#clint barton reader insert

[shewhohangsoutincemeteries]

to ashes, development

Clint Barton x F!Reader

To Ashes, Chapter Thirty-Five

Chapter Summary: a development on a mission means it's time to move on.

Warnings: angst, fluff, canon-typical violence.

Word Count: 2,313

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Days Since the Decimation: Three Years, Eighty-Five Days

“Holy shit, you got any idea how fuckin’ hard I am right now?”

You wrinkled your nose. “Oh, gross.”

Clint frowned.

“What? It’s seedy as hell,” you waved a hand. “You take me to the worst places.”

You swore, you could actually see him roll his eyes from the other side of the building. “Not exactly poetic, are they?”

The two of you were on top of an old disused warehouse in Harringay, listening with distaste as the men inside discussed their, ugh, merchandise. What was it with men and guns?

The weapons ring you’d fought in Holland Park was still at large, and Clint had spent the last two weeks tracking them down again. Honestly it was a testament to them that it had taken him this long, even without his old SHIELD connections. Whoever they were, they weren’t street level thugs.

…It made you feel the tiniest bit better about them getting the better of you in the park.

Clint had scrubbed through the local police files for any clues as to where they were setting up house. Between that and his own reconnaissance, he’d managed to track one of their prominent dealers to right under your feet.

“You still clear on the plan?”

Nodding, you unhooked the safety hood of your holster. “Yeah. Yeah, I got it.”

“Y/N…”

You looked up with a raised brow, fixing him with a pointed look. “Are you really about to lecture me about not taking revenge?”

Clint met your eye with an almost exasperated expression. “Point taken.”

“You ready for this?”

“That’s my line.”

“I’ll take that as a ‘yes’.” you smirked, stretching out a kink in your neck. “Let’s go to work.”

***

You were really getting tired of these guys.

That’s the only thought that came to you as you rolled behind the crates to your left, gun still in your hand. You came to a kneel, your back meeting the wood with a dull thump. They were too prepared, to ready for the two of you.

This wasn’t supposed to end in a shootout. This was supposed to be a quick job, and yet… how did they know about the two of you? They’d mentioned a boss in the park, someone who had guessed you’d been Clint’s back up, but still… they knew you were coming. Not well enough to lay a proper trap, to ambush you before you got inside, but well enough to be ready.

You ducked lower with a curse as wood shattered above you, large splinters raining down on top of you. Thankful for the hood that kept them out of your hair, you exhaled and turned to fire two shots back around the corner. One shot went wide, but you smiled grimly as the second bullet buried itself in a man’s shoulder. He cursed in a heavy Eastern European accent as you ducked back behind the crate.

“Did you have a plan B for tonight, or are we winging this?” you said into your comms. You heard a cry go up among those shooting at you, followed by shouts of confusion and a few wild shots. You winced despite yourself for a second, waiting for a response in your ear to assure you that they’d missed.

“I’m working on one,” Clint replied gruffly, and you released a small, relieved breath despite your faith in him.

“So… winging it, it is then,” you sighed wearily, setting a new magazine into your handgun and adjusting your hold on the grip. “You know, I kinda hate being the one to draw their fire.”

“I’ll make note of it for next time,” he replied dryly, and another gurgling cry went up among the men between the two of you as Clint shot back out of the shadows long enough to take one of them down. He sliced up two – the one you’d wounded and the man closest to him. “Don’t do anything stupid, alright? We’ve got this under control.”

“Do we?”

“You doubt me?”

“I—”

“Fuck this!” shouted one of them – a burly brunette with a greying beard and tattoos scattered over his biceps. “Get one of the pushka out here and end this!”

“Clint—” you said warningly, stealing a glance over the crates.

“Don’t panic,” he warned, and you swore you caught the glimpse of silver in a brief shift of the light to let you know exactly where he was. “You’re not their biggest problem right now.”

“Clint—”

A deafening blast sounded and you fell forward, hands flying automatically to your ears. The crate to your left exploded – as did the wall in front of you, burst apart in a wave of electric blue energy.

“Holy—”

“Y/N!”

“I’m fine, just—”

“Forget the bitch! Get the Ronin!”

You scrambled away from where you’d hidden, throwing yourself behind an old forklift. Too late, you realized you’d left your gun behind, having dropped it when your hands had flown to your ears. Swearing to yourself, you winced as another blast fired. The building itself groaned as they blew another hole in a wall.

“What the hell is that thing?!”

“Just get outta here, Y/N! I’ll distract—”

“Don’t you fucking dare, Barton!”

“Just go!” he barked back. “Now!”

“Goddamn it!” you growled, standing as you heard the men shout that they’d spotted the Ronin above them. You saw the gun – a bazooka-like cannon – turn upward, point directly at the shadowy figure above. “Stubborn-ass-son-of-a—”

The blaster fired, and you swept your arm upward in the same moment. A shield appeared seconds before the energy wave could hit Clint, knocking him to the side. The energy wave just barely glanced off the shield before blowing a hole in the roof and sending debris collapsing down on the men below.

“What are you—?”

“Take the moment, Clint; you can yell at me later!” you spat back through gritted teeth, sprinting towards the group still shielding themselves from falling bricks and timber. “Get out! I’m right behind you!”

Pulling the knife from the back of your belt, you turned it in your grip and plunged it into the hand of the man closest to the crate they’d pulled the pushka from, ignoring the way he screamed. You released it, instead grabbing the first weapon you could from the crate – thankfully, a much smaller hand-gun style weapon – and kept running. A few men managed to get off a few shots before you were clear, and you winced as you felt a bullet tear through your sleeve to graze your forearm.

Feet pounding too loud on the pavement, you made it quickly to an alleyway across the street, tucking your prize under your injured arm as you grabbed hold of the rung of a fire escape ladder with your other arm and swung yourself upwards. You could hear the building behind you continue to collapse as you climbed the ladder, and you winced as a hand gripped yours as you reached the top.

“Are you insane?”

“Are you?” you shot back breathlessly as Clint pulled you up onto the roof beside him. “What the hell kind of plan was that? You were gonna let them shoot you with that thing?”

“I’m faster than I look, Y/N,” he pointed out sourly. “And now they know—”

“They don’t know shit,” you argued. “There’s no way they could see the difference between that shield and whatever the hell they were shooting at us with.”

“It was still really stupid, Y/N.”

“You’re welcome.”

Clint gave you a look that somehow managed to look grateful and exasperated all at once.

“Oh, and I totally get MVP this mission.”

“Is that a thing?” he replied dryly.

“It is now,” you said proudly, finally managing to catch your breath. Ignoring the pain throbbing in your arm, you held out the gun you’d stolen. “Ta-freakin’-da, Barton.”

***

“Lat—”

“What?”

Clint repeated himself louder, but his voice was still muffled by the wood of the door and the spray of the shower.

“What?”

You heard the shower door open and a few dull sounds before the bathroom door in front of you opened. Water dripped over Clint’s bare torso and soaked his hair, one hand clutching the towel slung around his waist. You watched him hesitate as he met your gaze, watched the adam’s apple in his throat bob. “Latveria.”

“Lat– Latveria?”

“This is starting to feel dangerously like a bit,” Clint said dryly, stepping back into the shower stall. You felt heat rise in your face as he closed the door and the towel was thrown up over the top of it. You stood awkwardly in the doorway for a moment before closing the lid of the toilet and perching on the edge of it. “That’s where the weapons are being made.”

“And they’ve made it all the way out here?” you replied, swallowing as you tried to pointedly avoid staring at the shower. The stall was made of textured, frosted glass, and while it granted Clint modesty, you could still just make out his silhouette against the screen. His hands rose to scrub through his hair, his profile turned just barely away from you.

“They’re global,” Clint told you, raising his voice over the spray. “I heard reports of them turning up in New York back before… Fury had someone else working on it.”

“And we just happened to stumble onto them in a park in London?”

Clint’s hands lingered at the back of his neck. “They’ve been making bigger waves lately. Guess she’s been getting a little cockier since the Decimation wiped out half the authorities that could work their case.”

“‘She’?”

Clint’s hands moved down his chest to his stomach, and you lowered your gaze to the floor, face burning. Your thighs pressed together despite yourself. You knew your voice had broken slightly as you’d spoken that one word.

“Lucia von Bardas.”

The water shut off, and you straightened slightly, your hands threaded together in your lap. The towel disappeared into the stall. “Should I recognize the name?”

“Only if you’re trying to be familiar with Eastern European politics,” Clint told you, the shower stall opening after a moment. “She’s a pretty big name in Latverian political parties. She’s got interests in most of the big exporters coming out of that place, including Von Doom Industries. There’s been rumors of her dealing in some… less than legal businesses for a while now. Guess now we’ve actually got some proof.”

Clint stepped out; the towel tucked securely around his waist once more. He seemed to be avoiding your eye, wiping down the foggy mirror with his palm.

“And?”

“And what?”

“We’re going to take her out, right?”

You stood up, and Clint met your eye in the mirror. He sighed.

“That expression tells me you’ve already decided on the answer for us.”

***

“I’m starting to miss Stark’s money.” Clint sighed, settling back into the seat beside you.

“You’re the one who books these oh-so-deluxe travel arrangements,” you pointed out, attempting to find a comfortable position against the firm back of the bus seat. “You’d think with your super-ninja-spy-magic you’d be able to get us a fancier ride.”

“I’m not a ninja,” he told you patiently. “Or magic.”

“You’re a little magic.”

Clint shook his head with a smile; you were sure there was faint color on his cheeks as he dropped his head back against the headrest.

“So, how long exactly is this ride?”

He answered with his eyes closed. “…About two days.”

“Two days?!” you repeated, when you saw his smile grow slightly, you scowled. “I kinda hate you, you know.”

“I thought I was magic.”

“Magic and despised.”

He chuckled; eyes still closed. The bus pulled away from the curb, surprisingly empty. The sky outside was already dark, and the glow of the streetlights passed over the archer’s face. “We’re less likely to be recognized on the bus.”

“Curse you and your logic.”

Clint didn’t reply, and the two of you sat in silence for twenty minutes before you spoke again.

“It’s a little annoying how easily you can fall asleep.”

He smirked; eyes still stubbornly closed. “I’m not asleep.”

“…How about now?”

“Were you always this annoying on road trips?” he teased.

You laughed, closing your eyes too. “Oh, please. You’d be so bored without me.”

***

You opened your eyes slowly, blinking away the sleep still lingering. You hadn’t even realized you’d fallen asleep, but the wide expanse of road ahead of the bus told you you’d left the city a long time again, as did the faint pink glow tainting the deep purple of the night sky. You shifted, brow furrowing as you felt the warmth pressed up against your side and the rough fabric against your cheek. A comfortable weight rested against the crown of your head, and you frowned against the fuzziness still clinging to your tired mind.

Your eyes finally cleared to settle on the color of Clint’s jacket, and you felt his breath fan softly against your hair. You’d fallen asleep, your head falling against his shoulder, and he’d apparently done the same. His cheek was pressed against your hair, his breathing steady and even. A smile touched your lips as you let the sensation of his chest rising and falling lull you back into rest, and you ignored the sensible part of your brain that was trying to remind you that you were supposed to maintaining your distance from him.

Your eyes fell to your lap as your eyelids began to droop, and warmth flared in your cheeks. Your hand was on your thigh, and Clint’s rested beside it, his fingertips settled on the back of your hand. Your skin was warm and tingled under his touch.

Had he… had he been holding your hand?

.

.

.

tags: @trekkingaroundasgard @lovely-dreamer19 @wittyforachange @wefracturedmotivation @january-echoes @glossyloner @capitalnineteen @youclickedthislink @s0ftness @castieltrash1 @drakelover78 @queenoftheunderdark @lol-you-thought @akumune@xxboesefrauxx @enna-core@hearmyharmony@katsies @youralphawolf72 @maenji@rhymesmenagerie@gwianasky @melaclintbartoncorner @loki-is-loved@whovianayesha @bradfordbantams@alice-the-nerd@fanofallthefics @ace-fandom-dumbass @kaelyn-lobrutto24@twsssmlmaa @earth-pig-fish@meeksmusic83@hallothankmas@justanothermagicalsara@janineb86 @darsynia@rhymesmenagerie @thatwelshbi @lauraashley93@darkwhisperswolf

[marvelouslytrekking]

Birds of a Feather {22/?}

Summary: Clint has a nightmare and Dani tries to wake him up from it, which does not end well. In the aftermath, Clint has a major revelation. Word Count: 1,448 Warnings: Nightmares, gun A/N: Okay so I had kinda forgotten about this fic but just went back through and reread it and honestly it's really good and I am so proud of myself for writing it! I found that I had an unposted chapter all written so please enjoy! Also I do have the entire story loosely plotted out so I may be working on it in the future! Mostly because the lovely @trekkingaroundasgard has asked me to! So thank them if you enjoy this story! Find Series Masterlist here

You woke up suddenly when you felt yourself falling and were startled awake when you felt the impact of what you soon realized was the floor. You groaned at the pain you felt as you sat up from the ground. You had to blink a few times before you realized you were still in Clint’s apartment. You must have fallen asleep during the movie.

You looked up to the couch and realized that Clint seemed to have also fallen asleep and that was why he hadn’t woken you up to send you back to your own apartment. 

You started to stand up when you noticed Clint thrash around on the couch. You frowned when you heard a groan pass through his lips. You realized it wasn’t just movement in his sleep that pushed you on the floor but it seemed to be a nightmare instead. 

You immediately felt the need to comfort him and hopefully wake him up from whatever was plaguing his mind. You perched yourself beside the couch and gently ran your fingers through his hair. “Clint, wake up,” You tried to coax him out of sleep, “You’re dreaming, wake up,” 

When Clint didn’t immediately stir, you decided to take a more direct approach, “Clint,” You tried, this time shaking his shoulder. 

You didn’t have time to react to his arm swinging out at you and knocking you over from your squatted position on the ground. You were ready to get back up when you were suddenly pinned to the ground. 

“Clin-” Your voice stopped when you noticed the gun pointed directly at you. You couldn’t help the fear that set into your bones as you stared at the barrel of a gun. “Clint, It’s me, it’s Dani,” You pleaded with him. 

You saw the flash of realization in his eyes right before he scrambled off you, You heard the click of the safety on the gun and him slamming it onto the coffee table. 

“Shit, I am so sorry,” Clint rushed, “You just- I woke up and didn’t know what was happening and -”

“It’s okay,” You told him, trying to regain your own breathing. You could feel your heart racing. “I shouldn’t have tried to wake you up like that,”

“No, it’s not your fault.” Clint was fidgeting, “Want me to make us some coffee?”

“Coffee sounds good,” You nodded, you knew you weren’t getting back to sleep after that. 

The apartment is filled with an awkward silence, you wanted to ask Clint about the obvious nightmare, you wanted to be a comfort to him but you weren’t sure how to broach the topic. You could tell Clint was still agitated and probably wanted to spill out more apologies. 

“I really am sorry,” Clint said sheepishly as he handed you a mug. 

“It’s forgiven,” You told him sincerely, “How long have they been happening?” You finally got the nerve to ask. 

“Since I got back,” Clint said weakly, looking now at his own mug, avoiding eye contact. 

You frowned, you knew the feeling but you had to assume that Clint had seen a lot of terrifying things. You had a feeling that there was a lot that you didn’t know and that there was more to the story than just the alien attack. Clint had been gone for nearly a week before without even a word from him. He was often radio silent but there were also plenty of times when he found time to send you a quick message, but you went a week with nothing. 

“If you want or need to talk about it, I am here for you Clint,” You reached out and squeezed his hand gently. 

Clint looked up at you and you could see the pain in his eyes which only broke your heart more. 

“I just caused a lot of people pain,” Clint said softly. 

“You also helped save the world and a lot of people,” You told him with a frown. You knew that the attack on New York had a lot of casualties but you also knew that they were on the aliens and not Clint or any of the others who were helping to stop them. 

“You don’t know the whole story” 

“You’re right, but I do know you.” You told him, “I know that you literally help anyone you possibly can. A good example is both me and Lucky. You would never do something to intentionally harm anyone, unless they seriously deserved it.”

“It’s just, there was a point when I wasn’t exactly in control of my own mind,” Clint admitted, “and none of that was true anymore.”

“Well if you weren’t in control then you can’t be blamed for your actions.” You were concerned by what he meant by not being in control of his own mind but it almost seemed better not to ask so you didn’t. “All I am saying is that you helped save the world and I am grateful, as are many others.”

Clint gave you a small smile, “Thanks,” 

“Anytime.” You told him sincerely. “And thank you,”

“What for?” Clint asked

“Before you rudely pushed me off the couch, that was probably the soundest sleep I had gotten in awhile.” 

“Sorry to have disrupted it. You looked like you really needed it.” 

“I can’t argue that,” You sighed. “But for now coffee will do.” 

As you two enjoyed the mugs of probably too strong coffee, conversation started to flow between you two again. You were catching Clint up on things he missed since you had last seen him, including how much Lucky had missed him. 

You seemingly missed the look in Clint’s eyes as he actively listened to you tell him about the cheesy reality show you had been watching every night. 

Clint POV

As Clint listened to Dani talking about everything that had been happening in the last few weeks and beyond, Clint really stopped to think about how much he truly had missed her.

He thought about how panicked he was when he and Natasha were flying the jet into New York. He knew Dani would be so close to everything and had no way to warn her. He had to focus on the mission but in the back of his mind he was fighting for Dani and praying to any god that she would remain safe. 

He recalled the panic he felt when things had calmed down but she hadn’t answered his texts or calls. He had no way of knowing if she was in danger, injured, or worse and it was horrible. 

He also recalled the pure rush of relief he felt when he saw her in the hallway. She was safe and she was right in front of him and he had never felt more relieved before in his life. 

It was when thinking of that moment that Clint finally saw what had been right in front of him the whole time. Dani. Holy shit, Clint suddenly realized he was in love with Dani. When the hell did that happen? 

Clint figured it probably had happened that first day when he witnessed her trying to move in by herself with a broken foot. Or possibly how she would order pepperoni pizza just so he could eat more pepperoni. Or it was all the times she would patch him up after a mission. The first time had truly been an accident but he’d be lying if he sometimes didn’t just skip medical because Dani was much kinder to him even when she was yelling at him to be more careful. Or it might have happened during one of their many movie nights or their workout sessions. Whenever it happened Clint realized he was in far too deep now. 

Dani POV:

“Earth to Clint!” You said snapping your finger in front of his face. 

“Sorry,” Clint shook his head, trying to clear it of his thoughts, “zoned out there,”

“I noticed.” You chuckled.

“Go on a date with me.” Clint suddenly blurted out. 

“Wh-what?” You stuttered out. Taken aback by the bluntness and seemingly out of nowhere request. 

“I mean,” Clint stumbled, “If you would want to.”

“You’re asking me on a date?” You asked, “Like a real date?”

“Yeah, like something fancy” Clint said. You could tell he was nervous when he started to rub the back of his neck. 

“Okay, yeah” You smiled. You had to try to contain the giddiness you felt that he was actually asking you on a date. 

“Really?” Clint asked, genuinely surprised. 

“Yeah, but you better make it good,” You teased him with a wink.

“It’ll be the best date you’ve ever been on.”

“I’ll hold you to that.”

[cece693]

Affectionate

pairing: bucky barnes x male reader tags: bucky being treated like a normal being, male reader is very affectionate, kinda like tony, flirting like lil puppies

“Barnes, my sweet metal-armed dumpling, you’ve got bedhead.”

You say it with a chuckle as you effortlessly drape an arm around Bucky’s broad shoulders, and for a moment, the entire room goes silent. Natasha’s trained eyes narrow from across the conference table, ready to spring into action. Tony’s eyebrows shoot up behind his tinted glasses, and Steve actually tenses, fists tightening like he’s expecting Bucky to toss you across the room at any second. All around, the team braces themselves, anticipating a meltdown—a flashback—anything resembling the Winter Soldier they still fear might be lingering inside the man you have so casually slung your arm over.

In the resulting quiet, Bucky’s expression flickers, and for a heartbeat, you wonder if the Avengers might be right. His jaw flexes, and his fingers curl slightly before unclenching.

Then he lets out a small huff of a laugh, the corners of his lips lifting, and you feel his posture relax against your side. “Seriously, you’re making a scene,” he murmurs, quieter than usual. But there’s absolutely no bite behind his voice, no threat—just the husky edge that always manages to send a pleasant shiver through you. “Knock it off,” he adds, though there’s a ghost of a smile there.

Knock it off? Absolutely not. The man is gorgeous—dark hair still damp from a shower, the mechanical arm catching the overhead lights, his face etched with haunted lines that only make him look even more rugged and unfairly attractive. How can you possibly resist? You’re only human (albeit an Avenger-human with a penchant for tackling alien invasions and Hydra remnants). But still, you have eyes.

You just grin, giving his shoulder a quick squeeze before loosening your hold. “Aww, Barnes, you know you’d miss it if I did.”

Bucky grumbles something in reply, but there’s a lightness there, an ease he didn’t carry before. The rest of the team, however, remains on full alert—like big cats itching to pounce. Steve in particular looks about two seconds away from physically peeling you off of Bucky. Even Clint, who was half-dozing in the corner, sits up, eyes keen.

“Cap,” Clint warns softly, nodding toward where your hand is still lingering near Bucky’s nape, fingertips idly tracing the spot where flesh meets vibranium plating.

Steve clears his throat. “Everything okay there, Buck?”

Everyone seems to hold their breath again, and you can practically see the tension in the air. Poor Bruce is looking uncertain, Wanda is biting her lip, and Sam’s eyebrows are drawn together in concern. They’re so worried that Bucky’s going to have an episode, or get triggered, or that he’s going to accidentally crush your bones with that metal fist if you keep…well, doing what you’re doing.

And if this were two years ago, maybe they’d be right. If this were weeks after his deprogramming, back when he couldn’t even look into a mirror without disassociating, Bucky might’ve pushed you across the room with lethal force. Or at the very least, wrenched free of your hold, stiff and wary. But they don’t see the subtle signs that you do: the tension in Bucky’s shoulders is not the tension of danger, but of mild embarrassment. He looks shy, maybe even flustered. He’s definitely not displeased. And if anything, you know he’s grateful you treat him like a normal person, not a ticking time bomb with horrifying memories.

He shrugs off Steve’s concern with a tight-lipped smirk. “I’m fine,” he says. “I’m not made of glass.”

Or vibranium, you add silently with another playful grin. You resist the urge to poke at his arm, but your fingers twitch at the thought. Next time, you promise yourself.

Tony slides a diagnostic tablet across the table as if presenting evidence. “Look, I’m all for affection, but maybe, for the sake of our dear ex-Hydra assassin’s comfort, we keep it PG-13 in the debrief?” He’s half-joking, half-serious, eyebrows shooting up when you lean closer to Bucky again.

You tilt your head at Tony. “I’m not exactly straddling him on the table, Tony. Chill.”

“Just you watch,” Sam mutters under his breath, arms folded across his chest, likely recalling a previous incident in which your casual affection got a bit…handsy. Hey, you can’t help it, Bucky’s arms are a national treasure.

From beside you, Bucky sighs. “Seriously, guys, it’s okay. This—” he flicks his eyes at the point where your forearm slides across his back “—it’s nice.” He lowers his gaze, almost bashful, but admits quietly, “Makes me feel like…y’know. Like I’m—”

“A normal dude, living a normal life,” you finish for him, your voice softer. It’s what both of you want, though neither of you outright says so in crowded company.

“Alright,” Tony relents with a theatrical sigh. “I mean, if Barnes is okay with it, I guess we can let it go.”

“Seriously, Tony,” you huff, “I’m not some savage about to devour the man.”

Bucky sends you a cheeky side glance. “Could’ve fooled me,” he grumbles, but his lips twist into an amused smirk.

“Watch it, metal dumpling,” you shoot back fondly, the new (and very ridiculous) nickname making Tony gag in mock horror.

There’s a collective groan and roll of eyes from the team, but underneath that, there’s this subtle wave of contentment. You can feel it in the air—everyone’s settling into this new normal. Sure, Bucky carries a lot of ghosts and trauma, but right now, with your arm around him, he just feels alive. Connected. Like the piece of him that’s still James Barnes is being coaxed to the surface.

And you? Well, you’re just happy to be the one to coax it out of him. Bucky might be Hydra’s ex-assassin, but you can’t help it—he’s also hot as hell, and you’re pretty sure your vision works just fine, thank you very much.

“Alright,” Steve says, clearing his throat again, a slight pink tinge on his cheeks from secondhand embarrassment. “So…mission debrief?”

“Mission debrief,” you echo. Without missing a beat, you re-sling your arm across Bucky’s shoulders, ignoring the universal eye-roll from the rest of the team. Bucky doesn’t shove you away. He doesn’t tense. He just gives your knee a quick pat under the table, and for a single, quiet second in that big conference room, you can swear you feel a little more at home.

And yeah—maybe you’ll have to tone it down for the sake of collective sanity. But then again, the look in Bucky’s eyes says he needs this just as much as you do.

So if anyone’s got a problem with it, well…they can take it up with the ex-Winter Soldier himself—and hope they can handle the glare he’ll give them for standing in the way of his self-proclaimed “annoying but sweet” Avenger.

[unholyhelbig]

hi there! saw your requests were open so thought id give it a go— I never did that before but here I go o/

if you still write for your oversight au, id love to read litteraly anything you can make <3 maybe nat notices r's attention span progressively gets worse through the years, especially when she gets tired? (I heavily headcanon r to be an adhd gal, but maybe I'm just protecting too hard lol <3)

with just that I hope you have a nice day, thank you for sharing your work to us! ive read the oversight twice already, it's definitely one of my favourite fics :) I absolutely love your stuff and plan to read everything within reach when work gives me free time aha!

Title: Aren't You Tired? [An Oversight Oneshot]

Ship: Female!Reader x Natasha Romanoff

Summary: Natasha returns home from a night out expecting her wife to be fast asleep but instead, catches her hard at work in her home office.

Warnings: mentions of guns, cannon typical violence, mentions of roulette, exhaustion, nothing too bad really, horrible grammar because I never proofread.

[a/n: Totally hope I did this justice! I tried to follow a lot of of guides that outlined ADHD but I don't have it myself, so I very well could have missed the mark, so please forgive me. I also haven't written for this universe in awhile, so this feels like coming home. I missed these two!]

Check out the full Oversight universe

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven

At night, things got country quiet around the Romanoff estate. There was a simple grandfather clock that rested in the corner of the sitting room that kept perfect time and chimed in a woody, monotone hum. The house settled in a typical way and low tones from the nearby harbor would sometimes leak through the walls. But often, when Natasha Romanoff wandered in from late nights with the obligatory taste of brandy on her tongue, she was met with silence.

Her shoulders ached when she hung her salt-crusted coat on the hook by the door, a perfect black next to yours and Ronnie’s. She toed off her muddy boots and ignored the throbbing in her temple. Tonight, she had taken quite the hit to the jaw, and it ached as her buzz stared to wear off.

Natasha knew she needed water and a shower and probably something stronger than a couple of aspirin, but she didn’t’ search for any of them. Instead, she ascended the stairs in pursuit of you. Subconsciously, you were the only thing she wanted. Warm and soft and probably asleep by now. She wasn’t going to disturb you. She’d simply slip into your arms that always wrapped around her. You’d kiss her neck through the dregs of sleep, slur through your words, pat her down to check for blood and bullet holes.

Tonight seemed to be different. The bedroom door was open, giving way to darkness that was cold, the king-sized bed still meticulously made. Untouched from this morning when the two of you had flattened the duvet yourselves. Your suit jacket was laying across one end, haphazardly laid across the edge.

Natasha huffed and moved across the hall to Ronnie’s room, cracking the door. It was warmer in here, hitting her with the scent of vanilla. A night light bathed the room in a timid yellow glow. Your daughter, their daughter, faced the hallway, deep within the clutches of sleep. Curled into herself with soft snores escaping her.

Warmth bloomed in Natasha’s chest. Veronica always had a pensive look on her face, a frown as if she was analyzing everything. Yelena would joke that a ten-year-old shouldn’t have that much in her head to think over. But she knew better. She knew that Ronnie was too smart for her own good, that maybe they’d have trouble with her later if they weren’t careful. A good type of trouble that scared her in the best way possible.

Natasha pressed her lips to Ronnie’s temple in a soft kiss, brushing strands of sleep-mussed hair from her complexion, earning a content whine as the girl shifted onto her back, brushing her warm little hands close to Natasha’s wrist. A small squeeze of acknowledgement before dropping back into unconsciousness.

There weren’t many places in the house you could be. When you couldn’t sleep, wouldn’t, you often wandered to the pool out back which was too cold this time of year. To the library on the first floor, which was vacant. Or to your office upstairs. Natasha used her fantastic detective skills to deduce the third option as her winner after she softly closed Veronica’s door.

She worked her jaw as she walked, knowing that it had bruised viciously by now. Your office was something vacant until you’d moved in four years ago, until she had a family to fill out the rooms that were nothing more than place holders. She reveled in having a destination. In having a wife to find in the expanses of her shared home.

Below the gap of the door was a saffron gleam that flickered with shadows. You were pacing, it wasn’t hard to tell. You did that sometimes, when you were puzzling something out. Especially when it was this late and Natasha had yet to come home. She felt a twinge of guilt deep in her gut and then something more. That longing again. That need to stop the back and forth. To reach out and grip your shoulders and still your mind for just a moment.

Her knuckles rapped twice on the door, but not too hard. Chances were, you were deep into something, and she didn’t want to pull you from it, not entirely. She didn’t get an answer, though, so she shouldered into the office regardless. A judgement call. A correct judgement call.

Your tired eyes lit up at the sight of her, the nail of your thumb bitten between your teeth. You had the small of your back against the front of your desk and your eyes trained on a typed sheet of analytics that Natasha didn’t’ have the wherewithal to decipher right now.

Natahsa’s heart melted. You were in her t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants. Your hair was mussed, and your feet were sock-clad. Your smile was goofy. Sleepy. “Hi baby”  

“Hi dorogoy,” She closed the distance, pecked you on the lips but your fingers wrapped around the collar of her shirt and pulled her into something deeper. She inhaled sharply when you brushed against the tenderness of the bruising on her jaw. “ah, easy.”

You scoffed, foreheads resting together, “Did you start a fight over billiards again?”

Natasha groaned and stepped back. “I really must stop expecting criminals to play fair.”

Neither of you pointed out that the two of you never played fair. She’d taken a stick to the jaw and would much rather forget it. She’d gotten sloppy and her guard was down. Nothing a good nights sleep and an ice pack could solve. You pouted at her regardless and smoothed the pads of your fingers softly over the formed bruise.

Soon your touch was missing altogether and your eyes darted back to the paper, nail returning between your teeth. Natasha couldn’t help the way her lip turned up in a form of affection. She wanted to kiss that look of concentration off your face. It was no use dragging you to bed in your current state.

“What are you working on?”

Your stare flicked up to her, then back to the paper, and up to her once more. “Huh?”

“Technically, I’m your boss, malishka.” She tapped the edge of the paper. “Don’t make me pull rank.”

You smiled genuinely at this, though Natasha could see the exhaustion in your eyes, she knew she wouldn’t’ be able to drag you from this room and into your shared bed until you’d puzzled your way through whatever plagued you. It was something she had noticed a few years ago when the two of you had started living together. Something that manifested itself in a lack of attention span that matched in pitch with Kate’s.

Sometimes it was the opposite. Sometimes, you honed in on things viciously, clamping your jaws around them until the blood filled your mouth, threatening to drown you unless Natasha stuck her fingers between your teeth and the prey. Now, she figured, was one of those times. She’d allow yourself to exhaust yourself rather than drag you by the leash, letting you drag your paws through the mud.

Recently, you’d been hyper fixated on Alonzo Lincoln and the way he had been moving weapons in Romanoff territory lately. There were patterns that had caught your attention. Patterns that even Natasha hadn’t picked up on. It had taken over the map on your wall for the last month and then the paper trail that was in your hands now and it seems, stolen your sleep.

“Lonnie isn’t much of a threat. Rationally, I know that. He’s moving kid stuff, small cargo like handguns and a few crates of ammo here and there through the north docks on the one cargo ship that you allow him. We keep a handle on it. But in the last two shipments we flagged a different brand of gunpowder,” You stood, walking to the whiteboard that you had across the room, uncapping the nearest marker and drawing a sloppy red dot next to two dates. “We flagged him on it. Reprimanded his guys. He backed off, but if you look at the trends,”

You moved through the dates, filling out the red dots, copying them from the paper you were gripping earlier. Natasha watched you work with a fondness. But she followed the transfer with caution. Despite your borderline obsession, the one that would have worried her any other time, you had a point. Tombstone was moving a new type of gunpowder for the last year right under your noses.

“It’s a pattern. One that we have to snuff out.”

“I adore when you talk dirty to me, darling.”

“I’m serious, Natty.”

She knew that you were. It was impossible to break your spell. There was a whine to your voice that shot something straight to her core. Natasha knew that she was dark and twisted. That it was straight up wrong to think it was sexy when you honed in on criminalistic trends. It didn’t stop her from looping her arms around you and pulling you close.

“I know you are, Lisichka, and I’ll spare no expense to tear him limb from limb if the need so arises.” She nudged her nose against your own. “I’ll even give you the pleasure, considering it was your brilliant mind who figured it out. I do know how you enjoy your games of roulette.”

Her hand was splayed against your chest. She felt your chuckle, your eyes closed as you leaned heavily against her. You were exhausted. She’d worked her fingers between your sharp teeth and your prey. You both knew it. All Natasha needed to do now was take your lead and guide you. Keep you on task.

“That can wait for now, though, hmm?”

