra may have on him. It’s not much, but until Steve can find a way to get Bucky here quickly, this is the best Tony’s got.

“How do you-- what?” The boy finally speaks. He trips over his words, averting his gaze and staring a hole into the surface of the stainless steel table. “No, no, that’s not my name--”

“I think that is your name, bambino,” Tony says, folding his hands together and interlocking his fingers. He rests his elbows on the table, never taking his eyes off of the boy. “Peter Parker. That was your name, at least. Before whatever this is.” Peter’s eyebrows scrunch up, his mouth twisting, and his fingers starting to curl and uncurl around the arms of the chair. The cuffs are off of his wrists; Natasha probably let him lose for a moment so he could eat his sandwich, but the skin of his wrists are red and rubbed raw. “No, no,” the boy whispers. “No. You’re just trying to trick me.” Tony tilts his head. He can’t fathom why the boy would think that pointing out his name could possibly be a trick. Unless, Tony wonders, they stripped him of his name. It wouldn’t be too far of a stretch. After all, Bucky Barnes turned into the Winter Soldier upon being kidnapped by Hydra. It is expected that they would strip any of his remaining identity from him in an attempt to gain power over him. But Barnes was a grown man. Peter Parker is-- was-- a child. An unsuspecting child who has done nothing in his life to deserve this much turmoil.

“Okay, I’ll bite. What did they call you? What did they tell you your name was?” Before Peter can tense up just as he had earlier, Tony interjects. “There’s no wrong answer, kid. Just tell me the truth. No one is going to hurt you.” “Tony, what are you doing?” Natasha whispers, but he lifts a hand to her. He’s onto something, and he can’t have Romanov throwing the kid off, not when Tony has him right where he wants him. He needs to get Peter to trust him, to believe that he will do nothing to hurt him. Because it’s nothing but the truth.

Tony wants nothing more than to take the kid under his own wing and protect him from anyone who may come for him. Realistically, however, Tony knows that he can’t do that. Not without enough information. The boy hesitates, his eyes overflowing with tears that silently roll down his reddened cheeks. Tony wants to wipe them away-- a very overwhelming yet out-of-character urge of tenderness that completely takes him by surprise. Peter looks up at him, squinting through his tears before he croaks a quiet, “No… wrong answers?”

Tony forces a slight smile onto his lips. He nods at the kid. “No wrong answers.” Peter sits for another moment as if contemplating the consequences of answering the question. Tony’s ready to admit that he hadn’t expected to get this far with the kid within one day-- he had expected a completely stoic and abrasive soldier just as Barnes seemed to be. But at the end of the day, it’s just another stark reminder that the soldier in front of him is a fifteen-year-old kid.

“They called me all different names,” the boy admits. “But they didn’t want me to… remember my old name.”

Tony clears his throat. Patience, he reminds himself. Before he can ask further questions, Natasha beats him to it. She leans forward from where she’s perched on the table, offering the cowering boy a gentle smile. Tony thinks she’s never appeared this warm before. “What other names did they call you then?” she asks, her voice quiet.

Another quiet tear slips out of the boy’s eyes, and he doesn’t seem to notice it by the way he stares at Natasha without blinking. Tony can see the way his fingers shake.

“The scientist called me a bunch of numbers,” the boy whispers, shaking his head as he searches his brain for the right words. “Like… zero four… something.” “08-14?” Natasha recites from the initial data collection she and Steve presented to Tony the other day. It’s the subject number associated with the kid, though Tony guessed it was used for confidential record-keeping, not naming a literal child.

The boy nods at Natasha’s words before licking at his lips and parting them to speak again. “But the faceless men were the ones who made my new name,” he mutters as if the words filled him with deep shame. “Паук.”

Natasha goes rigid beside Tony, though he has no idea what the kid just said. It sounds Slavic-- Russian, maybe. He turns to Natasha, his eyes narrowed as he stares her down. She looks to him, her eyes sparkling with recognition. “What’s that mean, Nat? You’re gonna have to help me out here, I haven’t touched by DuoLingo Russian lessons in a while.”

She rolls her eyes at him and shakes her head. “I’ll tell you later,” she insists, before turning to Peter, her expression softening. “Thank you for telling us, Peter.” She doesn’t react to the way the boy flinches at the name. Tony thinks she’s smart for using it-- it’s better they start ingraining his actual name into his head now rather than waiting until it’s too late. She stands up, her eyes still locked on Peter as she gestures to the sandwich. “Why don’t you eat? Unless you would like something else.”

The boy eyes the bread, tentatively reaching his hand up to poke at the food, as if he’s never seen it before. He scrunches his eyebrows at it, his hands trembling as he moves to pick it up. “What… is it?” he asks.

Tony has to fight the urge to turn and leave the room that instant. He’s not sure why the kid not knowing what a sandwich is is his final straw but for some reason he is and Tony wants to abort. He knows he’s bitten off more than he can chew, and he can thank his ridiculously large guilt-complex for that. However, he’s come this far, and he cannot abandon this kid now. As much as Tony wants to deny it, Peter needs him.

“It’s a sandwich, cabbage patch,” Tony says with an encouraging smile. “Nothing really but meat, cheese, and bread. Don’t tell me you’re used to something fancier, because while I may be a billionaire, I’m not in the mood to splurge on some filet mignons for a fifteen-year-old.” Natasha elbows him hard in the ribs.

The joke flies over the kid’s head, but that’s okay. He carefully picks up the sandwich and holds it to his nose, sniffing it tentatively. “It’s food?”

Natasha nods at the boy, urging him on. “It’s food. I promise it’ll be good,” she says. “Just give it a try.”

There’s an unusual amount of trust and vulnerability in the boy’s eyes as he raises the sandwich to his lips with trembling hands. The tears in his eyes are gone, replaced with a cautious yet prevalent look of wonder as he takes a bite into the soft bread. His cheeks are still red and stick, coated with his silently-shed tears, but Tony’s sure they can get him cleaned up and maybe in an actual bedroom soon. Or, he hopes. He has no idea what’s going to happen from here.

The boy silently eats, the first bite devolving into a second, then a third, and a fourth until suddenly the sandwich is gone and the kid’s cheeks are stuffed full of bread. Tony bites back a smirk-- at least the kid has a decent appetite.

“We’ll bring you more soon, okay?” Tony chimes as he moves to stand up. Natasha moves to the door, and Tony takes note that she isn’t strapping him back down to the chair. The room is made of mostly vibranium, and FRIDAY has close monitoring on the security of the room, so Tony doesn’t see the harm in it. The boy’s wrists are far too raw and bruised anyway. “Sit tight.” Tony follows Natasha out of the door.

He shuts the door tight behind him, raising his eyes to see Natasha standing in front of him with her arms lax at her sides, her eyes darting across the floor. There’s a deep, unsettling feeling stirring in his gut when thinking of her reaction to the kid speaking Russian, so he assumes the worst when she finally looks him in the eye. “He can hear us,” she says instead, gesturing vaguely towards the one-way mirror. “We should talk somewhere in private.”

