Insert coin (or vibranium shield) and lots of love to save your beloved one from another dimension :D
The request from @sailorbettery regarding the final episode of AA S3! And since I am a believer of true love always saves the day so I can’t help but draw my version of the story :D So let me introduce to you the Capsule Toy Machine version of Dimension (Yeah sorry I know it looks like a Crystal Ball and please don’t ask me how Steve’s shield was inserted and then come back let’s say it is the power of love (what)) and the happy ending they deserve :D
I have only slept for a few hours and after drawing this for more than four hours I don’t really know what I am drawing/saying, all things seem to make sense when I was half falling asleep at that time so sorry please forgive me for the bugs QwQ
Them: Tony Stark killed innocent people he’s a disgusting murderer and I hate him i hope he dies.
Me, pulling out receipts with a weary sigh: Literally five minutes ago you posted a gif of a certain Mr Barnes as he hurled a cinderblock at an innocent man’s face and captioned it “this is my kink” so,,, What Is The Truth Here.
After Gwen’s death, New York City suddenly found itself without one red and black latex suit. Peter simply couldn’t function. His grief, his pain, wrapped him up in a tight grip that he couldn’t fight. He couldn’t fight crime when he was laying in his bed, wishing he could have saved her. In the day’s passing her death, he came up with hundreds of different ways to save her life as nightmares began to become a nightly event. Several times a night.
Two weeks came and went. Peter forced himself to go to school then, but his suit remained in his closet. He wasn’t sure he was going back. How could he save other people when he had failed to save her? How could he save other people and their loved ones, when the ones he held closest to his heart were killed. Uncle Ben. Gwen. Who else would fall from his grasp?
One night, as he studied and forced himself to do his chemistry homework, came a double tap on his window. Looking up, he found Deadpool hanging upside down there, mask showing the hints of a smile beneath. Peter sighed very, very heavily, but did get up to open the window.
Tony is filled with dread at the thought of the team returning because he knows that they'll blame him for the exile. He can see it; Steve for him losing his temper in Siberia even though he had reason; Clint will throw another jab about breaking a back; Wanda blames him for anything. But he's done with them. As he sits at the compound waiting for there return he goes over every interaction and wondered why he ever considered these people his friends his only real friends were Rhodey and Bruce
Yes, he is. He really is done with them. It’s actually a surprisingly…freeing conclusion, once Tony allows himself to believe that. Because you see, Tony never does anything half-way. When he realised his weapons were hurting the wrong people, he didn’t put the deliveries on stricter security, he shut the entire production down. We can stand all day here, arguing about whether or not that’s a good thing, but the point is when Tony does something, he does it 100%, no take backs, right from the start.
And when he comes to the internal decision that Steve, Clint and Wanda aren’t his friends, aren’t his team mates, that changes things. Maybe not as much as it should have, because he’s still far too generous as far as Rhodey is concerned, but still.
No, Tony isn’t going to stop his work to get the ex-team back on US ground, but his motivation changes. It’s not…personal as much anymore. It’s because it will be an advantage once the fight–the one Tony’s been warning them of from the start, and no, he isn’t bitter about that at all.
But it’s easier now, to face them again when they inevitably return. It’s easier to brush off the sharp comments and thinly veiled insults, to put on a smile for the cameras and disappear into the crowd as soon as the pictures have been taken.
On the surface nothing has changed. But mentally, accepting that his former team mates aren’t his friends, that maybe they never were, helps Tony in ways even he doesn’t fully understand.
It puts a distance between them and him, emotionally. And until it’s there Tony never even realised how much he needs that.
Weeks later, when Steve tries to extend a hand, genuinely contrite, tries to fix things between them, Tony lets the call go to voicemail and never listens to the message–not even on purpose, simply because he’s busy and FRIDAY is no longer required to remind him of those things, because Steve has lost that status a long time ago.
It takes even longer for Steve (and far longer for Clint) to realise that though. Realise that, at some point, Tony has stopped waiting for them. And if that bothers them more than either of them would like to admit, well. That’s hardly Tony’s problem anymore, is it?
First post in a while, but I wasn’t in a great mental state since September. But I’m back and have 3 imagines queued up and I’m working on a series. Steve Rogers fluff imagine up on Sunday! Requests are open!
Pairing: Tony Stark x Reader
Word Count: 2.1k
*’s are time jumps
Italics are dreams
Tony thought Steve was
joking. That when he called while on the mission that it was some sick joke you
were playing on him. He didn’t believe Steve when he said you were dead.
Mission gone wrong.
