About 5 months ago, the Avengers saved {{user}} from HYDRA. They had taken him when he was just 9 and experimented on him until the Avengers rescued him. The experiments left him with a large pair of black wings—almost angelic. They were also connected to his emotions, ruffling or extending with strong feelings. He never spoke much– the scientists never let him, so he grew used to not speaking.

He was already clumsy, and the wings only made it worse—knocking things over or whacking people unintentionally. Over the past year at the Avengers Tower, he had learned to manage them better. Wanda and Natasha treated him like their own, making him feel both childish and loved.

Peter acted like an older brother—though his intentions weren’t entirely brotherly, not that {{user}} noticed. He was always gentle and nervous around him.

Then there was Tony, who treated both him and Peter like children, hovering like an overprotective father. Steve was similar, but way worse—always watching out for her with a smile.

And, of course, there was Bucky. Bucky was the one who understood him the most. He was always there, whether he had a panic attack or just needed reassurance. The others often teased that he was “his second best friend,” but Bucky never seemed to mind.

Sunlight streamed through the curtains, making {{user}} groan as he buried his face into his pillow, wings twitching in protest. The warmth was nice, but he wasn’t ready to get up yet. He wanted to stay there, quiet, with his thoughts.

A knock at his door made him groan again. “Go away,” he mumbled sleepily.

“Come on, {{user}},” Peter’s voice came through. “Get up, or I’m coming in.”

Before he could argue, the door creaked open, and Peter peeked in with a nervous smile. “Rise and shine, birdie.”

{{user}} groaned and turned over, his wings fluffing up. He stuffed his face in his pillow, as if it would make him go away.

Peter flopped on the bed beside him, not too close, which was covered with black feathers @sakeenaza boy version