“He’s got another shipment arranged for next week.”

“That so?”

“A normal one, no gunpowder according to the ledger.” You took a deep breath, nudging a spot at the edge at of her earlobe “are you wearing a new scent? I like it.”

“Yeah, baby, it’s new. Aren’t you tired? It’s late.”

You shrugged dejectedly, “I could sleep.”

Natasha chuckled at this. You said it like it was a meal after a long day instead of something that was pulling at every facet of you. Your eyes, when they blinked back open at her, were so fuzzy and disoriented that she wanted to coddle you. How long exactly had you been at this? She knew it was a way to pass time, but you were about to fall over into her embrace and she had the innate urge to scoop you into her arms if you didn’t stop resisting.

She kissed you once, and then twice. The third time was deeper than the first two, Natasha licking into your mouth and pulling you towards the door at the same time. Your hand exploring the wall in a blind effort to shut the lights off in the office. Nothing a little persuasion couldn’t do.

“I thought you wanted to sleep.” You mumbled.

“Oh, I do.” Natasha husked, leading the both of you into your room. “I want you on the bed. Now.”

You lifted an eyebrow at her, a devilish but sleepy smile on your lips. But you followed instructions just fine when you were pliable like this. Natasha had grown quite accustomed to your short attention span when you were exhausted. She took over driving. She led you with a hand on the small of your back if parties ran late. She gently directed you where and when you needed it.

It was very un-sexy of you, but you flopped face-down onto your side of the bed, letting out a content sigh as you breathed in your combined scents. You listened to Natasha flit about the room, the familiar sounds of her earrings hitting her jewelry tray, and the open and close of her dresser.

There was a dip of the mattress, the strengthening of her scent. Natasha’s touch was feather light against your spine as she started to drag her nails up and down your back. You sighed contentedly into the pillow, more of a growl than an exhale.

Soon she flicks off the light, plunging the two of you into darkness. You turned onto your side subconsciously, reaching out in your haze of near-sleep. Your arm looped around Natasha’s center, pulled her flush against your front in a practiced movement of ease with the strength that she had trained into you.

“Are you wearing a new scent? I like it. Smells nice.” You slurred, repeating an earlier inquiry.

“Mm” She hummed in amusement, enjoying the way you squeezed her closer, The enveloping warmth of you, the hot breath against the nape of her neck. “it is.”

“Smells nice.” You sighed contentedly, cuddling closer, words slipping into something soft and quiet. “love you.”

Natasha burrowed closer, smoothed her thumb over your scarred knuckles with a contented sigh. “I love you too.”

[Taglist🕷♡: @dumbasslesbi, @lostremind, @toouncreativeforausername @autorasexy @eringranola @mikookaaaaaao @marvelwoman-simp @pacmanmiles @mostlymarvelsstuff, @mrsrushman, @milfsandtittyenthusiast, @random-raccoon4, @ravenromanova, @mysticalmoonlight7, @ahintofchaos@cowboyboots236 @lissaaaa145, @natsxwife@a-spes, @kyleeservopoulos]

[yourmcu]

Ace

Pairings: Natasha Romanoff x Gamer!Stark!Reader, Avengers x Reader

Summary:

Your girlfriend, your dad, along with the rest of the Avengers, support you during a VALORANT tournament.

Word count: 4.6k+

Warnings: too much VALORANT descriptions, you can google stuff about it if you want to get a good visual of this story, basically an avengers fic as a whole but i love supportive gf nat >:(

A/n: one of the drafts I left a long time ago! I miss writing for the avengers, so I decided to finish this one.

(completely italic dialogues - casters commentating)

All the hollering from the lounge died down when Natasha practically shoved both Sam and Bucky off the couch, stealing the TV remote in the process. Their basketball game can wait, her girlfriend’s tournament is more important.

“Oh, shoot. Y/N/N's tournament is today?” Sam suddenly remembered and Bucky made a quick detour out of the lounge to fetch Steve and possibly the others. They kind of promised you they'd support your game this time around, with the knowledge that they had free time on the dates of your tournament. Sam snapped his fingers, “Snacks. I'll be right back.”

No, you weren’t a professional athlete; if anything, you’re the opposite. Your wrists move more than your whole body most of the time, you only stay an hour or less in the gym, and you prioritize getting better in Aim Lab than a shooting range.

Ever since women playing in VALORANT E-Sports were normalized, you were one of the anticipated gamers to compete, of course you were on board and signed on to an esports organization and team roster. You’ve made a name for yourself in the gaming industry because of your high IQ and big brain plays. You used your head in every match, every round unlike the majority of the players mindlessly aiming and not landing shots. Because of your career, you’re known for something else and not just Iron Man’s daughter.

Natasha didn’t like the fact that you were glued to your computer most of the time at first. She thought Tony spoiled you too much even as an adult, but she later on realized that you graduated with a degree before settling into gaming. You worked for the Avengers, sometimes as an IT for a big company which paid more than you needed. You were basically set. All of this while you were still pretty young, a little younger than Natasha.

It’s safe to say all of Natasha’s doubts went away. She felt rather impressed and took a liking to you, which developed into something more over time.

From her phone, you chuckled when you heard Sam and Bucky’s shuffling. “We’re not up for another thirty minutes, babe.” On your end, you and your team were with the event's coordinators backstage of the actual place the tourney was held. Natasha always called you before and after your events, just because she was the best supportive girlfriend ever.

“I know, I wanted to set everything up before anything else,” Natasha put you on speaker while she dealt with the TV’s settings. You smiled to yourself, absolutely adoring your girlfriend even more when she was eager and supporting your games. “Are you guys still at the hotel?”

You had to travel out of the country for the tournament. As much as Natasha wanted to go with you (Clint wanted to go too because he ‘needed a break’, you just rolled your eyes at him and laughed), being a full time hero and an Avenger doesn’t mean you get to travel 24/7. She has to be with the team in case something terribly wrong happens, which doesn’t come with a warning. “Backstage, actually. Cloud9 and Misfits are wrapping up their last match right now,” You replied. “I've already warmed up at the hotel earlier. It's crazy how our room fits all of our PCs.”

“Ah, c'mon, you don't need no warm-ups!” Sam teased, hearing you on speaker as he walked back with refreshments and an assortment of chip bags.

You giggled, rolling your eyes at the Falcon’s words. “Stop it, Sam. You know me; I always get tilted when I play too much before the actual competition.”

Sometimes you get anxious and it affects your performance, same goes for when you warm-up too much; you lose focus the more games you play, leaving nothing for the tournament.

Despite Natasha's excitement to watch your team play, she’s not too vocal about it. She wouldn’t squeal when it starts or bombard you with loud encouragement through the call, because one, she doesn’t want to be the embarrassing girlfriend, and two, she’s the Black Widow. She’s naturally subtle about everything. You knew her more than anyone else though, so even if that was the case, you still felt her support.

Thirty minutes went by quicker than you’d hope, you were so caught up in watching the game of the other rivaling teams and commenting on everything that happened whilst still in the call with Natasha. You also answered Bucky’s queries when he came back; he’s only ever heard of e-sports since you started competing in it. He couldn’t imagine how hard switching point of views and the player’s face cameras must be. Bucky has only watched, what, actual live game tournaments, basketball or chess or whatever. It was confusing to him at times, but you told him he’d get used to it eventually just by taking note of the red and blue colors.

You were cut off by one of your teammates placing a hand on your shoulder, signaling you that it was time to go. “Alright. Nat, I have to go, I’ll call you when I get back?”

The two men were the first ones you heard react, Sam shifted in his seat excitedly while Bucky wondered out loud if he should call Tony, Peter, and Bruce, who were all unnecessarily working overtime at the lab.

You felt yourself smile again when she spoke. “Okay,” Natasha bit her lip, feeling anxious about the tournament, “I love you.”

“I love you.”

“Good luck!” Sam shouted before you hung up.

Natasha almost snorted when she heard loud footsteps coming towards the lounge entrance. Her sister had the worst timings ever.

“Someone decided to take a long shit while we were heading back. Has Y/N’s game started yet?” Yelena walked in as fast as she could with Fanny, looking at Natasha expectantly as she shrugged off her thick coat and got out of her boots. Fanny ran to where the couches were as soon as Yelena removed her leash, wagging her tail happily without a clue in the world.

“About to, but you did miss her on the phone.”

“Ah, fuck.”

Soon, Bruce, Tony, Peter, Wanda and Vision came down to watch as well. Your tournaments were one of the occasions the team had the chance to bond and get together in one room, it definitely helped with the morale as Steve would think, and they have you to thank for that.

Everyone was just in time to see you walk out to the stage with your team and the opposing one. You were in your team jersey and arm sleeves with your teammates behind you in a straight line.

Tony woot-ed, plopping down next to Natasha. “Heard Y/N/N's team is going up against a brand new team roster. This should be a piece of cake for her, eh?”

Peter sat down beside him, looking at the said rival team with yours, all lined up on stage. “I don't know about that, Mr. Stark. One of them recently went viral after getting five aces on a ranked game. She's radiant, too.”

Admittedly, he also played VALORANT with you and Ned, but often miscalculates his strength as he frequently breaks his keyboard or mouse because of freaking out whenever he sees an enemy. His reflexes and fighting skills were better off used in real time.

“And Y/N/N's been on the top ten leaderboard for, what, six months?” Tony challenged, evidently confident in your skills.

The chatter on who's better than who died down when both teams sat down on their respective computers. Though it wasn’t that noticeable to most people, Natasha noticed it right away: you were wearing the necklace she gave you. You considered it your lucky charm.

After both teams chose the maps they wanted to ban and maps they wanted to play, the game started.

You mostly play the character - or agent - Killjoy. The agent reminded you so much of yourself from her overall vibe and game mechanic: she had utility to aid the whole team, from turrets to alarm bots, and an ultimate that conducts lockdowns on any part of the map. You were so used to that character that you even played her on maps she’s not very helpful at because you mastered everything about her, which made you stand out from other players as no one would dare use characters on maps they weren't good in. Gears were practically turning in your head as the game loaded.

Then, the first game commenced.

The Avengers always made noise whenever you got a kill, or whenever the casters praised you for outsmarting the opposing team, which Steve and Bucky appreciated because it was hard for them to distinguish whether or not you did something good.

Your team easily won the first game. The Avengers were now watching your tournament on the flat screen TV like a bunch of teenagers watching a romcom, all giddy and filled with anticipation.

“Look at that, 13-1? She’s insane." Bruce shook his head. A team needed to win at least 13 rounds to win, if it's neck and neck, 14, or they may choose to go into overtime.

“I’ve never seen Y/N play with that kind of aggression before; they don’t stand a chance.” Wanda pointed out. She liked to spectate from the side whenever you played at the compound, whenever she could.

Natasha’s lips turned upright when they replayed your team’s best moments. One included your one versus three clutch, in which you threw a taunting, questioning look at the opposing roster across the stage after you effortlessly took out three enemies on your own. It was like their heads weren’t in the game at all.

The team laughed when they showed the exact clip of your face camera mocking the other team across the room. Natasha liked that about you; sure you were reserved and shy in general, but she loved it when all your confidence just comes out while you’re out there.

Another clip was when you had a problem with communication, so you weren’t aware that there were enemies around. Your character didn’t stop running because of that and you were exposed to two enemies. You reacted fast and jumped, pulled out your vandal to shoot both of them in the face.

Tony clapped his hands together at that moment. “Let’s go. Let’s fucking go, Y/N/N.”

Natasha, not all that phased on your brilliant play, could still not contain the smile on her face as she plopped back down on the couch.

“What? Wait, hold on, how did she even-” Sam looked back at everyone while they reacted to the highlight. He didn’t exactly process what happened because you moved too fast.

“God reflexes,” Yelena shrugs, not looking away from the screen. Wanda laughs in agreement.

After a bit of commentary and commercials, it was on to the next match on a new map.

Now, Natasha did not know the difference between the multiple maps at all, but she did remember you mentioning that your weakest one had to do with ice.

The next match was on a map called Icebox.

So, she watched intently as your team took a little while during the agent selection. But in the end, you decided to go for Killjoy again. Natasha could only guess what you had in mind to pull off another win.

“This is highly unusual for [Team Name] Y/N, isn’t it? Right now she’s watching the flanks when we usually expect her to be out there with a duelist to try and take picks!” The caster exclaimed, looking at their partner caster. “She’s one of the strong sentinels who you would trust to be by your side - and look at that, she takes out two already, they did not expect anyone to be holding the flank!”

“But she's using Killjoy again - couldn't she have gone for Cypher or Sage? Then again, they already have Skye on their team.”

Even though you were trying to play smart in this map, you still hated it, it was your weakest one. Still good, but not all that great. The opposing team seemed to know the typical Killjoy strategy on the Icebox map. You got sniped every round and your setups were way too predictable to the opposing team.

Soon, the score was 4-10. It was definitely not good to be on the end of only winning four rounds. Your team had to win the remaining rounds or hope for the best and go to overtime, or you lose this game and go onto the third one which would be way nerve racking and increase the odds of losing.

“Intense match so far we've got here. With [Team Name] Y/N at the bottom of the leaderboard this just has to be a miracle for [Team Name] to get a second win and move on to the next round.”

“There's also a bit of a setback with her shots in the last few rounds. I guess this is when we get to see if she's learned a thing or two from her girlfriend, right?”

Natasha rolled her eyes. “They honestly did not have to bring that up.”

The other commentator expressed confusion at their partner's comment.

“The Black Widow! [Team Name] Y/N's been dating her for the last couple years. Honestly, where have you been?”

Everyone groaned as they started bringing your dating life to the conversation when they should be sticking to the game. Tony chose to laugh it off to and ignore the annoyance, whereas Yelena mumbled, “Did they just turn into a morning show now?”

After everyone in your team died, you all decided to ask for a timeout to talk things out. While that was going on, the Avengers had their own timeout and were trying to talk about the game, or at least what they thought was happening.

“Okay, assuming we've all seen how this Killjoy character works, her character would make most sense if her utility was in Site A." Bruce said, in thought.

Vision, one of the smartest of the bunch, had not grasped the game mechanics that well over the hour and half of the tournament. "But why is that, Dr. Banner?"

“Site A is pretty cramped, while site B has a lot of space. Of course the opposing team would always go to B since Y/N’s character's utility can't place utilities in both sites, they only have limited range," Peter points to the map as soon as it's shown up close, the casters having their own separate conversation about it.

Bucky turned to a confused Steve and Sam, “I have no idea what they're talking about.”

“Where else would she put her chicken gun on site B, then?” Tony joined the conversation, talking about your character's utility placement.

“It’s,” Natasha sighed. “It’s not a chicken gun...”

“Well, that chicken gun slows down enemies, right? It would make sense if Y/N places those bomb thingies to instantly kill them.” Yelena said.

“Lena, I think Y/N is fairly capable of playing the game right,” Wanda chuckled.

“Then she should be winning.” Yelena said jokingly, chugging on her drink.

It was astonishing how a group of heroes are knowledgeable about a video game, just so they could follow what you enjoy doing. That's how much they adored you.

Clint entered the room and looked at the source of ruckus, absolutely sick of the discourse. He was aware of your tournament and has been probably spectating on different means. “They still get another match if they lose this one. It’s the best out of three.”

“I’m starting to think someone’s cheating, has anyone noticed that some of the opponent team instantly kill them with only one bullet?” Steve squinted.

Tony scoffed. “That’s ridiculous, it’s a tournament.”

“It’s because they hit them precisely on the head, Steve. Who wouldn’t die if they got shot in the head?” Sam crossed his arms.

“Me,” that came from Vision.

“You don’t count.”

They all turned back to the screen once the timeout timer ran out. Natasha could sense the tension in your team, just from the way you glanced across the stage… she could tell you were gonna have a different way of playing the remaining rounds. The screen turned to you stretching your neck from both sides, seriousness evident in your face as you clutched your mouse, ready for the game to resume.

“And we're back, and it seems that [Team Name] had enough time to come up with a different game plan. We've got one duelist camping B, one on mid, and look at [Team Name] Y/N's utility. She's got her alarm bot and nano-swarms over on A, but her turret is on B as she's over by tunnel to keep it active.”

“Again, I have no idea what he's talking about.” Bucky shrugged, crossed his arms and kept his eyes on the screen.

After fixing your team's strategy, all that was left was to deliver with accurate shots and stay alive as much as possible. By the end of a few rounds, with your team’s communication and teamwork flawless than ever, the score was 12-11. Your team only had to win one more time to officially win.

At this point, Yelena and Wanda were loudly reacting to the gameplay, Sam and Tony were howling, rooting for you. Clint ended up setting himself on one of the sofa's arms, invested in the match.

Natasha was on the edge of her seat, clutching the couch cushions. She couldn’t help but chuckle when they showed your reaction momentarily, clearly breathless and eyes wide, fist bumping your teammates seated beside you.

“Oh, what a comeback! The most intense so far, am I right?” The caster exclaimed.

“[Team Name] only has to win one more round before moving on to the next part of this tournament!”

The last round wasn’t exactly in your team’s favor in the half. Three of your team got killed already, only two of you remaining and the five of the enemy team. The rival team obviously did not want to hand over the win that easily.

After the call of another successful kill by the opposing team, you were the last one standing against a full set of players. You would either have to clutch up the round or go into overtime.

Clint perked up, pulling out his wallet. “Alright, who wants to get the bets started?” He asked, placing down a crisp fifty dollar bill on the coffee table. “Y/N wins the game.”

They all stopped to look at him as if he was a madman.

“C’mon, Barton, it’s one versus five.” Sam pointed out.

“So what? Am I the only one who believes in Y/N here? Oh, Nat, you better start placing fifties.”

Natasha merely rolled her eyes, not once wanting to bet on or against her girl. Her eyes glued to the screen in which your character is cautiously checking if the area is clear to plant the bomb.

But Tony pulled out the same type of bill from his wallet, placing it on top of the archer's money.

“Mr. Stark, you do realize you're betting against-” Peter started.

“Hush, spiderling. Watch the game.” Tony brushed him off and watched the screen intently.

Tony was proud of you, truly. But it would also be funny to tease you lovingly when you go home as a loser.

You set up your utility, kind of surprised the whole enemy team went to the other site in which they thought you were heading. They did not leave anyone behind to make sure, as per your cautious scan of the area before settling. After checking all angles again, with thirty seconds to spare, you planted the spike.

“This is a dangerous game to play. She has to hold a lot of angles by herself, they could come in from anywhere.”

The spike continued to beep, which added a lot more tension among the Avengers. Natasha alternated from looking at the actual game to your face camera, of which was the only one left colored. You kept pacing at one of the hiding places, waiting for the slightest noise or actions from the other team.

You decided to peek at one of the entrances to the site once, the Jett with an operator narrowly missed your head so you took the opportunity to blast her head off. Afterwards, your alarm bot from the other side of your hiding place went off, so you went and peeked quickly, managing to pick off another player from the opposite team. Two down, three to go.

The Avengers erupted in noise. Sam and Peter were losing their minds, Bucky and Steve had amazed grins on their faces, and Natasha was clinging on to Yelena and Fanny like a fangirl trying to contain herself.

“What was that?!”

“She's a god!”

“My god, this is way too intense for me.”

Both commentators erupted in surprised glee as well. “A double kill from [Team Name] Y/N! The others are slowly making their way into the site, what will she do?!”

A Sova fired a dart to hopefully reveal your location on the map, but you were too quick to shoot it down to cancel it. But, the Sova spotted you anyway, and was able to shoot you until you were at only 50 HP.

You hid again and recalled your turret, placing it on top of the wall in front of you before sneaking your way to the opposite side. It could watch your back while you attempt to peek on the other side to surprise your enemies.

That move managed to catch one of the other players trying to sneak in as well, and you killed them off with ease. Three down, two to go.

“Down goes [Player Name]! Sova and Yoru are still on the lookout, it's like an intense version of hide & seek up in here!”

Barely anyone was talking now, all eyes on the enormous screen.

“Y/N has her ult!” Peter pointed out.

That you did, as your third kill managed to unlock enough points for it. Aware of its availability, you hurried off to the perfect spot to plant it to cover almost the entire site, still hidden from your enemies. Killjoy's voice rang through the game, saying 'Initiated!', when you planted her ultimate.

“What's that? What's happening?” Steve asked.

“Well, it's called 'lockdown', so I'm assuming it's locking off the area within its perimeter... trapping everyone inside...” Bruce said, lost in thought because of the game.

The Yoru activated their ultimate in time with yours, and you were now twice as cautious, looking around for blue swirls of the duelist to avoid getting sniped easily. He tried to blind you, but you were quick to move your view away from the flash to avoid it. Stupidly, the Yoru's ultimate ran out while trying to destroy your lockdown, so you killed them without hesitation. Four down, one to go.

Clint cackled at the turn of events while the others continued to freak out, teasing Tony, a billionaire, on losing a fifty-dollar bet. “What did I tell you, Stark?! What did I tell you?!”

The spike's beeps started getting faster and you could finally see the finish line. But, you were still cautious as they still had more than enough time to defuse if they managed to kill you.

“You know, [Team Name] Y/N could just leave the site at this point. It's game over for [Rival Team Name].”

“Ah, don't speak too soon there! [Team Name] Y/N's now inspecting the outer corners of the site, unaware of [Rival Team Name] [Player]'s sneaky entrance - and she's placed a smoke down, ready to defuse!”

Of course you were unaware of the opponent's whereabouts. But, you did hear the defuse sound go off for a second. With that, you head back, holding a grenade to throw near the area of the spike.

“She's got this in the bag.” Sam said in content.

After a few seconds, the defusing sound started up again, but you were certain that the grenade you set off did some damage to your opponent on top of the information you got from your teammates before they died.

You started to jiggle-peek from your spot, clearly visible from your opponent's perspective, so they had no choice but to stop defusing the spike to try and shoot you.

Unfortunately, they did a number on you, so you decided to go around. Once the cooldown reset on your turret, you placed it down on one side for intel. With only 20 HP left, you snuck up to the other side of the obstacle to hopefully pull off a knife kill for the finale.

“This game is way more intense than I thought.” Bucky spoke thoughtfully amidst the suspense-filled silence.

“Shhhh!”

“Oh my god, she's got her knife out.” Natasha said in disbelief, watching your character sneak up behind your opponent whose back is facing you.

“So?”

“Just wait for it.” Natasha bit her lip, knowing fully well how you always prefer a devastating way to end a match.

The commentators were freaking out, a combination of “no's”, “don't do this”, and “not like this” rang through the Avengers' speakers. It was considered devastating in the VALORANT community to be killed in game with a knife instead of a gun or anything else. The opponent is oblivious, having already defused half of the spike, but they didn't know what would soon come.

You strike your knife at their head, killing them instantly, the spike left undefused. The game graphics became slow motion while the screen flashed green with 'VICTORY' in the middle of it all. You stood up almost immediately, proud of your savage last kill, fist-bumping all your teammates.

“AN ACE FROM [Team Name] Y/N! [Team Name] IS GOING TO THE MASTERS!”

You hugged your team as well before turning to the camera nearest to you, blowing hot air onto the lens, and tracing a heart followed by a cheeky grin and a wink.

“Yup, she's a Stark alright!”

Roars and cheers emitted from the commentators, the present audience, and the Avengers. Sam yelled and everyone followed, but the loudest one was Clint, who then swooped down to collect his cash prize for winning the bet. Tony didn't care at all, laughing along with the others; he had something new to brag about his kid. Natasha's cheeks flushed, as they always did when it came to you.

“SHE WON!”

“I'll get the booze!”

“In your face, Stark!”

“Cap, you stepped on my foot!”

Natasha unlocked her phone to take a quick picture of the livestream of the heart you drew on the camera, as well as of the stage displaying all of your team's headshots with an abundance of confetti almost covering it. All she wanted now was to call you, but she knew you probably had interviews and post-game rituals with your team, and she had champagne to drink with her own team in celebration of you.

The next morning, on a quick flight back home, the first thing that caught your attention was Natasha's Instagram story of the tournament. Your family supported and watched the tourney for you, as the following slides of her story consisted of the team chugging on champagne, Clint showing off an apparent bet that he won, and Peter and Sam posing in front of the TV when your face camera was shown up close.

Smiling, you liked her stories and replied with 'Thank you for supporting me, my love. I'll see you all soon'.

[glorystark]

His Saviour | Part 1

Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: You disobey one of Steve's orders in a mission but you don't think about the consequences...

Warnings: (TRIGGER WARNING!) mentions of self harm and suicide, mentions of killing and torturing, pure Angst no happy ending, mentions of injures, dark!Steve Rogers, swearing, minor spoilers of Black Widow, Steve being an asshole in general

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader

Featuring: The original 6

Disclaimer: please don't read this if you're not comfortable with any of the topics below or/and if they trigger you. This is just a fiction and it's never ok to act like this. I'm not romanticizing any of these topics and this behaviour!

You are sitting in the Quinjet, observing everyone who is injured in different ways. Natasha has been stabbed in her right thigh, Clint’s left ankle has been twisted, and Bruce, although not injured, appears exhausted due to a significant code green call, during which Nat almost lost him trying to retrieve him. Thor has a few scratches on his face. Everyone’s faces show bruising in different areas, and their bodies are still aching. But you, you have been injured the most. Your right wrist is broken, and you have been shot in your left leg, though the bullet wasn’t deep and didn't cause major damage; otherwise, you probably would have passed out by now. You still have trouble breathing, and your voice is sore because one of the HYDRA agents almost choked you to death. Your face is bruised, you can only open your right eye halfway, and your lips are swollen. The numbness has made it so you can barely feel any pain. When everyone saw you upon returning to the jet, they were extremely worried. You didn’t possess inhuman powers and weren't a super soldier, but you used to be a well-trained assassin and spy in the Red Room, closely partnered with Natasha Romanoff before joining S.H.I.E.L.D. So, it was surprising for the team to see you so battered, though they understood the mission was challenging.

Everyone needed a break upon returning to the tower. Initially, everyone thought it was a straightforward mission: infiltrate a high-security HYDRA base, get two flash drives containing vital and dangerous information, and exit. What no one knew was that it was a trap, with far more agents present than expected. Eventually, you managed to escape, but only securing one of the flash drives.

As everyone settled back in the jet, Bruce finished removing the bullet from your leg and bandaging Nat’s thigh. Thor bragged to Tony about his usual lack of injuries on missions, joking that he could have taken down all the HYDRA agents that day if he hadn’t been 'unlucky', which elicited laughter from Tony. Clint checked on Nat while she recounted a memory from Budapest. Meanwhile, you contemplated going home for a long shower until you noticed Steve, whose eyes were fixed on you with intensity. Confused, you assumed he was lost in thought, but you were wrong.

“How could you be so reckless?!" Steve's voice boomed through the jet as he stood up from his seat, his gaze piercing into yours. Everyone stopped what they were doing, surprised by his uncharacteristically loud tone, given his usually calm demeanor, even when upset. You looked at him, uncertain of what to say. You understood why he was angry; you had disobeyed an order. However, if not for your 'disobedience,' you wouldn't have acquired half the information you have now. To you, this seemed like Steve Rogers throwing a typical Captain America tantrum.

“Well, are you going to answer, or are you too stupid to respond to a simple question?" he growled, advancing toward your seat.

“I wasn't being-" you began to mutter, only to be interrupted by Steve.

“Speak up," he demanded, his voice cutting you off. You met his gaze, puzzled by his demeanor.

“I wasn't being reckless; I was being thoughtful. The-" you tried to explain, but Steve interrupted again.

"Thoughtful?! You call that thoughtful?! Really, Y/n? It's clear you don't understand the difference between stupidity and thoughtfulness.” he retorted.

“Will you stop interrupting me?" you interjected, your voice growing louder as you rose from your seat. You locked eyes with Steve, standing almost chest to chest in front of each other.

“I wouldn't have interrupted you if I knew any useful words were going to come out of your mouth," he countered, finally yelling, causing everyone but you to flinch.

“You have no right to yell at me like this, Steve.” you asserted, standing up for yourself.

"I have EVERY right to yell at you, you-" he began, but you cut him off this time.

"Why are you making it seem like I committed a crime? Yes, I agree it was wrong for me to enter that room alone, but I retrieved the flash drive we needed, didn't I?" you challenged.

“That is not the point right now. The point is, I'm your captain, and I gave a strict, direct order not to enter that room, and you disobeyed me.” he stated firmly.

That was all true. When you disobeyed his order, you knew he would be angry, but not to this extent.

You sprinted down the hallway, incapacitating every HYDRA agent in your path. You tried not to use your gun too often, knowing there would likely be guards in the room.

"Steve, I found the room," you said through your earpiece. You subdued the agent guarding the room where the flash drives were, and as the door swung open, more than twenty HYDRA agents stood before you, blocking your view of the drives on the computer table.

“Y/n, what did you just say? Get out of there now! Do you even know how many agents are in there?" Steve's urgent voice echoed in your ear.

“I do now," you replied, still facing the agents, who were also eyeing you cautiously.

"Y/n, this is an order. Get. Out. Of. There. Now.” Steve commanded, his tone almost a shout.

“Sorry, Steve, but people's lives depend on this.” you declared, charging toward the agents, disregarding Steve's pleas for you to retreat.

“Steve, I really don't understand what the big deal is. I got one of the drives, and yes, I went alone, but at least I obtained something that will help us.” you reasoned, taking a seat.

“Alright, y/n, I'm definitely sure now that you are deaf. You entered a room with so many HYDRA agents-" he began, only to be cut off by you.

“They were like 10 and they were really weak-" you defended.

“They were 27 trained assassins!” he corrected, making you widen your eyes.

"And do I need to remind you that your leg has been shot, and you can barely keep your eyes open, not to mention the rest of your injuries." he added mockingly.

“Okay, Steve, I get it, and I'm sorry for being reckless. Can we let this go now?" you pleaded, sitting down.

“Let this go?!" he started laughing, though his laugh lacked any humor. Everyone looked at Steve, unable to believe his behavior. They never expected him to speak to you this way, especially in front of the whole team.

You and Steve had been friends since meeting during the Battle of New York. You had a lot in common and quickly connected. A few months later, at one of Tony's parties, he kissed you, and the following day, he asked you out. It had been six months since then, and Steve treated you like a princess. He called you his savior because you helped him adjust to life after being thawed from the ice. He adored you. You had a few minor disagreements, but they were hardly fights, more like disagreements. You could never stay mad at each other, and now you couldn't believe the man who was laughing at you and humiliating you was the same person.

"Steve, I think that's enough," Nat finally intervened, her voice calm yet firm.

"Is it really? I think baby y/n hasn't learned her lesson yet.” Steve retorted sarcastically.

“Fuck you, Steve. You can't speak to me like that. I'm not a kid. If it wasn't for me, we wouldn't even have that one drive, and god knows how many people could have died. But you can't even realize that because I disobeyed ‘Captain America's orders,' and no one is allowed to disobey America's 'hero.' The only kid between us is you!” you shot back, your voice rising, though not as loud as Steve's had been.

“I'm a kid, y/n? Really? And what are you, a hero? Do you expect me to thank you now? Do you expect all of us to be on our knees thanking you?!" Steve challenged.

“That is not what I said!" you finally snapped.

The tension in the room escalated, and the team grew more uncomfortable by the second.

Steve smirked at your angered state.

“What's the matter, y/n? You seem a little bit defensive. I thought you liked being a hero. You know, because of the guilt, since you started killing and torturing people at the age of 8.”he said, still wearing the hurtful smirk on his face.

The whole team gasped, especially Natasha, whose story paralleled yours. You looked at Steve, unable to believe what he had just said.

“You seem shocked, Agent y/l/n. Oh, and Natasha, don't take this the wrong way. We all make mistakes in our life, but at least after we realize our mistakes, we try to make them up as soon as we can and not run away like a coward.” Steve continued, ignoring your reaction. You and Natasha widened your eyes, understanding what Steve was referring to."Steve..." Nat began, but Steve cut her off.

“I'm not done yet. Some of y'all look confused, well, let me explain it for you," Steve said, addressing the rest of the team.

"Steve, don't." you murmured, your voice weak now. You weren't even sure if anyone heard you, and you were right. No one heard you, but Steve who chose to ignore you.

“Our dear y/n y/l/n was a well-trained assassin back in the years with Natasha Romanoff in a place called the Red Room, which I'm sure you've heard about. Before even Natasha was out of there, Agent y/l/n found a way to leave the Red Room, a way to save every girl, from children to adults, who were mind-controlled into killing, and even worse. But do you know what she did instead?" he turned around the room, looking at everyone as if it was a show. No one said anything; they just kept looking between you and Steve. It was getting harder for you to focus on your breathing.

“Well, in case you haven't guessed yet, she just left everyone who could've been saved, even her best friend who is sitting right here with us.” he said, pointing at Nat.

“And even though she could've killed Dreykov, who was the leader by the way, with her genius plan, she didn't because she was a coward.” he said, emphasizing the word coward.

You've never felt so small and betrayed. You couldn’t believe he was using your awful past against you. When you confided in him, he comforted you, assuring you it wasn't your fault. That you’ve been through a lot and you took the only chance you had to save yourself. And now… now he was a different person.

“Cap that’s enough, it’s not our business what she did in the past. We all did something in some point that we aren’t proud of. She made up for that mistake many times now, since the battle of New York until today’s mission. I’m sure she still feels guilty and you’re just making it worse.” Tony looked at your trembling sight, standing up from his seat and walked towards Steve. The rest of the team nodding along, glad that Tony stood up for you because they were frozen themselves.

