#clint barton/y/n

[cece693]

MY JEALOUS GOD

pairing: loki laufeyson x gender neutral reader synopsis: You didn't anticipate falling into a relationship with Loki—who would?—yet while everybody knew he was the god of mischief, to you, he's your jealous god.

The first sign something is off is the smell of petrichor in the living-room. You’d left the windows shut, but there it is: the scent of rain on stone, the signature Loki’s magic often leaves behind when he appears or, more ominously, when he’s been brooding. You round the corner and find him lounging on your couch, boots on the cushions, one arm draped over the back like a cat who’s caught the red dot and now wonders what to do with it.

“Evening,” he purrs, voice all velvet knives. “Did you have fun at Stark’s little soirée?”

You shrug out of your jacket, the lining still warm from Stark Tower’s overheated ball-room, and drape it over the brocade armchair by the hearth. A faint metallic tang of repulsor exhaust still clings to the fabric—a souvenir of Tony’s annual “low-impact” fireworks display.

“Fun enough,” you say, massaging the crick in your neck. “Tony’s birthday parties feature far fewer homicidal drones these days—small mercies—but it would’ve been considerably more enjoyable if my favorite god hadn’t ghosted before dessert.”

Loki’s smile thins. “Your dance card appeared congested.”

The archaic phrasing is deliberate, a rapier flick from a prince raised on court formalities. You know exactly which name hides behind the euphemism: Peter Parker, cheeks redder than Stark’s armor, tugging at a too-tight bowtie while begging you for “just one dance.” When FRIDAY obligingly queued a crackling waltz from 1912, you’d accepted to save the poor kid from spontaneous combustion and to keep Natasha from collecting wagers on whether he’d faint.

“Peter’s pulse only spikes to dangerous levels when I’m near,” you remind Loki gently, toeing off your shoes. “Because he’s nineteen, Loki—”

“Twenty,” Loki interjects, tone glacial. “I checked the records.”

“—fine, twenty. He idolizes everyone with an Avengers passcode. Our waltz lasted 90 seconds and ended with him apologizing for stepping on my feet.”

“Yet long enough for you to laugh,” Loki murmurs, verdant eyes darkening. The words carry neither accusation nor injury—something colder, older, like frost creeping across glass. Outside the window lightning flickers, though the forecast promised clear skies.

You cross to him, letting your hand skim his shoulder until frost becomes warmth. “One laugh, one spin, no hearts stolen. You, darling, occupy all available real estate here.” You tap your sternum.

Loki’s lips curl in a silken crescent, but the flicker behind his lashes is anything but serene. Emerald irises catch the lamplight, bright as storm-lit seawater—an omen you’ve learned to read the way sailors read cloud fronts.

You plant your hands on your hips. “Loki,” you say, drawing out every syllable like a sharpening stone, “what did you do?”

He splays a hand across his chest in wounded theater. “Must you presume mischief every time I inhale?”

“Yes.”

A beat. His shoulders slump in an exaggerated sigh. “Fine. I may have redirected young Parker’s web-shooters.”

“Redirected how?”

“Up.”

“Loki!”

He waves a dismissive hand, as though you’ve merely noted the weather. “Midgardian gravity is pathetic. The boy dangled for what?—fifty two seconds before Rogers hauled him in. Perfectly safe.”

Your glare could etch glass. “And the glitter bomb that detonated on Clint?”

A flick of irritation crawls up Loki’s brow ridge—caught, again. You press on.

“I was having a perfectly calm chat with him about Lucky adjusting to farm life,” you remind him, tone sharpened to surgical steel. “Clint was mid-sentence—something about the dog finally not chasing tractors—when this puff of emerald smoke swallowed him whole. Next thing I know, he’s radioactive-pink from head to tactical boots.”

A half-smile curls Loki’s mouth, wicked as a fox in the henhouse. “Yes. I refined the pigment with bifrost dust—gives it that delightful day-glow sheen.”

“Which is now ground permanently into SHIELD-issue Kevlar.”

“An upgrade,” Loki counters. “Barton’s wardrobe needed flair.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose. “I leave you alone for two hours—”

“You left me alone with them.”

The soft snarl on “them” tells the truth: Loki never felt comfortable in the Avengers’ tower, tolerated largely because of you. Their wary stares scratch old wounds he pretends have healed. Tonight, seeing you laugh—actually laugh—with the people who once hunted him? Salt in the fracture.

You exhale and join him on the couch, prying his booted feet off the cushions. They thunk to the floor. “Talk.”

“Must we?” His gaze flicks to the ceiling, expression somewhere between tragic poet and sullen teenager. “You looked radiant. They ogled you like magpies. I grew irritated.”

“Jealous.”

He scoffs, but the word loosens him. “Yes. Jealous. There. I despise how it feels—like being chained again, only the shackles are inside my ribs.”

Your annoyance softens. You catch Loki’s chin, turning his face until emerald meets your gaze. “If you need reassurance, ask. Don’t rig equipment or hex people. Use your words.”

His lips quirk. “I have many words. Most of them sharp.”