That’s how he ends up sitting in the main dining area on the fortieth floor with Natasha and Steve. Tony stares at the bowl of cereal sitting in front of him. When he stepped out of the elevator he had made himself a bowl. It must have been out of pure stress, because now as he stares down at his Cap’n Crunch, which is now soggy from sitting in the milk for too long, he has no appetite. He pushes the bowl away from him with an exaggerated sigh. “Are you going to tell me what the kid said or are you enjoying leaving me in absolute suspense?” Tony quirks with frustration. He doesn’t understand why Natasha is being so secretive about it. After all, the more about Peter they knew, the faster they could figure out how to fix him and how to protect him from prying government eyes.

He hasn’t discussed it between Natasha and Steve, but he knows neither of them want to turn the kid over to the Feds. Under Secretary Ross, there’s no telling what may happen to the kid. For the first time since the incident went down, Tony thinks he can somewhat understand what Rogers felt when the Accords were first presented. Albeit he literally met this kid today and Barnes was Rogers’ old war buddy, Tony can now understand the need to protect someone from another’s actions. For now, he shakes it off. No time for existential dread today.

“The kid’s file mentioned progress with cross-species experimentation,” Natasha says instead of answering his question, which draws a long, tired sigh from Tony. He’s tired of beating around the bush, but he supposes he’ll humor Romanov for a moment. “The way that kid moved along the walls… I should’ve realized it sooner.”

Tony isn’t sure what she’s hinting at, but he suddenly, with a start, remembers the way the kid launched himself onto the ceiling and started to crawl across it as if it was second nature. In the moment, he had been too shocked and bustling with adrenaline to think much of it, but now that he considers all the information he has gathered, there’s already a formed conclusion. “Паук means spider,” Natasha says, leaning back in her chair and kicking one foot up onto the edge of the table. Tony thinks back to the basement network beneath Oscorp, remembers the boxes of fluorescent spiders frozen in time, with one box in the center missing. #08-14.

“Oscorp helped Hydra make a spider-hybrid super soldier?” Tony wonders aloud. It’s the only plausible option-- the way the kid clung to ceilings, the corresponding serial numbers, the name.

“They failed with Bucky,” Steve chimes in. He’s not sitting at the table but instead lingers a few feet away with his hands tucked inside his pockets. He’s been watching them from afar, though Tony can always feel the stare of those brooding eyes bearing into the back of his head. “They’re trying something bigger. Something stronger. Oscorp gave them the means to do it.” Tony nods. Oscorp’s infamous work with cross-species genetics was bound to catch the attention of a few bad apples. It’s just his luck that those bad apples happen to be Hydra of all things. God, he’s so tired of dealing with these bastards.

“So we’re dealing with a spider-super kid,” Tony states, his voice monotone as he struggles to unpackage that sentence. Handling teenagers seems difficult enough, but dealing with a teenager that’s part spider? Tony doesn’t think even all of the worlds’ parenting books can prepare him for that. “Now what?” “Bucky will come,” Steve announces, turning to face Tony. He doesn’t speak with hesitancy as he had before. He’s no longer afraid of what Tony has to think because, in reality, they have no other choice. “He can help us figure out what we’re dealing with, and we go from there.”

“Until then, we should continue interrogations, or whatever the hell it is we’re doing,” Natasha says. She plays with the sleeves of her shirt as she speaks, twisting the loose fabric around her fingers before stretching it back out again. “The more information we can get from the kid the better. By the time S.H.I.E.L.D or Ross get involved, we’ll have more than enough evidence to prove he isn’t a threat.”

Steve, ever the pessimist it seems, has to rain on their parade. “What if he is a threat? Then what? You saw how he attacked me back at the base. Who’s to say he won’t do it again?”

Tony sits upright in his chair, lazily grasping his spoon and shoving a soggy mouthful of Cap’n Crunch into his mouth. If anything, he hopes it’s an insult to Steve Rogers. This is Tony’s captain. He swallows, his throat aching. “That’s not an option, Rogers,” he insists. “We’re bringing Barnes here, endangering everyone in this building to ensure that. Aren’t we, Captain?”

Steve relents, allowing his arms to relax at his sides. “We just have to be prepared for the worst-case scenario.”

“Yeah, and in my plan, there is no worst-case scenario,” Tony snarls. “We prove that he isn’t a threat, we get him assimilated, and we find him a place at the tower. Simple as that.”

Steve turns and blinks at Tony with surprise. “You’re going to take him in? What about that woman, May Parker? She has a right to know where her nephew is.” “As far as Mrs. Parker knows, Peter Parker has been dead for years,” Tony retorts, reaching a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose. He feels a massive migraine coming, but he figures any time he talks to Rogers for an extended period of time the headaches come. It was only a matter of time. “He’s not a normal kid anymore. He’s fifteen and has a lot more changes to deal with than puberty. We keep him here and shape him up until he can control his powers.” Neither Natasha or Steve have anything to say in regards to his plan, so Tony takes his small victory. The Cap’n Crunch is bitter in his mouth, so he snags the bowl from the table and dumps it down the garbage disposal. The flip phone in Rogers’ pocket begins to ring, so he pulls it out, presses it to his ear, and excuses himself from the room. Natasha stands from her place at the table and trails over to where Tony aimlessly stands in the kitchen.

“Are you sure you can do this?” she asks, her forehead creased in concern as she leans in close to Tony to ask him in a hushed voice. Tony’s grateful for her-- for so many reasons-- but she’s ever the diplomat, and in such a polarizing time, he can really appreciate that. Even though she did technically turn on him with the Barnes business. Regardless, he puts that behind him. “Taking in this kid will be a lot of trouble. It may not go how you want it to.” “I don’t have another choice,” Tony admits. Because in truth, he doesn’t. Either he takes this kid under his wing and attempts to undo whatever evil Hydra implanted in his little head, or the government gets its grimy hands on him and he rots for the rest of his days in some kind of prison or another research facility. The decision is an easy one in Tony’s book. “It has to work.” “I’m with you,” she assures him, covering his hand with one of her own and brushing the top of his knuckles with the pad of her thumb.

Tony makes a decision then. If he’s going to start treating the kid as part of the large, dysfunctional family, he needs an upgrade. “I want the kid to move out of that room by tomorrow,” he insists. “There’s plenty of bedrooms. Put him in one and we’ll reinforce the doors to be safe. The kid needs a proper bed.”

Natasha nods. Surely she understands how awful it was to see the kid chained to a stainless steel chair in a bleak interrogation room under harsh fluorescent lighting. “Consider it done,” she says.

Only then can Tony relax, just a tiny bit.