“Oh yeah Tony, you’re right I’m sure she feels guilty, don’t you y/l/n?” He looked at you as if you were a kid

Everything about him was hurting you right now. His voice tone that humiliated you in every way, his eyes that sent daggers to your way, his body that was intimidatingly towering yours, his smile which always made you happy and now it was only mocking you. Your throat is dry, your eyes are wet and you feel like your heart is going to come out of your chest in any second. You were hurt and unwell, and everyone could see that, everyone but Steve.

“Agent y/I/n do you feel guilty about your past?" He repeated his sarcastic question.

"I wouldn't worry about that too much since you have a good way to cope with your guilt right?" He continued.

You looked up at him frighteningly, understanding where he was going.

“Steve don't you dare." you whispered, finally being able to say something.

Everyone was confused since they had no idea what you both were talking about.

“you seem scared agent." Steve smirked at you sending shivers down your spine. It hurts so much more that he wasn't even using your name anymore, he felt like a stranger to you.

“SHUT UP!" you had never yelled so loud in your life, the whole jet shook. Everyone flinched but Steve. It seemed like he was waiting for this.

“Come on y/n are you that afraid of everyone knowing how you used to deal with your problems, or do you still do it?"

Everyone was quite once again, something in them wanted to know what Steve was talking about but they also didn't because of the way you reacted.

You looked at him not saying anything but your eyes were begging him to stop. You've never been in such a vulnerable position, especially considering everything you’ve been through.

“oh don't tell me you're gonna cut your wrists open again because you feel guilty you didn't get the second driver."

Everyone froze and widened their eyes, silence filling the jet. No one knew that you used to harm yourself until you started dating Steve, he was the first person to ever know. You felt so comfortable around him that you didn't want to have any untold secrets.

You thought about what if you guys break up but you convinced yourself that even if you guys separate your ways from each other at some point, you're definitely going to stay friends and he's never going to tell your secret to anyone because you believed he was a good man. You trusted him more than yourself and now he proved you all wrong.

You didn't cut anymore, because you found a way to save people. If it wasn't for Nick Fury, making you join the team you'd be long gone by now. But you didn't have a reason anymore, you were happy you had a new family and a new job, everything was perfect for you. Now you felt alone all over again and you didn't even blame Steve, you blamed yourself. You failed.

You started trembling more and started to see black spots. The team walked towards you to see if you were okay. Thor pushed Steve away, "Stay away from her," he warned, before walking to you. You heard Tony and Natasha yelling at Steve, Clint trying to calm them down but looking angry himself, Bruce and Thor asking you if you were alright, but you couldn’t hear anything anymore. It was so loud, but you only heard annoying mumbles. You let out a sob before passing out in the strong arms of the god, the last thing you saw being Steve's worried eyes…

A/N: This was my first (published) fan fiction. I apologise for any writing and/or grammar mistakes considering that English isn’t my first language. Feel free to correct me! If you enjoyed this, please let me know and let me know if you want to be tagged in the upcoming posts! (This fic will make a twist;))

[mintyys-blog]

avengers X reader: past

WARNINGS: mention of murder

You were trying your best to be calm and collected, but you could already feel that creeping excitement bubbling under the surface. You took a deep breath as you approached the gym.

Inside, you found Natasha doing pull-ups with ease, and Clint was sharpening a few arrows in the corner. You knew they had a strong partnership, but seeing them in action was a whole different experience.

“Hey,” you said, trying to sound casual, leaning against the doorframe. “How’s the workout going?”

Natasha didn’t even break a sweat as she dropped down from the pull-up bar. “Same as usual,” she said, catching your eye with a hint of amusement. “What about you? You settling in?”

“I’m… getting there,” you said with a smile, forcing yourself to look around and not just stare at Natasha’s perfect form. You had studied her combat techniques—how she moved with precision, her adaptability in any situation—but seeing her in action, seeing her in person, was a whole other level of impressive. “I just wanted to check in and make sure I wasn’t missing any training or… anything else I should be doing.”

“Well, when you’re ready,” Clint said, looking up from his arrows, “we could use a sparring partner. I’m sure you’ve got some moves.”

You chuckled nervously, rubbing the back of your neck. “Oh, I mean, I’m definitely more of a… support person. I’m good with strategy and research. I’ve done some hand-to-hand, but, uh… maybe not against you two.”

Natasha grinned. “Don’t worry. We won’t go too hard on you.”

You smiled back, but your mind was racing. I can’t believe I’m here, talking to them. To Natasha and Clint. I read about every mission they’ve ever been on. Every fight. Every move. And here they are, right in front of me.

You cleared your throat, trying to focus. “Anyway, just wanted to say hi. Maybe I’ll stop by the next training session, get in some practice.”

“You’re always welcome to join,” Clint said, giving you a quick smile. “Just don’t expect us to go easy on you forever.”

You laughed, nodding. “I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

As you turned to leave, you nearly bumped into Thor, who was walking down the hallway with his usual boisterous energy. “Ah, Y/N!” he boomed, his voice echoing off the walls. “It is good to see you, my friend!”

“Thor!” you said, smiling widely despite yourself. “Uh, good to see you too. How’s it going?”

Thor slapped you on the back with a force that nearly knocked the wind out of you, but you kept your balance, grinning. “It goes well! I was just speaking with Banner. We were discussing the best ways to improve my hammer’s impact, but I must confess that it requires more testing than I originally anticipated.”

You blinked at him, trying not to be too obvious about how much you were enjoying this conversation. “Testing? You’ve been… testing it?”

“Aye!” Thor said enthusiastically. “I have thrown Mjolnir at a few trees to see how it fares against different kinds of wood. I find it most amusing.”

You laughed, despite yourself. “That’s… uh, definitely a very Thor way to go about it.”

Thor grinned. “You are wise, Y/N. Few could see the logic in my ways so quickly. It pleases me to know you are as resourceful as the others.”

“Oh, um, thanks,” you said, trying not to get too overwhelmed by his praise. “I mean, it’s just that I read—uh, well, I mean, studied a lot of… your past battles. And, you know, if you’re ever looking for a, uh, sparring partner or just someone to, you know, discuss the details of the… battles you’ve fought, I’m totally up for it.”

Thor looked down at you with an amused, almost fatherly expression. “I see. You have done much studying of my victories, yes? Very well, if ever you wish to learn the ways of Asgardian combat, I shall teach you the art of the hammer!”

You tried to play it cool. “I mean, I’m more of a… quick thinker than a brawler, but sure, I’ll take a lesson in Asgardian combat. That sounds amazing.”

Thor laughed, clearly delighted by your enthusiasm. “I look forward to it. You shall be a worthy warrior yet!”

You watched as he walked off, the excitement buzzing beneath your skin again. Did you hear that? Thor said you’d be a worthy warrior. A worthy warrior. This is real. This is happening. Don’t freak out. Don’t freak out. Just stay cool.

Shaking your head, you tried to refocus, but before you could get far, you found yourself in the elevator with none other than Tony Stark. He was tinkering with something on his phone, his eyes barely glancing up as you stepped inside.

“You’re awfully quiet for a new recruit,” Tony said, breaking the silence.

“I’m… just trying to absorb everything,” you said, trying to sound calm. “You know, process everything I’m learning. It’s kind of a lot all at once.”

Tony finally looked up, his signature smirk appearing. “You’re not just a fan, are you?”

You froze for a moment before laughing it off. “No! No, definitely not. I mean, yeah, I’ve read about your tech—probably more than I should have—but I’m here for a reason. I’m good at what I do.”

Tony raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “So you’re not just here to collect autographs and take selfies with me?”

You shook your head, trying to look serious, though you felt the giggle bubbling up inside you. “No, I’m here to help. If you need research, strategy—anything technical—I’ve got you covered. I just want to contribute to the team.”

Tony studied you for a moment before smiling, his usual cocky grin returning. “Alright. I like you, kid. Just don’t get too attached to my tech. I don’t hand out souvenirs.”

You nodded eagerly, trying not to show how absolutely thrilled you were to be having a conversation with Tony Stark. “I promise, no souvenir hunting. Just… here to help however I can.”

As you exited the elevator, Tony called after you. “You know, we’ve got a mission briefing in a bit. I’m sure you’ve read about all of our past ones, so… feel free to jump in with any tips.”

You gave a small chuckle. “I’d love to, but I don’t want to step on any toes.”

“I’m sure you’ll find your place,” Tony said with a wink. “Eventually.”

You stepped into the training room, intent on just observing the team at work. It wasn’t that you were afraid to train—you’d spent years preparing for something like this—but jumping into a fight with the Avengers? That was a whole different level of pressure.

Clint was currently sparring with a training dummy, moving fluidly between attacks, each hit landing with precision. His footwork was sharp, and his reflexes were quick, but you could already see the patterns in his movements. The way he shifted his weight before a strike, the slight tilt of his head when he planned to feint—it was all familiar. You had studied him for years.

And apparently, you weren’t being subtle about it.

“You analyzing me, rookie?” Clint called out, snapping you out of your thoughts.

You blinked. “What?”

He smirked, wiping some sweat off his brow. “You’re staring pretty hard. Don’t worry, I know I look good when I fight.”

You rolled your eyes. “I was just… observing.”

“Uh-huh.” He grabbed a towel and slung it over his shoulder, then turned toward you. “Alright then. Since you seem to know so much, how about you hop in?”

You glanced around, half-expecting him to be talking to someone else. When no one else reacted, you blinked at him. “Wait… me?”

Clint grinned. “Yeah, you. C’mon, don’t tell me you just plan on standing around all day.”

You hesitated, shifting on your feet. “I—uh—are you sure?”

Natasha, who had been stretching nearby, smirked as she leaned against the wall. “I’d like to see this.”

Clint motioned toward the mat. “Don’t worry, I’ll go easy on you.”

That wasn’t the problem. The problem was that you knew Clint’s fighting style inside and out. You had studied his techniques, memorized his movements, and, in theory, you knew exactly how to counter him. The question was—could you actually do it?

Taking a deep breath, you stepped forward. “Alright. Let’s do this.”

You and Clint took your positions, circling each other on the mat. He was loose and relaxed, clearly confident that he could take you down without breaking a sweat. You, on the other hand, were running through every sparring match you’d ever seen him do, predicting his next moves before he even made them.

Then he struck.

A quick jab, testing your reflexes. You dodged easily, stepping back before shifting to the side. Another move—this time a feint to the left before trying to sweep your legs. But you saw it coming.

You pivoted at just the right moment, sidestepping his attack. Clint’s expression flickered with surprise, but he covered it up quickly, going for another strike. You dodged again.

And again.

And again.

Natasha hummed from the sidelines. “Huh.”

Clint frowned, adjusting his stance. “Alright, you have been watching me.”

You gave him an innocent smile. “Not in a creepy way.”

That was enough to throw him off for just a second. And that was all you needed.

As he moved in again, you ducked low, sweeping your leg out underneath him and catching him off guard. Before he could react, you followed through, knocking his legs out from under him completely.

Clint hit the mat with a surprised grunt, staring up at the ceiling.

You gasped, stepping back quickly. “Oh my God, I am so sorry—”

He propped himself up on his elbows, blinking at you like he couldn’t quite believe what had just happened. “Did you just—?”

Natasha, still leaning against the wall, started clapping. “Wow. That was fast.”

You felt heat rise to your cheeks as you stepped back, offering Clint a hand. “I—I didn’t mean to actually take you down—”

Clint took your hand, still looking stunned. “You—” He shook his head, a grin forming. “You really have been watching me.”

You smiled sheepishly. “Not in a creepy way.”

Natasha smirked. “That’s the second time she’s said that. Starting to think it is a little creepy.”

You groaned. “Okay, I study people, alright? Strategy is kind of my thing.”

Clint let out a breath, still amused. “Well, damn. I didn’t even land a hit.”

You gave a small, apologetic smile. “Sorry?”

Clint just chuckled, shaking his head. “Don’t be. I like a challenge.”

Natasha crossed her arms, looking at you with interest. “You should train with me next.”

You gulped. “Uh—maybe later?”

She smirked. “We’ll see.”

Deciding you had tested your luck enough for one day, you quickly excused yourself.

After leaving the training room, you decided to explore the compound a little more. You still hadn’t met everyone yet, and you were bound to run into someone sooner or later.

Sure enough, as you wandered into the kitchen, you found Wanda and Vision standing by the counter. Wanda was stirring something in a mug, while Vision stood beside her, looking contemplative.

“—I still do not fully grasp the purpose of putting marshmallows into hot chocolate,” Vision was saying.

Wanda sighed. “It’s not about logic, Vis. It just tastes good.”

You grinned as you stepped inside. “She’s right, you know. It’s a crucial part of the experience.”

Wanda turned to you, smiling warmly. “Y/N! How’s your first day?”

You shrugged. “So far, I’ve managed to embarrass myself only a little, so I’d say it’s going well.”

Vision tilted his head. “Statistically speaking, that is an impressive feat, considering you are surrounded by such formidable individuals.”

You blinked. “I… think that was a compliment?”

Wanda chuckled. “It was.”

You smiled, watching as Wanda plopped another marshmallow into her drink. Vision observed with quiet curiosity, then, after a moment, used his powers to levitate one into his own cup.

You shook your head, amused. “This place is wild.”

As you left the kitchen, you nearly bumped into someone in the hallway. You looked up and immediately tensed when you saw him.

Bucky Barnes.

Unlike the others, Bucky didn’t greet you with a smile or a teasing remark. He simply gave you a brief, unreadable glance before continuing down the hall.

You swallowed, feeling a chill run down your spine. Bucky was the only one on the team you hadn’t figured out yet.

And from the way he looked at you—like he was trying to place you—it was clear that he hadn’t figured you out either.

Deciding not to push your luck, you kept walking, eager to see who else you’d run into.

One thing was for sure—this was going to be interesting.

After your run-in with Bucky, you decided to keep wandering, making a mental map of the compound as you went. The place was massive, and despite all the research you’d done, actually being here was different. You still couldn’t believe you were living at the Avengers Compound.

As you rounded a corner, you heard a familiar voice—one that immediately made you smile.

“Man, I know I had a sandwich in here,” Sam Wilson muttered from inside the common room.

You peered inside, spotting Sam standing in front of an open fridge, arms crossed as he surveyed the nearly empty shelves.

“Someone steal your lunch?” you asked, leaning against the doorframe.

Sam turned to you, raising an eyebrow. “Oh, hey, newbie. Yeah, someone’s got sticky fingers around here.”

You smirked. “It was probably Scott.”

Sam blinked. “Wait, what?”

You shrugged. “Scott Lang. He steals food all the time. Especially sandwiches. He did it to Hank Pym once, and let’s just say… it didn’t go well.”

Sam narrowed his eyes. “How do you know that?”

You hesitated for half a second before casually saying, “I read his files.”

Which wasn’t technically a lie. You had read his files. You just also had gone through every single interview, news clip, and debriefing he’d ever done.

Sam studied you for a long moment before shaking his head. “Okay, that’s mildly concerning.”

“Not in a creepy way,” you said quickly.

“That’s exactly what a creepy person would say.”

Before you could defend yourself, another voice chimed in from the doorway.

“Oh, hey! Are we talking about how weirdly much Y/N knows about us?”

You turned to see Peter Parker, still in his hoodie and backpack, grinning as he walked in.

“Peter!” you said, smiling. “I thought you weren’t coming by until next week.”

Peter blinked. “Uh… yeah? How did you know that?”

Sam turned back to you with a smirk. “Yeah, Y/N, how did you know that?”

You opened your mouth, then closed it. “…I just keep up with things.”

Peter gave you a curious look but didn’t push it further. Instead, he dropped his bag on the couch and stretched. “Well, I’m here now! And I’m starving.”

Sam scoffed. “Good luck. Someone already stole my food.”

Peter winced. “Oof. Rookie mistake. Never leave your food unattended in a place full of superhumans.”

Sam sighed, shaking his head. “This is my life now.”

You chuckled before turning back to Peter. “Oh, by the way, congrats on your chemistry grade. I know you were struggling with that.”

Peter’s eyes widened. “Wait—how do you—” He paused, then groaned. “Oh my God. You read my interviews, didn’t you?”

You coughed awkwardly. “Maybe.”

Peter pointed at you. “Okay, that’s low-key terrifying.”

Sam nodded. “Told you.”

You sighed dramatically. “Look, I swear it’s not weird. I just like to be informed.”

Peter shook his head, but he was grinning. “I’m watching you, Y/N.”

Sam snorted. “Welcome to the club, kid.”

Later that day, you found yourself in one of the conference rooms, flipping through files on the latest mission details. You were so focused that you didn’t even notice someone walking in until they cleared their throat.

You looked up and immediately straightened.

James Rhodes.

War Machine himself.

He gave you a polite but scrutinizing look as he set down a tablet. “You must be Y/N.”

You stood up, offering your hand. “Yep. Nice to meet you, Colonel Rhodes.”

Rhodey shook your hand, still eyeing you curiously. “Heard a lot about you.”

You tilted your head. “Good things, I hope?”

Rhodey smirked. “Well, that depends. Sam and Peter are convinced you know way too much about all of us.”

You groaned. “Seriously? I told them, it’s not weird—”

Rhodey chuckled. “Relax, kid. I’m just messing with you.”

You sighed in relief, then hesitated before saying, “For the record, I do know a lot about you, but only because I admire your work.”

Rhodey raised an eyebrow. “That so?”

You nodded. “Your aerial combat strategies are genius, and your ability to adapt mid-battle is one of the best I’ve seen. Not to mention, you personally helped coordinate the clean-up efforts after Sokovia and Wakanda, which—by the way—was extremely impressive given the scale of both situations.”

Rhodey blinked.

Then blinked again.

“Well, damn,” he muttered. “You really did your homework.”

You smiled sheepishly. “I like to be prepared.”

Rhodey let out a low whistle. “Alright, I gotta admit—that’s kind of impressive.”

“Not in a creepy way,” you added quickly.

Rhodey just chuckled, shaking his head. “We’ll see about that.”

Over the next few days, it became increasingly obvious to the team just how much you knew about them.

You casually reminded Bruce of a lecture he gave years ago—one he barely remembered himself.

You knew the exact number of missions Natasha had completed (which she had to double-check because she wasn’t even sure if you were right—you were).

You corrected Tony on a detail about one of his past inventions, which led to a five-minute argument before he begrudgingly admitted you were right.

Even Steve, who usually kept his distance, raised an eyebrow when you asked about a mission he’d done before he was Captain America.

And then there was Bucky.

Unlike the others, he didn’t laugh or tease when he noticed how much you knew. He just watched. Quiet. Observant.

You weren’t sure if that was a good thing.

But one thing was certain—at this rate, the whole team was starting to realize that you weren’t just another recruit.

You were a fan—a very well-informed, slightly terrifyingly prepared fan.

And there was no hiding it now.

After a week of increasingly suspicious encounters, the team finally decided they needed answers.

It started with Tony.

“She’s gotta have a paper trail,” he muttered, typing rapidly on one of his holographic screens. “No one just appears out of nowhere.”

Bruce, standing behind him, frowned. “You sound paranoid.”

“Paranoid? No, no, Banner—paranoid would be if I thought she was a spy,” Tony said, then paused. “Wait. Do we think she’s a spy?”

Sam, arms crossed, leaned against the table. “If she is, she’s either the worst or best one I’ve ever seen. Who just casually tells people they know every detail about them?”

Natasha smirked. “Maybe she’s just a really dedicated fangirl.”

“Or an alien,” Peter suggested, eyes wide. “What if she’s, like, a super-advanced AI?”

Tony scoffed. “Please, if she were an AI, I’d know.”

Steve, who had been listening quietly, finally spoke up. “We should at least look into it. Just in case.”

So they did.

And what they found—or rather, didn’t find—made things worse.

There were barely any records on you. No birth certificate, no school records, no medical history. It was like you hadn’t existed until a few years ago.

Tony scrolled through the limited data they could pull. “This is weird. According to this, she just… popped into existence.”

Rhodey frowned. “How is that possible?”

Natasha leaned closer. “Her earliest records are only a few years old—basic stuff, nothing detailed. No family listed, no addresses before that time. It’s like she just started her life then.”

Bucky, who had been silent until now, finally spoke. “That’s not normal.”

Steve nodded. “No, it’s not.”

Clint let out a slow whistle. “Alright. That’s officially unsettling.”

Sam looked around. “So… what do we do?”

There was a beat of silence before Tony leaned back in his chair.

“We ask her.”

You were sitting on the common room couch when you realized something was up.

For one, everyone was acting weird. Tony kept sneaking glances at you, Steve was watching you with that Captain America Serious Expression™, and Sam had been whispering with Bucky for the last five minutes.

Finally, Natasha sat down next to you and smiled.

“So,” she said casually. “How’s your day going?”

You squinted. “Fine…?”

Clint plopped onto the couch across from you. “Great, great. Quick question—who are you?”

You blinked. “Uh. Y/N?”

Tony leaned forward, clasping his hands together. “Right. And would you say you’re good at hiding secrets? Or just, like, freakishly good at wiping your own past?”

Your stomach dropped.

“Oh,” you said slowly. “So that’s what this is about.”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “You don’t sound surprised.”

You sighed, leaning back. “I figured you’d look me up eventually.”

Steve folded his arms. “And?”

You shrugged. “And you didn’t find much, did you?”

Peter, who had been silent until now, waved his arms. “That’s the problem! You barely exist before a few years ago! That’s weird, Y/N!”

You hesitated. “It’s… complicated.”

Bucky, who had been watching you closely, finally spoke. “Explain it.”

You glanced around, taking in the expectant—and slightly suspicious—looks on their faces.

Then you sighed.

“Okay. But promise not to freak out.”

Tony raised an eyebrow. “That is absolutely the worst thing you could’ve said right now.”

You took a deep breath.

Time to tell them the truth.

Dancing Around the Truth

You could feel the weight of their stares, the tension thick in the air as they waited for an answer.

You tapped your fingers against your thigh, considering your words carefully.

“Well,” you said finally, “it’s not that I don’t have a past. It’s just… not one I like to talk about.”

Natasha tilted her head. “That’s not suspicious at all.”

You sighed. “Look, I get why you’re all wary. I would be, too. But I promise I’m not some spy or sleeper agent or whatever theory you’re cooking up.”

Tony leaned forward. “Okay. So what are you?”

You hesitated just a second too long.

“Someone who ended up here. That’s all,” you said vaguely.

Steve frowned. “That’s not much of an answer.”

“It’s all you’re getting,” you said with a small smile.

Bucky narrowed his eyes. “That’s convenient.”

You met his gaze, steady and unwavering. “Not everything has a neat little explanation, Barnes.”

Sam huffed. “Alright, but come on. You know things about us that even we don’t remember. And somehow, your entire existence only started a few years ago? That doesn’t just happen.”

You shrugged. “Maybe I’m just really good at research.”

Peter threw his hands up. “How do you know about my chemistry grade, Y/N? That was never in an interview.”

You winced. “Uh. Lucky guess?”

Peter groaned, flopping back onto the couch.

Tony sighed, rubbing his temples. “Okay, this is going nowhere. Let’s try something simpler. Where are you from?”

You smiled. “Around.”

“What does that mean?”

You waved a hand vaguely. “You know. Here. There. Places.”

Clint blinked. “That was the most non-answer I’ve ever heard.”

Natasha studied you carefully. “You’re dodging.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Am I?”

Rhodey crossed his arms. “Yes.”

Bucky’s expression was unreadable. “Why?”

You hesitated again, but this time, the teasing edge in your voice faded.

“Because some things are better left alone,” you said simply.

That made them pause.

Steve, who had been quietly observing, finally spoke. “Is something dangerous being left alone?”

You gave him a small, unreadable smile. “That depends.”

Bucky’s frown deepened. “On what?”

You stood up, stretching. “On whether or not you keep pushing.”

The team exchanged glances, and you could feel their frustration. But instead of saying anything else, you turned toward the door.

“This has been fun,” you said lightly. “But I think I’ll let you all sit with your theories for a while.”

As you walked out, you could still feel their eyes on you.

Let them wonder.

You weren’t ready to tell them the truth.

Not yet.

The mission was supposed to be routine. Infiltrate a rogue facility, gather intel, and leave. But as always, things rarely went as planned for the Avengers.

The team had infiltrated an abandoned underground base—once a hub for secretive, high-risk research—and were making their way through the dimly lit corridors. As they explored, they encountered traces of activity from a shadowy organization, one that had somehow stayed off the radar for years. They were cautious, knowing that any wrong step could lead to a trap.

It wasn’t until they reached the final room, a small storage unit with reinforced walls, that things took a turn.

Clint, always the first to find hidden entrances, spotted a small panel in the corner of the room. “This doesn’t look right,” he muttered, prying open a hidden compartment. Inside, he found a sealed metal case. His fingers worked quickly, revealing the contents: a series of files, all stamped with a logo none of them recognized.

“What is this?” Natasha asked, moving closer to inspect the strange documents.

Tony, who had been scanning the room with his tech, raised an eyebrow. “That’s not a symbol I’ve seen before.”

Sam frowned. “It looks like an old agency logo, but… different.”

Peter, bouncing on his heels, leaned in. “What’s in the files?”

Clint flipped open the top folder, revealing a thick stack of documents. As he skimmed through them, his expression shifted from confusion to something darker.

“This…” Clint began, his voice faltering. “This isn’t just some random intel. This looks like… it’s about someone specific.”

The team crowded around him as he read the file aloud, piecing together fragments of unsettling information. The documents were explicit, detailing a history that had been erased. A woman, born into an unknown organization, raised and trained from an early age to be a weapon—one whose past had been wiped clean, just like the empty pages between the lines of the document.

The files didn’t just mention the woman. They spoke about her—about you.

“Y/N,” Tony muttered, recognizing the name in a line of blacked-out text. “This is… Y/N.”

The Avengers froze.

They had been following the trail for hours, never expecting it to lead them back to you. The file detailed your transformation: your entire life had been shaped, manipulated, and erased by an unknown organization, one that had molded you into something—someone—else.

Clint’s hands shook as he turned the pages. “This is… insane. She was trained to be an agent. A soldier. There’s nothing in here about a normal life—nothing that says she was ever her own person.”

Rhodey stepped closer, his voice careful. “Wait. So… she was never just… Y/N?”

The room felt like it was closing in. The realization hit them all at once, as if they were looking at you through a whole new lens. But it was too much—too much to process all at once.

Steve’s voice was low, hesitant. “Is this true?”

Bucky’s gaze was locked on the document, his eyes narrowed in disbelief. “What is this?”

Clint spoke, “I thought she was a fan girl… but this is next level, trained to be a weapon since birth,” Natasha crossed her arms, looking at Bucky with a knowing glance. She looked like she wanted to say something but didn’t.

“Well, at least this explains why she didn’t tell us— I mean, I wouldn’t want to say anything if I was her.” Peter said, staring at the details of the files. “Kid, not now.” Tony removed the folder from Peters hand.

“So, what do we do?” Clint asked. “Have a very uncomfortable conversation with her.” Tony replied glancing at the documents in his hand. It was a stark contrast to how you acted, detailing a cold and calculated killer.

The Avengers tried to act like everything was normal after the discovery. But the silence that settled over the team was anything but. They knew too much now, things they hadn’t expected to learn, things they hadn’t been prepared for. And the more they sat with the knowledge, the more they felt the weight of it press down on them.

But none of them dared to confront you—not yet.

You, on the other hand, acted as though nothing had changed. You slipped in and out of missions, training sessions, casual team interactions, with the same professionalism. It was like nothing ever happened.

Still, they couldn’t shake the feeling that something inside you had shifted, something far colder than before. It was as if you knew what they did. And the subtle tension between you and the team grew.

It wasn’t until a few days later, after another mission, when the team couldn’t take it anymore. They had to know the truth—the full truth.

They gathered in the conference room, all of them sitting in a tense silence. Clint, Natasha, Steve, Sam, Tony, Rhodey, and Bucky. All of them aware of what they’d discovered but uncertain of how to confront you.

Finally, Steve spoke, his voice steady but heavy. “We can’t keep avoiding this.”

Bucky, who had been uncharacteristically quiet, nodded, his expression unreadable. “She deserves to know we know. Maybe she’ll explain.”

Tony rubbed his temples, clearly uncomfortable. “I don’t think that is going to be a fun conversation.”

“We have to at least give her the chance to tell us herself,” Sam said. “Otherwise, we’re just letting her keep running from it.”

Bucky’s gaze shifted to Steve. “But if she doesn’t want to talk, do we force it out of her?”

When you entered, the room fell into a heavy stillness. You were as calm as ever, but there was something different about you—something colder. The team had no idea how much they’d stirred up by digging into your past, but they were about to find out.

Steve stepped forward first, his voice steady but strained. “Y/N, we need to talk about your past. About what we found.”

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms in a defensive posture. “Found? You mean you went digging into my life? Into my past, without my consent?” Your voice was icy, and the anger in it barely contained. “You had no right to do that.”

Tony frowned, his arms crossed as he tried to defuse the situation. “We had to know. We were just trying to understand who you really are. The files—”

“The files were mine to keep, not yours!” you snapped, stepping forward, your voice rising. “What gives you the right to dig into my life? My history? You knew nothing about me, and you took it upon yourselves to expose everything I’ve worked so hard to bury. You had no right to do that!”

The room was silent, but your words hung in the air, sharper than any of them expected.

“You didn’t need to hide this from us, we would have understood. We know that your past made you, but you’re not that person anymore.” Natasha said, her voice firm.

You couldn’t help but let out a soft, humorless laugh. “Made me? Funny, coming from someone who was trained to be a killer for the Red Room, a place that stole your childhood, your humanity. What’s the difference between you and me?” You sneered.

The question echoed in the room, each member of the team taken aback. Natasha’s jaw tightened, but she said nothing. You’d hit a nerve, and they all knew it.

“You were raised in a place where you were taught to kill, trained to be a weapon, and so was I,” you continued, stepping a little closer. “You don’t get to stand there, telling me about running from my past. We’re all just the same, aren’t we? Bucky was turned into the Winter Soldier. He was a weapon too.”

The room grew even quieter, your words hanging in the air. Everyone’s attention turned to Bucky, who stood frozen, his eyes locked on you.

Bucky’s jaw clenched, but he said nothing.

Steve’s voice cut through the tension. “Y/N, we’re trying to understand. Trying to help you.”

“Help me?” you scoffed, voice cold. “You can’t help me. I don’t need help.” Your gaze swept across the room, meeting each of their eyes.

There was no trace of emotion on your face—only cold detachment. But beneath that calm, your words were cutting, and the team could feel the truth in them.

“I wasn’t the only one who went through this. I’m not the only one who’s been broken and remade. So don’t stand there judging me. We’re all just pieces of the same messed-up puzzle.”

You took a slow breath, finally looking away. “You all think you’re so different. So much better than the people who trained us, but you were all part of the same system. You were all made into what you are by others—whether it was the Red Room, Hydra, or whoever else.”

The silence was deafening. No one knew how to respond, and they realized you were right. In some twisted way, all of them had been shaped by their pasts, made into the people they were today by forces beyond their control.

Bucky’s voice was barely a whisper. “We’re not the same.”

You met his eyes, the icy mask you wore never faltering. “We’re not as different as you think.”

Another pause followed, but this time, the tension wasn’t just about the past—it was about what came next. The team wanted answers, but the answers they were getting weren’t the ones they expected.

“Just remember, none of us are heroes. We’re all just survivors. And maybe that’s the only truth that matters.”

Without another word, you turned and walked toward the door. The last thing you said before leaving the room hung in the air like a sharp, bitter truth.

Days had passed since the confrontation, and the team had gradually adjusted to the new dynamic. They knew they had overstepped, and although they couldn’t undo their actions, they were doing their best to regain your trust. They’d learned to tread carefully, but that didn’t mean things were entirely back to normal. You were different now—your guard higher, your presence colder—but at least you were still part of the team.

However, as the days went on, they started to realize that things weren’t quite the same. There was still a distance between you and them, but it wasn’t as pronounced as it had been immediately after the discovery. You were participating in team activities again, but you still had that quiet air of knowing far more than you let on. And it wasn’t just the usual knowing. You had your own way of pushing boundaries in subtle ways, often asking questions that made the Avengers squirm.

It started innocently enough. You were in the kitchen with Steve, both of you preparing a late-night snack after a long day of training. The conversation had started out casual, but you always had a way of steering things to more personal topics. Steve was focused on the stove, so he didn’t immediately catch the slyness in your voice when you asked, “Steve, do you ever regret not having a normal life? I mean, do you wish you could just be… a regular guy, like everyone else?”

Steve’s hand froze over the pan, his eyes flicking to you with a momentary flash of surprise before he cleared his throat, trying to brush it off. “I’ve learned to live with it. Some things are out of your control. But why are you asking?”

“Oh, just curious,” you replied lightly, a hint of a smirk tugging at your lips as you reached for some utensils. “You know, you do so much for everyone. But I bet sometimes you wish you could walk away from all of this, huh?”

Steve paused, his usual warmth replaced by a slight discomfort. “I’ve been doing this for a long time, Y/N. I can’t change the past, and I’ve accepted that.”

You didn’t push him further, but the way you looked at him told him that you knew everything about his internal battle with his identity, with his place in the world after being frozen for decades. You didn’t need to say more; the question alone was enough to make him uneasy, knowing that you understood his struggles even without asking for specifics.

Next, it was Tony. You had gotten used to his sarcastic demeanor, but today, you decided to push his buttons, in a very different way.

You found him in his lab, tinkering with some new piece of technology. You leaned against the doorframe, observing quietly before you finally spoke up.

“Tony, do you ever think about what might have happened if you hadn’t built the Iron Man suit? If you’d never become a hero, just stayed in your little world of tech and wealth?” You asked, your voice casual, but your eyes sharp.