“Then learn soft ones.” You brush your thumb across his lower lip. “Tell me the truth instead of setting glitter‐traps and letting innocent people hang from the ceiling.”

A silence stretches, broken only by the faint hum of Manhattan traffic. Finally, Loki exhales the breath he has been hoarding for pride.

“Very well. The truth: I watched you toss your head back laughing at Clint's joke and it felt like frostbite. I wanted that sound kept for me alone. I imagined Parker’s mask cracking under illusion spiders; I pictured Stark’s suit misfiring champagne across his face. I thought of a dozen vicious things, all because you smiled.”

You let the confession settle. His jealousy is a thunderstorm—beautiful from afar, dangerous when you’re underneath. But storms can be guided.

“You’re allowed to want,” you say slowly, “and I’m allowed friends. The line is harm, Loki. Pranks that bruise bodies or egos cross it.”

He leans in, voice low. “I will try. But understand: my nature is not serenity. It is wind and wildfire. I can shape it for you, but extinguish it? Never.”

You press a kiss to his forehead—just there, where the crown would sit if he still wore one. “I don’t want it extinguished. Just channeled.”

His shoulders relax, mischief dimming to ember. “Then give me a target suitable for such channeling.”

“I have one. The dishwasher’s broken again.” You gesture toward the kitchen. “If you must hex something, hex the water jets. Make them behave.”

It earns you a surprised laugh, warm and genuine. “Very well, my love. I will wage war upon domestic inconveniences.” Loki rises, cloak swirling into existence with theatrical flare. “But first—”

He snaps his fingers. A soft pop sounds behind you. You turn to see a potted hydrangea now placed in the middle of the coffee table. Petals the deepest green—the exact shade of his eyes. A peace offering formed from silent magic instead of spite.

“Soft words,” he murmurs, stepping close enough that his breath fans your ear. “And softer deeds.”

You twine your fingers with his. “Keep practicing, Mischief-Prince. I’m a patient teacher.”

He smirks. “And I, an attentive student—provided the lessons are interactive.” You roll your eyes but tug him toward the kitchen nonetheless. Behind you, the hydrangea’s petals shimmer, shedding a faint glitter that—mercifully—stays on the plant.

[literaryavenger]

You Were My Sunshine

Summary: Once a year you disappear for a whole day. Nobody knows where you go or what you do, but the team has learned to let you have your privacy. This year though, Bucky's curiosity gets the better of him and he follows you.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of death. Grief. Some angst. Fluff. No mentions of Y/N.

Word Count: 3K

A/N: I realize this is a little heavy and you absolutely don't need to read it. This one's mostly for me, but I thought why not post it and let Bucky comfort other people, if you need it. As always, my inbox is always open if you want to even just chat. I hope someone likes this. Also, I promise the requests are coming, a little slowly but they're coming. I'm on vacation for two weeks so I'll spend the time writing, probably.

Masterlist

“Have a good day.” Steve calls after you as you pass the kitchen.

You stop in front of the door to smile at Steve and wave at the team as they all have breakfast together before you keep making your way to the elevator that will take you to the parking garage.

“So, we’re really just accepting this?” Bucky asks the team when the elevators close behind you and he’s sure you can’t hear him.

“Yes, Buck.” Steve says firmly.

“But-” Bucky’s protests are cut off by Tony.

“She’s entitled to her privacy.” He says firmly. “Just let it go, Frosty.”

Bucky ignores the nickname and looks around the team, searching for anyone that might have his back, but nobody else seems to be too invested in your day. Bucky gets up with a huff and makes his way to the training room, resigned that he has to let you be.

You’ve always been an open person, you’re always there for everybody that needs you and you’re not afraid to talk about anything with anybody.

Your life is an open book.

Which is precisely why it drives Bucky crazy that, once a year, you disappear for an entire day and nobody knows where you go or what you do.

You disable all your communication devices, the tracking in your car and you don’t use credit cards anywhere. 

It’s like you cease to exist for a day, leaving no trace that you were anywhere.

At least that’s how the team sees it. 

They’ve all tried to figure out where you go, but that’s the only subject that you never talk about and, every time anyone asks you about it, your answer is always the same:

Don’t worry about it.

After so many years, the whole team has decided to listen to you and stopped worrying about it. 

Everyone except Bucky.

It’s not like you’re that close with him, but he considers you his friend and he trusts you, so it irks him that you have this huge secret that nobody knows anything about.

Needless to say, he worries about it a lot.

That’s why right now he finds himself tip toeing down to the garage. He sees you get into your car and drive away and, without even thinking about it, he jumps on his bike and follows you.

He knows this is wrong, he knows he shouldn’t follow you, that you’re allowed to have your secrets. But he can’t help himself when it comes to you. You make him lose control, you make him go insane. 

He just needs you. to know.

So he follows you, as discreetly as only a trained assassin knows how. He follows you into the city and stops a few cars away when you park in front of a secondhand bookstore. Bucky knows that shop all too well, it’s one of his favorite places to visit when he’s in the city.