The next several days pass with repetitive motions. Steve moves Peter to a lone room on the eightieth floor of the tower, where two of Tony’s labs reside. He kept that empty bedroom there in case of late nights he spent at the lab in which he got the rare moment of shut-eye, but for now, it will function as a base for the kid where Tony can keep a close eye on him. The boy doesn’t take well to the room at first. It takes several nights for Tony to fully convince him to sleep on the bed instead of under or beside it, but once the boy settles in the sheets, he’s usually out like a light. Each day, he enters the boy’s room, a housing unit for his gauntlet hidden in his watch for emergencies, with a tray of different breakfast foods and an array of different questions. The first few days, he learns very little, though through observation he is able to see how the boy functions. He spends lots of time suctioned onto ceilings, either tucked in the top corners of rooms or hanging by his feet in the center. Tony walked in on more than one occasion to see the boy dangling there, his eyes peacefully closed as he gently swayed back and forth. At first, it had been quite jarring, but Tony supposes now he’s just used to it.

When Barnes finally does visit, they learn a lot more about the boy. He sheds light on the type of experiments and treatments he underwent to initiate mind control, but upon meeting Peter, the Winter Soldier is optimistic. His tentative diagnosis, if Tony will, is that the kid has not undergone more than a year of soldier training. From there, Tony hypothesizes that Hydra and Oscorp had been working together for the majority of Peter’s time there perfecting the cross-species genetics. After all, that seemed to be the hardest part. Hydra was pretty efficient at making psychotic super soldiers after all.

Bucky deems it beneficial to spend time with the kid alone, which Tony hates to admit makes him uneasy. He hardly trusts the Winter Soldier to begin with, but Tony was starting to develop a comfortable pattern with the boy and he’s afraid Barnes will ruin their progress. The boy had finally started to let Tony get close to him, even so much so the pair could sit on the couch, at least five feet apart, without the kid fleeing to the ceiling.

Barnes talks to Peter for a long time, and Tony’s left to watch it through a security camera from the comfort of his lab just down the hall from the room. And ever since, Tony starts to see more of Peter shine through instead of the tortured boy that Hydra spit out. It’s small changes-- starting with the spark in the kid’s eyes as Tony sits with him in the room, tinkering with a faulty motherboard as he watches Peter from the corner of the eye.

Peter’s eyes are wide in wonder as he watches Tony tinker, but he doesn’t look at the boy. He knows that the slightest attention may spook the boy away, so he continues to work, whistling under his breath. Peter’s perched on the ceiling as he watches Tony work in wonder, and once the sun sets and it’s time for Tony to retire for the night, he makes sure to leave the broken motherboard on Peter’s table.

It’s hardly dangerous-- there’s nothing that the kid could possibly make out of the shot piece of technology, but he figures if the boy is so interested in it, there’s no harm in fostering a bit of scientific exploration. Maybe this kid will take after Tony after all. However, when he returns the next morning with breakfast for Peter, the motherboard is sitting by the door. The fried edges are smoothed over and fixed, and the previously shattered North Bridge entirely repaired. He gapes at it, and he has to rub his eyes and look over the board one more time before he realizes that the kid must’ve fixed a typically deemed unfixable motherboard. To say he is impressed is an understatement.

Before Tony knows it, three weeks have passed by. He’s sitting with Peter in his room, just as he usually does after Peter eats his dinner. Tony notices how much healthier Peter looks even after a few short weeks. Extensive research into Peter’s abilities left Tony with the conclusion that the boy probably has a potentially enhanced metabolism, so Tony has made an extensive effort to feed the kid as much as possible. The bruising around his wrists and beneath his eyes are completely faded, and if Tony didn’t know better he would’ve guessed Peter was a normal fifteen-year-old. The only dead giveaway is that Peter hardly speaks, his words carefully chosen as he stumbles over them. He’s painfully awkward in each interaction, but Tony can hardly blame a kid who’s most likely been in isolation since he was a very young child. For now, the boy’s social skills are the least of his pressing concerns.

It’s peaceful as he sits in Peter’s room, mindlessly working on his tablet as Peter sits in the top left corner of the ceiling. It’s become a comfortable routine for the two of them. Peter, unfortunately for him, had imprinted on Tony early on, so the boy found peace in Tony’s presence in the room. The billionaire is happy to oblige. They typically sit in silence, no more than a few words exchanged between them.

Today, however, Peter speaks. “Mr. Stark?” His head snaps up, his eyes roaming the ceiling until he finds where Peter is perched with his back to the wall, his feet and bent knees supporting him upright. Tony smiles at him. “Yeah, cabbage patch?”

The boy carefully climbs down from his hiding spot against the ceiling. Shyly, he walks towards the couch, flinching back with hesitation when Tony shifts to allow him some room to sit beside him. “It’s okay, bambino. Sit.” It’s the closest the kid’s come to him since he found him curled up in the cell beneath Oscorp Industries. So, he sits still and waits for Peter to come to him, however slowly that may be.

Eventually, the boy does sit beside them, a few feet separating them. Peter’s posture is tense and careful, but he cranes his neck to catch a brief glimpse of what Tony is working on with his tablet. Tony turns it in his direction so the kid can see it, but his interest is quickly lost.

Peter twists his fingers in his lap, his forehead creased and brows knitted together as he seems to build the courage to speak. Tony’s learned that patience is the key to getting anywhere with this kid. So he sits there, scrolling through his newest suit designs on his tablet when finally, the kid spits it out. “My mission was to hurt you and Mr. Rogers,” Peter whispers, and there is so much turmoil and guilt on his face that it controls his features, pulling his lips into a harsh frown, and his forehead creases terribly. An icy, sharp rod stabs Tony in the heart, and he slowly lowers his tablet into his lap, turning his attention to Peter. “I don’t want to do that, but… sometimes at night, these dreams come and… it’s like they’re in my head all over again.” The kid’s fingers snake up the sides of his face and tangle in his curly chocolate hair. He tugs at the thick locks, and it takes all of Tony’s self-control not to intervene. “I want to be good,” the boy whimpers. “I don’t want to do this-- but they’re still there and I’ve been trying so hard, and-”

“It will take time,” Tony assures. “Do me a favor, kid?”

Peter nods, staring at Tony with wide eyes. “What’s your name?” he asks. It’s a simple question, but one that all these weeks later that Peter still seems to struggle with. Tony imagines its more symbolic than anything, that Hydra took every measure necessary to beat the name out of him-- to strip him of whatever humanity and dignity he had left until he was an empty shell for them to mold. But that wasn’t Peter. Tony got him out, so now this kid can be whoever he wants to be, and Tony wants to be around to see it. He wants to watch this kid become Peter Parker. “I…” the boy hesitates, his eyes falling to his lap where he cracks at his knuckles and taps his fingers mindlessly on his thigh. It’s a nervous tick Tony has noticed him picking up, but if it keeps him relatively composed, Tony sees no issue with it. “My name is… Peter. Peter Parker.” There’s a subtle glint of recognition in the boy’s eyes as he says it, and Tony thinks that this is the first time that the kid says it and actually believes it.