Tony looked up from his work, raising an eyebrow. “You asking if I’d still be a billionaire playboy? Probably. But then again, I wouldn’t have met you guys. I’d still be living my easy life, no one to answer to. Probably not the healthiest choice.”

You let the silence hang for a moment, your eyes narrowing in curiosity. “But did you ever feel like you lost yourself in all of this? Do you ever miss just… being Tony Stark, without the responsibilities and the guilt?”

Tony blinked, momentarily taken aback by your directness. “I—yeah, sometimes. But it’s not that simple, Y/N. You can’t un-ring a bell once it’s been rung. I’ve made my choices.”

You knew what he was hiding behind his bravado—the guilt over his role in creating Ultron, the constant struggle to balance being a hero and his own personal demons. But you didn’t push him. You left it at that, the weight of your words lingering in the air, making him shift uncomfortably.

Clint and Sam were in the gym, sparring as usual. You decided to observe them, a quiet presence in the background. You could tell Clint was having a bit of an off day, and it gave you the perfect opportunity to ask one of your signature questions.

“You ever wonder if you missed out on something, Clint?” you asked out of nowhere, your voice carrying through the quiet clinks of weights. “I mean, you’ve been an agent for so long, but if you’d stayed with your family, do you think you would’ve been happy? Just… being a regular guy?”

Clint paused mid-swing, giving you a look that bordered on amused and uncomfortable. “I don’t think that’s something you can just wonder about, Y/N. I made my choice. I chose this life.”

“But is it a choice anymore?” you pressed, tilting your head slightly. “Or is it just the life you know now? I bet it’s hard to even imagine anything else.”

Clint raised an eyebrow but didn’t respond. He threw a half-hearted punch your way, which you dodged effortlessly. “You’re getting a little too deep, kid. If you’re here for a sparring session, let’s get to it.”

Sam, who had been standing nearby, chimed in with a playful tone, though his eyes were wary. “Clint’s right. You keep asking people stuff like that, and someone might start thinking you’ve got an agenda.”

You shrugged casually, but there was something calculating in the way you looked at them. “Just trying to understand,” you said, though your tone made it clear you weren’t really searching for answers—just testing their boundaries.

Over time, the Avengers grew used to your probing questions, even as they continued to make them uncomfortable. They were starting to notice the subtle shift in you. While your inquiries still had the sharpness of someone who wanted to uncover hidden things, the intensity seemed to lessen. You were no longer relentlessly pushing for secrets. You were still asking the questions—just not as often, and never as pointed.

They began to feel the weight of your knowledge, though. Every conversation with you was a reminder that you knew everything about them—perhaps more than they even knew about themselves. But your approach had changed. It was like you were testing them now, watching how they reacted rather than forcing them to confront things they weren’t ready to face.

One evening, Natasha approached you while you were alone in the common room, flipping through a book. She sat down beside you, watching you quietly for a while.

“You’ve been a little quieter lately,” she said softly.

You glanced at her, offering a small smile. “I’m giving them space. They’ve learned their lesson.”

Natasha raised an eyebrow, a knowing look in her eyes. “And you? Have you?”

You hesitated, then nodded. “I’m still here, aren’t I?”

“You are,” Natasha agreed, her gaze steady. “But you don’t have to keep pushing people. They care about you, Y/N. You don’t have to test them anymore.”

You looked down at the book in your hands, your fingers tracing the edges. “Maybe. But they need to prove it to themselves, not just to me.”

As the days passed, you found a balance. You still knew everything about the team. You still held the power of knowledge over them, but now, you were less inclined to flaunt it. You didn’t need to prove anything anymore. Instead, you allowed things to flow more naturally, letting the team earn your trust in their own time, while still maintaining your own distance.

[siconetribal]

Beyond the Bookshelves (11)

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Warnings: "I see."

Summary: You’re a Resource Management Specialist at S.H.I.E.L.D. normally referred to as “The Librarian”. You’ve been assigned the nightmarish task of digitizing all the physical resources currently owned by the agency, with a few new computers and one extra helper.

A/N:

Sorry about the delay. I ended up getting more tasks for work right after traveling abroad. It was a scramble to get the last 2 months caught up.

Please comment/like/reblog. If you’d like to be tagged moving forward, please let me know! (If I missed any tags, please let me know, I’ll add you right away!) I’d also greatly appreciate it if rebloggers remember to add the tags (or some at least).

The lovely banners used in this fic are from @cafekitsune.

If you’re new to the story, please check out the master post for the rest of the chapters.

Loki stood awkwardly in the sterile environment, too far from the door to leave yet close enough to not hover over the staff member dressed in a white coat. Y/N lay motionless on the atrocity that is considered a “bed”. A cuff was wrapped around her bicep which whirred to life with a few button presses. It inflated until it looked as if it would burst before slowly deflating with evenly placed clicks until numbers popped up on the screen. A plastic device was clamped over the tip of one finger and more numbers came onto the screen. The medic then slipped a metal probe encased in plastic into her mouth. Another portion of the screen lit up and a new set of numbers came up. He was not entirely sure what all these numbers meant, but it was clear by the frown that it was not good. 

“What are these numbers and why are you wrapping her in such machinery? She fainted, how do all these gadgets treat that?” He finally asked two of the questions that only grew in number with each new thing. The staff member turned to face him, sizing him up.

“And you are what to her exactly?” The question was simple, but the scrutiny in the medic’s gaze gave pause. Was he being questioned on why he cared for her? Or was he being reminded rhetorically that he was an outsider and that he simply should leave? 

If it’s the former, well is it not obvious? She is a thorn in my side. The vile villainess who dared to ban me, a prince, from the library! She is a haughty midgardian who lacks any proper etiquette towards royalty though she is surrounded by knowledge. He recalled their “first encounter” and the texts. His frown deepened. An oddity in this world that does not follow the norm. “She is someone I made to work with on a large assignment given to her by Fury. I need her to be normal for the work to be done and I can be freed of this extra burden.” He finally responded.

“I see,” was followed by silence. “This medical equipment does not treat her. It allows me to gather necessary information to best assess, diagnose, and treat her. Is there anything that happened during your assignment that I should know about?”

“That it has yet to start, because she simply vanished for a lengthy amount of time and only recently returned? Or perhaps her incessant chattering with the equally annoyingly talkative Rogers?” And I was forced to wait, none the wiser of her absence. “You've gathered your vitals, what is wrong with her?”

“I see, so she was traveling recently for work?”

“As per her claims.”

“I see,” the medic turned and began to tap away on a tablet. That two word phrase was beginning to poke at his nerves.

“And?”

“And do you know where she had gone in her travels?”

Do I look to be her keeper? I only brought her to you to be treated, not be her living diary! He bit back the words and dulled his sharp tone, taking a deep breath. “Do I look like her keeper?”

“I am simply gathering the necessary information to better assess her.”

“And how would knowing where she traveled be of any use to you?”

“Climate, environment, and what the current illnesses are currently on the rise.”

“No, I do not know where she went nor did I ask her or anyone. I was preoccupied with more important matters.” Loki took another deep breath. Will these insufferable questions end and the treatment begin?”

“I see,” his eyebrow twitched at the repeated statement. The medic moved from Y/N’s beside.

“Are you not going to cure her now? Where are you going?” The younger prince turned on his heel to see the medic start tapping away at a computer. “What are you doing now? What could possibly be more important in that hellish void than healing a fallen midgardian?” His jaw tightened at the series of clicks and clacks that came from the mechanical keyboard. 

“I need to document my treatment in her chart.” The forever unperturbed voice of the medic was like nails on a chalkboard. Was there no sense of urgency? Was the health of someone who could outrank an Avenger mean so little? Or were the staff uncaring because he was involved? Was he hindering proper treatment because he was so hated and she was being associated with him? He glanced over his shoulder at Y/N. Her eyebrows were furrowed, creating creases in her forehead; and her breathing was labored and shallow.

“Is it necessary to do that right now?” The medic turned from the monitor and silently observed the irritated royal before refocusing in the computer screen. 

“Yes, it needs to be done timely.” Once again, a sluggish and bland tone that gave no sense of security. “Do you plan on staying here with her?”

“Why would I stay here with her? Treat her so that she is back up on her feet and I am free of this unnecessary burden!” He demanded.

“I see,” his hand twitched at the statement that was repeated for the umpteenth time. It took a great amount of control to not summon one of his beloved throwing knives to threaten the medic into working properly.

“I highly doubt it.” He coolly retorted. “You’ve done absolutely nothing to treat her and are now requesting me to watch over her while you galavant off to do absolutely nothing. You've only assessed what I have told you multiple times, the Librarian fainted and needs to be revived. You have done nothing to remedy this.” He forced his jaw to unclench so that his words were clear for the pathetic midgardian in charge of care.

“There’s no medicine on Earth that can suddenly revive someone who has fainted as she has. As per what you said, she fell unconscious and did not hit her head, recently returned from a trip, and has been recently assigned something that requires the assistance of an Avenger. Coupled with her vitals, I can say she is safe from serious danger and will get better. It will take time, some medication, and proper hydration.” The medic walked past the irritated Asgardian, donning gloves after gathering some supplies. Loki observed the odd steps taken, skeptical and confused as part of her arm under her elbow was wiped and a needle with some tubing was inserted. The tubing was then attached to a bag that was hung above Y/N and drops of clear liquid began to steadily fill a chamber. Then the medic brought forth a syringe and poked something into the bag, pushing it into it. “She’ll need to rest here. I can’t say when she’ll wake up, but you can stop by and check in a couple of hours. The IV and medication will help her. If that’s all, I’ll be heading back to do my charting.” Seeing the prince stand there in silence was sign enough for the medic to walk out of the room and head to the back office.

That’s it?! That’s all that can be done? And they simply wash their hands of the matter and move on? What could that ridiculous excuse of a physician possibly have seen if that was all that could be done?! Loki had half the mind to teleport to the back and demand more be done, but stopped himself. Why am I so aggrieved by this? This is all her own fault! Why am I wasting my time here when she's the one who abruptly left me banned from the library for weeks? This it's simply the consequences of her actions. I have no work to be done at this moment, I need to eat and head back to the library to avoid all unnecessary interactions. He turned to the door and resolutely made his way back to the cafeteria to get some food. 

Where am I? Y/N slowly slipped back into the world of the conscious. Her head felt like it was skimming on water and one arm felt a bit swollen. Forcing her eyes open, she blinked away the bleariness to see the IV drip and digital monitor. I'm in infirmary? How? She craned her neck to look around the room a bit before dropping it back against the pillow. Obviously someone brought me here, because I sure as hell know I did not bring myself. I went to lunch with Jess and she was telling me about a new recruit for the Avengers. Another super soldier, I think? Or was it something that has to do with Steve and not a newcomer? Closing her eyes, she took a few deep breaths to ease the oncoming headache. Don’t worry about that detail for now Y/N. Focus on not having your brain rip itself in two. She used her free arm to rub her face.

“I was talking to Jess, we ate lunch in the cafeteria, and we were walking out together. She was fussing over my health and then what happened? Did I black out?” She frowned. “That’s not good. Fury’ll be furious if my report isn't in by tomorrow, pun intended.” She mumbled aloud to herself. “What time is it?”

“It’s currently 19:30.” A voice off to the right answered her. Rolling her head to the side, she saw one of the nurses step through the glass door, the curtain half drawn across the glass wall for some privacy.

“Seven thirty? How long have I been here?” Y/N squeezed her eyes shut and opened them once more.

“You were checked in at 13:06 and have been under observation for fever, exhaustion, and dehydration. You’ve been asleep the majority of the time. We were told that you were travelling recently?”

“Yeah, I had to go to all the SHIELD libraries to make sure the new network was functional and the staff properly trained.” She muttered, rubbing her face. “I was working on the reports and took a break for lunch, but that's the last thing I remember before waking up here.”

“So no issues in remembering what happened prior to the incident. Do you recall hitting your head on something?”

“Hitting my head?” She leaned her head back and closed her eyes, trying to recall what happened in more detail. “No, I don't recall. I was talking to my friend and I just blacked out. No, wait, I did fall. I got dizzy and blacked out for a moment. I stumbled into the wall and slid down. Jess was freaking out, I used the wall to stand up again, and then I passed out again.” She opened her eyes again and turned to the nurse. “I don’t remember bringing myself here.” She frowned.

“You didn't, someone brought you in while you were unconscious.”

“Oh, I guess Jess called for assistance.”

“No, one of the other personnel brought you in.” Y/N’s head jerked up off the pillow at this detail.

“Another? Another who? I can’t have been Jess. She’s strong, but she isn’t that strong. Did she get someone to help?”

“Bingo, your friend Jess found one of the strongest to assist. You were brought in by an Avenger.”

An Avenger? Maybe Steve was nearby. Oh, maybe that's why I thought we talked about super soldiers. “Well, aren't I a lucky gal? Not everyday you get carried off by an Avenger without some life altering calamity happening.”

“Ain’t that the truth!” The nurse laughed, scanning Y/N’s wristband before taking her vitals. “Well, you’re looking good so far. Seems like it was purely exhaustion hitting you hard. You need to rest, don’t go running back to work after so much travel and in so many different time zones. Your body needs to recover.”

“Yeah, I made a promise to someone so I came in Toby away.”

“Y/N, I’m sure they'd have understood. Even if they didn't, your health is a priority to you. No one else is going to care for it for you. So, rest and proper nutrition for the next two days. No rushing to work, I'll post your order so everyone who needs to know doesn't give you a hard time.”

“Thanks, that'll help.” Y/N sat up at the edge of the bed, letting the nurse unhook her from the machines and clear her for leave. “I’ll be sure to stay home for two days as the doctor ordered.”

“Good, now off you go. Do you need someone to help you home?”

“Oh, no need to go that far, I'm fine.” Y/N assured. “Thanks again,” she stood up once cleared and left the infirmary. I’ll need to thank Steve tomor-no, when I get back. I'll thank him when I get back. Being carried by an Avenger is gossip enough, but by the Captain America only makes it worse! She pinched the bridge of her nose. A few days away from work would be the best course of action. P,us I can focus on my reports and submit them without an all-nighter.

Tags: @vbecker10 @huntress-artemiss @softestqueeen @thegodofnotknowing @princess-ofthe-pages @firedrakegirl @rcailleachcola @cabingrlandrandomcrap @lotrefcp @lwtannie @jainaeatsstars @msdjsg7 @tom-hlover @kneelingformyloki @gruftiela @gigglingtiggerv2 @kats72 @mischief2sarawr @evalynanne @wolfsmom1

[thenatashamaximoff]

Not All Birds Fly; Ch. 2

Summary: Sometimes, denying the truth is easier than accepting it, but how far are you willing to go to live a peaceful life when she no longer exists?

Pairing: Natasha x Reader

Warnings: death, blood

Words: 12190

✎ | 🕊

The loud, violent shrill of a siren cut through your slumber, startling you awake with a gasp. You sat up, eyes flying open as you immediately searched for the ear-splitting screech to silence it. You breathed out when you found your phone, shutting off the alarm before rubbing your eyes with the palms of your hands. Your brain was still foggy, discombobulated from the sudden disturbance from your deep, dreamless sleep.

You pulled your hands away from your face, blinking away the darkened edges of your vision, making yourself refocus on what was in front of you. You were seated at the workbench in Clint's barn-turned-house, Natasha's bracelets resting in the middle of the counter. And then it dawned on you, hitting you harder than a semi-truck: you were finished.

The bracelets were done way earlier than you had planned, ready to be tested. And the particles of sleep that were still lingering behind your eyes seemed to have vanished within seconds, replaced by the stomach-turning excitement as you got to your feet, the stool you were sitting on tumbling over. A smile cracked your stoic features, eyes widening as you carefully took one of the bracelets into your hand. 

"Nat!" You called her name out enthusiastically, the thrill of happiness rushing through your veins as you turned around, holding up the bracelet. "Nat, it's done! It's" - your voice caught in your throat when you saw that you were alone, no sign of the redheaded beauty anywhere in the vicinity, and when you finished your sentence, your voice was no longer filled with the rush of adrenaline - "done." You felt your shoulders slump in defeat, turning back to face the workbench as you chewed the inside of your cheek. She wasn't here. 

How long has it been? A day? Two? They blurred together, but you remember the last you saw of her, the anger and embarrassment mixing together at her rejection caused you to ask her to leave. But she knew you didn't mean it, right? She knew your words were only influenced by the hurt... right? Why is she still gone? You had demanded her departure before in a much harsher way and she came back within hours. 

You wanted to see her. You wanted to share the joy of completing another project. You wanted to see the proud smile on her face when you showed her. You wanted to feel her. You wanted her here. And you had an idea of how to achieve that. It worked before, it'll work again.

Grabbing the bracelets, you shoved them into your hoodie pocket as you left the barn. The house didn't seem to be lit up in the night, and you had hoped they were all asleep as you walked towards it. It'd be easier if you didn't have to face Laura or Clint, going in just to get the keys for their car. You didn't have the energy to walk all the way to the city tonight.

Much to your displeasure, you could hear the muffled noises coming from the TV in the other room when you walked through the door. You contemplated your choices for a moment. You could sneak, grab their keys and have the car back before they had any idea it was gone. Or you could just outright ask them to borrow their car. You figured it'd be better if you asked them. There’d be less guilt involved.

You shuffled towards the living room, suddenly feeling more anxious as you continued to get near. Though you had grown closer to Clint because of your job, you had always found a specific type of comfort in Laura you couldn't find in him. You figured it was just the motherly instinct she had developed after having kids. 

You stopped at the doorway, clearing your throat softly and hoping they heard it over the quiet TV. When they looked at you, making eye contact with the couple sitting on the couch, you were unexpectedly more fretful. You knew, without a doubt, that you did nothing to deserve their kindness. 

"Hey." Laura's voice was soft, welcoming. It made you feel more at ease almost instantly, your shoulders slouching with comfort as she smiled warmly at you. The concern you had felt vanished within one syllable. "How're you doing?"

"I'm okay," you said, your voice hushed. You stepped closer, suddenly aware of how heavy your hoodie pocket is becoming with the hidden bracelets. "I just… think it might be good for me to get out, take a drive around the city." You met Clint's stare and immediately looked away, already feeling the guilt begin to eat at you upon staring into his green irises. "Do you think that I could borrow the car?"

"Y/N-"

"Of course." Laura was quick to cut Clint off, causing you to pick your head up to meet her gaze. She was still smiling warmly, allowing you to breathe. Her hand rested on his shoulder, telling you that she used more than just her words to interrupt him. "On one condition."

You smiled widely, knowing it couldn't possibly be hard to do something in return for borrowing the car. "Yeah. Yeah, anything," you expressed enthusiastically, nodding quickly. 

"You eat something." You pursed your lips together as she stood up, giving her husband's hand a squeeze before leaving him on the couch. She gestured for you to follow her as she passed you, and you met Clint's eye one last time before you turned away. "You've been hiding in that barn for six days," she commented, motioning for you to sit at the table.

"Six days?" You sat down slowly, eyebrows furrowed intensely. 

"Every time I send one of the kids to bring you food, they'd come back with an untouched plate." You breathed out steadily, watching her reach into the fridge to pull out a plate. "I stopped sending them. Figured if you were hungry, you'd come to the house." She sent you a smile as she popped the food into the microwave. "Doesn't mean I stopped worrying."

"There's nothing to worry about," you assured gently, mirroring her smile, though you hoped she wouldn't see how the smile didn't meet your eyes. "I'm still the same ol' Y/N as I was before."

She crossed her arms over her chest, raising an eyebrow at you as she leaned against the counter next to the microwave. "You haven't had anything to eat in a week, Y/N," she pointed out. 

"I've been busy," you explained, shaking your head. 

You pursed your lips together, averting your gaze and tuning your ears to try and make out what the TV was saying, attempting to give yourself a reprieve from the tense silence. Laura watched you for a moment until the microwave released a beep, moving to give you the plate before pulling a chair out to join you at the table. She was intent on making sure you eat, giving you no choice if you wanted the car. You leaned forward, picking at the food in front of you.

"Thank you," you said quietly. You figured you'd have a few bites, eat enough to satisfy Laura, and then you'd be on your way - you couldn't delay seeing Natasha any longer - but the second your taste buds came into contact with the food, you were suddenly aware of how hungry you truly are. Laura couldn't hide her smile as she watched you become more confident in eating.

"So, what had you so busy that you couldn't eat?" She had an eyebrow raised when you looked over at her, your chewing slowing down as you straighten your posture.

You swallowed the mouthful of food before breathing out. "I was finishing a project," you told her. "I made Nat new bracelets. I added a new ability. She’s going to love them."

Laura's small smile slowly faded away when you turned back to your plate, nodding your head as you shoveled more food into your mouth. "When were you going to give her these bracelets?"

"Her birthday." Your answer was muffled through the food, to which you quickly chewed and swallowed to clear your mouth. You sent her a smile. "It's in a few months. I hope she’ll get a kick out of them. I added this sort of g-"

"How are you going to give them to her, Y/N?" Your eyes focused on Clint standing at the entrance of the kitchen behind Laura, his arms crossed over his chest tautly. 

Laura turned to face him in her chair as you slowly looked down, chewing the inside of your cheek. "Clint."

"I'm trying to help her move on."

"Move on?" You furrowed your eyebrows, looking back at him as anger rushed through your veins. You could feel the fury overwhelm your logical thoughts, the crease above your nose deepening with rage. "She didn't break up with me, Clint." His eyes softened, his shoulders slouching. You couldn't blame him for the anger he was feeling, but you weren't thinking about anything except the outrage. "I'm sorry I'm not a professional like you. I can't bury my feelings, pretend they don't exist." 

He took a step towards you, his arms uncrossing from his chest to fall back down to his sides. "Y/N-"

"I didn't ask for your help." You looked towards Laura, your jaw tightened as strong as a vise, your voice becoming softer. "Can I go?" It felt as if you were asking your mother permission to be excused from the table, seeing the way her eyes shined with worry as she nodded. "Thank you." You stood up abruptly, the chair you were sitting on scraping across the floor. You shrugged past Clint, grabbing the car keys and making your way out of the house.

You couldn't help it, pain scorching through your nerves as you banged your palm against the steering wheel. The scream that came from your chest tore your throat raw, breathing in deeply as a few hot tears escaped your eyes. You took a moment to calm down before starting the car and peeling out of the driveway.

The roads were just as vacant as the other night, which made driving around easier. Though it was a bit more difficult to see any crime when you're speeding by in a car and slowing down to get a better look could draw suspicion. It was always better to catch criminals off guard. You convinced yourself to park the car and take a walk around.

You knew the chances of finding another crime were low. It's not like the movies, there wasn't going to be one around every corner. This was real life, there weren't that many people without a conscience.

But as soon as you turned the corner, everything you had just thought was proven to be dead wrong.

You took the gauntlets out of your pocket, slipping them onto your wrists and securing them. You could feel the steady, subtle vibration of the electricity coursing through them when you powered them on, outlining an electric blue to show they were working. The bracelets brought adrenaline flowing through you, your posture straightening with confidence. 

You made your way down the sidewalk, a beeline right for the two people attempting to break into a home, one clawing at the front door as the other looked around for another way in, disappearing around the house. 

"What are you looking for?" you asked once you reached the burglar, their hands flying away from the window to face you. You saw a female in the streetlights, her arms lifting in the air in a surrender fashion. "I'm pretty sure breaking and entering is considered a crime."

She shook her head rapidly, her hands matching the pace as she stepped towards you. "No, no. I live here," she exclaimed. "This is my place. My idiot roommate locked us out." 

You furrowed your eyebrows, meeting her gaze in the artificial light. You weren't an expert at reading expressions, but you could tell by the desperation in her voice that she was telling the truth. You quickly apologized, powering down the bracelets and continued down the sidewalk, letting them handle their own problem.

Though you did keep your eye out for any sign of crime, you were also waiting for that empty feeling in your gut to be filled by Natasha's appearance. It was only a matter of time.

"Alright," you expressed quietly, your movements faltering to a stop. You threw your hands up in the air, having no idea how much time has passed since you've gone on your little neighborly patrol. You turned around, eyeing the vacant space around you. There was no sign of crime anywhere, and you were foolish enough not to keep track of all the turns you made to remember your way back to the car. You were lost…

Great.

You began scolding yourself for not paying attention on your outings with Clint's family when you came to visit. No, you spent the entire time mesmerized by Natasha. You spend every single second of the days with your redheaded girlfriend entranced in her beauty. You could be on fire and you wouldn't know if she was around. And the thought of that only made you fall to your knees, exhausted. 

You could feel the pit in your stomach grow, twisting and churning your insides painfully, as if someone were wringing a wet rag. You released a strained scream, tears threatening your eyes as you wrapped your arms around yourself. What did you do to deserve this agony? The scream wore down your throat until you couldn't scream anymore, the sound muffled and silent as you leaned forward to press your forehead to the cool concrete. The tears that escaped their prison when you squeezed your eyes shut burned your cheeks on the way down, hot with anguish. 

You were tired.

You were unsure of how long you had stayed in that position, the pain in your stomach having subsided what felt like forever ago. You had no motivation to uncurl yourself, but you were forced to when you felt a poke against your arm, sitting up straight and looking towards the person who had disturbed you… to see nothing but air. There wasn't a living being within a hundred yards of you. So what poked you?

There. You saw it. A flash of red hair illuminated by the streetlight above them just before they disappeared around the corner on the other side of the street. You could feel that pit of emptiness in your gut slowly fill, encouraging you to climb to your feet. There was only one person you knew who had red hair.

"Nat?" Your voice came out a soft whisper, no possible way for whoever had rounded the corner across the street would be able to hear you. The logical side of your brain - the one telling you that Natasha isn't the only person in the world with red hair and that whoever had passed by could've been quite literally anybody - was easily overpowered by your desire to see her again. You no longer hesitated to scramble after her.

She was already disappearing behind the building at the end of the street by the time you made it to the corner, a sigh escaping your throat as you made your way, chasing her with new vigor. You called out for her again, desperate to see her eyes just one last time. But you couldn't seem to catch up, turning a corner just in time to watch her disappear around another one. How far were you willing to go just to see the sea of green held in her eyes?

You didn't have time to answer the silent question. By the time you reached the end of the street, you stopped in your tracks. Though you weren't face to face with Natasha, you were presented with front-row seats in watching a crime unfold before your eyes.

You gathered yourself, sucking in a deep breath and standing tall. You could hear your heart pounding in your ears; now was not the time to show fear. Your stride was strong and confident, unwavering despite the tiny voice in the back of your head trying to scream at you to pull back. To turn around and hightail it back to the car - wherever the car is. But you shoved that voice away, deep into a small crevice of your brain as you marched forward.

There were five people, yet one of them was forced onto their knees, a knife pinned to their throat by one of the others. It was logical of you to believe that the woman on the ground was innocent, staring at the man in front of her with an anger you could see in her locked jaw. She was smart not to struggle, not with the blade pressed against her neck.

You inched closer, your heart continuing to beat rampantly against your ribcage. You could feel the nervous sweat on your palms, and your confident steps became less assured. But before you allowed your brain to convince yourself to turn back, your mouth was already forming words, "One against four? Well, I don't think that's very fair."

You're not really sure exactly how you managed not to show the fear in your voice, having said your silly little introduction with assertiveness. You were hoping your expression was doing just as well in hiding how terrified you were when all five people turned their attention to you. You were starting to worry when you could no longer hear your heart beating loudly in your ears. When you turned the bracelets on, you could feel the electricity vibrating against your skin. Yeah, you were still alive.

“This doesn’t pertain to you,” the man declared, stepping toward you, while the three you assume to be his partners, more men, stood their ground as they looked at you. The man holding the woman down kept his grip tight. “You might want to leave before you get hurt.” 

“Listen to him, Y/N.” You perked up at Natasha’s voice, loud and clear in your head, though nowhere near you when your eyes quickly roamed the area. Your first instinct was to listen to her, to turn around and leave the helpless woman to her fate, but you took a step forward regardless. No, hearing her wasn’t enough for you. You wanted to see her.

“Are you deaf?” the man declared through clenched teeth, watching you inch closer to him. “I said turn around and walk away or else.” He reached behind his back, pulling out a gun and flashing it at you. You had no choice but to halt your movements, with less than ten yards of space between you and him. He wasn’t aiming the gun, only showing it off, but you weren’t willing to take the chance. “Atta girl.” He sent you a toothy grin, proud of himself for finally getting you to cooperate. “Now, go back to where you came from. This is private business.” He waved the gun, gesturing for you to leave, but you didn’t. 

“Y/N.” Your head tilted at Natasha’s voice in your ears, chills crawling up your spine. “Please.” You were so close, you could feel it. There’s no use in turning back now.

You lifted your arm up, aiming the bracelet at the man. His grin grew wider, easygoing. He saw no threat in your glowing bracelets, and he saw no threat in you. He laughed, looking towards his partner as he pointed at you. And when he opened his mouth - presumably to make a joke about your so-called weapon - the only thing that came out was the screams of agony when you shot a taser disk at him. Only, it wasn’t the man wielding the gun who made the noise. It was the goon behind him. 

You really had to learn how to aim this thing. Natasha always made it look so easy.

The man looked back at his friend in time to watch him fall to the floor, blue sparks of electricity covering his body, before turning back to you, all humor on his face erased, replaced with pure anger. “What did you do?” he demanded. And though you missed your target, you couldn’t help but laugh at how incredibly well the bracelet works! A wide smile on your face as you looked down at your wrists for a moment.

“They work!” you announced proudly, picking your head up. The excitement didn’t last long when you made eye contact with the man… behind the barrel of the gun. You raised your hands up on instinct, your eyes wide as you saw the fire flicker in his.

“Did you kill him?” he questioned, angrier than before.

“No, no. He’s only unconscious,” you stated. “I swear, he’s breathing. Check his pulse.”

The man looked back at one of his friends and nodded his head. You watched with bated breath as he kneeled down next to the unconscious man, pressing his fingers against his neck. And when he nodded his head, you felt your stomach drop in realization. “You killed him.”

“No.” You shook your head, waving your hands. “No, I- I didn’t mean to. I must’ve gotten the voltage wrong.”

The man’s finger pressed firmly against the trigger, the gun aimed right at you, and you flinched when the gun went off, your eyes squeezing tightly shut as you waited for the pain of being shot. It had to have been worse than getting kicked in the gut over and over, so why weren’t you feeling anything?

You couldn’t stop yourself from opening an eye out of curiosity, and you could feel your heart flutter when you opened them both to meet Natasha’s gaze. She had her hand wrapped around the man’s wrist, pushing his arm up to point the gun in the air, preventing the bullet from hitting you. You no longer felt any fear, watching Natasha take care of the man. Fists flew, and feet lifted off the ground. It was satisfying to watch, never having been able to witness firsthand the assassin in action. The men stood no chance, not being able to land a hit on the redhead, not even capable of seeing her with how fast she was moving. You were locked in a trance, so distracted by the way Natasha moved as fluidly as water that you didn’t even notice the woman you had saved sneak off. 

When it was all said and done, Natasha stood in the middle of three unconscious - and, unfortunately, one dead - men once again, and she was barely out of breath. You had a small sense of deja vu; only this time, you weren’t on the ground and in pain.

“That was awesome!” you expressed, walking towards her. She placed her hands on her hips, looking at you with a look of disapproval, but you managed to ignore it. “They didn’t even see you coming! How do you do that?”

“I told you to leave, Y/N.”

You pursed your lips together, the smile that had managed to grow on your face fading with realism. “I was never a very good listener, was I?”

“This is serious,” Natasha expressed, crossing her arms over her chest. “You’re going to get yourself hurt. What would you have done if I wasn't here in time?"

Get shot was the answer that was on the tip of your tongue, but you bit back. You really had no response to her question, knowing you should've listened to both her and the gunman. You could say the fear had cemented you to the ground, leaving you incapable of moving, which is the truth. But you also knew there was a part of you that wanted to stay, and you chose to listen to that instead. Now? Well, now you have to weasel your way out of a lecture from- Wait a damn minute…

“You are the one that led me here,” you countered. “Why would you bring me to the crime only for you to tell me to leave?” 

She sighed, taking a step towards you. "Go home, Y/N."

"Go home?" You furrowed your eyebrows, pursing your lips together as your head tilted slightly to the side. You couldn't help but laugh at the irony, the sound grim and dry as you were having trouble finding what was funny. And when you spoke, your voice held a hint of bitterness that wasn't at all subtle, "My home is dead. Yeah. Swan dived right off a damn cliff. Sound familiar?" 

"I wouldn't really call it a swan dive, per se." She sent you a smirk, an attempt to lighten the mood. It didn't work.

You stared at her, your stoic expression causing her small grin to fade away, before walking past her. You shook your head as you kneeled next to the man you had accidentally killed, pressing your fingers against his neck. You silently begged that the other man was fibbing, telling a lie just to get the action started, but your eyes closed slowly when you couldn't find what you were looking for. He was, in fact, dead. And you were the cause of it.

You felt sick.

"Why didn't you listen to me?" Natasha's voice reached your ears, her tone much softer and gentler than before. Less disappointed, more concerned. You opened your eyes and stood up, turning around to face her with a perplexed look. "That could've been avoided." She gestured to the deceased man behind you, and your jaw locked so tightly, you could've sworn you heard it click.

"Why did you listen to me?" you asked.

"You asked me to leave."

"I didn't mean it." You threw your hands up when you shrugged, hearing them slap against your legs when they fell back to your sides. "I didn't mean it, Nat." You could feel your bottom lip threaten to tremble, shaking your head as you sucked in a deep breath to try and prevent the sign of weakness. It didn't work. You had to force yourself to look away, turning to the side as your hands clenched into tight fists. Anger boiled your blood, yet sadness blurred your vision with unshed tears. You slightly flinched when you felt a hand fall onto your shoulder, as light as a feather. You breathed in deeply, releasing it slowly as you watched Natasha step in front of you, her second hand gripping your other shoulder. The next time you spoke, your voice was small, “I killed someone.”

