Loose Ends

Death is not the End

A/N: Well silly me, I realized I should include some additional warnings. I usually write on other sites that have warnings via tags. You should know this series includes dark themes and graphic depictions of violence, trauma, mind control, non-consensual touching and rape, suicidal thoughts, and self-harm. These are all very spaced out and this is technical a sequel to the book "Deaming of You" but I've written it in a way that you can read it without reading the other one first. If you haven't all you really need to know to know is Steve, Bucky and the Reader in a Polyamorous relationship and she is a SHIELD Analyst, not an Avenger with the power to feel and influences dreams/fantasies. She can influence and read the emotions of those around her and walk through people's dreams with a token of theirs or skin-to-skin contact. 

If you have read the first one you a good idea of my style of hot sex and rough violence all with a carefully intertwined story and my tendency to twist the plot a little as well. I'm new to Wattpad, but not to fanfiction. I wanted to move some of my stories here to see if I could get some more comments and engagement and inspiration to keep writing. I hope if you enjoy your comment and start a conversation. I'm really excited to engage and I hope you like my stories. I'll fill in some specific warnings before each chapter, but generally lots of sex and violence. 

** Warning: Self-harm, intrusive thoughts, and triggering mention of suicide.

Your POV

No. No, no, no, no, no. I can't get control of my heart. Beating out of control and feels like it wants to shatter. Sam is there, his arms wrapped around me, and I will feel so bad for him later. When he has nightmares that are fueled by my heartbreak pouring out of my skin and into his. Tears are sticking to my face and eyelashes. I feel Clint; his hand touches my shoulder, careful to stay off the skin of my arm and push back. They want me out of the room. I don't belong here.

I'm not an Avenger. As part of the Avenger initiative, I provide information and sit at a desk as an analyst. Although back when this was under the umbrella of SHIELD, I got some training, it wasn't nearly enough for me to be considered an agent then and certainly not now. No. I'm here because the two men I loved, who loved me back, and lived with me, were missing. Fury thought it would be a good idea not to tell me that this man, close enough to be my husband, was sitting on a slab at Avenger's headquarters. So he would meet my fury.

Sam, probably my best friend in this tower, beside the two super soldiers I am in a polyamorous relationship with, keeps me from seeing the Captain. It's too late. Steve Rogers lay on the silver autopsy table, his body limp, his face soft, and his bloody and torn uniform. Steve. My Steve.

No. No. No. No. Rage erupts from me. I hear myself scream, but I don't remember doing it. Every human in the room hits the deck. Sam lets me go immediately. Clint stumbles back. Nat takes a knee, her teeth grinding. Nick Fury stumbles and steps back like he is shielding his eyes. Wanda steps back, her stance defensive as her eyes glow red and her power collects around her hands. My power spreads around her like a wave of an ocean parting around her. Two others I don't know collapse outright on the floor, and Tony Stark curls in on his chest as the pain of Steve's death rolls over me and then into them. My anger tastes like red hot lava in my mouth and ash.

I step up to the table. Shaking. Steve. He's pale, his face slack. I touch the Captain America cowl, feeling the echo of him run through me. His uniform. I've touched it so many times, and this is his uniform, familiar soft-covered kevlar. My heart pounds, and tears fall freely down my face. I feel the last time I kissed him goodbye rush through my mind with vivid detail. A kiss, sweet and quick as he took a banana from me and darted out the door with Bucky. Another mission. Another Day. He'd be home soon. Steve. No. No.