He waits until you disappear behind a shelf before going in, watching you as you browse the books. It looks to Bucky like you’re looking for a particular book, when you find it, he can see your face lighting up.

You turn the book to look at the back cover and Bucky can read the title very clearly. ‘Harry Potter and the Half-blood Prince’, one of your favorite books. Bucky knows that because he’s talked about it with you for hours, along with all the other books of the series and the Lord of the Rings books, Bucky’s favorites.

You chat amicably with the older guy that owns the shop while you pay for your book and then leave, getting back into your car with Bucky still on your tail.

Next you go to a small bakery and buy a coffee and a cupcake. Thankfully for Bucky you’re too distracted by talking with the nice, old lady that owns the place to notice him buying his own coffee.

He follows you again as you cross the street to the park in front of the bakery and walk until you find a secluded spot. You sit down against a tree and continue peacefully reading your book under the summer sun while sipping your iced coffee.

Bucky sits on a bench nearby where he has a visual on you, but you can’t really see him unless you were really looking for him. But you’re so engrossed in reading that Bucky’s sure he could sit next to you and you wouldn’t even realize it.

He knows you get like that when you’re reading something that captures your attention, and the Harry Potter books always do, no matter how many times you’ve read them already.

Bucky always thought you looked so cute while reading. You make no attempt to hide your reactions and it amuses him. So he spends the next few hours just watching you read, watching your beautiful face shining in the sunlight as you frown and snort and laugh and pout as your eyes dart around the pages.

It’s actually relaxing, he thinks to himself. Is this what you do every year? Take a whole day just to read without the chaos of the Compound and nobody to bother you?

But why would you be so secretive about this? Reading for hours with a cup of coffee is something you’d done countless times in your room, on the roof, in the backyard of the Compound or even in the common room, never really bothered by the noise the team makes when you’re so into the words you’re reading.

So why do it in secret?

After a few hours, around lunch time, you finally come out of the book’s trance and gather your things before getting up.

Bucky frowns when you don’t get back into your car and follows you as you walk to a small family owned Italian restaurant that Bucky’s never been to but always wanted to try. He discreetly follows you in and takes a table in the back where you can’t see him.

He watches you interact with the owner, the waiter and even the cook comes out to talk to you. It’s clear that they all know you and it seems to Bucky like you’re pretty close to them even though he’s never even heard you mention this place before. When you’re done eating, Bucky sees you playfully fight with the owner that doesn’t want to let you pay so you leave a generous tip that amounts to more than your check is and the owner chuckles to himself when you wink as you walk out.

After lunch, which Bucky has to admit was pretty good, he follows you to a flower shop a couple of doors down and he’s surprised to see the owner greeting you like old friends. It looks like she was already anticipating your arrival, a bouquet of blue roses already on the counter and ready to go when you arrive. You chat with the older woman for a few minutes before paying and leaving the flower shop to go to your car.

It’s clear to Bucky by now that you obviously have a routine on your secret day, and everyone you see on this day knows it.

So why don’t the Avengers? 

You looked so comfortable with all the people you’ve met today, Bucky can’t help but think that maybe you don’t feel like you belong on the team.

You drive until you arrive at your destination and Bucky is both surprised and confused when you park in the parking lot of a cemetery, get out of your car and enter it.

He subtly follows you in, watching you walk past a few graves and it looks to him like you know your way around by how effortlessly you walk without needing to check the names, stopping at one almost at the end of the row you were in while Bucky keeps his distance, always making sure to stay out of sight.

He sees you take a deep breath before kneeling in front of the grave and putting down the bouquet of flowers in front of it.

“Hi, mom…” You wipe the dirt off the tombstone and tidy the flowers in front of it with what Bucky’s sure it’s a forced smile. “Happy birthday.”

You take out the cupcake you bought that Bucky now realizes you hadn’t eaten yet and he sees you put a small red birthday candle on it and light it, then you just look at it for a few seconds before you sigh and blow it out.

“So…” You say quietly, looking back at the tombstone and Bucky can see a tear falling down your cheek.

A piece of Bucky's heart breaks seeing you so vulnerable and hurting like this, but he stays put no matter how much he wants to be at your side right now.

Bucky stands there in complete silence, hearing everything you say, hanging on to every word. He hears you talk about everything that happened in the past year, he listens to you talk about missions and parties and holidays. He hears you talk about the whole team and his heart flutters a little when you mention his name too.

You talk for a while and, after he assumes you run out of new things to say, he sees you taking out the book you just bought today.

“So, this year we finally got to the half-blood prince.” You say with a small smile. “It’s our favorite, hadn’t read it in a while.”

Bucky sees you open it and go to the page you left the bookmark in.

“It took me longer than I thought to find your favorite quote, I have to admit.” You say with a small chuckle. “It’s like 400 pages in, don’t judge me.” 

Bucky chuckles quietly at your playfulness, even in this situation. He can’t help but find you adorable.

“It is the unknown we fear when we look upon death and darkness, nothing more.” You read the quote before closing the book and looking back at the grave. “That’s what you told me when I was scared of the dark…” You say quietly with a smile.