Tony reaches out hesitantly, to ruffle the kid’s hair lovingly. To his surprise, Peter doesn’t flinch when he rakes his fingers through the boy’s thick curls. Tony scratches the top of his head and ruffles his hair before pulling away. “You are Peter Parker,” he affirms. “You always have been and you always will be. For now, that’s enough.” It really is enough. While there are still so many unanswered questions, Tony’s main priority is making sure that the kid is okay. Seeing the fullness of his cheeks and the small sparks of life returning to his eyes, for now, is more than enough. Whatever happens down the road with Ross, S.H.I.E.L.D, Hydra, or Oscorp, Tony can deal with it. Because Peter is Peter again, and that was the first step.

#friendly neighborhood spider man #friendly neighborhood exchange #irondad #spiderson #Tony Stark-centric #irondad fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #Spider-Man angst #spider-man fanfic #Hydra peter parker #fanfiction #peter parker fanfic

82 notes · View notes

merakiaes · 5 years

Text

All Is Well - Avengers

Pairing: Avengers x Stark!reader (platonic)

Requested: No.

Warnings/notes: !ENDGAME SPOILERS! Just wanted to write a short and fluffy alternate ending for Endgame, it sucks and doesn’t have much interaction in it but I haven’t written in two months so I’m a bit rusty.

Wordcount: 2661

Summary: Just a simple alternate ending to Endgame where you’re Tony Stark’s adoptive daughter.

(Y/N) Stark. How does one describe (Y/N) Stark?

Various psychiatrists had tried and failed. Big time.

You were, to put it the nicest way possible, a plague. You were the biggest pain the Avengers had ever had the misfortune to meet, you were like a rash they couldn't reach and that never went away.

It was a given, wasn’t it? You were your father’s daughter at heart and in soul. It was pretty much in your job description to be annoying those around you, despite the fact that you weren’t related by blood. But it was pretty clear by now that family didn’t end in blood.

But still, they all loved you.

Tony Stark had taken you in when you were merely seven of age. It was a mission gone wrong at a HYDRA base. Tony and Steve had ran through the halls towards the exit, very much in a hurry to avoid the fate of being blown to pieces, which was sure to come if they wasted another minute in the facility.

But they had stopped, as a muffled crying sound entered their ears when passing a door. Tony tried to convince Steve that it was nothing, that it was probably a trick to lure them in long enough to get them killed, but Steve insisted they checked it out.

It took a good minute and a half of banging his shield against the lock to get the door open, and during the whole time he was mentally apologizing for whoever it was that was stuck on the inside, himself flinching at the loud sounds that echoed through the hallway.

That’s where they found you; in a heavily secured cell built in vibranium, each wall 4 inches thick. You had shielded your eyes as the door opened, the red flashing lights that entered hurting your eyes form being in the dark for so long.

Steve had given Tony a ‘I told you so’-look, before proceeding to squat down, inching closer to you with his hand stretched out in front of him to show you that he meant no harm. But in the state you were in, you only backed further into your corner.

It was only then the two men noticed the heavy metal bracelets clasped to your wrists. It was only then they realized, you were one of the experiments. And to be locked up the way you were, you had to be powerful.

They had exchanged a glance, noticing and realizing the same thing at the same time, and Tony had taken the same stance as Steve, crouching down and trying to beck you to him. The flashing lights outside the cell reflected on the strange man’s equally as strange metal armor, catching your attention, and to both his and Steve’s surprise, you flung yourself into his arms.

Tony had to push the shock to the back of his head as you buried your face in his exposed neck and wrapped your tiny arms around his shoulder, standing up in a hurry and running out of there just in time to avoid being blown up, Steve not far behind.

He had carried you all the way to the helicarrier, the rest of the team being more than surprised as Tony brought a little girl onto the ship, said girl’s hands squeezing onto her stuffed lynx with all her might.

That’s how you got your nickname; Lynx. They didn’t know your real name at first. They had managed to hack into the, now fallen, HYDRA base’s data system and pull out your file, but parts of it was damaged. Neither your origins or backstory was in it, only your name, age and medical and experimental history from your stay at the HYDRA base.

You were seven years old, named (Y/N). They couldn’t find a last name, or any information of who your family might have been.

You didn’t let go of Tony once during your trip back to Stark Tower, and upon your arrival when Tony tried handing you over to a female with red hair, you clung to him even harder. He had been annoyed to say the least, but it was clear by then that you weren’t going to let go anytime soon.

The rest of the Avengers could only stare as Pepper instructed the clueless man on how to handle you as he, although begrudgingly, gave you a bath, cleaned you up and tried to get you to eat.

Several hours passed before you let him go, falling asleep in his arms and finally allowing him to put you down into his bed, the Lynx plushie hugged to your chest as you snored lightly. This gave the team the time they needed to read through your HYDRA file.

The Germans had called you dangerous, lethal; death itself. In the file, the importance of the metal bracelets was mentioned more than once. Without it, your powers would be uncontrollable, and you could cause death to anyone who came close enough.

Tony was the only one who didn’t think it would be safe to keep you around, pointing out several times that you actually had the power to manipulate any lifeform and kill them in an instant. But Nick Fury wouldn’t have it, pretty much ordering the whole team to take you in.

So, they did. And as time passed by, you grew to be comfortable with the rest of the team, as well. But you never left Tony’s side. And he grew to like it, not that he would admit it. But everyone knew, seeing as come your tenth birthday, he officially adopted you and gave you his name.

He had used the power source of your bracelets to build a chamber where you could practice your powers without anyone coming to harm, and also adjusted the original bracelets into slightly more discrete and practical ones as you had been complaining practically since day one that they were heavy.

But despite having a place of your own where you could practice your powers, you didn’t. The memories of HYDRA using you as some kind of executioner to suck the life out of their enemies were still fresh in your mind, even as you entered your teenage years.

Still at the age of nineteen, the tormented screams and the feeling of their energy entering you and clawing at you from the inside was not something you wanted to feel again. Because of this, you kept your bracelets on and more often than not stayed at home while the others went on missions.

But then you met Loki, and even though he was supposed to be the bad guy, you couldn’t help but like him. Surprisingly, he took a liking to you, too. It was a short and brief relationship, entirely platonic.

But even during that short time he managed to help you a great deal with your powers, with only one advice: “The key to controlling your power is to stop trying to control it and deny its existence in the first place.”

It was thanks to this that you were able to, for the first time yet, fight side by side with the rest of the team when Thanos entered the picture. You found yourself in space with Tony, Dr. Strange and Spider-Man when the snap happened, and Tony had to watch both you and Peter fade away to dust.

You were gone. His only true source of happiness and probably one of the most powerful people on the planet, had you only learnt to control your powers, gone with just a snap, along with the kid he had taken under his wing and sworn to protect.

It was all he could think about when he was stuck in space, and once he had been brought back home, everyone that was left could see how badly the snap had affected him. He barely spoke, hid himself away, until the day he left and settled down with Pepper.

When he arrived at the Avengers’ warehouse to help with the time heist, he had your stuffed Lynx stuck into the pocket of his jacket. No one said a word as he passed them and walked into the building, wasting no time in getting to work.

They managed to pull it off, with some struggle, and they won. But for some reason, you hadn’t come back with the others during the fight against Thanos. None of the victims of the snap had seen you in the quantum realm. Dr. Strange’s explanation was that you, somehow, must have hid away.