“I know, sweetheart, but you have to leave,” she expressed. “You can’t stay here anymore. You have to go back to Barton.” You looked into her eyes, thriving on the softness and warmth you could find in the green irises, so distracted by the comfort that you had completely disregarded the way the side of her face was washed by a moving, yellow light. “Y/N, please, you need to go.”

You felt something grip your arm tightly, tugging you away from Natasha with a grunt. You looked forward, allowing the woman you had saved earlier drag you. Your mouth was glued shut with confusion, pulling you further and further as you sent a glance over your shoulder. Though Natasha was gone, you saw the fleet of vehicles pull up just before you had rounded a corner. When she finally released you, she turned to show you her face, an angry, puzzled look crossing her features. “Are you dense?” 

“...What?” 

“You didn’t hear those cars coming?”

You cleared your throat, snapping yourself out of your daze as you took a step back from her. Why was she so close? “No, I… didn’t.” You shook your head, your eyebrows furrowing as she rolled her eyes and started to walk away from you.

“Follow her.” You didn’t turn toward her voice, feeling her presence behind you as you watched the blonde walk away. You huffed lightly before following the redhead’s command, shuffling after the stranger quickly.

“Only reason I saved you is because you saved me,” she declared once she heard you catch up, maintaining your distance behind her. “Now, I don’t have a debt with a…” She stopped walking suddenly, and you had to catch yourself to prevent running into her. As she turned to face you, she looked you up and down with skepticism, an eyebrow raised dubiously. “Hey, how did you do that thing?”

“Don’t tell her.” Your lips formed a thin line at Natasha’s words, giving in to glance behind you. She stood there, sending daggers of cynicism at the blonde. When you turned back to look at her, her eyes just moved to meet yours.

You shrugged. “Do what thing?”

She squinted, crossing her arms over her chest as she measured you. “I can’t tell if you’re acting stupid or if you really are.” She shook her head, releasing a heavy sigh. “It’s really not that important to me.” She turned on her heels and continued her walk. “We can walk together for a few blocks just to be safe, then we’ll go our separate ways.”

“Hey, so, what did you do to piss those guys off?” Not that it was hard to. Less than two minutes and the one dude pulled a gun on you. She probably called him stupid, too. That most likely would’ve done it. 

“I said we can walk together,” she declared. “I didn’t say we can talk.” You breathed out softly, looking down at the bracelets wrapped around your wrists. It wasn’t much longer before she let out a heavy sigh and said, “I stole something from them.”

“What’d you steal?”

“A flash drive,” she answered, her head straight forward. You watched the back of her head, the way her long hair swayed with every step she took. 

“They’re after you for a flash drive?”

“That’s the least of your concerns,” she said. “They’re after you now.”

You furrowed your eyebrows, feeling confusion bring a wave of fog to your brain for a moment. “For what?”

“You ask that as if you didn’t just murder one of them.” You could feel your heart drop into your stomach like it was jumping off a diving board at her words, bringing back the realization that, yes, you did actually just kill someone. And his friends may have painted a target on your back because of it. “Are you done with the twenty questions now?”

“Ask her what was on the drive.”

Your head turned towards Natasha. “No.” The woman stopped walking again, turning around to face you as her arms went up in annoyance. You chewed the inside of your cheek as you cleared your throat, gripping your hips with your hands as you sent the woman a sheepish smile. “Uh… what- What was on the drive?”

“A bunch of files maybe, I don’t know,” she expressed, shrugging. “I was hired to steal it. I don’t ask my client questions.”

“I mean, aren’t you a little bit curious as to what’s on the drive?”

She stared at you, blinking as she crossed her arms over her chest. “Look, uh…”

“Y/N.”

“I didn’t ask.” She smiled at you, but there was a hint of irritation behind the forced grin. “As long as I get my money, I couldn’t really care less what’s on the drive.”

“You don’t really believe her, do you, Y/N?” You breathed out, watching Natasha move to stand to the side, her eyes remaining on the stranger carefully. 

"I don't know." It was said instinctively, earning a confused look from the lady. There was a part of you that wanted to believe her, there was another part - that part primely being called Natasha - was fully skeptical of the blonde. You were unsure of which to listen to. 

"You don't know?" She scoffed, and her response to your statement made you think that she had asked you something you didn't hear over Natasha's voice. She breathed out slowly, trying to keep her temper together as she squeezed the bridge of her nose.

"No, I- I wasn't talking to you." You shook her head as she removed her hand from her face, looking at you.

"Then who were you talking to?"

"Don't tell her, Y/N."

"Not you," you answered.

"There's nobody else here," she countered. “Who is it?”

"She's getting too jumpy. I don't like it."

"Shut up." The woman looked offended for a brief moment at your command, causing your eyes to widen. "No, no. Not- Not you." You cast your gaze towards Natasha, who met yours in return, giving her a look that you hoped she'd listen to. 

"Are you crazy?" You turned back to the woman to catch her slightly leaning towards you. 

"Y/N, just leave."

"No." You groaned in frustration.

The woman hummed. "I don't believe that."

You looked at Natasha. "You need to go, Y/N."

"You're talking to someone who isn't here." The blonde’s voice pulled your gaze back to her.

You averted your eyes to the ground, running your hands down your face. "Don't listen to her."

"It's just the two of us-"

"Y/N-"

“-for now.”

"-run away."

“I'm sure we'll be joined soon by the people we both crossed.”

"Both of you shut up!" Your hands flew away from your face as you picked your head up, looking at Natasha, then the blonde. You breathed out, shaking your head as the woman stared at you, and you felt yourself grow smaller underneath her analyzing eyes. She was measuring you once again, clearly trying to figure out if you were going to be a threat to her or not. But when you took a step back, her posture relaxed just a bit.

"You are crazy."

"I'm not crazy," you stated lowly, shaking your head.

"You're seeing someone who isn't there," she pointed out. "If that's not the textbook definition of crazy, I don't know what is." She watched you turn your head, and her eyes followed yours only to find an empty space. "You need to go home, Y/N."

"I can't believe I'm saying this, but she's right."

"Maybe get some help." You looked back at the woman, your shoulders slumping in defeat. "Whatever you're going through, the pain will go away." 

Her movement was hesitant, but she finally managed to give in and rest a hand on your shoulder. Giving you an encouraging yet semi-awkward squeeze, she turned on her heels and walked away, watching her walk down an alley.

You didn't follow her.

“You need to stop planting doubt in my head, Nat,” you expressed as you marched forward. “Your inability to trust people is contagious.”

“You need to learn that not everybody is your friend,” she explained, easily matching your stride as you continued down the sidewalk. “There are some people who only look out for themselves, and most people won’t protect a stranger. Which is what she is to you.”

“She did save me from a bunch of people I didn’t see coming because I was a little bit distracted by a certain green-eyed redhead.”

“She said it herself,” Natasha responded with a scoff, “she only saved you because you saved her. Now she doesn’t care about you anymore. Not the way I do.”

“No, Nat, because you care about me oh so much that you just couldn’t wait to leave me all alone.” You breathed out a heavy sigh as you stopped walking, turning to face her as you pinched the bridge of your nose between your thumb and index finger. “Look, I really don’t want to fight.” You didn’t want to risk saying something to make her disappear for an extended amount of time again. This version of her seemed sensitive to your words, though which ones, you were still figuring that out. “I need you with me. You clearly get me out of situations-”

“You shouldn’t be finding yourself in,” she finished. “Y/N, if you had listened to me-”

“Then that man would still be alive.”

“Yes,” she agreed.

“Save the speech, Nat, I know what I’m doing.” You shook your head, scoffing as you started walking once more. “I’m more than capable of handling myself.”

“How do you throw a punch then?” You found yourself stopping again, turning around to look at her with a raised eyebrow. “Come on, you said you’re more than capable of handling yourself. Surely you know how to throw a punch then.” She closed the distance between you, standing within arm's length away. Her hands extended out to her sides, palms towards you, as she said, “Hit me.”

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head. “I’m not going to hit you.”

“Hit me, Y/N.”

“Nat, no.”

Her movement was quick, her hand pushing against your shoulder, but it only pulled an exasperated sigh from your throat as her arms fell back to her sides. “Just hit me.”

“There’s no reason for me to-”

“Hit. Me.”

“Stop it. I’m not going to-” You stepped back at the impact of her hand against your shoulder once more, rolling your eyes in annoyance. “Nothing you do is going to make me-”

“Y/N-”

“No-”

“Throw a-”

“I’m not going to-”

“Hit me!” Your arm swung involuntarily, your teeth gritting tightly, and you surely would've hit her jaw if she hadn't pulled back an inch. She could only seem to smile as you huffed out in aggravation. “Good. Now, your posture is off just a little bit-”

With a shake of your head, you turned your back on her and started to walk away. “I’m not going to accept fighting lessons from you right now.” Your eyes burned as you instinctively squeezed them shut, feeling the adrenaline slowly start to wear off as you walked. “We just need to find the truck and head back to the house otherwise they’re not going to let me borrow it anymore and then we’ll have to just keep walking to the city.”

“Or,” Natasha started, “you could, you know, not put your life at risk every night.”

“I really don’t see that happening any time soon if I’m being honest with you.”

“You’re not Batman, Y/N.”

“Batman?” You scoffed a laugh. “That’s a comic book character, Nat. He isn’t real.”

You could hear her chuckle from behind you, and the sound alone managed to flip your stomach. “You’re saying you don’t believe in Batman?” You couldn’t help but smile as she laughed again. “You do remember what your job was, right? Building tech for heroes… such as Batman.”

“I didn’t build anything for Batman,” you corrected. “I built stuff for other people, like Hawkeye and Captain America. Sometimes even this cocky assassin that chose to go by Black Widow. Never Iron Man, although he did take my ideas to improve on them.” You huffed, shaking your head as you swiped your arms through the air. “Alright, just- Enough with the Batman. He isn’t real, end of story. Help me find the truck.”

“Just keep going straight.”

You followed her command and let the silence of the night settle over the two of you. It gave you time to think, to process what exactly had gone down. You killed a man, that tidbit of information wasn’t going to be leaving you any time soon. You couldn’t help but wonder just how many lives have been taken because of the equipment you supplied these heroes. Natasha wasn’t hesitant to take a life, and neither was Clint. But it was never you pulling the trigger like now. You took that man’s last breath. You had to get back to the house and fix the bracelets. You don’t want a replay of what happened tonight. You don’t want to take another man away from his family… if he had one.

“Stop thinking about it.”

“You don’t know what I’m thinking about.” You couldn’t help but snap at her, your eyes forward as your jaw clenched. Your head shook, your lips pursing together tightly as you trudged onward. Find the truck, go back to Clint’s. That’s all you needed to do. But you could sense her eyes staring at the back of your head, radiating judgment and conjecture. Your heart ran rampant against your ribcage, and you could feel that last thread of sanity slowly coming apart. You stopped walking, turning around to face her. “Please, Nat, tell me how to fix this.”

She breathed out, her shoulders slumping as she crossed her arms over her chest. Her green eyes were sparkling and it made you feel like you weren’t so crazy after all. “You can’t, my love.” Your chin dropped to your chest in defeat, rubbing the back of your neck as your eyes squeezed shut. Exhaustion was one of the many things you were feeling right now. “The only thing you can do is keep moving forward.”

“And what if I don’t want to?” You picked your head up to look at her, your arm falling back to your side as your lips formed a thin, tight line. Your eyes met hers, but you didn’t feel the relief those emeralds usually held. “What if I just want to… I want to quit.”

“Y/N-”

“No,” you interrupted, shaking your head rapidly. “I don’t want to move forward anymore, Nat.”

“You can’t live in the past forever.”

“Why not?” you questioned. “You’re there.” And being with Natasha is the only thing you know. You scoffed, shaking your head. “She said the pain would go away. That woman. But… she didn't know what it meant to be here without you.”

She looked at you, a sigh slightly parting her lips. 

“You know, I can’t understand you,” you admitted. “One second, you’re telling me that you’re real. Another second, you’re claiming you’re dead and that I need to just move on. Which is it, Nat? Are you dead or are you alive? And why can I see you and- and feel you? Because you… jumped off a cliff to sacrifice yourself for- for some stone and you didn’t come back. You didn’t come back, Nat.”

“Baby-”

“No!” You took a step away from her, shaking your head. “No. I’m not- I’m not crazy. Out of the entire team, I was the only one that was sane! I mean… Tony and Bruce made an artificial killing machine. You and Clint went headfirst into an alien battle with nothing but a pistol and a damn bow. You all went to war over a stack of papers! I was the only one who was logical! Who made any kind of sense! And now…” You trailed off, taking your bottom lip in between your teeth as you shook your head once again, looking into the eyes of an illusion. “Everybody else is saner than I am.”

“You’re not crazy, Y/N.”

“Says my dead girlfriend.”

“I’m here for a reason.” She took a step towards you, her hands twitching to reach for you, but they remained by her sides. “I’m here to help you process everything that’s happening. I show up at the times you need me the most.”

“You’re a figment of my imagination,” you countered. “You’re a hallucination conjured up by my mind to help me cope with this grief because I just can’t accept the fact that you’re gone, Nat.” You chewed the inside of your cheek, placing your hands on your hips as you breathed in a shaky breath.

"Why are you so much more reckless now than you were when I was here?" She raised an eyebrow, challengingly, as a smirk lifted her lips. "Where was this Y/N before?" She poked your side teasingly, but you quickly swatted her away.

You furrowed your eyebrows, taking a small step back from her. "I'm still me."

She rolled her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest. "Come on, Y/N," she countered. "You're running head first into danger. You're telling people how you feel- How you really feel. You weren't doing that a month ago. What? Did my death finally pull you out of your shell?"

"Shut up," you snapped. But your attempt to be dominant didn’t get very far when she laughed at your demand; a low chuckle that caused her to shake her head slowly. You huffed, annoyed that she clearly wasn’t taking you seriously. Annoyed that she was going to continue to patronize you no matter what you say. Annoyed that her smile still caused the butterflies to get antsy in your stomach. You sighed softly, feeling your shoulders slump as you stepped toward her. “I wish we never answered that call,” you whispered, reaching for her hand to bring it in between yours. You savored the warmth of her touch, looking down at them as you allowed the feeling to calm your nerves.

“You don’t mean that.”

“No,” you countered, “I do. We were happy, Nat. Sure, half the world had dusted away, but we were happy. And then… your phone rang. I saw Tony's name…” You scoffed, shaking your head as you looked up to meet her gaze. "If I could go back, I wouldn't have answered the phone. I would've done whatever it took for you to not die because the whole world believes you're dead when you're just really good at lying."

She crossed an arm across her chest, her eyes soft as she watched you carefully. Her lips formed a thin line, yet she didn't seem to be hurt by your accusation. In a world where she's only visible to the one who held her in their heart, she had to give you free passes. "I thought you were past this stage," she commented. "Then again, grief isn't really linear." Your chin fell to your chest, pressing her knuckles against your lips.

“I wouldn’t have answered the phone…” You remembered as if it was yesterday, but your memories soon became clouded with panic when you felt a pair of arms wrap around your neck, your hands clawing at their elbow as their grip tightened. You looked at Natasha, her emerald eyes gazing at you as she watched you struggle against the hostile party.

“This is for your own protection.” A voice, a familiar voice, whispered in your ear as your fight became futile. And, as you fell into the bottomless pit of darkness, you saw the headlights of a car turn the corner at the end of the street.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━⧗━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The darkness was accepted, holding a comfort that helped you relax. You needed this. Serenity was hard to find when all you've been experiencing the past few days was nothing but stress. It calmed you down and loosened the tense pressure that had formed in your muscles. Sleeping held the same sensation as it would if one were being hugged.

But you knew this situation wasn't permanent. The darkness, as always, was only temporary. You have to enjoy it while you can, this state of tranquility, before it comes to be interrupted by the world of light. Yet it didn't last as long as you had originally hoped - the feeling of something gliding across your cheek was slowly bringing you out of this slumber. 

Your face automatically twitched away from the touch, and a peal of light laughter fanning against your ear was the cause of your consciousness. The slight pressure returned to your face, leaving a faint tingling sensation in its path, and you had to find the will to open your eyes if you wanted to locate the reason for the disturbance. But… the touch was warm. It held more comfort than the darkness ever could. And the laugh, it had brought chills to your spine. You knew who it was and it was the exact reason why you didn't want to open your eyes knowing this feeling could end, and you'd only find yourself alone in a partially empty bed.

"Wake up, Y/N." But she felt so real, her lips grazing against your earlobe, her finger sliding up and down your cheek. 

"Five more minutes." She laughed at your mumbled response, a cliche request for more sleep. Nobody ever let it fall through, and it certainly wasn't going to happen now. She seemed so adamant about you waking up, and you wondered why.

"We have a lot to do today, darling." You would be a fool to fall for this trick again, but you had to open your eyes and face reality eventually. 

You breathed out, feeling your gut twist uncomfortably as your eyes slowly fluttered open. You turned your head and felt your heart nearly leap out of your chest when you made eye contact with Natasha, her green eyes shining brighter than ever as a smile lit up her features.

"There you are," she whispered, poking your nose quickly before pulling her hand away. "It feels like you've been asleep forever."

Your mouth propped open, but you couldn't seem to find your voice. The feeling of deja vu seemed to wash over you, but your eyes were glued onto Natasha's smiling face. You couldn't look away even if you wanted to - not that you wanted to. This moment, this was real. You could feel it. 

Was everything all just a dream?

You lifted your arm, gently placing your palm against her cheek and your heart skipped a beat when she leaned into your touch. You didn't waste a second, leaning forward to press your lips against hers in a desperate kiss, urgently deepening it as you pulled her closer to you. You could feel the moment your soul felt whole again. Though your eyes were closed, you could feel the tears slip through and make their way down your cheeks, the sob escaping your chest caused her to pull away from you, her eyebrows pinched in concern as your chin fell.

"Baby? Baby, what's wrong?" She swiped at your forehead with one hand, her other hand lifting your chin to get a better look at your face. "Come on, detka, you know you can tell me anything. What happened?"

But you only shook your head, resting your forehead against hers as you breathed her in. "I really love you."

She laughed gently, it managed to soothe you as the sobs racking your chest settled down. "I love you," she returned, smiling softly. "Are you sure you're all right? Was it a bad dream?" You nodded into her, letting your eyes fly close. "It's okay," she whispered softly, a sound that automatically placed you into serenity. "It wasn't real."

"I was scared."

Her lips formed a brief frown, but she was quick to recover. She pulled away from you, stroking your cheek with her thumb as she said, "I know what'll make you feel better."

You opened your eyes, meeting her gaze only to be overwhelmed with a comfort the ghost version of Natasha couldn't reach. "What?"

"A nice, warm shower," she offered, her voice low as she moved her hand down to grip the back of your neck, "and a fulfilling breakfast." Her lips grazed across yours when she tugged you to her, feeling your breath hitch in your throat at the closeness. A ball of heat formed in your gut as you yearned for her touch, tilting your chin up in an attempt to catch her lips in yet another passionate kiss, but she only pulled away from your efforts.

You collapsed back onto the bed with a huff, your head falling into the pillows as she laughed. 

"I'll start the shower," she offered, finding your hand to give it a comforting squeeze. "Hopefully you'll be joining me in a moment." You watched as she climbed out of the bed, sending you a sly wink before vanishing into the bathroom.

Her disappearance gave you a moment to look around, and the feeling of deja vu had only grown stronger when you realized where you were. You were home. Having moved away from New York, convincing Natasha to hang up her batons and retire after the Blip. Finding a cozy little house in a nice neighborhood. Happiness, despite the circumstances, was the only thing you had felt during this time. And to see that her death was only a dream comforted you. It wasn't real. You weren't living in an old barn. You weren't seeing an illusion of Natasha summoned up by your grief-stricken brain.

You took the moment to relax. Everything you had thought you knew was all a nightmare. A seemingly never-ending nightmare. And now you were awake, and it was all going to be shoved into the back of your mind. You were going to enjoy reality with your girlfriend.

A ringing interceded your thoughts for a brief moment, pulling your attention to the nightstand opposite yours. Natasha’s phone. And, stretching your neck to get a view of the caller ID, you felt your stomach drop at Tony’s name.  You had a sneaking feeling that you knew exactly what he wanted, not having any contact with anybody from SHIELD since the fall of humanity years ago, and you remembered all too well in your nightmare about the what-if. You had answered the phone, you had admitted to Natasha exactly what the billionaire wanted despite everything in your bones telling you not to. She gave in, packed her bags and moved back to New York with you in tow. Given the chance to fix a “mistake,” you knew she was going to take it.

You ignored the call this time, sending it to voicemail before completely shutting the phone down. “Who was it?” Her voice could be heard over the water coming from the bathroom, and you chewed the inside of your cheek for a moment before giving her an answer.

“Wrong number.”

That was it. She didn’t question it further, she had no reason to. She wasn’t expecting a random call from Tony Stark. She had stopped expecting those calls years ago. And you knew they’d be perfectly fine solving this problem without her. There were still people left to help them, they could call any of them. Right now, you were going to enjoy this fix in time. Natasha didn’t have to die. And you didn’t have to lose your entire world. 

“Are you coming?”

Everything was right in the universe again.

But when your surroundings changed as your eyes opened, you found yourself confused and, ultimately, disappointed. Laying on a bench in a holding cell at the police station, you were forced to sit up when you met eyes with a large, scary-looking man who was a bit too close to you. 

Did the cops find the body? Traced it back to you and scooped you up off the sidewalk after forcefully succumbing to unconsciousness by an unknown assailant. Though now would probably be a decent time to start panicking - you're in jail for murder, what would Clint and Laura think now - you couldn't really bring yourself to get into that state of mind. It seems that you have fully given in to whatever the world has to offer you.

You rested your head against the wall, releasing a sigh as you closed your eyes once more, desperate to go back to Wonderland. You knew there was no use. You knew it was too good to be true. You did answer that phone call from Tony. You did tell Natasha what he had wanted. You did move back to New York to help the world just one. Last. Time. Only it really was one last time because you no longer had the motivation to help the thing that took her away from you.

“It was nice while it lasted, wasn’t it?” Your eyes opened, slowly turning your head to look at Natasha, who had settled onto the bench next to you. You breathed out deeply as you returned your head forward, allowing your eyes to close once again. “A world of what ifs.”

“Can you please not be your usual snarky self right now? I'm too tired.” You were unsure how long you've been out for, but you do know it wasn't long enough. 

Natasha sighed. “You don’t know how you ended up in jail, do you?”

“Not a clue,” you confessed.

“What do you remember?”

You opened your eyes, looking at her once more. “You’re not going to let this go, are you?” 

She shrugged. "I'm usually in need of answers."

You huffed when she shook her head, that signature smirk of hers twitching her lips. You leaned forward, resting your elbows against your knees as you looked through the bars of the cell, watching the people in blue scurry through the room. “I remember being choked. A voice. A car. And then blackness.”

“Who’d the voice belong to?”

You fought against the mugginess happening in your brain, forcing yourself to remember. “I’m doing this for your own protection.” It was a familiar voice. Not one you’ve grown accustomed to, but one that was still fresh on your mind at the time.

“The woman.” You took a shot in the dark, there isn’t really any other way for it to be someone else.

“Right.” Natasha leaned forward to look at your face. “And then what?”

“Nat-”

“Who’d the car belong to?”

You sighed, shaking your head. You couldn’t remember, that was the part you had blacked out. “I was out of it at that point. How could I remember that?”

“Just think, Y/N.”

“I am thinking.” You looked towards the other occupants of the cell - the “no personal space” man from earlier was eyeing you like you were nuts (which, to be fair, you totally are), and the others seemed to be too out of it to give you any care. You turned away, burying your face in your hands as you tried to think. You lowered your voice to whisper to Natasha, “I can’t remember what I can’t see.”

“You did see it, Y/N.” She crouched down in front of you, gently tugging your hands away from your face so she could look into your eyes. She smiled at you softly, and you hated how easily you lost yourself in those pools of emeralds. "Just not the way you think." She rested her arms against your knees, her hold on your wrists gentle, bringing a comfort that nearly reached serenity. "Close your eyes and think."

A deep, heavy breath parted your lips as you slowly nodded, allowing your eyes to flutter close at Natasha's command. Your body relaxed under her touch as your mind wandered back to what had happened, darkness engulfing you in a tight hold. No, you didn't see what happened, but just because you didn't have your vision doesn't mean you didn't have your other senses. You could still feel the woman's arms wrapped around your neck, you could still smell the outside air, and you could hear the sirens.

"Cops." Your eyes flew open, and you grinned when Natasha nodded in approval. "It was a cop car. She-" Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, and the redhead in front of you watched with bated breath as you tried to piece it together in your mind. "She called the cops on us? But why?" For your own protection? That's what she had said, but what did she mean by it?

Were you going to get caught? The man you had killed, the men Natasha had attacked, their gang would surely see to it that you would end up in a grave as well. No doubt they would have searched the perimeter for you and her, but it wasn't them who found you. It was the police. 

"I was too busy talking to you to keep moving," you pointed out. "She called the police on us to save us." You sat up, a small smile lifting your lips. “She saved us, Nat. Again. This just goes to show that your whole trust issue is moot.”

She sat next to you as you leaned against the wall, turning your head to look at her with a beaming grin. She released a gentle laugh, mirroring your stance. You reached for her, intertwining your fingers through hers as a soft breath parted your lips. Your thumb skated across the top of her hand as you stared into her hypnotizing eyes, your gut twisting and turning with warmth. You knew you could sit here all day with her, mesmerized by her. How the light slipping through the barred window above you cast a brilliant glow on her face, how the feeling of her felt as genuine as the dream you had, how your heart crawled up to your throat with happiness that you thought it might just explode. Sure, you were in a holding cell - presumably under the guise that you were just another bum on the street - but you were content. Because she was here, and you wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.

“Y/N!” The loud voice pulled you out of your daze suddenly, turning toward the source to see a towering police officer at the entrance to the cell. “You’re free to go.” The keys jangled in his hands as he worked to unlock the door, and you were on your feet within seconds to make your way out of this prison. He guided you to the entrance, the bubbles in your chest immediately dissipating at the sight of Clint standing in the lobby the moment you turned the corner.

Dread covered your body head to toe as he uncrossed his arms from his chest to rest his hands on his waist when he spotted you. It was the cliche disappointed father stance. It didn’t go unnoticed by the entire police station, eyes lingering on the two of you as you stepped up to him. Your lips were pursed together, your fingers twiddling with each other as you anticipated the lecture you were bound to receive one of these days, but you were pulled out of that state of mind when his arms wrapped around you to bring you against his body in a tight hug. Yet it was a brief one, pulling away quickly as he cleared his throat.

“Come on.” He nodded his head for you to follow him out of the doors, but you felt yourself stagger when your eyes landed on a piece of paper pinned to the community bulletin board. Your brows knitted tightly together with confusion, your heart stopping in your chest as your mind tried to work out exactly what you were looking at. 

“Rogers?” You couldn’t tear your eyes away from the poster, the silhouette of Captain America burning memories into your mind that caused your stomach to turn upside down. You felt someone bump against your shoulder as they stood next to you, and you didn’t need to look to know it was Natasha. “Why would they…”

“Everybody loves musicals.” Her voice was low, but you could detect a hint of amusement in her tone. 

“Y/N-” Clint traced back to you not long after he realized you had stopped, and released a hefty sigh. He didn’t hesitate to rip it off of the board, crumpling it in his fist and tossing it into a nearby trashcan before guiding you out of the building.

The ride home seemed to drag as you anticipated the lecture you had expected back at the precinct. Though he has yet to say anything since he got into the car, and you were pretty sure this was worse than being scolded. The silence seemed to suffocate you, pressing against your chest with extraordinary strength as you couldn’t seem to keep your knee still. Your eyes were glued to the window, but you’d catch yourself glancing at him every now and again.

Why wasn’t he saying anything? Why wasn’t he expressing his disappointment? His anger? Maybe he was trying to figure out what to say. How to say it? Was he just refusing to talk to you now? Maybe he was too disappointed to conjure up the appropriate words. Too angry to put his thoughts into sentences. You couldn’t handle it. He was too quiet and you hated it.

“Calm down.” You felt your entire body relax at her voice, releasing a low breath as your knee finally stopped bouncing. “Ask him.” But you shook your head, pursing your lips together as you glanced at him in the corner of your eyes. You couldn’t be the first one to break the silence. You needed him to speak before you. “Just ask him.”

“Are you angry?” The words came out of your mouth before you really had time to process much of anything.

“No.” It was a curt answer, and it told you not to push any further…

“Disappointed?” He breathed out deeply through his nose as he shook his head. 

“Are you going to tell me what’s going on with you, Y/N?” He glanced at you briefly before returning his stare to the road. “You’re acting irrationally. Getting yourself in trouble with not only the police but criminals as well.”

You shifted your gaze downward as Clint spoke, your eyes focusing on your hands. The intertwining of your fingers against your lap captivated your attention, a silent witness to the aftermath of the adrenaline that had coursed through your veins. The weight of the events from the previous night settled on your shoulders - the undeniable truth that you had taken a life. Whether intentional or not, the man’s family would never see his smile again. Hear his voice. Feel the joy of her laughter. Experience the warmth in the pit of your stomach when she brings your face between her hands to guide your lips to hers…

You quickly realized your thoughts were veering off-topic. 

Clint, silent beside you, kept his eyes fixed on the road ahead. Fatigue and defeat etched across his face. While you were grappling with the loss of Natasha, you acknowledged that he, too, was deeply affected. His ability to tuck away his emotions surpassed yours, and it struck you as unfair that he consistently played the role of a life buoy, keeping you afloat when he, too, needed support. He witnessed his best friend’s death, and there lingered an undeniable sense that he bore a burden of guilt, a weight he concealed with practiced skill.

Speak up. Say anything. Apologize. Let him know he’s not alone. It was your turn to be the buoy…

You turned your head to peer out the window when words failed you. 

The entire inside of your body seemed to freeze when the face of the life you had taken flashed before your eyes, standing on the side of the road as he watched you drive by. You quickly averted your gaze back to the windshield, a tight pressure forming in your chest, mirroring the grip on the handle above you. Despite your efforts to push that haunting moment from your mind, it persistently crept back, an unwelcome ghost.

An engineer by trade, you had always remained indoors, immersed in creating your next ingenious invention while professionals like Natasha and Clint dealt with the harsh realities of the world outside. The field was foreign to you, just as this feeling.

“Clint?” Your voice, soft and warm, broke the silence in the vehicle. He didn’t respond with words, but a low hum conveyed that he heard you. “You’ve taken lives before, haven’t you?” In your peripheral vision, you sensed his head move, but nervousness held you back from meeting his gaze, even briefly, as he returned his attention to the road. “How did you cope with your first kill?”

For a moment, there was only the hum of the engine and the faint whistle of the wind against the windows. You wondered if he was ignoring you, if the question was too much, too personal. Maybe it was cruel to ask him something like that - like pulling open an old wound just to see how deep it really went.

Then, he exhaled, long and slow. “You don’t,” he said finally. His voice was even, but there was a weight to it, something heavy and worn. “You don’t get over it. You just learn to live with it.”

Your fingers curled into your lap. That wasn’t the answer you wanted.

“But what if I can’t?” You didn’t mean to sound so small, but the words left you in a whisper.

Clint let the silence stretch between you, and when he spoke again, it was quieter, “Then you find a way. Or it eats you alive.”

You swallowed, feeling the weight of his words settle deep in your bones. The ghost of last night still clung to you, the blood on your hands something you could still feel even though… there wasn’t technically any blood.

“Was it always like that for you?”

This time, Clint hesitated. “No.”

You turned your head slightly, just enough to glance at him. His jaw was tight, his knuckles white against the steering wheel.

“But it got easier?” you asked.

He let out a humorless breath. “No. You just get used to carrying it.”

That terrified you more than anything.

You turned your gaze back to your lap, your fingers twisting together as if you could wring the unease from your body. The thought of carrying this weight forever - of never truly letting it go - made your chest tighten. You weren’t built for this. You weren’t like Clint, like Natasha, like any of them. You were just a damn engineer, someone who made things to help people - not to kill them.

And yet, here you were.

The car rolled to a stop at a red light, the rhythmic click of the turn signal filling the silence between you. You could feel Clint’s gaze flicker toward you, his quiet observation pressing against the side of your face like a weight you refused to acknowledge.

“You wanna talk about it?” he asked.

Your fingers curled in your lap, nails pressing into your palms.

“Talk to him, Y/N,” Natasha’s voice ghosted through your mind, soft yet firm, like a steady hand on your shoulder. You didn’t turn around. You didn’t have to. She was there, in the hollow of your chest, in the spaces between each ragged breath.

She was right.

But the words wouldn’t come.

You shook your head, barely moving. “No.”

Clint didn’t argue. He just nodded, his hands tightening slightly on the wheel before he turned back to the road.

The light changed. The car surged forward.

The road ahead stretched long and empty, but your mind was still trapped in that moment - frozen in the deafening stillness that followed the shot. The weight of the bracelets on your wrists. The final exhale of a life you could never take back. The way his body crumpled, like a marionette with its strings severed.

You swallowed hard, nausea curling deep in your stomach.

Clint must have noticed because he sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “Look… I don’t have the right words to make this easier for you,” he admitted. “I wish I did.”

You clenched your jaw. “It’s not your job to fix me.”

“No,” he agreed, “but it’s my job to make sure you don’t drown.”

You turned towards the window, your reflection faint in the glass, eye shadowed and hollow. “You don’t have to do that,” you murmured.