“And that’s what you told me before you…” You trail off, not being able to finish your sentence as tears start streaming down your cheeks but Bucky has a pretty good idea where you were going.

That's what she told you before she died, so you wouldn't be scared.

He’s more than surprised that he didn’t know your mother died, and he’s pretty sure the rest of the team doesn’t know either.

Admittedly, families are a very touchy subject for the Avengers.

But Bucky’s even more surprised to see you breaking down, something you’ve never done before. You’re cheery, you’re bubbly, you’re everyone’s little ray of sunshine.

And it breaks Bucky’s heart to know you’ve been falling apart when you’re by yourself all these years.

“I’m sorry I only come here once a year, I just…” You start, so quietly that Bucky’s glad he has enhanced hearing otherwise he's sure he wouldn't be able to hear you. “I miss you so much and I can’t… I can’t bear this.”

He sees you running your fingers gently over the tombstone as you take a deep, shaky breath, but you can’t stop crying.

“I’m trying to be the person you loved…” You say after a moment of silence. “Your little ray of sunshine.” You chuckle softly through the tears.

It makes sense to Bucky now why you always try to be there for everyone else. It’s how you’ve always been, apparently. Always making sure no one feels alone because deep down you feel the most alone, and you don’t want anyone else to feel that way.

You are my sunshine

Bucky’s thoughts get interrupted when he hears you quietly starting to sing. 

My only sunshine

Bucky knows this song. It’s a lullaby that he’s heard you sing once before.

Clint’s family visited him at the Compound and you offered to watch his kids so he and his wife could have a date night.

You probably didn’t realize he heard you, you probably thought you were alone and it’s not like he was spying on you. He just happened to pass by when you were in Clint’s room, trying to get the three kids to sleep by singing to them.

You make me happy, when skies are gray 

You take a breath before continuing but your voice wavers a little. 

You’ll never know, dear, how much I love you

Bucky can see you’re having trouble getting the words out, your voice almost breaking.

Please don’t take… My sunshine… Away

Before you can even get the last word out, you break down completely, burying your face in your hands while sobbing.

Bucky feels his heart break as he takes in your pain. He wishes there was some clear and simple solution to making this all better for you, but there's always been so much he doesn't understand about complex emotions like these. 

Right now, as he's watching how broken you are, though, he knows that he doesn't even care about understanding. He just wants to comfort you, to try and make it better...

Bucky comes to rest beside you, he kneels down to your level and places his hand gently on your shoulder. “Hey…” He says quietly.

His presence startles you and you go into defense mode, taking his hand on your shoulder and bending it, then using your grip on his arm to push him face down on the ground.

Bucky didn’t expect you to react so quickly and aggressively which makes it easier for you to catch him off-guard and pin him down.

“Goddammit, Bucky!” You say after you finally recognize him and let him go, getting up and scrambling back to put some distance between you and him while breathing heavily.

For a moment, Bucky is a little stunned. It's rare that anyone is able to get the jump on him like that. But then he snaps back to reality. He lets you make your distance while getting back to his feet and stands a few feet away from you.

“Did you fucking follow me?!” Your sadness is quickly forgotten and replaced with anger.

“I…” Bucky doesn’t know what to say. He knows he’s in the wrong here and he has no defense for himself when he knowingly violated your privacy. “I’m sorry, I didn’t-”

“You didn’t what?!” You snap at him. “You didn’t understand what the meaning of privacy is?!”

Bucky doesn’t know what to say, he’s never seen you this angry at anyone that’s not an enemy and surely never at him.

“I’m sorry, okay?” He says quickly. “I’m sorry, I was just curious, I didn’t think this would be it, I thought…”

“You thought what?” You say when he trails off, clearly pissed as you cross your arms in front of your chest.

“I thought maybe you were a supervillain…” He jokes weakly, trying to make you laugh. “Or a stripper.”

His last word gets a surprised laugh out of you as you, fortunately, understand he’s just joking before you actually punch him in the face.

Bucky lets out a sigh of relief as he sees you laugh and then takes a tentative step towards you.

“I really am sorry…” He says quietly, reaching out to put his hand on your shoulder. “I know it was wrong of me to follow you, and I didn’t plan on bothering you at all, which doesn’t make what I did better,” He quickly adds when he sees you’re about to say something.

“But when I saw you crying, I just… I couldn’t help myself.” He trails his hand down your arm to your hand and takes it in his. “You’re always there for everybody, I don’t think it’s fair that you don’t let anybody be there for you.”

You look at him for a long moment, processing his words. Of course you know he’s right, you don’t let anybody be there for you, but you also never really believed anyone cared enough to.

But looking at Bucky right now, it feels like he really does want to be there for you...

So you let him.

You look back down at the grave, your hand still in his as you intertwine your fingers together.

“She died when I was 14.” You say quietly. “I only had her, so I was on my own after that…”

Bucky listens quietly, his eyes on your face as he sees the tears starting to gather in your eyeline again.