It wasn’t until Tony was taking his final breath that he finally felt you. A cold breeze swayed by them as they were all kneeling in front of their dying savior, causing Pepper to draw her hand back from Tony’s cheek and stumble back.

They watched as the sand under their feet started swirling about, a barely noticeable, dark shadow rising along with it. Tears pricked Tony’s eyes at the sight, closing his eyes at the feeling of a light caress against his cheek.

Everyone around him were quiet as they watched the scene unfold before them. They watched as the shadow stroked its hand against Tony’s cheek, they watched as he took his last breath, and then they watched the shadow push into the front of his body.

It was quiet for a moment, before Tony’s eyes suddenly shot open, his body launching itself forward, Pepper and Strange hurrying to catch him before he fell on his face.

They hadn’t seen your physical body at the time, but they all knew who it was that had brought Tony back. Not a word was spoken as everyone reunited with their loved ones and made their way back to their world through Strange’s portals.

Not a word was said as the team made their way into the Avengers warehouse. That is, until the smell hit them.

They all seemed to think the same thing, stopping abruptly in the doorway. They all knew that smell, the smell of your favourite food that seemed to be the only thing you could cook without burning the entire kitchen down.

“I hope you guys are hungry.” A voice suddenly came from further into the room, causing everyone to jump in shock.

They all turned to look in the direction of the voice, eyes widening as they watched Natasha casually stroll into the room, hands wiping down on a towel she had stuck into her jean pocket.

Everyone stood frozen, both mesmerized and terrified that she was there, smiling like it was just any other day in their lives.

The Black Widow chuckled at the sight of her friends and colleagues, finally stopping in front of them. “Come on.” She spoke again, hands propping on her hips. “Cat got your tongues?”

Clint was the first to react, shooting forward like one of his own arrows and crashing her into a bone crushing hug. They stood there for a good minute, just crying into each other’s necks, before the rest of the team went around getting their own reunions with the female assassin.

“But how?” Clint asked as they had all gone around hugging her, still not believing his eyes.

Natasha only smiled, turning to look at Tony. “Your daughter really is something, Stark.” Her smile widened. “While you were all running around in space, saving the world, she went on a mission of her own.”

Tony couldn’t believe what he was hearing. His knees suddenly got weak, causing him to stumble lightly. Luckily, Thor was right as his side to catch him before he hit the floor.

“She-“ He found himself unable to form words. Swallowing, he took a deep breath. “She’s here? She’s okay?”

Natasha nodded, the smile never leaving her lips. “She’s okay. She’s right in here, in the kitchen. We-“

Natasha wasn’t able to finish her sentence, Tony not wasting another second before shooting forward in the direction of the kitchen, the others close behind.

“Tony.” Natasha tried to run after him, grabbing his arm to get him to slow down. But he wouldn’t have it.

Natasha tugged on his arm. “Tony. Before you go in there, I need to tell you, (Y/N) had a little-“

She stopped herself again as Tony came to an abrupt halt in the kitchen doorway. “-help.” She finished with a sigh, rubbing the bridge of her nose in a way to prepare herself for the yelling that was sure to come.

However, before Tony could speak, Thor barged past them and into the kitchen. “Brother!” He yelled at the top of his lungs, the walls seeming to shake at the intense volume.

Loki didn’t get a second to react before he was crushed into his brother’s embrace, the God of Thunder crying and rambling as he hugged him hard. “You’re here.”

“There, there.” Loki awkwardly patted his brother’s shoulder, sparing a glance to the wooden spoon he had dropped to the floor with the force of the attack.

Tony and the rest of the team stared long and hard at the God of Mischief, and you scoffed, as they seemingly hadn’t even acknowledged you at the other side of the room yet. “I’m here, too.” You spoke then, crossing your arms over your chest.

The sound of your voice instantly woke Tony up from his hateful thought-bubble and he whipped his head around to look at you.

“(Y/N).” He stated, eyes widening and mouth falling open at the sight of you. There you were, wearing your usual sports shorts and one of his t-shirts, hair up in a lazy ponytail and a purple apron wrapped around your neck and back.

“In the flesh.” You grinned at him, and a second later you were wrapped in his warm embrace.

Tears pricked your eyes as you breathed in the familiar smell of his cologne, arms coming to wrap around his neck.

“I thought I lost you.” He mumbled into your neck, eyes still wide open and staring into the wall behind you all while silent tears rolled down his cheeks.

You chuckled gently, squeezing your eyes shut. “I thought I lost you.”

He didn’t say anything else. He just held you. And you held him. During your reunion and sweet father-daughter moment, Loki was shaking hands and making amends with the rest of the team after Natasha had explained how you had gone on a time heist yourself to be able to get him back, and that Loki in turn, had helped you discover that you were also able to use your powers to do good and assisted you in getting Natasha and Tony back.

They were all in shock, each of them taking their time to dwell on the news while keeping on their side of the kitchen to give you and Tony privacy.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there to help.” You mumbled into Tony’s chest, drowning out the sound coming from the rest of the group behind you.

You felt his arms squeeze you tighter. “But you were.” He whispered. “I felt it. I wouldn’t be here without you.”

“I was just repaying you for all of the times you’ve been there for me. I wouldn’t be here without you, either.”

Tony couldn’t do anything other than let out a relieved and happy chuckle as he brought his hand up to smooth your hair. “I love you, kid.”

“I love you, too, dad.” You smiled to yourself, happy tears escaping your eyes as you glanced behind Tony to watch the others start to lay the table and put out the food you, Natasha and Loki had made together before the others’ arrival.

The screaming and fighting both you and Natasha had expected to without a doubt happen when the Avengers first realized that Loki was there, never happened. For the first time in what seemed to be forever, everyone was happy and getting along.

And all was well.

#avengers #avengers imagine #avengers x reader #tony stark #tony stark x reader #tony stark daughter #tony stark x daughter!reader #loki x thor #natasha x clint #natasha romanoff #black widow #natasha romanoff x reader #loki x reader #endgame spoilers #marvel imagine #marvel x reader #marvel one shot #avengers one shot

875 notes · View notes

canyouevenwritebro · 4 years

Text

Sunflowers (pt. 1)

Summary: The reader has been with the Avengers since they rescued her from HYDRA. She has joined them on countless missions since then but this may be the hardest one yet. Set in 2016 CA:CW.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters in this story. It’s purely fiction.

Characters: steve rogers, tony stark, natasha romanoff, bucky barnes, sam wilson, wanda maximoff, clint barton, peter parker

Word count: 4.5k

Warnings: angst, depression, violence, death

a/n: hey!!! i did it! my first fanfic.

When the Avengers raided the HYDRA base you were kept in, they found you inside a cryo-chamber sleeping peacefully. After every personnel was captured, they transferred you to the compound along with artifacts and files of experiments they performed. Eventually, they found your file. It was quite lengthy. Your father was working for HYDRA but he turned on them and planned to take them down. As a result, they silenced him and your mother. They knew that whatever he knew about HYDRA, he told her. They spared you because you were just a kid. Instead, you were out on the Thanatos program. It was your father's project and it was almost done up until his betrayal. They thought you would be perfect for the program. They could groom you to the perfect obedient soldier they needed. On top of that, what could be more cruel than using your father's work to torture you?