He let out a breath, a little wry, a little sad. “Yeah,” he said, “I do.”

And the worst part?

You believed him.

A sharp exhale left you, but it did nothing to loosen the tangled mess inside your head. Your thoughts crackled and sparked, a mess of wires threatening to short-circuit entirely. You had to talk. You had to let this out before it swallowed you whole. But how the hell do you open up about something like this?

You stared down at your lap, at the way your fingers twisted together, as if trying to hold yourself by sheer force. The words were right there, burning the back of your throat, but every time you tried to pull them free, they tangled - knotted tight with guilt, fear, regret.

Clint didn’t push. He just drove, steady and silent, his presence a quiet anchor. But the weight of unspoken things sat between you, thick and suffocating, like even the air was waiting for you to break.

“Just say something, Y/N,” Natasha’s voice whispered, gentle but insistent. “Anything.”

You closed your eyes, willing the world to slow down, to make sense. But it didn’t. It never did. Not anymore.

Clint’s voice cut through the silence, calm and even. “Start anywhere,” he said. “Doesn’t have to make sense.”

Your grip tightened, knuckles aching. The car felt too small, too suffocating. Your lungs felt full of smoke, your heart pounding against the weight of something too bit to hold.

A breath, sharp and unsteady, left you.

And then, barely more than a whisper—

“I messed up, Clint…”

Chapter 3

[themanedwolfbr]

Imagine:

The rain softly drummed against the window, and you nestled deeper into your blanket, holding a cup of hot chocolate in your hands. The clock read 8:37 PM. Pietro had promised to meet you precisely at 8:00, but as always, saving the world came first.

You didn’t really mind—not truly. You loved him, and you knew that being an Avenger meant he was always on the move. Yet, that fact did little to stop the pang of longing each time the world needed him more than you.

With a sigh, you reached for your phone to send a message, but before your fingers could touch the screen, a warm breeze tousled your hair, and in the blink of an eye, he was there. His rain-damp hair fell over his forehead, and that crooked smile always made your heart race.

"Before you get mad at me..." he said, retrieving something from behind his back. It was a red rose, its petals still glistening with droplets of rain.

"I picked this up along the way," he added.

You raised an eyebrow, feigning seriousness, but your expression softened when you saw the guilty look in his eyes.

"Where exactly did you pick it up?" you asked.

Pietro scratched his neck.

"Paris."

You blinked several times.

"Paris… in France?"

"Yes?" he replied with a mischievous smile, waiting for your reaction.

You took the rose and shook your head, smiling.

"Alright... this time you get off the hook."

Before you could say another word, he vanished in a blur and, in less than two seconds, reappeared holding a paper bag with the logo of a famous French bakery.

"I brought croissants as well," he announced.

You laughed, pulling him onto the sofa next to you.

"A boyfriend who crosses the world for me? I think I could get used to that."

He smiled, intertwining his fingers with yours, his eyes shining with tenderness.

"I would traverse the universe for you."

Your heart melted. You leaned in, feeling the warmth of his presence, and he didn't hesitate. With a gentle motion, he cupped your face and pressed his lips against yours in a sweet kiss full of promises.

And in that moment, time finally seemed to slow down.

• I'm sorry if there are any mistakes in the writing, English is not my language.

[shewhohangsoutincemeteries]

appreciation

Clint Barton x F!Reader

Prompt: “is that my shirt?”

Summary: you borrow one of clint's shirts after a fight leaves yours ruined, and he can't help but show you just how much he likes seeing you wear it.

Warnings: smut, mdni, cock-warming, oral sex (female receiving), fluff.

Word Count: 1,616

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“You know, if SHIELD wants us to keep doing all these recon missions in plain clothes, you’ve either got to stop blowing our cover, or they’ve got to start reimbursing me for clothes,” you called out drily as you stepped out of the bathroom, flinging your ruined shirt away in disdain. An unplanned brawl had ended with your shirt torn and your jeans stained, and you’d forgone reporting in in person to make a pitstop at your partner’s apartment. He’d drawn the short straw to call it in, and you’d made liberal use of his shower while he patched himself up.

“I swear I didn’t do it on purpose,” Clint called back from the other room. “There were…”

“Honey, if you say ‘extenuating circumstances’, I’m gonna kick your ass.” you replied, grabbing a shirt out of a drawer and slipping it on over your head. Pain thrummed through your shoulder, and you grimaced but otherwise ignored it. The shirt dampened with the wet hair clinging to your neck, the hem of it skirting along the top of your thighs indecently.

“Safe to say I wasn’t, seeing as I can’t even pronounce…” Clint trailed off as he entered, a couple of fresh bandages taped over his ribs. His phone was still in his hand, the screen dark. “Is that my shirt?”

You looked down at yourself for a brief moment, nodding. “Uh, yeah? I don’t have any clothes here, and I didn’t think you’d—”

“That is the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

You couldn’t help a disbelieving scoff. “Seriously? I—”

The phone fell from Clint’s hand, bouncing on the carpet. He closed the distance between you, took hold of your waist and pulled you into a kiss. His hands bunched in the shirt over your waist, tugging the fabric taught against the small of your back and urging you closer to him. You whined against his lips, your own hands moving to clutch at his biceps. When you parted, Clint spoke a breath away from your lips, a surprising roughness in his voice that sent a thrill right down through the middle of you.

“Yes, seriously. Now stop arguing.”

You laughed as he pushed you gently back against the bedside table. It rattled as it hit the wall and Clint’s mouth met yours again. Wrapping your arms around his neck, your lips parted in a gasp as Clint’s mouth moved from yours to kiss the side of your throat. He lingered there teasingly; his breath hot against your neck as his fingertips trailed up the outside of your naked thighs.

Your fingers ran through his hair as he moved lower, kissing his way down over the skirt to the hem of it. You whimpered as he knelt in front of you urged your thighs apart. “Clint—”

He gave your thigh an open-mouthed kiss, his teeth teasing over the sensitive flesh as his hand journeyed up your other leg. Clint hesitated as he realized you hadn’t had the chance to put your underwear back on, sighing almost reverently. His breath made goosebumps rise on the inside of your thighs. You shivered.

“Fuck…”

“Oh, God, Clint…” you moaned as he buried his face between your legs, his tongue immediately finding your clit. You almost fell back against the bedside table, your hand grasping at the top of the bedhead to your left. Your other hand ran fingers through his hair, the answering ache in your shoulder worth the way he groaned into your cunt. His arms wrapped tightly around your thighs, grabbing at the flesh of them holding you in place under his tongue.

The edge of the wood bit into the back of your thighs, and Clint pushed them further apart. You obliged by sitting on the table, planting one foot on the mattress beside you. Clint rewarded you by sliding a finger into you, his eyes meetings yours from between your thighs.

Fuck, he was good at this. He seemed to truly relish it, and the feel of his bare shoulders pressing up against your thighs, forcing them to stay spread wide, made you shudder. You arched further into his touch with a moan as he reached up to squeeze your breast through his shirt.

Bucking under his tongue, your shoulders falling back against the wall, you heard his too-old alarm clock crack dully against the carpet. Your eyes rolled back behind closed lids, and when you came it was with a drawn-out moan of his name, your thighs quivering on either side of his head.

Before you could even catch your breath Clint rose, a pained grunt quietly leaving him as he pressed a hand to the bandages on his side. Still, he didn’t hesitate to kiss you again, his erection pressing against your stomach as he leaned into you. You shuddered as the fingers of his other hand continued to tease against your clit slowly.

Palming him through his sweats, you smiled as Clint groaned against your mouth, and he broke away to press his forehead against yours. Standing on shaking legs, you gently forced him to turn so you could urge him back onto the bed. Clint snickered as his back met the mattress obediently, but the sound died in his throat as he watched you move to straddle his lap slowly, the shirt riding up on your thighs.

You tugged his sweats down to his mid-thighs, tracing your nails up along his sensitive skin. Clint’s head fell back against the bed as you lowered yourself against him, mindful of his injury.

“So, I got all that just for borrowing a shirt?” you asked, grinding yourself slowly against the length of his cock.

Clint’s hands found your legs, sliding up along them take hold of your hips. “Oh, you’re keeping the shirt.”

You giggled, leaning down and bracing yourself on your good arm to kiss him again. Clint wrapped his arms around your middle, hand slipping up under the soft fabric to spread over your lower back. “And just like that, step one of my evil plan is complete.”

Clint smiled, his nose bumping affectionately against yours. “And what’s the endgame here, mastermind?”

You kissed the underside of his jaw. “I’m going to keep on stealing your clothes until you’re left butt-ass naked and at my mercy.”

Clint chuckled, cupping your cheek and bringing your mouth back to his. He kissed you slowly and long, another wave of delicious giddiness swirling in your belly.

“Downright devious,” he mumbled with a smile against your lips, the words melting into a deep, heady moan as the next slow roll of your hips over his pressed the head of his cock into you. Your eyes closed as you lowered yourself further onto him. His lips caught yours again, moving to your chin, the underside of your jaw, the base of your throat. Clint cursed breathlessly as you began to fuck yourself lazily on his cock. “Shit, baby…”

His hands moved to your backside, massaging the flesh, pressing your body tighter against his. Clint’s lips dusted over your jaw, cheek, and your forehead, your nose crinkling as his lips brushed lightly along the tip of it. The light filtering through the blinds cast his skin in a warm glow, his eyes alight with an affection that warmed the very core of you.

The way he looked at you… the heat in his eyes mixing the way he filled you… the both of them sent a dizzying high dancing up your spine. You barely moved, the two of you near-breathless just from the feeling of him inside you. You lay your head on his chest, basking in the warmth of his embrace and the sun. The next words left you unwillingly. “…Exactly how soon do they expect us to report in?”

Clint groaned softly, his hand sliding up your back. “I was hoping you weren’t going to ask me that.”

You pouted, turning your head to rest your chin on his chest. “That soon, huh?”

You whimpered as Clint pushed his hips up into yours, agonizingly slow. His hand moved into your hair, fisting in the locks as he pulled you into another kiss. This was deeper than the brief, affectionate brushes of his lips, hungrier. More passionate. You moaned into it.

“We’ve got time,” he told you softly, groaning into another kiss as you began to roll your hips against his again. You fucked him slow, steadily, your body tingling wherever it met his. Clint slipped a hand between you, and your eyes rolled back, closing as he touched two fingers to your clit.

“Fuck…”

“Uh, uh, sugar,” he murmured, his other hand cupping your cheek. “Eyes open for me.”

You cursed again, too focused on the building sensation in your core to respond.

“C’mon, baby, please,” he urged, his voice torn with desire and his own steadily approaching release. After teasing each other, after just feeling you squeezing around him, he was too far gone already. “Look at me.”

You forced your eyes open dazedly, lips parting as you hovered inches over him. Clint’s breath tickled your lips, his hands tightening on your hips before you both came, your body shaking over his.

“Damn…” you sighed, letting your head fall back against his chest. Clint chuckled breathlessly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. His arms encircled your waist again, fingers linking together loosely.

“You can say that again.”

“Damn.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Clint snickered, shaking his head against the mattress. “I meant what I said about you keeping the shirt.”

“Good,” you replied with a smile. “Because there is no way I am ever going to give it back now.”

.

.

.

.

tags: tags: @trekkingaroundasgard @lol-you-thought @ruderavenclaw @wittyforachange @notafraid-bitch-igot9lives @akumune @enna-core @xxboesefrauxx @hearmyharmony @katsies @lipstickandtanqueray @youralphawolf72 @maenji @rhymesmenagerie @wefracturedmotivation​ @january-echoes​ @glossyloner​ @capitalnineteen​ @youclickedthislink​ @s0ftness​ @castieltrash1​ @drakelover78​ @queenoftheunderdark​ @gwianasky

[marvelouslytrekking]

Birds of a Feather {23/?}

Summery: Clint plans a very nice first date but seemingly the universe is not on his side and things do not go as planned. Word Count: 2,695 A/N: Heyo! Back at it with this one for now! I had a lot of fun writing this chapter and finally getting this slow burn somewhere! I hope y'all enjoy it!!

You couldn’t remember the last time you had went on a date. It was certainly long enough ago that you were starting to freak out about going on this date with Clint. It didn’t help that you were already in love with the idiot. 

Clint had been determined to keep the date location a secret, which left you to stare at your closet without knowing what on earth you should wear. He had said fancy so you decided to go with it. You pulled out a nice black dress along with a simple pair of black heals and a small silver purse. You weren’t usually one for a lot of jewelry but you decided to pair it with a simple silver necklace and some small diamond earrings along with a few rings you had. You had also decided to take your time to curl your hair and put more effort into your makeup than you normally would. Just as you were finishing up, you heard a knock at your door. 

You took a steadying deep breath. It was just Clint, but it somehow felt like so much more. After feeling like you had centered yourself, you quickly headed to the door. “Hi.” You greeted him with a smile. You had never seen Clint so dressed up before. You were glad to have gone with one of your nicer dresses as he was in a black suit. 

“Wow,” He breathed as he took in your appearance. “You look amazing.”

“Thank you,” You blushed, “You clean up pretty nice yourself,”

You watched as his cheeks turned a bit pink at the compliment. “Ready to go?”

“Yep,” You nodded, slinging your purse over your shoulder and locking up your apartment. 

As you stepped out of the building, Clint offered you his arm. “I hope you don’t mind, it’s only a few blocks, so I thought we could walk. Or I can get us a cab.” 

“We can walk!” You agreed. You were happy that you had picked a pair of heels that had already been broken in. You walked in a comfortable silence, with your arm looped through Clint’s, you were happily taking in being this close to him.

As you made a final turn onto a new street, you realized where Clint was probably taking you. “Clint, are we really going here? I heard there is usually a like 4 week wait!” 

“I pulled a few strings and got us a table.” He smiled at you, happy to see the big smile on your face. He had picked a pretty exclusive restaurant. It was definitely fancy, but the reviews all claimed that the food was amazing, and not rich person, tiny portion “amazing.” You had mentioned that you had wanted to try it to him once. 

“I can’t wait to try everything” You chuckled.

“Maybe not everything, my wallet might suffer otherwise.” Clint teased. 

“Wow already trying to be cheap,” You teased back.

“What- no! I- I am not cheap!” He pouted. 

“I’m teasing.” You assured him, 

He just huffed as he opened the door for you. He walked up to the host stand with you. “We have a reservation under Barton.”

“Alright, let me just find you here” The hostess told you as she scrolled through her tablet. You watched as she frowned. “You said Barton?”

“Yes.” Clint confirmed. You could see there was a flash of anxiety as he caught on that something was wrong. 

“I’m so sorry, I’m not seeing your reservation. Are you sure you made it for today?” She asked. 

“Yes. I’m sure. It was for this Saturday at 7:00” He frowned. 

“I’m sorry I don’t have you in the system. Did you get a confirmation?” She asked.

“Oh, yes I did!” Clint was quick to pull out his phone and started to scroll through his email. “Here it is” He turned his phone to the hostess. 

“Okay, yeah that’s so weird. I am going to have to grab my manager as we don’t have it in our system and therefore we don’t have a table. I’m so sorry for the inconvenience.”

“Thank you,” you piped up as she started to walk away. Clint huffed beside you. 

“I made the reservation. I don’t know what is going on. I’m sorry this is a bit of a mess.”

“It’s fine. It’s not anyone’s fault. We’ll get something figured out or we’ll go somewhere else. I’m not picky, I promise.”

You watched as his frown only deepened. 

“Mr. Barton” You were interrupted before you could say anything else by what you assumed was the manager. “We want to apologize for this mix up. As my hostess said, we unfortunately do not have a table saved for you, however we were able to pull something together. It isn’t in the best spot and we normally wouldn’t want to seat anyone there but we know how hard getting a table here is. And for the inconvenience, we will be able to get you two a complimentary dessert for the trouble.”

You saw that Clint was struggling with wanting to argue about the situation but also didn’t want to make a scene. “I guess that will work. Thank you.” He said with a tight smile. 

You were walked back to a table all the way in the back corner. You could immediately tell that they had squeezed this table where there definitely normally wasn’t one. It was right outside the door that led into the kitchen and there was a tall plant that was all but pushed into the one chair. Clint seemed to clock all of that as well and huffed but kindly pulled out the chair not beside the plant, and gestured for you to sit down. You smiled as he gently pushed it in before taking his own seat. You had to chuckle a little as he fought the plant slightly. 

“I apologize about that, I will have someone come and move that for you.” The manager said with a frown at Clint swatting the leaves away. You were handed two menus and told that your server would be right with you. 

“This is already a disaster isn’t it?” Clint looked up at you sheepishly. 

“This isn’t even on my top 10 worst dates yet.” You reassured him. 

“God, you have been on some real doozies then.” He laughed. 

“I have.” You agreed. 

When the waiter came over, Clint ordered a bottle of wine, once you nodded in your approval on his choice. The waiter came back with the bottle and two glasses and began to pour the wine. As he was pouring your glass, another waiter came out of the kitchen door carrying a large tray of food. They clearly weren’t expecting an obstacle in their path and had to swerve at the last minute to avoid colliding with your server. Unfortunately, they still managed to clip them just enough that they were jolted forward, and the wine they were pouring spilled directly into your lap. You squealed as the cold drink came into contact with your dress and immediately soaked into the fabric. 

“Oh my god, miss, I am so sorry.” The waiter was quick to pull up the bottle of wine and apologize for the incident. 

“It’s okay.” You assured him. 

“I will go grab a new bottle.” He rushed off as you grabbed the cloth napkin and began to try to dab away the liquid. 

“Have we broken into that top 10 yet?” Clint cringed.

“Getting closer.” You grumbled. You watched as Clint’s face fell and you immediately deflated from your own annoyance. “I’m kidding. It’s truly fine. I’m just going to run to the bathroom to try and clean up a bit.”

“Of course.” Clint agreed. “Please just don’t sneak out the bathroom window.”

“Wouldn’t do me much good, you know where I live.” You joked. 

You took a minute to pull yourself back together in the bathroom. You had been looking forward to this date since Clint had asked and honestly, even before that, so you were trying to ignore everything seemingly going wrong. You chuckled to yourself thinking about it and decided that screw the universe and her twisted sense of humor, you were not going to let anything ruin this date. One final deep breath and you exited the bathroom and headed back to your table. 

You noticed that someone had finally gotten the plant out of the way. “Look at that, you’re no longer sitting on a plant.”

“Yeah, much more comfortable now.” 

“Oh and full glasses of wine, it looks like things are looking up.” You smiled. 

“Why would you go and jinx it.” Clint glared. 

“You’re superstitious?” You laughed. It shouldn’t have surprised you with Clint, but it did. You quickly knocked lightly on the table. “There, I knocked on wood.”

“Not sure that’ll be enough to fix this.” He laughed at you. 

“I can throw salt over my shoulder, if you think that’ll help?” You reached for the salt shaker.

“Not sure the women behind you would appreciate that.” He shook his head. 

“Probably not.” 

“What’s this?” You asked as the waiter put down some prawn cocktail. 

“I thought I’d order us an appetizer while you were cleaning up.” Clint told you. 

You frown as you looked at it. “Clint, that was very kind, but, um- I’m kinda allergic to shellfish.”

“Oh my god! Are you really? I feel horrible!” Clint rushed. You were pretty sure he was seconds away from throwing the dish off the table, so you decided to be merciful and you immediately let out a laugh. 

“Sorry” You said between chuckles. “I just couldn’t help it.”

He just stared at your blankly for a moment before glaring at you. “You’re not allergic, are you?” 

“No,” you kept laughing. 

“That’s just so mean.” He pouted which just caused you to laugh more. 

“I know. But you should have seen your face. It was so worth it.” 

“You’re the worst.”

“You know you love- it” You had almost said ‘love me’, but decided that maybe it was a little soon for that, even as a joke. 

Clint himself paused for a second before he let out a laugh and nodded. “For some reason, you’re right.”

“I always am.”

From there you and Clint fell into comfortable conversations as you normally would, and it seemed like the spell of bad luck was wearing off. Your food did take forever to arrive. Clint had to flag down the waiter and with how sheepish he looked and how he immediately went into the kitchen, you had a feeling he had forgotten to ring it in. 

However once the food arrived, you had no complaints, as the reviews had said, everything was amazing. 

Once you had finished your dishes, both of you raving about how delicious they were, your waiter kindly brought out a large slice of chocolate cake. You were already quite full but that didn’t stop your mouth from immediately watering. 

“I feel like for all the issues, we could have at least gotten two deserts.” Clint grumbled as you already were reaching for a fork-full. 

“You don’t think sharing a dessert is romantic?” You teased. 

“I don’t share my food lightly.” He admitted. 

“Well, I am glad I’m so special then.” You winked at him. The cake was as delicious as it had looked and you two quickly finished the plate. 

“The meal is on the house tonight.” The waiter informed you as he came to clear the plates from in front of you.

“That’s not necessary!” Clint tried to protest. 

“It is both an apology for the service that you received and also a thank you for what you did for the city.” He explained. You could tell that Clint got flustered by the last part. 

“Well thank you.” He gave the waiter a tight nod. You could tell that not having to pay was bothering Clint a bit but you didn’t know how to make him feel better about it. You didn’t care whether he made a show of being able to pay for some fancy dinner. 

Clint made sure to still leave a cash tip on the table before you got up. You were glad to see that even though you could say the service was not spectacular, he still felt it was good to leave the tip.

You followed Clint back out through the restaurant and out to the street. “Do you want me to call a cab or we can walk back?” Clint asked you. The temperature out was still nice and it hadn’t been a long walk there so you suggested walking back, it felt silly to try and wait for a cab for such a short distance. 

As you rounded the corner of your apartment building, you both startled slightly when a loud crack of thunder rumbled overhead. You had checked the weather before you had left and there hadn’t been any storms mentioned but before you could even comment on that, the clouds opened up and sheets of rain came pouring down. 

You squealed before Clint and you both began to make a run for your front door. You had to laugh as you made it into the building. It had only been a few seconds but you were both completely drenched. Clint was laughing a bit too, but you could hear the edge in his tone. 

“I swear the universe was really trying to get me on that list.” He groaned. 

“Well it failed.” You told him as you began the climb up the stairs. “Though you did make it on a list.”

“Oh what list would that be?” He asked. 

“I think that lands in my top 5 best first dates,” You smiled at him. 

“Now I know you have been on some bad dates!” 

“Yeah but even with all the crazy things, there was great food and even better company, so I have no complaints.” You stepped in front of your door, turned back towards Clint. 

“I have to agree, you made the date great even if nothing I had planned seemed to go right.” Clint smiled softly. He took a tentative step towards you. Your eyes flicked down to his lips before going back up to meet his eyes. He took one final step towards you before his own eyes drifted down to your lips for a second. “I really want to kiss you right now.”

“Please do” You breathed out. He didn’t need any further encouragement and before you knew it, his hand was resting on your neck and his lips were connecting with yours. Your hands went up to his arms as you returned the kiss. 

You had had many first date kisses, they were usually awkward and tentative and while Clint definitely had given you a moment to pull away had you wanted to, the kiss was much more heated than typical first kisses were. You had to assume it had something to do with how long you had been harboring feelings for him. 

You only pulled away when a shiver ran through your body. “I should probably get inside and out of these wet clothes. I have the early shift and don’t want to be sick and miserable during it.” 

“I would hate to be the cause of you getting sick.” Clint stepped back so you could turn towards your door. You were more than half tempted to invite him inside but you wanted to make sure to do this relationship right. You felt too strongly for the archer to let the heat of the moment cause any problems for you two. 

“Thanks for a great evening” You turned to him after your door was unlocked. He leaned in for another quick peck. 

“Goodnight Dani” He smiled as he stepped back. You gave him a final smile before stepping into your apartment and closing the door behind you. You found yourself leaning against the door with the biggest grin on your face. You hadn’t had such an amazing time on a date in a long time and boy did Clint know how to kiss. 

[cece693]

So, this might just be an excuse to write a Steve bashing fanfic, but I couldn't help myself. The idea is basically this: Steve leaves you (you're dating) without a goodbye or explanation after the airport fight occurs. So (naturally) you gravitate towards Tony. Steve comes back and doesn't take it well. Hope you enjoy!

What You Left Behind

pairing: tony stark x male reader tags: past relationship with steve, steve bashing, reader moves on with Tony, pro Tony stark because why not, explicit sexual content, emotional angst, verbal confrontation, toxic behavior from steve

You hadn't thought Steve would leave—not really. You'd convinced yourself that somehow you'd always come first, that the deep nights spent wrapped in his arms, whispered promises against your skin, meant something more profound than duty or history. But reality had a sharp edge, and when Barnes resurfaced, broken and hunted, Steve’s loyalty crystallized swiftly around his best friend. He chose Barnes—perhaps the man he'd always wanted deep down—over you.

It felt like abandonment—because it was. Not just a physical separation, but an emotional detachment. He’d left you standing in the airport, eyes stinging with unshed tears as you watched him vanish alongside Barnes, shield in hand, never looking back. Yet you never blamed Barnes. He was a pawn caught in a twisted game that history played mercilessly. Your anger, quiet yet corrosive, was reserved entirely for Steve.

Months passed, during which you withdrew inward, throwing yourself into missions and assignments, barely surfacing for air. Tony, whom you'd always admired—maybe a little more than platonically before Steve—was a steady presence in your peripheral vision, watching, waiting.

One evening, after a particularly difficult mission, you found yourself nursing a drink in Tony’s penthouse. He was there, sleeves rolled up, eyes soft and understanding. He’d known heartbreak, betrayal, abandonment—the shattering loneliness of being left behind. “You know,” Tony murmured quietly, eyes glinting gently with compassion and perhaps something deeper, “he didn’t deserve you.”

“Maybe he didn’t,” you whispered back, staring at the amber liquid swirling slowly in your glass. Your throat tightened. “And maybe I always knew.”

You don’t quite remember who moved first—maybe both simultaneously—but suddenly your lips were brushing Tony’s, hesitant yet filled with pent-up longing. He tasted rich, intoxicating, every touch igniting a new spark between you. You took Tony upstairs, guiding him onto the bed with practiced ease, his eyes dark and filled with want. His breathing grew heavier as you stripped him slowly, savoring the flush that spread down his chest.

“God,” Tony moaned softly when your lips traced along his throat, marking him gently. You moved lower, pressing kisses down his chest, fingertips grazing his hips until he trembled beneath you.

“You sure about this?” you murmured, hovering over him, your eyes locking onto his.

“More sure than I’ve ever been,” Tony whispered, pulling you into another fierce kiss.

You entered him slowly, watching Tony’s face closely, the way his expression melted into pleasure, his grip tightening around your shoulders. You filled him deeply, steadily, losing yourselves to each other. Tony surrendered completely beneath you, vulnerable yet trusting, until you both shattered together in overwhelming release, his name leaving your lips in a breathless sigh.

That night changed everything. If Steve's absence hadn't already been enough to tell you to move on, it was Tony's gentle touches and lingering kisses that convinced you this was far more than a drunken, one-night encounter.

Pepper, Peter, Happy, and the others were delighted when you made your relationship known. And that in itself was liberating. The people who meant more to Tony than anybody accepted you, welcoming you wholeheartedly into their family without hesitation or doubt. It felt like you finally belonged again. Months passed, each day with Tony strengthening your bond—each stolen moment, lazy morning, and shared laugh solidifying your future together.

Then Steve returned.

The rogues were pardoned—half because the public still loved them, the other half because the world needed defenders when another threat presented itself. You'd planned on avoiding them entirely, content to move on, but Steve showed up at the Tower without warning, assuming nothing had changed.

It was early evening when he strode into the main living area, pausing mid-step as his gaze landed sharply on you, sprawled comfortably on the couch, Tony curled up warmly against your side. Something dangerous flickered in Steve's eyes, a mixture of shock, confusion, and anger swiftly settling over his features. “What the hell is this?” he demanded, eyes narrowing, voice ice-cold.

Tony stiffened beside you, but you gently squeezed his arm before standing to face your ex-boyfriend. “Exactly what it looks like, Steve.”

“I leave for one minute—”

“You left for nine months,” you correct, each word clipped. “You walked away from me—from us—without so much as a goodbye. I was patient, Steve. I let you chase Bucky across three continents before the Accords. Was supportive of your decisions even if they didn’t align with my own, and you know why?” Your voice shakes, anger and hurt clawing at your throat. “Because I trusted you. I trusted that my boyfriend would actually come back to me. I told myself we’d talk things through, fix whatever went wrong…but you never bothered.”

Steve sucks in a breath, but you press on, refusing to let him cut in.

“I waited, Steve. Texts. Calls. I tried everything. Hell, I even asked Sam if he’d heard from you. Do you know how humiliating it felt, searching for any hint of your plans, trying to hold on to a relationship you’d already abandoned?”

Steve’s throat works, but he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he slips into the same brittle, defensive posture that’s become so familiar since he left. “I had to protect Bucky,” he says flatly, almost dismissively. “I didn’t have time to stop by for tea and a heart-to-heart. People were hunting him like an animal.”

“I get that,” you return sharply. “I supported your decision to protect him—even if I didn’t agree with every extreme measure you took to do it. But it wasn’t just about Bucky, was it? You ran off to save him, leaving me to deal with the fallout of everything else.”

Tony stands off to the side, tension radiating through his posture. He’s trying to keep quiet, to let you handle this, but his protective streak is obvious in the worried flicker of his eyes. And Steve, of course, notices. “So you’re with him now? Mr. Shoot-First-and-Apologize-Never?” He scoffs, crossing his arms. “Great choice. You know, he’s got a track record of letting entire cities drop out of the sky, and that’s when he’s not actively trying to murder someone’s best friend in a parking garage.”

“Excuse me?” Tony bristles, fists clenching. “Wanna talk about track records? Because punching your problems away hasn’t exactly been a glowing success, Cap.”

“Says the man who upended the world with killer robots but thinks he’s earned a gold star because he donated some funds and co-wrote a few laws.” The jab lands, and you can feel Tony’s anger roil. You’ve seen the remorse he carries daily—the nights he wakes up soaked in sweat, replaying Sokovia in his head. Steve flings it around like cheap currency, as if it doesn’t cost Tony to admit he messed up.

“Enough." you snap, your voice steeling. “I’m done letting you talk to him like that. Don’t you dare walk back in here after nearly a year and act like Tony’s the only one who’s ever screwed up. You made your choice, Steve. You chose Bucky over everything. Over me. And I…” You swallow hard. “I had to find someone to lean on when you left. Someone who would stand by me, who wasn’t going to run off and disappear.”

“And Stark was the only other option?”

“If you’re fishing for cheap shots, try again. I’m not explaining the basics of how Tony and I got here nor do I owe you an explanation. Maybe you're just angry that I'm not a dutiful little trophy, waiting for the great Captain America to grace me with his presence again.”

Steve’s lips press into a thin line. “I thought you’d understand.”

“That I was just supposed to…what? Approve of you ghosting me for months while you played renegade with a handful of rogues? Steve, you hurt me. You don’t get to come back and pretend we can resume where we left off.”

He looks like he wants to argue—like he wants to push back with all the moral indignation in the world—but he glances between you and Tony, and something snaps in his expression: a raw, bitter mixture of disbelief and betrayal. “You made your choice,” he says, voice tight, so devoid of the warmth he once showed you. “I hope this works out for you, because when Stark screws up again—and we both know he will—I’m not going to be around to pick up the pieces.”

“You were never around to begin with,” you say evenly. “And I don’t need you to pick up anything. I’m not the same person you left behind, Steve.” For a moment, he just stares, eyes dark with anger and something almost like regret. But he sets his jaw and pushes past you, striding to the elevator. The doors slide shut with a harsh hiss.

Silence.

Behind you, Tony exhales, shoulders sagging. “I’m sorry,” he offers, voice hushed. “I didn’t mean for any of that to—”

“You didn’t do anything wrong.” You turn to him. “Steve's hurting, and he’s lashing out. Doesn’t excuse what he said, though.” You pause, letting out a slow breath. “I’m not going to let him treat you like a punching bag for his guilt. Not now. Not ever.”

Tony’s lips curve into a faint smile, gratitude shining behind his eyes. He lifts his hand, lacing his fingers with yours. “Thank you,” he murmurs, stepping closer. “For everything.” Tony’s fingers tighten around yours, as though he’s checking that you’re still real—still choosing him. You bring your joined hands to your lips and press a brief kiss to his knuckles.

“C’mon,” you say softly. “Let’s get out of the blast zone before Steve decides to storm back in for round two.”

Tony snorts, but the sound is thin. “Elevator cameras probably caught him seething the whole ride down. FRIDAY’s going to have a field day with the security footage.”

You guide him toward the kitchen, where the overhead lights are gentler and the hum of appliances fills the lingering silence. A pot of coffee still sits warm on the burner. You pour two mugs—Tony’s in the “Proof That Tony Stark Has a Heart” cup he pretends he hates—and slide one across the counter.

He watches you over the rim as he takes a sip, brown eyes softening. “You really don’t blame me for any of that?”

“I blame you for a lot of things,” you tease, nudging his hip with yours. “Like leaving greasy wrenches on the couch and using the last of the oat milk without replacing it. But Steve’s anger? No. That’s on him.” Your smile fades, earnest now. “I meant what I said. You stayed. That matters.”

Tony sets the mug down and pulls you into his arms, arc reactor pulsing gently between you. “I keep expecting you to wake up and realize you deserve better than a walking cautionary tale.”

“Funny,” you murmur against his shoulder. “I keep thinking the same about you. Except I’m the cautionary tale.” You lean back, meeting his gaze. “So maybe we just keep proving each other wrong.”