“A few years later, Natasha and Clint found me during a mission. They saw me knock out a dude that cornered me in an alley and they were impressed…” You have a faint smile at the memory although it’s clear you’re about to cry again. “They offered me a place in the SHIELD Academy and, after that, I don’t know… I wasn’t alone anymore.”

You look back at Bucky to find him looking at you intently, his gaze intent and unwavering. 

“Doll…” He says quietly while cupping your face with his free hand as he sees you holding back tears. “It’s okay to be vulnerable in front of the people you care about. You taught me that.”

His gentle words, the way he softly strokes your cheek and the way he’s looking at you so lovingly, it’s all too much for you and can’t hold back your tears anymore.

With a broken sob, you bury your face in Bucky’s chest and hug him tightly, clinging to him while he wraps his arms around you and hugs you just as tight, kissing the top of your head before nuzzling his face against your hair.

In this moment, while holding you in his arms, Bucky realizes it’s not like you don’t feel like you belong with the Avengers.

This is just something you feel like you have to go through on your own because you’ve always had to.

And he’ll be damned if he lets you go through it alone ever again.

Drabble

[waltermis]

Supportive Girlfriend

Steve: Why do you encourage Y/N's behaviour?

Natasha: What?! I do not!!

Tony: Really?! Exhibit A

*flashback*

*Y/N jumps out from behind the door*

Y/N: BOO!

Clint: ...😒😒

Tony: ...🙄🙄

Natasha: ...

*Y/N pouting*

Natasha: Ahhh! you scared the living shit out of me!

*end flashback*

Natasha: I was genuinely scared that time

Clint: Uh huh... sure you were.

Natasha: I was!

Clint: Moving on, Exhibit B

*flashback*

Y/N: Knock knock

Natasha: Who's there?

Y/N: Interrupting cow

Natasha: Interrupting c-

Y/N: MOOOOOOOOOOO!

Natasha: AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH THAT'S TOO GOOD!!! AHAHAHAH

*end flashback*

Natasha: I really thought it was funny!

Wanda: Nat, it really wasn't...

Natasha: Well, exCuSE mE for trying to be a suPpOrTiVe GirLFriEnD!!! I guess I'll just stop...

*Y/N walks into the kitchen*

Y/N: Hey, babe, guess what?

Natasha: What?

Y/N: What kind of sound does a witch's vehicle make?

Natasha: I dunno, what?

Y/N *snickering*: Brrrroooom, brrroooom.

Natasha: ....

*Y/N stops laughing*

Y/N: ...Do you not like it? 🥺🥺🥺

Natasha: OOOOOHHHHH! Brrrroooom, brrroooom. That's so fucking smart!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

Y/N: YES!!! Nailed it!

*Y/N walks out*

*Everyone looking at Natasha*

Natasha: WHAT?!

[chwrrylace]

─── ❝ I LOVE YOU 3000 ❞

SUMMARY ; avengers confession hcs

AVENGERS x gn!reader.

CONTENT ; pinning, confessions, fluffy, use of y/n

WORD COUNT ;

A/N ; just rewatched avengers and fell in love w them again

── .✦ 𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐘 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐊

𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐘 𝐖𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐓𝐑𝐘 𝐓𝐎 𝐁𝐄 smooth about it, cracking jokes to hide how nervous he actually is. He’s used to having confidence, but when it comes to you, it’s different.

𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐅𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 𝐖𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐁𝐄 𝐈𝐍 a grand yet casual way—maybe over dinner at one of his penthouses, or while working in the lab together. “So, hypothetically speaking… if a genius billionaire playboy philanthropist had feelings for you, would you entertain the idea? Asking for a friend.”

𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐈𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐄 𝐇𝐈𝐌 𝐎𝐑 push for a serious answer, he’ll drop the act for a second. “I mean it, y/n. I want you. No games, no distractions. Just us.”

── .✦ 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐕𝐄 𝐑𝐎𝐃𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐒

𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐕𝐄 𝐈𝐒 𝐎𝐋𝐃-𝐅𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐃 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 it comes to romance. He’d take his time, making sure he’s certain about his feelings before confessing.

𝐇𝐄'𝐃 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐘 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐍 𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐅𝐄𝐋𝐓—like a walk in the park, a quiet dinner, or even a handwritten letter if he’s too nervous.

“𝐈'𝐕𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐌𝐄𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐄𝐋𝐋 you something, but I didn’t want to rush it. You mean a lot to me, and I…I care about you more than I should as just a friend.”

𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐄𝐘𝐄𝐒 𝐖𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐒𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐇 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒 for any sign of rejection, but once he sees you feel the same, his signature soft smile appears.

── .✦ 𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑 𝐎𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐎𝐍

𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑 𝐈𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐒𝐔𝐁𝐓𝐋𝐄. 𝐀𝐓 all. He’d make his feelings clear through grand gestures—bringing you rare Asgardian gifts, calling you his beloved even before confessing, and just showering you with affection.

𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐘 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐅𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐒, 𝐈𝐓'𝐒 with absolute certainty. There’s no hesitation in his voice.