They gave you a version of the serum used on the winter soldiers, with their own upgrades of course. They incorporated it with the Extremis serum and that left you with a super soldier that can breathe fire. Phoenix, they called you. The ultimate weapon of death.

After briefing everyone on your situation, they woke you up. You stepped out of the chamber confused. You were met with unfamiliar yet kind faces that it overwhelmed you. You made a run for it and nearly burned down the entire medical wing before they tranquilized you again. You woke up in a small glass cell where they told you that they meant no harm. Somehow, you believed them.

That was a year and a half ago. Now, here you were walking around New York and trying your best to be part of society. After extensive amounts of therapy of course. You were on your way back when you saw an old man in a flower shop organizing his stalls. You were mesmerized by the flowers' beauty and found yourself crossing the street to get there.

"Looking for anything specific, ma'am?" he asked

"No, not really. Maybe something cheery?" God, why are you so socially awkward?

"Well, in that case," he said, "here are some sunflowers." He handed you a bouquet.

"My wife loves them. When she's upset, I get her these because they always look towards the sun and the color brightens up the room," he said with a smile.

"Thank you so much," you said as you handed him a $20 bill "Keep the change"

You were now back at the compound and you were rummaging through the kitchen in search of a vase. You didn't find any (Seriously? a state of the art training compound owned by a billionaire doesn't have a vase?)

"I guess a pitcher would do," you whispered to yourself as you headed to your room.

"What is that?" asked Tony.

"Sunflowers. Got it from the guy near the train station. It's a good metaphor when you think about it. They're always looking on the bright side. I didn't get many opportunities to go sunbathing when I was at HYDRA." you said with an awkward chuckle.

"Alright. Fair enough. I'm headed to MIT for the speech thingy. Wanna come?"

"Nah. I still have to catch up on culture." you giggled. Years of working for HYDRA also didn't give you a lot of me-time.

"Okay well if you change your mind, you know how to get there."

"Copy that."

You headed to your room. Yours. You actually owned something. You turned on your TV and scanned through the channels. Doctor Who reruns? Sure. Hours had passed and you've scanned through hundreds of channels. You decided to turn on some news in the background while you read.

"On breaking news, eleven Wakandans are amongst those confirmed dead after a violent clash between the Avengers and independent mercenaries in Nigeria." Your head bolted up and you reached for the remote to turn the volume up.

"Brock Rumlow, former SHIELD agent, led the team of mercenaries to procure a biological weapon being tested at the Center for Disease Control Nigeria Division. It was believed to be a suicide mission as eyewitness account said Rumlow wore a type of bomb in his vest. Avenger Wanda Maximoff contained the explosion only to have the blast thrown into a building killing a total of 30 people. We have yet to receive an official statement from the Avengers. More details tonight only on Channel 6 News at 8." You listened with intent and your heartbeat was beating fast. Those poor victims. Is the team on their way home? Are they okay? How is Wanda doing? Your mind formed a million questions.

"FRIDAY, call Steve Rogers." a faint ding let you know that your request is being done.

"Y/n." Oh, thank god he's okay.

"Steve! Are you guys alright? I saw what happened. I am so sorry."

"We're alright. Search and rescue was already on the scene when we left."

"How's Wanda? Do you need me to do anything?"

"Physically, she's safe, y/n. Emotionally? This is gonna take a toll on her."

"What about the others? Nat? Sam? You?"

"We're gonna be fine. We're on our way home."

You met the team on the law of the compound. They were visibly stunned and you cut through them to hug Wanda. She was your best friend and you know that this was going to affect her greatly. You were right. She locked herself in her room and the only thing you heard was the sound of the news and sobbing.

In his office, Steve kept replaying what had happened in Lagos. Knowing him, he was gonna blame himself for this. You wanted to leave him be but your concern for Wanda kept you standing by his doorway.

"Steve? You got a moment?"

"Y/n. Do you need anything?" he said as he paused the video on his computer.

"No. I just wanna say I'm sorry about Lagos. Sam and Nat told me what happened."

"It's not your fault, y/n. It's mine. Rumlow mentioned Bucky and all sense of the mission disappeared in my head."

"Don't blame yourself. Bucky was or is, your best friend and he's still missing. You have a right to have emotions."

"Thanks. I... uh... I needed that. Have you talked to Wanda yet?"

"No. Her room is locked. Maybe you should try talking to her. Both of us saw you as a mentor. She'll listen to you."

You gave him a faint smile and headed for the kitchen. Maybe some food could help them. You moved the vase of sunflowers from your room to the middle of the large dining table.

Tony walked in and asked everyone to meet in the conference room. He got the news as he was coming home from Massachusetts. After a brief interaction with a grieving mother and the news of the mission, he knew what he had to do.

Inside, you were met by General Ross and his assistant. Rhodey was already inside and the rest of the team followed suit. Wanda had stopped crying but you knew she would never get over this.

The general discussed the Sokovia Accords with the team. As much as you'd like to be on Steve's side, you knew the team needs to be put in check. One more incident like this and the world might lose their trust in you. You agreed with Tony. Rhodey and Sam were discussing, or perhaps fighting would be a better word, over the Accords. Tony just sat there looking like a rebellious teen listening to his parents' lectures.

To prove a point, Tony showed the team a picture of Charlie Spencer. He died in Sokovia after Ultron planned to drive the human race into extinction. You felt your heart drop. He just wanted to do some good and he was caught in the crossfire.

At that point, the fighting and bantering was too much and you just zoned everyone out. You wanted to cry and you knew that the team was slowly drifting apart. Steve walked out after receiving a text. You didn't ask why. He has a private life after all.

You decided to take your frustrations out on the punching bags. You finally had a home. A family. But you feel the world caving in around you. With one last punch, the punching bag came flying through the room engulfed in flames. You fell to your knees as tears clouded your vision. Dum-E, who Tony programmed to follow you around with a fire extinguisher as a joke, finally put his programming to use.

"Y/n." a familiar voice called to you

"Nat. Hey." you struggled through the tears.

"Talk to me."

"I- I just want the team to stay together. You guys are the only family I have."

"Me too, y/n. I used to have nothing till I found this family."

"I want to help. What can I do to help?"

"I'm off to Vienna for the signing of the Accords. I'm meeting Steve on the way to try and change his mind. Maybe you can help."

"I'll try."

Nat took you to a cathedral. Steve was on the other end by himself. He looks... tired. On the altar was a picture of Agent Carter.

"Oh. That's why he left."

"Hi, Steve. I just wanna say I am so sorry for your loss," you said as you walked towards him.

"Nat. Y/n. What are you doing here?"

"We didn't want you to be alone and I'm also taking y/n with me to Vienna for the signing of the Accords."