A wry grin tugs at his mouth. “Deal.” He dips his head, kissing you—slow and certain, like signing a contract with lips instead of ink. When he pulls away he rests his forehead to yours. “You hungry? I can whip up something carbon‑loaded and terrible for my cholesterol.”

“You mean order something?” you deadpan.

“Hey, I’m a culinary savant when I want to be. I’ve watched Happy make omelettes at least twice.”

You chuckle, the tension in your chest finally easing. “Pizza’s fine, genius. But—” You glance toward the windows where the skyline glitters. “After we eat, maybe we should talk about what happens when Steve comes back. Because he will.”

Tony’s smile falters, replaced by a sober nod. “Yeah. He’s still part of the team—even if the team looks different now.” He exhales. “I can handle him throwing punches at me. I’m used to that. But if he aims for you again…”

“He won’t,” you promise. “Not while I’m standing.”

Tony’s gaze warms, fierce and fond. “That’s the thing—I don’t want you to have to stand alone.” He reaches into his pocket and produces a slim, silver keycard. “Been carrying this around for weeks, waiting for the right moment.” He presses it into your palm. “Full workshop access. Total clearance. It’s not a ring, but it’s the next best Stark‑level commitment.”

Emotion swells in your throat. “You sure? That’s basically giving me the launch codes.”

“I trust you with more than that,” he says quietly. “Besides, you already have the launch codes. I talk in my sleep.”

You laugh, eyes stinging. “Thank you.”

He brushes his thumb across your cheekbone. “Thank you for choosing me.”

A gentle chime sounds overhead—FRIDAY clearing her throat, if an AI could. “Boss, Captain Rogers has left the premises. He did not, however, punch any walls on the way out. Progress?”

Tony rolls his eyes. “Mark it in the log, FRIDAY. ‘Rogers: zero structural damage, moderate emotional carnage.’”

“Logged,” she replies primly.

You shake your head, amused. “Let’s eat before another Avenger barges in.”

“Pizza incoming,” Tony declares, tapping the holographic interface on his watch. He pauses, smirks. “Extra pineapple. Just to spite the super‑soldier.”

[unholyhelbig]

Oversight one shot request - Nat and reader dealing with the aftermath of an argument that got heated, nat realising she was wrong which is rare for her and having to try and make it up to reader

Title: The Sword and the Stone [An Oversight Oneshot]

Ship: Female!Reader x Natasha Romanoff

Summary: Reader and Natasha get into a heated argument when Reader starts to doubt her true purpose in Natasha's life.

Warnings(PLEASE READ): angst, threats of drowning, light threats, implied sex, horrible grammar- I don't proof read.

[a/n: yeah, I really don't know what this is. Life has been so hectic lately and I'm so exhausted. Someone put me out of my misery and make sure I never have to go back to South Carolina ever again.]

Check out the full Oversight universe

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven

The black wax seal on the three-hundred-dollar bottle of whiskey had left a filmy residue against the mouth of the glass. It gave the warm drink an oaky edge that helped you swallow it down. The first sip had burned through your nostrils and down your throat until it lit a fire in your belly. The second seemed to extinguish the first.

You’d kept drinking until there was a pleasant buzz across your skin. You’d rolled your pantlegs up to the middle of your calves until the fabric was constricting and swished your legs around in the dark water of the pool. The scent of chlorine mixed dangerously with the bergamot undertones of the alcohol.

The moon was full and gave you a full encompassed view of the backyard and the edge of the lake lapping at the rocky shores. If you squinted, you could see the dots of red and green as buoys molded to the tides. Fishing boats navigated their way to the docks, their rumbling alerts shaking your chest.

You lifted the crystal glass to your lips and took a deeper gulp. It was warm and unpleasant but eventually ebbed to a cynical type of comfort. You placed the glass to the side and worked your fingers numbly through your hair. They ached incessantly. Your body wasn’t built for this anymore.

There was a soreness to your jaw and the underlying taste of metal that coated your throat. Before you’d walked into your shared home, the redness had started to grow a nasty, ugly purple. I’d certainly be swollen in the morning, even if you had pressed a bag of frozen peas to it.

It was a cycle. A vicious one that you’d endured for the past ten years. You were a blade in Natasha Romanoff’s toolkit. To the city, you were a composed and elegant viper; deadly when you bit but often found wrapping yourself around the arm of Eve. The crowd parted for you. Politicians groveled and clients smiled uneasily, in a scared sort of kindness.

With a groan, you laid yourself back on the patio stones and stared up at the stars. They pockmarked the sky in constellations that threatened to spin until they turned to lines of warbled light. You’d had too much to drink, and too little to eat. You’d lay here until the light in your bedroom flicked off and you could sneak in smelling of booze.

Of course, you heard your wife approaching.

When you’d first met Natasha Romanoff, you were enveloped in eternal darkness, beaten within an inch of your life. The sound of her footfalls in heels beat against your eardrums and had caused you to jerk your head up with dizzying quickness.

Now, you could pick up noise of her bare feet padding delicately against dew-soaked grass and then leaving uneven prints against the stonework. Her scent was inky and doused in sandalwood. Something that typically brought you a wave of comfort served as a catalyst for nausea.

“If you’re going to get drunk on a Tuesday night, darling, maybe an expensive bottle of whisky is not the right avenue.”

“Mm,”

The hum tickled your throat. Natasha had lowered herself to the edge of the pool next to you, delicately dipping her feet into the warm water. Her perfectly manicured fingers pressed cooly against your forehead before carding through your hair. You sighed contentedly and leaned into her touch before you registered that you were supposed to be mad at her.

“It works all the same. I’ll replace it.”

“No need. It was a thoughtless gift from Leland Owlsley after he behaved like a prick. It’s been aging for nearly a decade now.”

You made a noise that was akin to a whimper. Maybe you had underestimated the strength of the drink. Not that you would ever admit that to Natasha. You became malleable when you were drunk, and who better to work forgiveness out of you than your wife?

You draped your arm over your eyes, slurring out “Do you know the legend of Excalibur?”

Natasha scoffed, and when she didn’t give you a verbal answer, you peaked over your arm, finally getting a look at her. She was in nothing but her silk robe, the emerald green a sharp contrast to her pale expanse of skin. It had been years, and she still rendered you speechless.

She relented and shook her head, full attention trained on you. Often, you would dive into the books that lined the walls in Natasha’s study. They were leather-bound and filled with different mythos that she hadn’t read herself.

Sometimes, you would regale her with the stories of fantastical worlds that stuck with you. Of dragons that heaved heavy helpings of fire, and sea serpents that brushed their gills along the ridged edges of boats. Natasha would curl into your side, her ear pressed against your bare chest as your words lulled her into sleep.

“The blade was said to be forged with the blood of seven dragons. Each one breathed a green fire that was hotter than brimstone, and stronger than the very core of the earth. The blade, it wasn’t meant for just anyone. It may be mighty, but it’s nothing without a guiding hand.”

You hilted yourself up until you were resting all of your weight on your elbows, the rocky patio digging into your bones and stinging enough to keep you focused. Natasha had turned her head, resting her cheek on her knees and blinking slowly at you.

“For centuries, the blade was wedged in stone. Though many men tried and tried again to dislodge it, the sword would only budge for someone who was worthy, and that was Arthur Pendragon. The two worked together for decades, warding off evil, and protecting a kingdom that eventually, they came to rule.

“Arthur was considered the greatest king in Avalon’s history and served until he became too old to do so. Excalibur was not meant to be wielded by another, nor buried beneath the earth with it’s master. So, Arthur set off on his longest journey yet.”

Natasha swallowed hard. Her fingers twitched, eyes glowing under the pale light of the moon. She looked ethereal, and the snake in the pit of your stomach coiled tighter with want. You were meant to be upset with her, but the tenderness in her posture gave away her vulnerability.

“He used the last of his strength to travel across the kingdom, through vast forests, dark caverns, and steep cliffs until he crawled his way to the edge of the lake of youth. Now, stories start to differ here. But, in each, Arthur returns to sword to the ladies of the lake, determined to protect his old friend. The only one that’s ever stuck by him.

“Some say Arthur took the hand of a young siren and allowed himself to be led into the cold water. Others proclaim that he disintegrated into dust when the hilt of the sword left his hand. Either way, he was never seen again, and neither was the Excalibur.”

Some of the warmth from the whiskey was wearing off and a chill had settled against your bones. Your fingers itched to pour more of the dark buttery liquid into the glass. Natasha had moved them from your grasp with all the subtly of a god.

So, in turn, you focused on the glassy look in her eyes and willed yourself to sit up, swallowing the oaky taste in your mouth. The world spun around twice before stabilizing on the done light at the edge of the pool.

You felt a lump form in your throat, outweighing the heated effects of the alcohol. You made it a habit not to cry in front of your wife, and she rarely ever gave you a reason to. But the tensions had been swirling wickedly for months now.

“Nat,” you whispered, “sometimes I feel like I’m just your sword.”

The argument had broken out on the way home from the city. The night was a certain type of darkness that allowed the milk-white stars to shine through. It was balmy and the air conditioner whirred enough to curb the dampening interior.

You knew it was stupid to let a small thorn in your side rip and tear at your flesh until a gaping hole was left in it’s place. Your knuckles were throbbing, and a pack of peas were pressed against your jaw where a hit had landed.

You’d stepped in front of Natasha and grabbed the handle of a steak-knife and aimed it towards the ground. Your wife hadn’t even blinked, and you had no doubt that she would have misdirected the attack from the charge herself.

It was easy to strike fear into the dishwasher that reached towards whatever he could find in an act of defense. You grasped what little hair he had on the back of his head and held him under the soapy water, letting the sanitizer cling to your lungs with it’s citrus edge.

You’d gotten the money like the good loan shark you were and Natasha had pressed her fingers to the small of your back in acknowledgement before swaying off the car. You’d exited through the back, dripping with bubbles.

There were times when the weight of being Natasha Romanoff’s wife weighted you down like a pile of bricks. She was a good partner within the walls of the house. She’d pull you against her front and lean her head against your shoulder, her cold fingers wandering under the fabric of your shirt.

There were expensive bottles of wine, and perfect cuts of meat. Quiet nights where you were tangled under the covers, whispering soft nothings. Louder nights where your back was arched and stars danced across your vision.

All of this changed when you moved past the threshold of your cultivated life. You’d married Natasha knowing good and well that her family, your family, was going to be dysfunctional. The ledger for the Romanoff’s dripped a cherry red.

You were meant to be her sword, her Excalibur. You stood a few inches behind her, arms tucked behind your back and stare cold with disinterest. Though, you paid apt attention to each movement her company made.  

Years before, you had been nothing but a waitress with a high pain tolerance. You’d let Natasha mold you into the weapon that you were, and most of the time, you were content with this arrangement.

The scent of bergamot tickled your throat as she moved closer with disquieting patience. She’d withdrawn her feet from the pool and straddled your center. Her weight was familiar, but the tenderness in her stare was often hidden by her walled disposition.

You grunted, staring up at the sharp curve of her jaw and the slight flush against her cheeks. She’d been in the sun today, freckles giving her away. Her nimble fingers brushed a strand of hair behind your ear and played with the gold charm in the center of your necklace.

“Darling, you know the problem with that legend?” You shook your head, hands going to the familiar place on her hips. “The Excalibur was crafted long before Arthur was around to wield it. The fates saw him fit because of the amount of care, and love he had for the sword.”

A sigh escaped you, “I thought you didn’t know the legend.”

“Oh, everyone knows the legend.” She danced her fingers against your collarbone, your body betrayed you with goosebumps and a suppressed shiver down your spine. “But I will be the first to admit that I’ve been unfair to you.”

You blinked up at her in shock, stilling your movements. Natasha Romanoff was as stubborn as they came and never admitted to being wrong. There were moments where she tentatively agreed to a different course of action, or quietly concluded that Clint would take the lead during situations that required a softer touch.

“While I am in constant awe of your ruthlessness, I am well aware that the woman I married has a soft touch. You were a waitress bringing in tips with your dazzling smile, after-all.” Her fingers were brushing dangerously close to the hem of your pants. You felt your muscles contract under her. “I apologize, moya lyubov', for making you feel as if you are nothing but a weapon. To me, you are so much more. To me, you are everything.”

Her words became whispered against your jaw in the slightest of warmth. Your pulse thudded against your throat and her tongue pressed close to the rhythm. You groaned softly and arched upwards. Your entire body was flushed with arousal.

A salacious moan escaped her. “Do you forgive me, malyshka?”

“Mm, you’re playing dirty, Nat.”

God- you’d forgiven her even before she had uttered the words of apology. Now that her perfectly curved fingers were pushing past the waistband of your pants, you were ready to rush out whatever she wanted to hear.

“Perhaps. I mean what I say, the mere thought of you being unhappy shatters me.”

Her lips were everywhere, plush as she kissed against the corner of your lip, breathing out apologies between each nip. Natasha trailed down your jawline, your pulse-point and the curves of your chest. Her breath was molten as if fanned against your skin.

Suddenly serious, she pulled back, bracing her hands on your shoulders. She held you down with little effort, strength pulsing through her exposed muscles. You swallowed the dryness in your throat and let out a shuttered whine.

“It was never my intention to make you feel inadequate. You may be deadly, molded under my hand to protect this family with everything you have, but first and foremost, you are my wife. We’ll make sure everyone knows it. But first, I need to hear you say it.”

“Say it?” You felt the pressure build in your chest, her palms digging into your collarbone. It was a satisfying sting that made you writhe under her heavy hand, you narrowed your eyes. “Really? Right now?”

Natasha flushed, pulling herself into a sitting position. “Not that, y/n. Don’t start something you don’t intend to finish.”

“Oh, you mean forgiveness. Kinky.”

“krasivo, pozhaluysta”

She wouldn’t dare beg in anything less than her native tongue. Natasha’s voice was gravelly, her eyes boring into yours with a desperation that usually was reserved for silk sheets and hazy mornings. You hated seeing her like this, clawing for affection that she so rarely asked for. Your heart seized, and you maneuvered yourself until you were in a sitting position, holding her flush against you.

Natasha tucked her nose against the small of your neck and nothing short of nuzzled you. Her disposition had crumbled and her fingers wicked into the fabric of your shirt. You held her close and listened to her breathing as it mingled with the shift of water.

There were moments, few and far between, when the calls got too close, where she would do this. Just sit and embrace the sound of your heartbeat. She kept her ear against your chest and counted the minutes. You carded your fingers through her hair and embraced her amenability.

You lifted her chin until her eyes met yours, reflecting the sweeping of the chlorine saturated pool. Her bottom lip was jutted out in an almost pout. You resisted the urge to kiss the expression off her face.

“I forgive you, Natty.” You whispered against her lips, “I’ll be your Excalibur.”

Natasha scoffed and closed the minute distance between you both. The kiss was soft, her lips tasting of the lingering liquor on your own. Her arms encircled your neck, tongue begging for entrance. You felt a frown on her features, she suddenly pulled back.

“Are you insinuating that you’d rather be with a lady of the lake?”

“Nat,” You groaned, dropping your head.

“No, no, I can totally take you to the wharf if you want the other woman.”

“There is no other woman, it was a metaphor.”

“You could have chosen a metaphor without a siren, and you know it.”

[Taglist🕷♡: @dumbasslesbi, @lostremind, @toouncreativeforausername @autorasexy @eringranola @mikookaaaaaao @marvelwoman-simp @pacmanmiles @mostlymarvelsstuff, @mrsrushman, @milfsandtittyenthusiast, @random-raccoon4, @ravenromanova, @mysticalmoonlight7, @ahintofchaos@cowboyboots236 @lissaaaa145, @natsxwife@a-spes, @kyleeservopoulos]

[escape-music1432]

SCARED OF THE FALL! / Novocaine

(MCU!Adam Warlock x Ex-Avenger!Reader)

Next | Previous | Beginning

a/n: this is a really long one and I'm too lazy to shorten so have two titles and a fun read

Description: I live for angst, and this is going to be just a short few parts where reader rejects Adam's advances but slowly find themselves being hit with the realization that they do indeed harbor feelings; although, not as strongly, but they were beginning to grow.

Warnings: NONE OF THESE ARE PROOFREAD, mentions of canonical deaths, canonical violence, swearing, reader fell for Steve Rogers, alcohol consumption, kidnapping, Adam hurts reader, unethical experiments, animal abuse, vague hint of sexual thoughts, Rocket may or may not have feelings for reader, way too many near death experiences, mentions of infertility, drunken confessions, heartbroken Rocket, Reader hurts Adam,(more will be added accordingly)

Word count: 11,633

You will be happy to know that the description in no longer click bait! However now I realized I strayed from it...

This is uncharted territory now. So, that means I can finally get creative with my writing instead of having boring bs that follows the MCU timeline. I know, I did this to myself so idk why I'm complaining. Anyways, it's gonna be a bit of a better, longer reading experience... yay... don't forget the angst tho.

I have no idea how many more parts there are going to be so stay with me while we figure that out. I will be naming these after songs I listen on repeat while writing them, so don't pay the weird names any attention.

Enjoy and pls don't come for me, I'm just having fun and simping for this golden mf :)

You could feel your limbs creak and crack as you stretched, a pleasant sigh leaving your lips, waiting to feel the throb of a headache as you sat up, but it never came.

You rubbed the sleep from your eyes, looking around your small apartment. You didn't know how long you slept, but the lights around Nowhere and the faint chatter proved it was still within the early hours.

You licked your chapped lips, the faint taste of whiskey and honey danced along your dry tongue, followed by a sinking feeling in your gut.

You chose to ignore it while you pulled yourself out of bed and into the bathroom, hoping to wash away the night with a shower. It didn't take you long to get yourself cleaned up and dressed in comfortable attire, finishing your usual morning routine before getting ready to step outside.

You didn't even get to enjoy the walk to the enclosure to the animals, due to Nebula stopping you right outside your apartment. She was about to knock when you opened the door to her standing there.

You smiled softly, "Good morning."

"Good, your awake. I came to inform you that I can take care of your jobs for today." You wanted to ask why, but she beat you too it. "Thor would not stop bugging me about giving you today off."

You were giggling now. It sounded like something Thor would do, and you definitely needed the distraction after last night. You winced internally just thinking about it. "Did he say why?"

"No, but Drax will be joining you, as well as the kids. I don't really care for details, as long as the kids are looked after and return in one piece." Nebula waved her hand in dismissal, turning to begin her walk.

You followed alongside her quietly, hoping she wouldn't mention anything about the night prior. Luckily, she was too busy looking at the data pad in her hands, swiping through it and clicking a few buttons every now and again.

You both made it toward the port, the smell of oil and rubber hitting your nose. Nebula walked off leaving you by yourself.

You took the time to look out passed the barrier keeping you from space. It felt just like yesterday when you were within the guardian's ship, watching as the stars and galaxies danced along its black canvas, the vastness of it still taking your breath away. You could never get sick of seeing space, not when it still held undiscovered planets that you still had yet to explore.

"Good morning, Stardust. It appears we're the first ones to arrive." The voice of Adam appeared at your side; the flicker of warmth filled the space between you. You didn't dare look at him, not when he seen you so vulnerable the night before, you could still hazily remember him guiding you back to your apartment.

You could still feel his fingertips brush against your chest as he pulled the blanket over you, and the way he tucked your hair behind your ear while you mumbled nonsense. His soft hushed voice lulling you to sleep, staying at your side until your breathing evened out, not realizing the storm of emotions that the night had caused you. You didn't want to think about, didn't want to fall for a simple sweet gesture, so, you put up your walls, hiding behind the sarcasm and annoyance.

"Shouldn't you be stating the obvious somewhere else?" At your response, you could feel the way Adam's body shifted, and the way his hands twitched at his sides.

"Thor invited me on this journey. Did he not mention that to you." You gave him a sideways glance, seeing the soft smile on his face as he continued to look out into stars, not paying any mind to the jab you tried to make.

The thought that he would be tagging along was making you want to stay on Nowhere just to avoid the feeling bubbling in your chest.

"No, he didn't." You turned your attention back out into the vacuum of space.

The silence was deafening, it was both awkward and suffocating. You wanted your body to move, to find Nebula just so you wouldn't bask in the warm glow his body gave off. You couldn't fathom the comfort he brought you, it felt like everything was going to be okay, but you didn't want that. You wanted to stay within the confines of sadness, anger and regret.

"May I ask you a question?" Adam's words were like sandpaper against your ears, irritation already coming to mask your feelings. He seemed to take your silence as approval because he turned to face you, giving you his undivided attention.

You could feel him reach out as he spoke, "I have been thinking—well, knowing that I have—I would like-" He took a deep breath in, while he tried to find the words.

You could feel yourself slip away from existence for a minute. His words ringing in your head like a constant alarm. He spoke too quickly, to quietly to fully register what he was trying to say but you could feel your lungs beginning to burn from holding your breath. It was painfully obvious he was nervous, and you didn't want any part in what he had to say; at least that's what you wanted to believe.

You could feel the heat through his fingertips as they brushed the back side of your hand hesitantly. Your head turned in his direction finally looking up into his golden eyes watching as he opened his mouth slightly, before closing it and swallowing his nerves. His gaze went from your eyes down to your lips then back, your heart skipping a beat as he finally found the courage to speak. "Would you like to-"

"What the flark are you two doin?" The loud gruff voice made you jump, your hand quickly pulling away from his.

You stepped away from Adam as your eyes followed the sound of footsteps that came to an abrupt stop just a few feet away. The sight of Rocket standing, staring between you and Adam made it easier to not think too much into Adam's words.

You could hear a faint huff from your side, glancing over to Adam for just a second. He seemed disappointed, annoyed, at the sudden interruption. However, you thanked the gods that you were saved from whatever it was he wanted. But when you turned your attention to the raccoon, you couldn't shake the feeling that this wasn't any better.

As you looked at Rocket, the images, the feeling of him replayed in your head. The lump in your throat and twist in your gut made it feel like you were going to throw up. You couldn't possibly face Rocket, not right now, not when the wound was still fresh. You tried to push it out, to ignore it, but the way his hard gaze disappeared at the concern on your face was enough to tell you he might remember just as much as you did.

"Captain Rocket, it is nice to see you." Adam's words were less soft compared to before, it was like he was a completely different person now. It made you do a double take in looking to him then to Rocket.

"Yea yea goldie. I actually came to give you this." His words directed at you were unwavering, the cool calm tone hurting you more than you thought it would, but excitement replace that emotion within you at the sight of your uniform.

You were breathless as you spoke, "Does this mean-"

"Yes, it does. I can see all the progress you've made, even just a little." Rocket forced his smile up to you, his eyes softening at your excited jumps of glee.

You were quick to grab your uniform from his grasp, not missing the way your hand gently brushed against the back of his paw.

You could see Rocket's body stiffen, you both feeling the tension beginning to build. You wanted to say something, to ask if he remembered but you bit your tongue, hiding behind your veil of excitement.

"Thank you, so much Rocket. You don't know how happy I am to be back." You could feel his gaze shift away from you, putting up his own walls in the process, "Don't mention it Doll, been needing that out of my office anyway."

You could feel a mix of relief and disappointment. Of course, he wasn't too keen on talking about feelings if it didn't involve half a bottle of whiskey, but that was if he remembered, and by the looks of it, it seemed he wasn't in the mood to tell.

You were so lost in thought you didn't hear the rushed footsteps from behind you. You could feel yourself being lifted from off the ground, your whole body twisting and turning at the tight grip around your legs and torso that hoisted you up bridal style. The scream of surprise you let out had Rocket and Adam both jumping in place.

"My dear! You are finally awake." Thor's voice was right next to your ear, your whole body ceasing its attempt at fighting back.

You playfully punched his chest, letting out a loud sigh of relief. "Don't do that, you scared me half to death."

You could feel your whole body shake along with his laugh; it felt nice to have him distract you from your thoughts.

"Shall we set out on our little adventure. We're all here now." Thor gently set you back onto your feet, giving you a noogie and throwing your hair askew. You felt your smile falter as you swatted at his hand, already slightly annoyed with his antics.

Once you recovered, you looked behind him to see Drax and the little ones. The sight of Lyra waving frantically had you smiling brightly, you knew it was going to be a good day.

"Will you be joining us, Captain?" The question from Adam made your hair stand on end. You tried not to eavesdrop, but you could already feel the eyes staring into the back of your head as Lyra ran toward you.

"I'm sitting this one out, I need to find our next mission. You guys have fun." Rocket's quick response was followed by his fleeting footsteps.

You were once again feeling that mix of relief and disappointment. The feeling swallowing you whole, you were already beginning to overthink but as Lyra's small hands wrapped around your neck it disappeared. She would be your main focus today, and that was enough.

The travel time was short, Thor already seemed familiarized with the system you were in. When you set down onto the unknown planet, you could see a coastal town, the bright blue of the ocean blended well with the faint hint of light blues and tan colors of the town. It was breathtaking seeing such a beautiful planet, even just the smallest part of it.

Thor had mentioned it was going to be an all-day trip considering the planet's days were similar to Earths, if not shorter.

You were helping Thor sort through the supplies, making sure you had enough for lunch, dinner and the beach day activities when Drax had announced he would be taking the kids to the town alongside Adam. You were relived to be away from Adamm, even for a short few hours, but you made the most of it taking the time to indulge in the natural riches of the planet, sunbathing out on the dock of Thor's ship.

It had been almost an hour since Drax left and you were listening to the crashing of waves, and the soft breeze that blew by every once in a while. It felt nice to empty your mind in such a beautiful place, but it didn't last long when you heard the heavy footsteps within the ship, Thor's voice calling from behind you.

"Have you had breakfast?" You could feel your stomach rumble at the mention of food, deciding it was best to stand from your laying position. "No, but if you have something to snack on that would be great."

Thor shook his head, "Absolutely not, I will make you my specialty."

You hummed, deciding to take a seat beside the kitchen island to wait for him to give you whatever he had in mind. Thor didn't waste any time in pulling out the ingredients and getting too work. You were in awe that he was making it from scratch.

As you watched him work, you felt nostalgia begin to flow through your body.

You glanced around at the empty seats at your side, the sinking feeling in your stomach returning for another reason.

The Avenger tower would whirl to life as each one of you woke up, tired eyes and mumbled good mornings. The clatter in the kitchen followed by the faint scent of coffee, the warmth of the morning light peeking through the large windows and faint chatter of your quiet sing song voice.

Tony would be the first one up, taking a walk to the small bakery down the road. He would come back with two dozen donuts and his own expensive coffee. He would be having a donut in the corner looking over his schematics while you fought to not argue about the coffee you were making.

Bruce would be leaving the bathroom with a freshly shaven face, and grabbing a cup of coffee that you poured him, his lazy thank you as he took a sip, then he would join Tony on the sofa giving his opinions every now and again.

Steve would be walking into the kitchen, his workout clothes hugging his body just right as he thanked you for the cup of coffee, then he would set out on retrieving utensils and cooking pans while you dug through the fridge and cabinets for ingredients.

Thor would be stirring from his slumber on the couch, his eyes scanning the room before sitting up and heading to the bathroom. Once he returned, he would take your place next to Steve to help cook breakfast, joking with you about being a terrible cook. You would argue back that you used to work in a cafe, while Nat and Clint would be bickering down the hall almost synchronizing with you and Thor.

Nat would be the first to sit beside you before Clint followed. They would sit and continue their argument about waffles and pancakes, or any breakfast item to prove which was better.

Thor and Steve would be happily chatting while serving up breakfast, barely taking in Nat and Clints opinions on what they preferred, then you would all sit around and eat, chatting about what the plans were for the upcoming week.

You really missed those lazy mornings.

"So, how did last night go? I spent an hour trying to wash my face from you and Rocket." Thor's voice had ripped you from your reminiscing.

The mention of last night making you forget your earlier thoughts as you felt the swell of mixed emotions. You wanted to tell him; to respond honestly but you felt your walls beginning to cloud your judgment. "It's nothing worth mentioning."

Thor hummed, glancing back at you. "I was told from Nebula that you and Rocket had to be escorted to your homes."

He laughed, "It must've been a fun night; sorry I didn't stay up longer."

He waited for you to have a backhanded comment or to deny it but at your silence he glanced back again. He could see the distant look in your eyes, he felt like there was something wrong and he wasn't going to ignore it.

"My dear, are you alright?" Thor's voice echoed off the walls of his ship, the faint smell of pancakes and syrup followed alongside him as he placed the plate in front of you.

You could hear Love and Lyra playing outside, they must've just gotten back from town. You focused on their laughter and screams of joy, letting it occupy your brain.

Thor gently place his hand on your shoulder, squeezing softly to get your attention. "Hey, what's wrong?"

You looked down at the pancakes, the syrup dripping off of one side inviting you to take a bite, but the sight had your stomach turning. The gentle breeze from outside drifted in, the faint scent of salt hitting your senses.

You wanted to ignore the sadness in your heart, the realization that this was worse than death.

"(y/n)." Thor's quiet say of your name had you jumping, turning your attention to him like he had yelled at you. His expression was full of worry. You didn't feel like you deserved such sympathy, not when everything seemed to be falling apart.

"Sorry. I'm just tired." You lifted the fork full of plush cakes to your lips, still feeling his gaze on you as you took a bite. Thor wasn't the brightest, but he wasn't completely oblivious and that jeopardized your attempt at hiding.

"Listen, I know something is wrong. You're never so quiet, where's my sassy sister at?" Thor was trying to make you smile at the name, the name that always got you to laugh and roll your eyes. He wanted you to give him some sort of reaction, anything. but you couldn't muster enough to care, the void in your chest completely engulfing your very being in sadness.

"I said I'm tired." You repeated, taking another bite of the breakfast item.

Thor smiled softly, taking a seat next to you. "You cannot fool me dear, I know something is wrong." He wrapped his arm around your shoulder, rocking you back and forth, still trying to get you to smile, to break the mask you were wearing.

You could feel the irritation bubbling up in your chest at his arm wrapped around you. It made you feel claustrophobic. His braying voice making your ears hurt and the tightness in your throat nearly made you choke on your food. You tried counting in your head, taking deep breathes through your nose to calm yourself.

You could feel another rush of sadness at the faint voice of Adam from outside, the familiar burn within your heart tore away the sadness. You wanted nothing more than to let it sweep you off your feet, but the events within the last twenty-four hours were already becoming too hard to bear.

All of the walls Adam crept through wanted to seal up, but they couldn't, not when he was at your side. You didn't want to feel that extra skip in your heart, or the heat on your cheeks, or the pain from grinning to hard. You wanted nothing more than to ignore it, to avoid those attractively captivating eyes, to forget the feel of muscular hands pulling you into his comforting embrace.

Yet, no matter how hard you pushed him away with every back handed comment, every snap of anger or rude gesture, it completely went over his head. He would smile, chuckle and pretend you didn't just insult him. It was like he didn't care, like he was okay with being nestled in the small space he worked his way through even if it meant getting hurt. You hated that about him. You didn't want him, and you didn't need him.

"You can tell me anything, I'm always here for-" Thor couldn't even finish his sentence before you shoved his arm off of your shoulder, standing from your seat abruptly with a loud sigh, knocking the plate to the floor in the process.

You couldn't control your raging emotions, or the words that fell from your lips. "Get off my back, will ya?! I can't have a peaceful morning and the breakfast you made for me without you being a pain in my ass. I said there's nothing wrong and you keep prying. It's pissing me off."

You were taking deep shallow breathes now, your hands clenched at your side, while Thor was pulled away from you slightly. The anger was continuing to build, you were trying so hard to fight off your earlier thoughts.

Thor tried to speak, to say something "My dear, I'm just worried about you."

You were completely blinded with anger now. You hate him, hated the way he made you feel. "Worried? What you should be worried about is that the moment you showed up shit hit the fan. If I had known your surprise visit would involve such events, I would've kicked you out."

Thor was in compete shock, he wasn't able to hide the sadness on his face at your words, and it made him feel smaller as you continued. "I don't want you here, no one does. You're so annoying, you can't shut up for two seconds to read the room. I've had a really shitty night, and I'm sick of you trying to work your way into something that doesn't involve you."

He couldn't even argue back, the sight of your whole-body trembling in anger was enough for him to know that there was definitely something wrong.

You couldn't possibly mean what you said, he tried so hard to believe that, even when there was no sway in your glare, no indication that what you said was nothing but the truth. You may be quick to anger but this was different, you never lashed out like this in all the years he's known you. Except for one time, and that was a long time ago right after... this was a cry for help, and he didn't know how to go about it because he wasn't the one who comforted you all those years ago.

The silence and tension in the air filled your lungs, each breath burning. Your heart was pounding in your ears looking into Thor's blue eyes, waiting for him too snap back, for him to be angry with you.

The thought of those gentle golden hands that cradled you until you stopped crying, and the tickle of whiskers on your face made your teeth clench. You wanted to feel something else, needed to focus on anything that wasn't the night prior. You wanted to block it out, it was eating away at your heart, numbing your senses, and any knowledge of the tears of anger spilling from your eyes.

You hated this, hated feeling so weak when you were supposed to be the strongest. The years after you lost your parents you were adamant on hiding your tears, your emotions but then you met Steve and the Avengers. Every day that passed you could feel your walls slipping more and more, digging a hole for you to lie in.

They made you feel safe and at home, every single one of them wormed their way into your heart, the heart that was caged off from fear of losing them. And when you got too comfortable, just like with your parents, the world surprised you with its cruelty. You lost the Avengers, and you lost Steve. You couldn't bear the burden that laid on your shoulders after that, you sealed yourself off no matter how much your heart yearned for intimacy.

Now with Adam, everything was tenfold, it was like your entire existence was altered. He brought out that sensitivity, the guardians brought out your weaknesses more than the Avenger's ever could and even then, you lost Quill, Thor and Mantis. In every scenario where you opened up, you've lost more than you could withstand. Not one has stayed, not one has given you the satisfaction of recuperating what you felt.