“𝐘/𝐍, 𝐈 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐘 battles, faced great foes, and yet none have left me as breathless as you do. You hold my heart, and I would be honored if you allowed me to cherish you.”

𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐘 𝐓𝐎𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐓𝐎 the confession, lifting his drink and demanding the others in the room celebrate this glorious revelation.

── .✦ 𝐁𝐑𝐔𝐂𝐄 𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐑

𝐁𝐑𝐔𝐂𝐄 𝐖𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐆𝐆𝐋𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐒𝐓 with confessing. He’d second-guess himself, thinking he’s too dangerous or not good enough for you.

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐅𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐖𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄𝐋𝐘 𝐒𝐋𝐈𝐏 out in an unguarded moment—maybe after a near-death experience where he realizes he can’t keep bottling it up.

“𝐈…𝐈 ��𝐎𝐍'𝐓 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐈𝐅 this is the right time to say it, but I need you to know. You’re the only person who makes me feel like I’m more than just… a mess. I—God, I really care about you, y/n.”

𝐇𝐄'𝐃 𝐄𝐗𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐓𝐎 𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐊 away, but if you accept his feelings, the relief in his eyes would be overwhelming.

── .✦ 𝐂𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐓 𝐁𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐎𝐍

𝐂𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐓 𝐖𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐈𝐓 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐅𝐔𝐋 at first, throwing in flirtatious quips and seeing how you react. But when he gets serious, he’s serious.

𝐇𝐄'𝐃 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐘 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐅𝐄𝐒𝐒 𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐀 mission, still riding the adrenaline high, realizing that life is too short to keep things bottled up.

“𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐊, 𝐈 𝐃𝐎𝐍'𝐓 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 tomorrow brings, but I know I want you in it. I’ve been falling for you for a while now, and if there’s even a chance you feel the same, I’d be the luckiest guy alive.”

𝐈𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐈𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐄, 𝐄𝐗𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐓 𝐀 smirk, a relieved sigh, and probably a terrible joke to lighten the mood.

── .✦ 𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐀 𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐅𝐅

𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐀 𝐈𝐒 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐃 𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐇𝐄𝐑 emotions, so her confession would be subtle at first—lingering touches, deeper conversations, protective instincts kicking in more than usual.

𝐒𝐇𝐄'𝐃 𝐓𝐑𝐘 𝐓𝐎 𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐈𝐓 casual, not wanting to make a big deal out of it, but her words would carry weight.

“𝐈 𝐃𝐎𝐍'𝐓 𝐃𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒. 𝐓𝐇𝐄 whole… feelings thing. But if I did, I’d probably say that I want you. That you mean something to me. More than I let on.”

𝐈𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐉𝐎𝐊𝐄 𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐇𝐄𝐑 getting soft, she’ll roll her eyes, but you’ll catch the faintest blush on her cheeks.

© chwrrylace — all rights reserved. even when credited, these works are prohibited to be reposted, translated or modified

[howtheavengerswould]

how would the avengers react when avenger! reader is able to lift thor’s hammer?

requests open!

how the avengers would react...

𝙄𝙁 𝙔𝙊𝙐 𝙇𝙄𝙁𝙏𝙀𝘿 𝙏𝙃𝙊𝙍'𝙎 𝙃𝘼𝙈𝙈𝙀𝙍? (IM TRYING TO INSERT PICTURES BUT IT WONT WORK)

Thor was most likely the most confused. What started with training ended in deafened silence as you had simply caught his hammer from midair. He would try to call the hammer back, but it simply stayed in your grip, your own shocked eyes meeting his. He would laugh, clapping his hands together and staring pointedly at your grip on the hammer, before striding up to you and plucking it from your hands. His ego was definitely bruised, not that he'd let anyone know.

Steve always knew you had the capacity to do it, you simply never tried. It was something he was curious of--who exactly would be deemed as worthy, but he had a guess, that if anyone was, it'd be you. You were definitely the nicest of the group, and he wasn't very shocked when you had lifted it from the table at one of Tony's parties. He noticed, however, how you'd stared at your hands like you'd just made a miracle, and patted you on the back, letting you know that it wasn't that surprising, and that you were indeed worthy of holding the legendary hammer.

Tony had been there when Steve had seen you lift the hammer, and his first instinct was to play a prank on the rest of the team. He'd drunkenly invite you over to his side of the couch, brazenly whispering in your ear his idea: "You should put the hammer on top of..." he'd cut himself off with laughter, but would finish his sentence, nearly doubled over, "their stuff." It would take a hot second for you to figure out quite what he meant, but when you realised, it was enough to send the two of you into a fit of giggles.

Natasha was the first victim of you and Tony's antics. The spy always woke up earlier than anyone else for training, and walking into the training room the next morning, she'd find her catsuit stuck under the hammer. Of course, no one was awake to hear the frustrated pleas of the Black Widow--other than you and Tony, of course, hiding away in his workshop, and watching from a camera. Natasha, ever the attentive woman, would spot the new camera, and march herself down into Tony's workshop... and kindly 'ask' for you to move it. She half expected Thor to be with Tony, but when she'd seen you, she managed to put two and two together. She was proud of you, of course... after the frustration and mild silent treatment ended.