"There's plenty of room on the jet," you said

"Who else signed?"

"Tony, Rhodey, Vision."

"Wanda?"

"TBA."

"Clint?"

"He said he's retired."

"There's still time to change your mind, Steve. Come with us to Vienna." you pleaded one last time

"You know why I can't do this y/n. If I sign, we're surrendering our freedom to people with agendas different from ours."

You felt a lump in your throat. "I'll be in the car." You said to Nat as you turned around not looking at Steve once as you walked out of the church.

"She hates me now, doesn't she?"

"No, she doesn't. She's just scared."

Nat was right. As always. You got in the car and tried to meditate. You didn't want to cry. Not when cameras surrounded you. You tried to steady your breathing but your brain seemed to do the exact opposite.

~~~Flashback~~~

"Injecting serum in five seconds." an emotionless voice said. You tried to break free but you were strapped down to the table. Even if you weren't, it was like you were trapped in your own mind. You couldn't move. The next few hours were a blur to you. The only thing you remember was the excruciating pain coursing through your veins.

"Serum successfully administered."

"Good. Take her to the cell for the remainder of the process."

You woke up in a pool of sweat inside a dark room. Alone. Like you have been since you were a kid. You don't remember much of it. Sometimes you see your parents in your dreams. You were 5 years old and they took you to the park. Your mom was helping you get to the other end of the monkey bars while your dad went to get snow cones. You were happy. But that memory was soon followed by the sound of gunshots and screaming. You couldn't understand what was said but you didn't need to be a genius to know it was full of anger. Your mom told you to hide and you did. But they found you anyway. Since then, you were subjected to vigorous training. You now know 30 languages and deadly fighting skills. You became a weapon and today was the final step of your transformation. Eleven years of training and they deemed you ready. After they reprogrammed your brain to be obedient, of course.

The man in the army uniform handed you a folder. "Your first mission, soldatin," he said, "Procure the obelisk. No survivors. No witnesses. You have 48 hours. Report back here as soon as it is finished." You nodded and opened the folder. It was of a tiny village at the base of the Swiss Alps. In the middle of it was the said obelisk encased in glass. You took a handful of soldiers with you and you headed for the village.

You succeeded in your mission. The obelisk was safely placed inside a containment unit in the jet. The village was burned to the ground. Bodies were piled on the streets and the only sign of life was your team and a handful of livestock the villagers kept. With that, you headed back.

"Very good, soldatin. Go with the doctor." and like the good soldier that you were, you walked behind the man in the lab coat.

You passed by a few offices on your way to the medical wing. Amongst other things, the serum enhanced your hearing. The faintest whispers sounded like normal talking.

"You heard about the mission?"

"Yeah. I heard y/l/n didn't even show mercy for those villagers." the voice chuckled.

"Bettenhauser's gonna be pleased." said another.

"I bet. He and y/f/l/n worked together on the program and seeing it do its purpose mus be so satisfying"

"Her father was an asset for us. That was before he betrayed us, though."

"Well, we got her now. She is an even bigger asset than her father ever was."

You kept walking and you ended up in a room with four other people in coats. In the middle of a room was a large glass case with a chair.

"Step inside the chamber, soldatin. You need to rest." and just like that, your feet dragged you inside. One of the coats placed a mask on you amongst other things. You felt your eyelids getting heavier and heavier and heavier. Gone.

The glass chamber now safely enclosed your unconscious body. Your body was now as cold as ice.

~~~End of flashback~~~

Since that first mission, you had killed hundreds of people for HYDRA. Innocent people. They haunt your dreams to this day but what's done is done. All you could do is help as many as you can.

You were taken out of your trance by the sound of the car door closing. Nat now sat beside you.

"Eagle Hangar please," she said to the driver

The drive to the hangar was silent. So was the flight to Vienna.

"Here goes nothing," you said to Nat as the elevator doors opened. World leaders were gathered in the room and cameras were flashing everywhere. A lady with a clipboard checked you in and quickly walked away.

"I see you are not fans of the spotlight." said the man in the suit. You later learned his name was T'Challa. Prince of Wakanda.

"It isn't very flattering," Nat said to him.

"Well, considering your last trip to Capitol Hill, you seem to be doing great so far." you chuckled at his response. You read about that months ago. You even saw it on YouTube on "Black Widow most iconic moments compilation.

"You don't seem like a big fan as well." You told him

"The accords, yes. The politics? not very. Two men in the same room can get more done than a hundred."

"Unless you need to move a piano." the voice behind you said

"King T'Chaka. This is Y/n Y/l/n. Allow us to apologize for what happened in Nigeria."

"Thank you, Ms. Romanoff. I'm sad to hear Captain Rogers won't be joining us."

"That makes three of us." You replied to him.

Just then, you heard a voice come on through the speakers asking everyone to take a seat. King T'Chaka was giving a statement when both yours and Nat's attention was drawn to his son who was looking out the window.

"EVERYBODY GET DOWN!" He screamed as he bolted for his father.

Like instinct, you threw yourself in front of Nat. It's something that you started doing after you joined the team. You thought after all the lives you've taken, protecting as many as you can could "wipe the red off your ledger" as Nat put it. You were a very effective human shield as a result of the serums. You weren't immortal nor did you have instantaneous healing due to the reaction between the two serums but you still healed faster compared to average humans. You felt a spray of glass cut through your skin and a searing heat touched your skin. Search and rescue came after the explosion and took you and Nat to get medical attention. You were perfectly fine but Nat had a few cuts and bruises. In typical Nat fashion, she walked it off like it was nothing.

You were taken to a tent to get a fresh set of clothes while Nat talked to Prince T'Challa, now king under horrible circumstances. When you got out, he was gone and she was on the phone.

A few minutes later, your phone rang.

Captain Grandpa calling...

you dropped the call and went to check on NAt

~~~BUCHAREST~~~

News outlets revealed Sargeant Barnes, Bucky, was behind the bombing. You knew Steve was gonna go after him. He'd been looking for Bucky since SHIELD fell. Now, he found him in Romania. Orders were given to shoot him on sight and Steve wouldn't let that happen.

~~~BERLIN~~~

Bucky was now in custody.

"What part of don't make things worse didn't you understand?" you asked Steve

You were in one of the offices watching Bucky getting evaluated by the doctor. You were in the other room talking to Tony about what would happen to your teammates.

"We're lucky they aren't in jail," he said

This was all too much. You went to the bathroom to splash some water on your face. You hadn't slept in 24 hours nor eaten anything. You looked in the mirror and fixed your hair as best you could.

BLACKOUT.

What was happening? You ran out and saw a lot of commotion.

"Get me eyes on Barnes," yelled Everett Ross.

You saw Nat and Tony walking towards the exit.

"What happened? What can I do?" you asked

"Don't know. We need to find Barnes." Tony said

"Please tell me you brought a suit," said Nat

"Sure did. It's a lovely Tom Ford three-piece two-button. I'm on active duty non-combatant."

Just as he said that Agent Carter, the younger, ran past you "follow me," she said. The three of you did and she led you to the facility's lobby.