At least that's what you wanted to believe but as you looked into Thor's saddened expression, you knew that you were beginning to doubt that you were ever angry or annoyed to begin with. It was just like you to keep pushing and pushing until they gave up on you.

You could feel the tears streaming down your face now, the anger vanishing into the sadness you've been trying so hard to suppress.

This was always your fault; you were just trying to protect yourself from heartbreak and here you were breaking his heart, breaking the heart of the one who took time out of their busy life to visit, and the one who saw right through the mask you put on since day one.

A loud sob left your lips, your whole body going ridged as you flung yourself into Thor's arms, the warmth of his hug tarnishing the hurt you felt. You cried, letting all the pent-up emotions over the past few years drop down onto his clothing, sobbing so loudly your voice became hoarse, your grip around his neck nearly choking him.

He was the one who actually stayed after everything.

You tried to speak, to apologize for being so stupid but you were only met with his hushed voice as he rocked you gently within his hold, "It's okay, it's okay. Let it out."

Thor was holding onto your crying form for what felt like hours, each time you would start to calm down the tears would start up again. It went on like that for a while, and he was willing to wait. He didn't realize just how much you were holding back, and that frightened him.

How long had you felt this way?

You took a few deep breathes in, steadying yourself in Thor's arms. His grip around your back loosened, as you finally pulled away. You didn't have to say anything as he guided you toward the comforter, sitting you down gently. The fear of speaking was making the silence much louder than it was, and Thor must've felt it too because he cleared his throat waiting for you to speak.

It didn't take long for you to explain why exactly you were feeling the way you did. You told him about Rocket's confession, his words, his touch, his kiss. You explained how frightened you were, how it rattled you to the core to even think about him in such a way. Your feelings were mixed, you knew the love you had for Rocket was only platonic and that broke your heart not being able to give him what he wanted.

Fresh tears were already beginning to spill as you waited for his say on the matter.

"That all happened last night?" His voice rumbled with amusement, a teasing smile on his face at an attempt to lighten the mood.

You wanted to facepalm, he never wanted to take anything seriously, but you couldn't be mad. It felt nice that he was trying to make you smile.

"Yea, I had no one to tell. Rocket most likely doesn't remember, and I didn't want to bring it up when I saw him this morning." You could hear your voice quiver at the mention on Rocket, and Thor could see the way you began to fidget.

"That is, a lot, to say the least..." Thor had a thoughtful look on his face, still taking in the information. You watched as his expression changed, a familiar glimmer in his blue eyes as he looked out into the scenery of the planet you were on.

"So, you and Adam huh?" You wanted to punch him in that moment, wondering what exactly he was getting at.

"What about Adam and me?" You tried hard not to let any emotion slip, but you knew you were fucked when you avoided his gaze as his hearty chuckle flew around the quiet space.

"My dear, you do realize I know that look he gives you. It's the same look you'd give-" Thor paused, deciding not to say his name. He cleared his throat before continuing, "What I'm saying is, the rabbit saw it before you could, even I saw it when we were introduced."

You rolled your eyes, trying to brush off the flutter in your chest. "There's nothing to see. You don't know Adam. He was a mindless killing machine when he first got here. He has no knowledge of whatever it is you're thinking, he wasn't programmed with it."

You could feel Thor shift, his hearty laughter bouncing off the walls of his ship. "You jest. No one is preprogrammed with knowledge, it's taught, even improvised. It's common sense."

"Adam was made in a literal machine." You emphasized your words by moving your hands, trying to explain further so Thor could understand. However, it didn't stick.

"Machine or not. He can still learn." Thor wasn't wrong, and that had you pushing back the hope you didn't really want to acknowledge.

"Thor. Adam was born to be perfect, someone so perfect doesn't have a need for shit like that. Especially when the Sovereign literally make their children in pods, so stop trying to make it work." You didn't know if you were trying to convince him or yourself.

"It just sounds like you're in denial my dear, like you don't want to believe that he can love past companionship." Thor gave you a sly smirk, nudging your shoulder gently. "Don't worry your secret is safe with me."

You could feel your cheeks beginning to heat up, "Thor that's not funny. I don't even—he's just—I'm not—oh fuck off."

Thor laughed again, finding amusement over you being a stuttering mess. You didn't find it as entertaining, hating that you let it get to you as much as it did.

The calming silence that fell over you both was comforting, the weight being off your shoulders and the tightness in your chest was gone. It felt nice to just enjoy the weightlessness. Thor made a small noise, almost a grunt to break the silence. You refocused your gaze on him, waiting for him to speak what was on his mind.

"You know, let's assume he was taught." You hummed in acknowledgment of his words, as he continued. "Who would he confide in his emotions to?"

You froze, that question never crossing your mind. "I'm not sure. He doesn't talk to anyone besides the guardians, even then that's still a slim possibility, considering most of us rarely talk about emotions in general."

You could practically hear the gears running on overtime within your and Thor's head. The silence that fell over you only lasted a few seconds before Thor started throwing out ideas. "Who's someone that's close to you, someone that has actually been in a relationship or experienced love in such a way."

You hummed, "Well considering Adam doesn't understand that. I think someone who experiences emotions in large quantities would be enough."

Thor rested his chin on the palm of his hand, "You don't think it could Lyra, or what was his name... the babysitter."

"Drax." Just as you corrected him you froze. The mention of Lyra and Drax had the gears in your head beginning to turn in a consistent manner. "No, he couldn't be, could he?"

"He could. I used to talk to Stark about Jane and me, as weird as that sounds." The mention of Stark had you both looking down at your hands, feeling like it was only yesterday when he made his sacrifice. Thor cleared his throat again, much harder and gruffer than before, fighting off his own inner battle of regret.

"He was the only one in a bit more stable relationship than the rest of us, I didn't know Bart well enough to ask him." Thor's response was all you needed to hear before you groaned loudly, repeating 'no' over and over again.

You were holding your head in your hands, "I don't like Adam like that-" 

"Like I said, your secret is safe with me." Thor was smirking as you peaked through your fingers, shooting him a glare before you went back to your uncomfortable rant. "If Drax and Lyra are really trying to explain something as vast and versatile as the emotion love, then it's going to be all out of wack. Drax is way too literal and up front, and Lyra—Lyra only knows from movies and books."

At the mention of each of their takes on love, Thor laughed to the point of tears holding onto his sides. It was bad enough you were already concerned but now you were more than embarrassed. You wanted the world to swallow you whole, wanting to be anywhere but here in the moment.

Thor's gentle nudge of your shoulder had your panic cease for a moment. "My dear sweet sister, it's only an assumption. If you're right about your golden god, then you have nothing to worry about because he couldn't possibly 'have a need for that shit.'"

Thor's teasing tone from quoting you made you groan again, however, what he said was accurate. You really didn't have anything to worry about if you were right about Adam.

You and Thor decided to join the kids outside after cleaning up the mess you made, and a long hug filled with more than enough apologies on your end.

The day went on beautifully, most of the kids swam around and picked up quick on the games Thor would teach them. Lyra was at your side most of the time, helping you search for pretty shells and sand dollars. Drax was watching intently from the sidelines, making sure all the kids were accounted for and safe. Adam was besides Drax mostly talking with him and you couldn't help but remember your earlier conversation with Thor, and when their eyes locked onto your own you quickly averted your gaze back to Lyra.

It had only been a few hours before the kids got hungry, meaning it was just about lunch time. So, you and Thor set up the little snack bar for them to enjoy which you didn't think was necessary, but Thor had already spent so much on the supplies that you just went along with it. The kids were more than happy eating whatever was given to them, mostly the few sweet treats that Thor had provided.

"Mother?" The soft voice of Lyra had your head turning down to her from your conversation with Drax, "Yes sweetheart?"

You could see her brows knit together, her blue eyes wandering around the room while she fidgeted with the towel hugged against her chest. She looked nervous, and you couldn't help but feel worried. When she didn't respond immediately you bent down on one knee to be eye level with her.

"Lyra, what is it? Is something wrong?" You gently brushed her hair out of her face, feeling her gently lean into your touch.

Lyra shook her head, "No mother, but can you and I go back to town."

You could see her worried expression waiting for your answer, you weren't going to say no, but you were curious why she needed to go there. "Can I ask why?"

Lyra's eyes looked to the empty snack bowl that was once filled with sweets, then back you. "Bort, the treats are gone. I seen a—how do you say—cake?"

You could feel your heart swell; she was just the cutest. "Of course, sweetie. would you like to go now?"

Lyra immediately nodded her head, already grabbing ahold of your hand to guide you out of the ship. You pulled back gently, making sure to tell Drax and Thor where you and Lyra were going.

The walk to the town felt short, even though it appeared a lot further than you expected. You enjoyed the heat of the sun, the gentle breeze that swayed along the tropical trees. The town was a lot prettier than from the ship, the walls had beautiful waves etched into it, the clay of blue settled nicely with the faint hue of orange on each building. Some were darker shades some were lighter shades, not one building being like the last, they all had their own unique look to them. You could see wooden signs, their language burned into them, hanging over certain buildings. Through glass windows you spotted people nestled within seats, chatting or making purchases. It felt like home, much calmer than other planets you had previously visited.

Lyra tugged your hand down an ally, you could hear the loud voices and footsteps echoing from the very end of the alley. You were blinded from the sun's rays, and when you stepped back out into the street the hanging of cloth shielded the blinding sun. You could see that this was the busiest part of this coastal town, there were vendors with food, clothing, antiques and so on. You were in awe at the sight, not realizing just how much you missed such a sight, you half expected them to flock toward you to sell their items, but they seemed more immersed in each other. You followed behind Lyra as she weaved through the buzz of the market, you felt uneasy, but each local, vendor or not, would give you a warm smile and a slight bow.

Lyra finally let go of your hand, coming to an abrupt stop in front of a small limestone building. It had a small paper sign stung across the top, with what looked to be leaves on either side of the name 'blessed goods'.

You were expecting Lyra to run in, but she was standing idly by the entrance, waiting for you to enter first. You could practically see her body shaking with anticipation, and she nearly toppled over you as you swung the door open.

A clatter of shells and glass hung atop the door, swaying and clanking against one another to signal someone had entered. The first thing you noticed was the scent, it hit you like a ton of bricks; the richness of the smells settles on your tongue nearly making you drool. It was similar to the smell of a bakery, vanilla, caramel, even coffee, but it was so much better than just a usual bakery from Terra.

Lyra was quick to pick out what she wanted, the cupcake that sat within a small container from a large open fridge. The sight of a frosting sat on top; a vanilla cake nestled beneath it, it looked like a pink carnation, a flower you vaguely remembered.

You glanced at the contents in the fridge. They held cupcakes, and smaller cakes; each one was different but still had the theme of earth flowers, they were breathtaking. It surprised you to see even the faintest knowledge of Terra was known even as far as this planet.

"Is it okay to get this one?" Lyra's voice snapped you out of your daze, her blue eyes begging as she held up the cupcake.

You nod, giving in to the temptation of the baked goods. "Yes, I think I'm going to get one too."

You were looking up and down at all the floral cakes, before deciding to grab one that had a sunflower on top. Just as your fingers grazed against the cool plastic, you could feel a gentle hand against yours stopping you from fully grabbing onto it. You turned to your left, making eye contact with a much older man. Thinking you had done something wrong; you bowed your head slightly and apologized. When you looked back up, you were met with a sweet smile on the shop owners face, it was nothing but sincere.

"I don't think that's the cake for you, how about this one?" His soft voice was just as sweet as he looked, his grey hair peeking through the scarf wrapped around his head as his wrinkled hands gently guided your own to wrap around another container.

You wanted to ask why you couldn't just take the sunflower, but the sight of what looked to be daisy had you speechless. He seemed to hum at your surprised and wondering expression,

"It is for new beginnings. I have studied these flowers in my youth from Terra, it is a beautiful place. You must miss it."

You could feel your head spin, "How did you-"

"Your daughter speaks highly of you; I was just happy to listen." His soft smile never left as he looked down at Lyra who had a blush spreading across her face in embarrassment having been caught. "I would like to recommend this one as well, for your friend, he leaves soon does he not?"

The old man shifted around you to the other side of the fridge, plucking another container from the display shelf. Forget-me-not, a flower you least expected to see with such detail in the petals and colors.

You nodded your head, deciding Lyra had spoken with too much detail about your trip, but you couldn't be mad. "Yes, and thank you so much. These are beautiful, your attention to detail is mind boggling. They look so real."

"Yes, they do, however, I do not spend as much time on them as you would think. They aren't just regular old pastries, each one is crafted for someone specific, either a gift or for personal pleasure." His voice faded as he wandered behind the counter, pointing to some of the floral paintings on the walls and a list that sat upon the counter. "I know which ones are needed for those who enter, these flowers have meanings, and I aid in their message."

You looked at some of the cookies that sat on the countertop, small dots of leaves and lilies frosted atop, a sign sitting next to them with the words 'be the change you want to see' scribbled on it.

You looked behind him in the kitchen, not catching a single glimpse of utensils or baking items. It was just a blank canvas, all the paint was sitting upon the pallet, and the brush nonexistent, yet it still created the most beautiful masterpiece in all of existence.

The realization made your hair stand on end, looking down at the cupcakes you were about to buy. "You're not some normal old baker... are you?"

"No." His sweet smile didn't falter as he began to bag the pastries, "I dabble in sorcery, it makes the clean up much easier."

You slouched your shoulders in relief, then you covered your mouth shaking your head and giggling. "I should've known, no normal baker could add so much detail in frosting without some sort of magic."

The man laughed, taking his time in the conversation. "Indeed, not many can excel in the arts, but I put it to use in my love for baking."

You hummed, waiting for a price on the items but he leaned against the counter closer to you pointing to a poster along the bottom of the counter. "Speaking of magic, you arrived on the night of the festival that only happens once every century. You must join in on this beautiful tradition of the shower of stars carried across the planet, it is said to give good fortune of love and abundance."

Lyra squealed from behind you, grabbing onto your shirt tugging roughly. "Mother, please. I won't ask for anything else; please can we see the stars?!"

"Lyra-" You really didn't want to stay much longer, the whole trip was nearly ruined not too long ago.

You looked down to Lyra, and as you did you watched her expression contort, her eyes going wide as her bottom lip pouted out, her hands clasped together in front of her chest. Her voice begging as she pleaded once again. "Please, mother."

She knew just how to make you crack with her puppy eyes; she really was going to be the bane of your existence. You sighed gently ruffling her hair, "I would love to go, but it's not me you have to convince. You have to get Drax to-"

After your words of agreement left your mouth Lyra was already tugging you out of the store, she didn't even let you finish paying or speaking as the bag of sweets were somehow within her grasp.

You tried to pull back, but she was already out the door when you heard the shop owner call out from behind you. "No need to pay, just enjoy the festival. It starts at dusk!"

And with that you and Lyra practically sprinted back to the ship, her pulling you along the path down to the beach.

Drax was happy to agree, not only because he had a soft spot for the kids but also because if he didn't, he would never hear the end of it. So, when dusk started to approach quickly, everyone made their way into town. The only source of light was the setting sun and the bright lights from the center of town, like a guiding light in the dark.

Love was holding onto your hand while she held onto Thor's. It felt nice to just watch the dancing and singing of all the locals.

Love swayed your hands back and forth to the beat of the drums, her laugh following alongside the instruments strumming. There was a faint flicker from above as the sun disappeared over the Horizen, the music becoming increasing louder. Thor had let go of Love's hand, her grip along your fingers were warm as she guided you to dance along with her. You swayed your arms with hers, moving your body along to the words being sung. It didn't take long for the native music to switch up, having a faster pace than before. You could practically feel the drums vibrating the core of your body, the once soft vocals harmonized into something much rougher. It was like a ritual, lifting your very soul from your body.

Lyra's footsteps and voice went unnoticed as you lifted Love twirling her around. Lyra nearly yanked your hands away from Love's as you set her down, you could see the faint glow of purple unraveling within Love's eyes as she glared at Lyra. She was quick to grab your hand, hiding behind you to avoid the death glare from the other girl, you couldn't help but feel disappointment drip from your lips as you looked down to Lyra.

"Why didn't you just ask sweetheart?" You were afraid your voice was drowned out by the music but the way Lyra pulled away and looked up to you, her blue eyes shimmer in the light from her misty eyes, you knew your scolding didn't go unheard.

When Lyra didn't respond you looked over to Love, whose purple eyes went back to their natural color, her arms were crossed over her chest. You knew that she wanted an apology, which you thought was fair considering what Lyra had done.

"Lyra, that wasn't very nice. Can you apologize to Love?" You could feel her grip against your hand loosen, her blue eyes darting from you to Love.

"Mother, I—" Lyra couldn't find the words, her mouth falling open and closed as she struggled. The small huff that left her lips mixed into a sob, her hand withdrawing from your own as tears began to spill down her cheeks. You were quick to reach out for her again, but she was already running the other way.

Guilt sat within your chest, as you gave an apologetic smile to Love before running after Lyra. You could hear her voice fade out into the distance as Thor's voice followed, you ignored both of them as you attempted to track down where Lyra had gone.

It felt like hours of searching, but with adrenaline coursing through your veins it was only half an hour. You checked around the markets, into buildings that still had dim lights on, out by the ship and even back at the flower shop but you came up empty handed.

You called out Lyra's name, looking at the outskirts of town. Once again you tried to call her name, hoping for her to call back but you were only met with faint sounds of laughter, music and the crashing of waves. The guilt now sat in the back of your throat, not wanting to give up on finding her, but with each passing second it felt like you were drifting further. Just when you were about to turn and look elsewhere, your eyes caught sight of two silhouettes closer to the beach. Your body moved faster than your mind could keep up with, your heart hammering in your chest as you drew near. The faint voices growing louder with each step, you were quick to embrace the small figure, nearly crushing her within your hold as you let out a sigh of relief.

"Don't run off like that, you nearly gave me a heart attack!" Lyra let out a sound of discomfort as you held her close, her arms hooked at her sides as she struggled to speak but the familiar silky tone interrupted.

"I apologize; I should have brought her to you when I found her." Adam stood from his sitting position, bowing slightly in acknowledgement of his misjudgment. You couldn't care less what he had to say, ignoring him all together as you set Lyra down.

"Why did you run off? I thought you and Love were friends. what happened?" You weren't trying to hide the bit of anger and concern that surfaced, holding Lyra's shoulders so she wouldn't run off again. Her gaze shifted downward trying to hide her expression from you as she spoke,

"We are, I don't like that she stole you." You didn't know what to respond with, you already knew she was a bit jealous to begin with, but you didn't know she would do something so harsh.

Her voice trembled, as she took a deep breath in not being able to hide her annoyance. "Ever since Uncle Thor showed up, you don't spend time with me anymore, it's like I don't exist. I don't want to feel this way but I—I just want my mother."

Your heart broke, the lump in your throat returning at her words. Your grip tightened on her shoulders as you pulled her close, gently wrapping your arms around Lyra, her tears beginning to stain the collar of your shirt. Her small arms were quick to wrap around your neck as she cried, letting all of her pent-up emotions out.

You could feel your heart pounding in your ears, the guilt slipping down your cheeks. The thought that you were so caught up in your own problems you couldn't even give your sweet child the love and happiness you promised. You were so angry before, so sad.

The denial that Lyra appreciated Adam more than you was a mutual feeling that you both felt, jealousy running deeply through your veins you didn't even know you were ignoring it with the emotions on Rocket and Adam. There was a lot you had left to unbag, Thor got the brunt of it while Lyra was stuck watching from the back lines as your relationship blossomed, feeling like she was being left behind.

You never couldn't have imagined that her emotions were coming closer and closer to matching your own, except she wasn't able to hide them like you had, not being able to ignore the aching in her chest when she saw you smiling and laughing with Love. That's the beauty of innocence, the ability to let her emotions run rampant without fear of being judged, being able to let it out within hours, days, compared to the years you spent suffering. She didn't deserve to feel the way you did, she didn't need the weight, the pain. She can't fight that much was obvious, she didn't need to not when you were here.

This was all your fault. You keep pushing and pushing, you didn't even realize you were pushing your little girl away. The little girl who meant more to you than any being, any friend, any weight or pain you felt. She deserves the world, and you were sick of letting your emotions cloud your judgment on people who had nothing to do with the cause.

"I'm so sorry sweetheart. I never—I couldn't—I didn't—I never wanted you to feel like you didn't matter but I was so focused on Thor that I didn't even notice you were hurting." You were finding it harder to breathe as you buried your tears in her hair. You couldn't let the guilt eat you, not now, not when there was a better time. She needed to enjoy the festival her time here instead of what you failed at. "It's okay to be jealous but you shouldn't hurt Love like that. It was my fault, not hers. I promise I'll do better and after Thor leaves, you'll have my undivided attention." 

Lyra pulled away slightly to wipe away the few tears that fell, a small smile finding its way to her features. She was holding onto your shoulder as she looked up to you, "Can we watch movies, the ones from earth. A-and can you make that—what is the word—popcorn?"

You could feel your chest tighten, your eyes misting over as you nodded along to her question, "yes we can have as many movie nights as you want."

Lyra looked over to Adam who was watching the whole thing unfold, his hands clenching and unclenching before his arms folded against his chest as a soft smile was directed at the little girl at your side. You could feel her lean against your chest again a sigh leaving her lips, as she took another deep inhale as she wiped snot against her sleeve.

"Would it be okay for Adam to join us? Like before, when we would all-" her words were drowned out at you caught sight of Adam soft gaze on your quick glance in his direction.

You knew what she wanted, but you didn't know if you could provide that. The time you spent running from his need to be a friend, his need to get on your good side after everything he had done to Rocket, your family. Then, his warm embrace, his feather light touches, his voice, the comfort he brought to your soul, everything about him screamed to be your friend and your mind went to more.

You hated the way your spirit lifted from hope, using the fuel from rage and tears bringing a gulf of flames between your relationship. Every time he was near there was a tug on your soul, welcoming you with open arms and you ignored it over and over again. Your soul never sang so many sonnets, poems dripping from each pump of your heart, each tear that fell from your face dripping like the drums of the music playing in the background.

You focused on the sound of music, feel the haze build within your body, the numb feeling hiding away your growing emotions. The focus was Lyra, not Adam, you can't focus on two whole earth-shattering emotions. This whole day has been filled with way too many ups and downs and you didn't know if you had it in you for another rollercoaster ride.

"Of course, Lyra, anything you want. What do you say we go talk to Love and Thor, and get this all sorted out?" You licked your lips, tasting the faint hint of salt from your stray tears. Lyra's soft nod against your palm, was enough for you to stand. Guiding her hand into your own, as Adam stood idly beside you.

You wanted to say something, anything. The thought that he was going to give you that same sweet smile, that velvet voice comforting you with just a simple 'it's okay' was enough to have goosebumps appear along your skin. You wanted it but fought against it.

Lyra gently let go of your hand, letting it slip away from your hold. She knew something you didn't, her earlier outburst was out of her system, something more finding its way into the look she gave Adam. The lack of words was deafening, it was like their silence said more than enough as Lyra nodded. Her small arms wrapping around him to give him a soft hug, then she began to walk back toward the festival. You turned, about to follow alongside her, it was awkward enough being this close and you didn't need to focus on him, not now.

Adam's hand grabbed along your forearm, the tingle bloomed across your entire body from the contact of him holding you back and keeping you in place. You felt annoyance rise from his touch, you were fighting the urge to stay, to give in.

"Adam. I need to-" your voice caught in your throat, feeling him pull you into his chest, his arms wrapping beautifully around your waist. You didn't fight it, you didn't try to pull away, you just let him rest his chin against your shoulder while you inhaled softly. The scent of the Devine graced your scenes, the soft bits of salt and honey mixed with the familiar scent from earlier in the day. The shirt he wore was tainted in the bakery, nearly numbing your senses of him.

You could feel the gentle push against your shoulder, his hand nearly engulfing your shoulder as he stepped back keeping a short distance between you. His gaze was on the entirety of your being, like he was seeing past the skin, past the bone, right into your very thing that kept your spirit contained. The golden hue of his eyes glistening in the faint light of the town behind you, the moons faint peak over the oceans horizon made this feel like some sick romantic movie.

His hand gripped tightly on the thing within his hold, you never realized he was even holding anything. You were going to ask but he was quick to hold it out, popping open the seal and letting the floral smell inflame your nostrils. The lavender, citrusy undertones and spice had your heartbeat loudly in your ears. You couldn't fight the gentle hold it had on your body as Adam gently picked up the cupcake,

"I had purchased this for you, I was told that this was the perfect flower for you." Adam was quick to pull it back slightly, like he had realized something at his words, "I apologize, I should have asked if you wanted such a silly thing. I know you don't-"

You were quick to hold his hand, losing the internal battle within yourself. The hold you had against his hand set a flame burning in your abdomen, allowing it to simmer instead of pushing it away. Your gaze lingered on the cupcake seeing the familiar hints of red, and whites framing the flower of a primrose.

"No. It's okay, thank you." You could feel his grip loosening on the cake, letting you take over your hold on it while he closed the lid of the packaging. You watched his eyes wander down to your lips as you took a bite, the soft feel of the cake was a much softer than you imagined, it was airy, filled with so much in each tingle of sweet flavor telling you a story that you didn't know you were part of. The flicker of the flame rose higher than you could've imagined. You swallowed hard, fighting back the urge to run from the feeling it gave you.

"Have you ever had a cupcake before?" You could see Adam jump slightly, his gaze flicking away from your lips and back up to your eyes. He was quick to shake his head, glancing down at the cake once again then back up to you.

You were gentle in guiding it toward his lips, holding your breath waiting for him to take a bite. The hope was continuing to burn brighter, it was like the cake itself was the sole reason you were making such a bold move.

Adam's lips parted slightly, taking a small bite to see if he liked it. You watched his face go from calm to complete joy in a matter of seconds, he was quick to take a much bigger bite leaving you with the rest as he hummed in satisfaction. You were smiling so hard your face hurt, the laugh erupted from you as you laid the rest on your tongue letting the love drip from your soul.

"That was very pleasant, I do believe I enjoy these cupcakes." Adam licked his bottom lip, whisking away the faint red of the frosting from the corners of his mouth.

You nodded in agreement, letting the crumbs fall from your fingers and onto the sand. The faintest glimmer of light peaked along the dark of night, the stars disappearing at the brightness of the shooting star. Adam was quick to follow your gaze up, watching as stars began to fall from the sky itself.

You were to engulf in the beauty, realizing now this is the magic the old man had spoken of. It stole your breath away, the sight nearly making you topple over from following where they fell.

"Stardust..." Adam's voice was quiet, you could feel the gentle touch of his hand against your own. He was holding both in one hand as he guided them to his chest, cradling them softly. "Earlier, back home, the thing I wanted to say..."

You were now looking back at him, watching as the stars shined off of his eyes. You wondered if he could see them shimmer from your own, he looked beautiful, more than beautiful. It was like when you first laid eyes on him, that stern look was now softened significantly, like he wasn't even that same machine. He looked more human, acted more human, he was different in a good way, a way that had you yearning in the worst way possible.

"I know I was let out of my cocoon early, and we didn't meet under the best circumstances, but I am very grateful that you were the one to teach and help me become accustomed to this new life." You could feel his heartbeat increase under your palms, and that fight you were battling earlier was coming back as Adam took another deep breath in. "I know I am meant to be the very being that defines perfection but when I look at you all I see are the things I lack. I wish to be more for you, perfect for you."

You could feel anger beginning to rise, the anger pushing hard against the need, the want. The lump in your throat nearly choking you as you inhaled sharply, holding your breath. You weren't ready, not for this. As much as you hoped, you spent so long behind the veil of annoyance and anger. Now, that he was speaking, giving you his heart, you weren't sure if you were happy with it.

It was the most beautiful place, the most beautiful moment in any time or space imaginable. You loved him, that much was evident, but your heart still ached dully for a past you could not obtain, a future far from your reach, with someone who doesn't exist anymore.

"I know what these feeling is now, these feelings that seem to continue to grow with every moment I spend with you. I know I am jealous, protective over the others stealing your attention from me, but it all comes from the place I've been trying to understand. I can feel my very soul reaching out to you, it's as if it's calling to me." Adam inhaled sharply again, leaning closer to you in the process, letting his breath fan along your face in a delicate manner. You were on the verge of tears, not from happiness but from sadness.

You could hear the waves crashing, the music getting increasing louder. The festival, the cupcake, the music like a ritual, the taste of the frosting lingering on your tongue like you were having an allergic reaction. There was a swell in your throat.

You could see the past, the vision you wanted for your future.

'You have a life to live, don't let anyone stop you from living it.'

You realized now, you were the person stopping yourself from living. His blue eyes still haunting your nightmares, his touch, his voice screaming calling out to you from the far of reaches of space. The tug against your soul was not to him, no, it was to the golden man in front of you.

You were willing to rid him off your shoulders to embrace this new feeling with open arms, yet you were fighting so hard to keep the last piece of you tethered to Earth, to a family you once had. The thought that it would drift away accepting someone so new, so different from the ones before, would mean it never existed. That the time on earth was nothing more than a dull planet that had no significance besides hurting you in the worst ways possible. You couldn't let Terra be such a place, you wanted it to be your home a place you can still run to, but if you let Adam in then there was no way you'd want to go back. You would want to say on Nowhere, stay with the guardians and be someone more to him and Lyra.

"No. No. Please don't say it, please don't say it." Your words fell from your thoughts and out your lips before you could stop them, Adam paused but smiled softly letting one of his hands to cup your face.

"I know Stardust. I know you're scared, and I am too but I need to tell you. I need to tell you that I know this feeling now and It's—I-" Adam leaned closer his lips gently ghosting over your forehead, a gesture you'd do to Lyra that he must have figured was a gesture of... Gods, you couldn't even say it now. Not when he-

"I love you." Adam's voice was soft. It hurt to hear those words. You hated him, you hated yourself, you didn't want to feel so angry, but it blinded you.

Everything kept adding up, you hated that Rocket's confession couldn't amount to the way Adam's made you feel, it was burning your entire body. You were happy, excited that all that hoping didn't go to waste. But now, you couldn't possibly accept it not now, not when everything was still fresh. Lyra needed you; you needed to talk to Rocket, Thor was leaving. There was so much going on, and the universe just kept adding on more and more shit to the pile, the pile you made.

You really hated yourself.

You let the anger out before you could grab ahold of it, projecting your own fear into the man in front of you as you shoved him away from you. He stumbled back, landing roughly in the sand while you stood over him. You could see the sadness in his eyes, the tears were threatening to spill, and you were fighting against the sympathy brushing past your caged heart. The emotions you shared earlier in the day were long forgotten, as you pondered on your thoughts from earlier.

"You've got to be kidding me, so much for being the perfect human. Do you even know what love is? Do you even have the slightest clue to what you just admitted to?!" You fought back the tears; you fought so hard to keep yourself afloat. Adam stared up at you the tears falling down his cheeks that seemed so foreign like he wasn't meant to show such emotion.

You loved him and it hurt. You couldn't let him be swallowed by your past issues, to be loved by someone who couldn't even admit the feelings were mutual. His heart was pure, and you were going to taint it, no matter how hard you would try to cradle and nurture it, you would end up cracking it under your pressure. He was the perfect being, literally created to be just that, a better version of yourself so how could you possibly amount to being a partner he needed.

"Can't you see that the entirety of our 'friendship' was nothing more than a mission given to me by Rocket. I would've never agreed if it hadn't been for him threatening me from joining the Guardians. Do you even think about anyone but yourself? You got to go save the universe and I was stuck on Nowhere doing nothing because of you, and you think we're friends?!"

He had no need for that shit. He didn't need you; you didn't need him. You weren't going to believe for a second that he knew what he wanted, much less you. You were going to continue to believe that, that this was nothing more than people filling his head with sick love stories and tales of happy endings that weren't real.

"Now that the mission is over, I don't have to pretend to be nice and you know what? You think you're the perfect human being, but you're nothing but a child with powers and your ego is higher than anyone I've ever met. Did you really think I would love a machine? A monster like you?" The venom dripped from every word, as your chest rose and fell frantically. Adam was still on the ground biting back his words as you continued to spew out your anger.

You kept pushing and pushing. You didn't mean it. You didn't mean anything, you knew that, but it was so hard to just let Terra go. To let him stay in the void in your heart where Steve once resided. Adam was perfect, and he proved it every day, but you were far from it. You could never amount to what he needed, and that sucked. You hated yourself more with every word, every lie to keep him far far away from your shitty life.

"I never wanted you here or anywhere near me. If it was up to me, I would've left you with the High Evolutionary, I would've left you to burn up in that shit hole because then you wouldn't be taking Lyra from me and worked your way into every aspect of my life." You finally let your shoulders slouch, watching as Adam turned away, his earlier words long forgotten as you gulped down the lump in your throat.

"I hate you."

[skylarinfinity]

[avengers having meet and greet with vip]

interviewer : so male reader, how you so strong for being a normal human in this team?

male reader : the only reason i'm so strong is because the body use forty-seven muscles when you cry and i cry myself to sleep every night [shrugs]

clint : [fake gasp] omg, same!

steve : [sigh] please ignore them-

male reader : and if you wondering why i cry myself to sleep [point at steve] him... just him.

tony : [giggling] i think we all been there!

author notes i will start putting four incorrect quotes everyday :)

tags lists @sonicqaulan @graysonfriggason @thebettermaximofftwins @sloanalistair @acienthazard @starlinggoldeneyes @ortegaolsen @wednesdaywanda @sandwichmarvel @gardenofmarvel @wanda-cabin-natasha-jacket @panandinpain0 @badblondebisexualboy