Clint was next, and shortly following Natasha, he would find his bow trapped under the hilt of Mjolnir. He nearly had a fit, stomping with mild annoyance towards an innocent Thor's room, who had been so preoccupied with his findings of 'video games' that he hadn't even noticed his hammer's dissapearance. Thor, now the victim of Clint's morning annoyance, would try to eagerly rope the archer into playing with him. The pair would only be found later that night, passed out over chips and a few broken controllers. (...when Clint did find out who exactly had trapped his bow, he would laugh outwardly, and then whisper a good-natured warning in your ear, "Don't do it again, or I'm putting you in one of those holding cells until the next person finds you.")

Bruce was, of course, the unfortunate last member of Tony's incredible prank ideas. He would find the door to his lab jammed shut by Mjolnir, but of course, the culprit hadn't exactly left the scene of the crime. You'd been setting it up when he had stumbled upon you, five minutes earlier to his usual arrival time, and simply stared in shock at the sight of you holding the hammer. "So... have you been able to do that the whole time, or is that new?" You'd laugh it off together, and the hammer would definitely be used as a party trick in the future.

[auroraromaximoff]

Wanda: Hey, has anyone seen my top?

Clint: Nat’s in the kitchen

Wanda: *blushing* No! My black top, with the frilly sleeves!

Sam: oh, Y/n is in her garden.

Wanda: Never mind! Just forget it! *storms off*

Y/n: *walks in wearing Wanda’s shirt* What happened?

[mellowmadds]

Casual Study Dates | Peter Parker

(MCU) Peter Parker/Fem Stark Reader

Warnings - slightly suggestive

Summary - Avenger’s compound a usually busy place hustling with activity seems unusually quiet for the day. leaving y/n and Peter in a sticky situation (pun intended)

Word Count: 1,237

°°••....••°°

Avenger’s Compound, a place that’s usually bustling with activities and combat training sometime’s has quiet days like this where super-powered humans who have insanely intense hearing can hear a pin drop from across campus. For you though being one of the youngest on the team you hated those days because it seemed as if everybody always wanted to see what you were up to. You weren’t necessarily an avenger but you were extremely smart and helped out around the lab and worked on some Stark Industries projects with your dad every once and a while. And that’s how you met Peter Parker and during those first two years of awkward conversations and study dates you two seemed to find some comfort in all that awkwardness.

“Are you nervous about MIT sending out their decisions soon?” Peter asked while getting comfortable on your bed while staring out at the beautiful city view.

“Why would I be nervous Peter? Most of my family are MIT Alumni.” You said a bit cocky if you really think about it.

“I- know it’s just I figured maybe you’d be experiencing the same nerves I was. It was a stupid question nevermind sorry” Peter stuttered out.

“You don’t have to be sorry Peter and you definitely don’t have to worry my dad put in a good word about you. You’re one hundred percent getting into MIT” You told him confidently.

You knew Peter was an anxious person and you’d do anything to take his nerves away.

“Now are we going to keep stressing about MIT or are we going to figure out these formulas that Bruce gave us to solve?” You asked while holding up the stack of papers labeled ‘Top Secret Formulas’.

Peter nodded his head yes while lifting his body off your bed to instead sit on the edge of the bed closer to your desk where all of your work was scattered across your laptop.

“But first I need to put some music on or else I won’t be able to focus” You said before sliding the miscellaneous papers off your laptop.

“That’s the Stark in you talking, how can you focus better with music blasting in your ears?” Peter asked while laughing.

“I guess you are right, that is a classic trait of my dads. But it just helps me focus better. I don't know, I can't explain it.” You turned on your playlist before flipping to the first page of the stack of formulas Bruce assigned you to solve.

Your speaker was loud but who cares it’s not like anyone cared or was listening everyone was off doing their own things. The first few songs were upbeat and fun but the farther you got into your playlist the more guilty pleasure songs started playing, but Peter didn’t mind he was blocking out the music anyways so he could focus better on the formulas in front of him. What you didn’t know was that Steve and Nat were standing outside your room listening.

“Knee deep where? doing what?” Steve said worriedly looking over at Nat.

“It’s just a song Steve stop being so old-school” Nat smirked back at him.

“But Peter’s in there with her, what if they aren’t actually studying?” Steve asked as any worried uncle would.

“The song is talking about having relations in the bathroom during dinner time, that’s not appropriate Nat” Steve said firmly not accepting any excuse now.

Nat wasn’t interested in continuing this conversation any further and started walking toward the living quarters where there sat Bucky, Clint, Bruce and of course Tony.

“What’s got you so tense Cap? Your boyfriends right here if you have to relieve some tension” Tony laughed making fun of Steve and Bucky’s unusual bromance.

“I think you should worry more about what your daughter and Peter are doing upstairs” Steve said, crossing his arms.

“What? What are you talking about Cap? His vigilant ass better not be corrupting my innocent perfect daughter” Tony angrily stated as his face turned a shade of red nobody expected.