You had never met Sgt. Barnes but from what Steve told you, he was a good man. The person you saw in the lobby was not him. He reminded you of your time at HYDRA. Cold and merciless. A soldier.

Sharon and Nat ran in and tried to fight him to no avail. You managed to get him down but he pinned you n the floor. He was trying to choke you and as a last effort to break free, you took a deep breath and exhaled a stream of fire. He dodged out of the way and you managed to get up. The next thing you saw was T'Challa going after him. You set fire to the staircase to slow him down but he still got away

You went outside only to see Steve on the rooftop pulling a helicopter from the sky. Sometimes you forget that he's a super-soldier just like you.

"Y/n coordinate evac. Get civilians as far away as you can," said Tony through comms. You wanted to help Steve but you got your orders.

~~~Fast forward to Berlin~~~

You did what Tony said and got civilians to a safe distance. When you went to meet with Nat and Tony, they told you Steve and Bucky were gone. They assumed Sam was with them too.

~~~Steve's POV~~~

"This would've been a lot easier a week ago," said Sam

"If we call Tony or maybe y/n--" he cut you off

"Who knows if the accords will let them help." he had a point. After everything that's happened, the UN would not listen to them even if they found out about Zemo.

"We're on our own."

"Maybe not." you looked at him questioningly. "I know a guy"

~~~End of POV~~~

You were now back in a conference room with General Ross. He gave you 36 hours to bring the three men in. He wouldn't hesitate to kill Steve if it meant bringing Barnes in.

"My left arm is numb. Is that normal?" he asked. Nat put her hand on his shoulder.

"You alright?" she asked

"Always." you knew that was a lie. Numbness in the left arm was a sign of a heart attack. But he's Tony. he could be bleeding to death and still say witty sarcastic remarks. You wish he didn't do that. You wished he'd open up to you more. "36 hours. Geez."

"We're seriously understaffed," said Nat. It was just the three of you there now.

"Would be great if we had a hulk right about now. Any shot?" Nat shook her head

Not even the Hulk. It would be nice if just Bruce and Thor were there. Maybe things wouldn't be as bad. Bruce and Thor would've deescalated matters before you could say Mjolnir.

"You really think he would be on our side?" she asked. You hadn't thought of that but knowing Bruce, he would want the team to be together.

"I have an idea." Said Nat

"ME too. Where's yours?

"Downstairs. Where's yours?" said tony.

~~~QUEENS~~~

"Spiderman? really?" you asked Tony in the car.

"HE stopped a 3000 lbs car going 40 miles an hour wit his bare hands and he swings from webs."

"But he's dressed in a red hoodie and swim goggles." you chuckled. It was probably the lightest moment you had in the last week alone.

You and Tony knocked on the apartment door. It was answered by a middle-aged woman. She was beautiful honestly. She had those kind motherly eyes that reminded you of your mom.

"Hi. I'm Tony Stark. This is y/n y/l/n. Is Mr. Parker here? we have some good news for him." Tony sad

"I'm May., his aunt and no he's not here. He should be home soon though. You're welcome to wait." she invited you in and served you some walnut and date bread. It was horrible but you didn't have the heart to tell her. she was so nice.

"So what is this good news you're here about?" she asked. Tony didn't actually tell you what his plan was. Not in full anyways so you were just as curious as her.

"Oh its a grant from the September foundation that he applied for. I approved." as far as bullshit made-on-the-spot excuses go, that was pretty good.

"Oh, he never told me that.

"He probably wanted to surprise you," you said to her

"Probably. Are you also a receiver of the grant?" she asked

"No. I'm interested in how the foundation is run so I asked to be here" she nodded. You didn't think she'd buy it but she did. Just as he said that the front door opens and a young guy walked in. He couldn't have been much younger than you. He had his earphones n and he was going on about this nice car parked outside. Tony's of course.

He saw the three of you on the sofa and he was clearly starstruck upon seeing Tony. He couldn't even speak without stuttering. He repeated his excuse to Peter and he surprisingly went along with it. Tony asked for five minutes alone with him and you were left in the living room with Aunt May. When they got out of the room, Peter informed his aunt that Tony invited him to the compound to talk more about the internship. You knew it was a lie of course because just a few hours later, Peter was standing next to you on the car to the airport.

~~~BERLIN~~~

Vision informed you that Clint came to get Wanda at the compound. Immediately, you knew this wasn't gonna end well. You don't want to fight her but you don't have a choice

As a last effort, you tried calling Steve but hews just declining your calls. Eventually, none of them would even go through.

~~~Fast forward~~~

"Steve, you know what's about to happen. Do you really want to punch your way out of this one?" Nat said.

"Just come with us. Please," you pleaded. He looked at the both of you

"Alright, I've run out of patience. Underoos!" yelled tony. just as he did, Peter grabbed Steve's should and landed on top of the helicopter

"Nice job kid"

"Thanks. I could've stuck the landing a little better. It's just the new suit but it's perfect, Mr. Stark" he went on this babbling for about 45 seconds. You thought it was funny.

~~~

"I'm trying to keep you from tearing the Avengers apart," Tony said. You wanted the same thing. You all do.

"You did that when you signed," said Steve

"You're gonna turn Barnes over and you're gonna come with us now because it's us" You could hear the sadness and frustration in Tony's voice. "Come on" he whispered

You heard Sam's voice through Steve's earpiece "We found it. The quintet is in hangar five. North runway." you let out a deep breath. This was it. Steve raised his arm as Redwing cut through his restraints.

"Alright Lang," said Steve

"What the hell was that?" asked Rhodes

"I believe this is yours, Captain America"

"Oh great. There's two on the parking deck. One of them is Maximoff. I'm gonna go grab her. Y/n come with me. Rhodey, wanna take Cap?" said Tony as he grabbed you by the arm and flew towards Wanda... and Clint?

"There's two on the terminal. Wilson and Barnes"

"Barnes is mine," said T'Challa

~~~Fast Forward~~~

"Wanda. I think you hurt Vision's feelings"

"You locked me in my room."

"I did it to protect you."

"Wanda, stop this now. I don't want to fight you but you know I will."

"I can't live in fear anymore, y/n." and with that, she used her powers to drop cars at you.

"I'm done playing nice. You want a fight? I'll give you a fight." you said as you aimed fireblasts at her and Clint.

A fight has now ensued between the two teams. Tony attached a miniaturized jet pack to your back so you could chase after the others. Steve and the others were making a run for the hangar when Vision used his laser to stop them in their tracks. You landed in front of them, skin now glowing red from the fire inside you. The others followed suit.

"You must surrender now." Vision's voice thundered over you despite being in an open space. You were now face to face with your friends.

"What do we do, Cap?" asked Sam

"We fight."

"This isn't gonna end well," whispered Nat

"They're not stopping," said Peter

"Neither are we."

a/n: what do you guys think? I hope you like it. it's my first time writing fanfic. criticism would be greatly appreciated. part two coming soon depending on the response to this...

28 notes · View notes