He didn’t believe it
until he saw you laying on the table. He didn’t see the bright (Y/E/C) eyes he
had come to love, or your delicate, warm hands. He only saw a white sheet over
your pale, bruised body, your clouded eyes looking straight up at the ceiling,
all the life drained from the figure in front of him. The last bits of hope
left his soul when he reached for your hand, only to find a cold, rigid limb.
He broke down then,
collapsing in on himself as he realized you were gone. There was no bringing
you back no matter what he would try. It was a horrible scene for everybody to
watch. Tony sank to his knees, shaking and trying to move, only to coil into
himself as he struggled to stop the tears from running down his face and breath
steadily like you used to help him with. He could only focus on your hands,
your cold, lifeless hands. Every fibre in his body hurt, and he knew there was
nothing anyone could do to make it go away.
Bruce and Steve were the
ones who went to help him. They lifted him off the floor, and as he tried
reaching for you again, held him back, as he ran off, stopping halfway to the
lab, trying to catch his breath and sinking to the floor again.
Everyone knew this was
Tony’s undoing, they knew this wasn’t going to get better. He was broken
without you, a man without purpose, and it was with a heavy heart that they
knew as they watched him struggle to the bedroom you used to share, that they
had lost their friend.
Tony really did try in
the beginning. He would try to eat regularly, sleep the best he could, and
wouldn’t even look at the large wall of liquors in front of him. He wanted to
do better in your memory, he wanted to make you proud, wanted to be the man you
made him. But he couldn’t. Not when he would accidentally make two cups of
coffee in the morning, putting cream in he one next to his before realizing no
one was there to drink it. Not when he would reach for a hand in the middle of
the bed, only to find a cold, empty space where you used to lay. Not when the
only thing that kept you out of his mind was bourbon and whiskey.
He never left the
bedroom. Never went to the lab. Only left to do 2 missions, both of which he
spent mindlessly shooting HYDRA agents in a rage, realizing they were the ones
who killed you. Then returning to his isolated spot in the quinjet before
returning to the bedroom when it landed. They had all tried to reason with
him- not even Rhodey or Bruce could get
him out- the only company he had was alcohol, FRIDAY, and his own.
It had been three months
since he saw you on that table, and it went on with no interruptions to his new
schedule. He woke up unsure of where he was after a short hour and a half of
sleep, ate a few pieces of bread that Wanda had dropped off every morning,
downed a bottle of water, and started drinking again. Everything between 9 am
that morning and his present time, was a blur. He only knew that it was now 2
am, and that your side of the bed was still- as it had been for the past three
months- too cold.
He knew he would be
riddled with nightmares, happy memories of you the two of you before you ended
up dead again, and he would wake up, in the midst of a panic attack, unable to
breath until he almost passed out and to repeat the process until he was
physically too exhausted to even move. But he fell asleep anyway, almost
begging for the numb pain in his chest to stop.
You stood in front of Tony in a pair of black
sweatpants and an extremely large Black Sabbath shirt he knew you had stolen
from him. He didn’t mind it though. You were smiling, your white teeth shining
as you laughed, your eyes crinkling at the sides as you bent your head down to
look at the floor, something you always did when you laughed too hard.
The words left your mouth in a euphonic voice as Tony
“I love you, Tony.”
Tony reached out to you, cupping your soft cheek in
his hand as he watched you raise your head again, your eyes bright with
happiness and content. He felt the same feeling fill the emptiness in his
chest, and mirrored your smile as he watched you reach your hand out to hold
his free one. Everything was right, nothing was out of place. There were no bad
guys destroying the world, no fights between the two of you, no one to disrupt
the perfect moment. It was only you and Tony, enjoying each others presence.
Your smile faltered only slightly as he cupped your
cheek, as you shivered gently and looked up at him. The words that left your
mouth next were the ones he had dreaded in the past few months, the ones that
always pulled him out of his perfect fantasy.
“I’m cold, Tony.”
It was when you looked up further, staring him
directly in the eye when everything started falling apart.
Your eyes clouded over ever so slightly, the happiness
being replaced by worry and fear as Tony stared at you falling apart in his
arms. Your skin started to flush, leaving you with a blue and grey tone that
made Tony uneasy, he knew what was happening, and he knew there was nothing he
could do to save you.
“Tony, I’m so cold.”
Your temperature dropped suddenly, and that’s when the
tears started spilling from your eyes, making Tony try and push you away, not
wanting to see the hurt and pain that you were experiencing, feeling his own eyes
“Stop.” He said simply.
“Tony, it hurts! I’m so cold!” You yelled, dropping
the floor in a heap, screaming out his name, complaining about the cold, yelling
for him to come back.
