Imagine if... A set of Marvel Imagines

Imagine if you wrote him a letter

1942. Smooth vehicles ride pass, evening light bouncing off of white paint, distracting anyone from the black smog radiating from the back end of the car. A silent figure sits alone on a bar stool, legs crossed, back strait, a cup of coffee in one hand. Their steady hand sweeps effortlessly across smooth paper, ink flowing from the tip of an expensive silver fountain pen. Expertly crafted letters spill onto white sheets along with small drops of salted water and contained sobs. Paper is folded slowly and placed into a crumpled envelope, stuck slowly and placed in a purse next to an apple red lipstick and a snow white nail polish. Carefully carried to its destination.

"Steve?" Tony called, strutting into the Avengers living room, a small leather bag on his arm "S.H.I.E.L.D sent us some of your stuff they found from 'back in the good old days'. I, personally don't think it's your colour."

"Huh?" Steve mumbled, looking up from The half -blood prince. Tony just stared back at him, "What? Oh." He put down the book and carefully grabs the purse, feeling the cow skin almost disintegrate in his fingers. Turning it over a puzzled expression pulled at his face, confused at the unfamiliarity but yet homely feel of the style.

"So were you a model or something?" Tony asked, not snapping Steve out of his trance, if anything, pushing him deeper.

Flipping open the bag he pulled out two items from inside the flimsy material, a pale nail polish and a single golden tube engraved with a letter, R. Pulling apart the cylinder Steve stared at the crimson colour, a dreadful pain in his chest. The kind of pain that reminds you of all of the bad things, a pain that paralyses you in you in your step, that sticks you to your spot and pulls apart your hope. The kind of pain that if it happened again you would surely not survive. The kind of pain that kills every good part of a person and turns them into mush. The kind of pain you push to the very bottom of yourself, that you try to forget, that always resurfaces.

Memories flooded into him, some good, mostly bad. A voice, a whisper, an angry screaming shout, a cry that could haunt any living being to their grave. 

Shaking fingers pulled an envelope into the open, paper fragile and brown in his hands, long unsealed, three pages falling onto his lap, each double sided, each falling apart at the seams. Uncertain eyes skirting over the words, eyes blurry, breathing ragged. The words swoop widely across the page, words illegible if you weren't used to them, a handwriting only one person possessed.

Stevie,

It's been a few months now, people are forgetting, I never will. I am certain you are not dead, and I am certain I am correct because I am never wrong. I̶ ̶d̶o̶ ̶n̶o̶t̶ ̶m̶i̶s̶s̶ ̶y̶o̶u̶. I miss you dearly, I shan't lie for it is unlikely you shall ever read this, and I hope to God you d̶o̶n̶'̶t̶ do.

I apologise, although I am sure it was never my fault, I let it go too far. What you said I do not believe but what I said I stand by, I shall never live if I am nothing, s̶u̶r̶e̶l̶y̶   s̶u̶r̶l̶e̶y̶  surely you could understand. If I am to speak the truth I envy you. I want to help, I want to be great, I want to save people, I want to be you. And I shall do what I said.

I know that now you are mister big and muscly you feel you can tell me what to do but you will always be the same person. I wish with every strand of me to see you, to tell you I am sorry, to tell you I never should have left. But I can't. You are not here anymore, not here to hold me back. I just wish you would trust me, treat me like the adult I am, let me do what I wanted with out worrying that if I was dropped I would shatter. 

I am a grown woman and I shall do what I please, but understand, I love you, Stevie. I miss you, I want you back, but matters aren't in my hands, I cant control the future but I know I shan't see you again.

I love you brother, please stay safe.

Y/n

Water dotted the paper, smudging the ink into ripples and waves of singular words. Silent sobs escaped his tightened lips. Tony stood stationary behind Steve's shoulder, mouth slightly ajar, confused eyes rereading the page.

"Where did they find it?" Steve asked, an unidentified expression on his face, Tony stayed silent, "Where did they find it?" Steve repeated, slightly more aggressive this time.

"In a bombed out S.H.I.E.L.D base in Brooklyn. All of it was destroyed apart from a few safes, presumably for the agent's stuff. I didn't know." Tony mumbled, "No survivors."

"Oh Y/n, my sister. You stupid, stupid, stupid girl."