He woke up screaming,
with tears rolling down his face and his breathing erratic. He couldn’t see
properly, the tears obstructing his vision making the blurriness that always
accompanied his panic attacks even worse. He was used to it by now, but that
didn’t mean it hurt any less.
As he cried and screamed,
he thought he was falling back to sleep when he heard the voice.
Your voice. The voice he
loved so much, it hurt. He wrapped his fingers through his hair as he rocked
himself back and forth on the bed, crying and trying to control his breathing.
“It’s not real…” He got
out, knowing that you were gone there was no way he was hearing your voice. You
But you were. Standing by
the door of his room, you were watching as the man you loved was being torn
apart by the memory of you.
Not being able to stand
it any longer, you walked forward, finding your way in front of him, so that
you were next to his side of the bed, about to touch his shoulder when you
pulled your hand back and decided you needed more time to get to him before you
scared and hurt him even more. Fighting back tears that you didn’t even think
you had left in you, you opened your mouth and spoke again.
“Tony… Tony calm down,
you’re okay. You’re safe.” You said, slowly sinking down to the carpet,
watching as it only got worse.
It was killing him. He
really thought you were dead. It was killing you too. Taking a step back, you
went to your side of the bed, and gently placed your right hand on his left one,
which was shaking uncontrollably as he tried to take in enough oxygen to calm
himself down again.
“You’re okay… You’re
safe.” You said, gently stroking the top of his hand with your thumb, feeling
him calm down slightly.
“Tony, I need you to look
at me.” He wouldn’t. Probably couldn’t, but you weren’t giving up.
You moved closer to him,
until you were sitting right beside him as he looked up, vision clearing
slightly, as he comprehended what was going on at that moment.
You were beside him. The
warmth of your hand on his, and the sound of your voice was real.
He turned to look at you
and took in your state. You weren’t deadly pale, you looked slightly sick, with
red eyes and cheeks, eyes puffy as if you had been crying. You weren’t looking
as lively as you used to, your shoulders slumped slightly, and your hair a bit
of a mess. But you were there. Your eyes were still open, and your hand was on
You were warm.
“How- what,” he tried to
speak, but having still not fully recovered from his last attack, you shushed
him and moved forward so you were embracing each other, arm tightly wrapped
around his shoulders.
“I promise, I’ll explain
later. But right now, I just want to be with you.” You said, and he nodded into
your shoulder, burying his face into the crook of your shoulder as you sat
And that’s what you did,
you lay there not saying a word as you held each other. By the time either of
you were ready to speak, the sun was starting to rise, and Tony had his head on
your chest as you ran your fingers through his hair with one hand, and held
onto his hand with your own.
You took a breath before
speaking, knowing you owed him an explanation.
“During the Reshkov
mission, Nat and I found some files that detailed a capture and torture mission
that would end with me being killed. I brought them to Fury right after the
mission and he started working a plan that would make it seem like I was killed
on a mission so that I wasn’t a target or worry anymore, and it would give me
time to shut the entire operation down on my own.” You started.
“I was only told the
details the day we were going to fake it. Fury told me that I couldn’t tell
anyone, not even you what was about to happen. He told me that there was an
undercover in there that would inject me and make it look like I died, but I
couldn’t tell you, because there was surveillance everywhere, and they had eyes
in the tower as well.”
“You still couldn’t tell
me somewhere else?” He said, voice breaking in slight anger and severe hurt.
“I tried to, I wanted to
tell you what was going on, but they did it before I could.” You started to
choke up, remembering all the video footage you had seen of Tony since the
“I didn’t see any of the
footage until 2 days after, when I woke up. They showed me everything. Tony, I
wanted to come home so bad, I saw how it was killing you and it killed me. Fury
had a hard time keeping me in containment. They said as soon as I wiped out all
of Reshkov, I could come home. So, I did, and the minute I was done, I told
Fury to send me home. I’m so sorry. I never want to be the cause of your pain
You didn’t care that you
were crying at that point. You didn’t care that as he pulled you down to eye
level, he could see how much of a mess you were.
He slowly leaned in and
kissed you gently, which you returned happily as you took the moment to relish
in the time you were back together. Every emotion you had felt was poured into
that kiss, until he pulled away and held you close to him, both of you slowly
drifting off as you both realized that everything was going to be okay now.
You were half asleep when
Tony spoke up again, quietly as he didn’t want to startle you.
“(Y/N)?” He asked. You
made a sound of acknowledgement, and he held in a breath as he asked the
“Are you cold?”
You took a moment to
respond, shaking your head against his chest as you started drifting off.