“They are listening to a song about having relations in the car and bathroom” Steve said pointing upstairs to your room.

“And you didn’t shut it down the moment you heard that? What kind of uncle are you?” Tony asked running up the stairs to take a listen for himself.

“Oh my gosh the lyrics are filthy but it sounds so calming, how does an artist achieve that?” Tony muttered under his breath before harshly knocking on your bedroom door and bursting in unannounced.

“What’s going on here?” Tony yelled loudly only to be met with a view of you sitting at your desk and Peter sitting on your bed leaning against the headboard with a textbook and stack of papers sitting on his lap.

“What dad? We are busy figuring out the formulas Bruce gave us. Why the hell is everyone crowding outside my room?” You asked, pointing towards Steve, Bucky, Nat, Clint and Bruce all huddling in a circle outside your bedroom door.

“Well we heard the song you guys were listening to and were a bit concerned. You guys aren’t acting on those lyrics are you? You guys better not be under my roof” Tony questioned with a look of disgust on his face.

“What the hell are you going on about dad?” You asked looking over at Peter who looked like he'd seen a ghost.

“Are you guys having sexual relations?” Tony asked in disgust as your playlist suddenly skipped to the next song which would make your case even worse.

“Head so good, she's an honor roll she’ll ride your what like a carnival?” Tony repeated the lyrics.

“I am on the honor roll though, so it’s not entirely a lie” You replied back smirking like a smartass.

“This is not a laughing matter young lady, we are talking about something serious here, answer my question right now” Tony stated with a straight face not joking around anymore.

“Yeah we are and what about it?” You said, shrugging your shoulders.

“Y/n not in front of everybody” Peter said shyly.

“Who cares Peter they were going to find out sooner or later anyways, might as well just tell them now” You said looking back at everyone’s shocked faces. As you looked past your father behind him stood Bucky handing Clint a ten dollar bill.

“You guys had a bet going on about us?” Peter asked, looking back and forth between them but also keeping one eye on Tony just in case he might try to kill him.

“This conversation is not over and from now on this door stays open” Tony said sternly ignoring all the giggles and snarky remarks coming from his fellow avengers. Your playlist then starts playing a different song which lightens up the mood just a little.

“This one has a dance to go along with it, watch H-O-T-T-O-G-O it’s like the YMCA'' You said while doing the dance.

“I like doing the YMCA” Steve said, smiling now entering your room.

“Of course you do because you're ancient” Peter said jokingly.

As you can expect you didn’t think you’d be ending your day teaching Steve Rogers the Hot To Go dance however you wouldn’t trade the quiet days at the compound for anything because at the end of the day you’re just one big family and you wouldn’t trade them for the world.

[super-marvel-dc]

Natasha, to Clint: I just found out from Y/N today that when Steve died and the service did the 21-gun salute at his funeral, Bucky said, “They should aim at the coffin to be sure.”

Clint: Damn, even when Steve is dead Bucky is mad at him...

Y/N, popping out from the vents: Hello, did you not know what shit Steve did?!

Clint: *Screams*

Y/N: Shut up, you've delt with worse.

Y/N: He literally jumped out of an airplane...

Y/N: WITHOUT A PARACHUTE!

Bucky, from three rooms down: HE DID WHAT?!

Y/N: Oops...

Natasha: He didn't know?

Y/N, and Clint: He didn't know...

[romanoffshouse]

Wanda: Natasha and Yelena had a fight today. It scares me how many knives were involved.

Clint: There weren't any knives involved.

Wanda: That's what scares me.

[rxmqnova]

*Avengers meeting*

Tony: Y/N is late again.

Steve: How did this happen? I called her at 8 o'clock this morning and pretended it was 11.

Clint: I printed up a fake schedule for her saying we were starting at 9 instead of noon.

Natasha: I set her clock to say PM when it's really AM.

Wanda: Oh boy. We may have overdone it.

*Y/N bursts through the door*

Y/N: WHAT TIME IS IT?

[cece693]

Personal Bodyguard

pairing: tony stark x male reader tags: you can't tell me Tony isn't bi or at least experimented in his youth, you become his personal bodyguard after the cave fiasco and iron man revelation, enemies-to-friends-to lovers, Tony really needs a hug, reader is set to become his friend (and more), military background

You’re used to working in tense environments. The military taught you that complacency is death and that vigilance is survival. You’ve seen your fair share of conflict, learned to read people and situations at a glance. That’s probably why Pepper Potts sought you out after Tony Stark’s dramatic return from Afghanistan. She looked you up and down with calculating eyes, recognized a bit of herself in your “don’t mess with me” attitude, and decided on the spot—you were the best candidate to protect Tony Stark from himself, and from the new, dangerous world he was plunging into.

Tony’s penthouse overlooks the Malibu coastline, the sun reflecting off the ocean waves and onto polished floors. There he stands—fresh from the workshop, grease on his tank top and that lopsided grin that only half-masks the shadows under his eyes. He spots you, sizes you up, and crosses his arms. “Pep, this is the solution you found?” Tony gestures at you dismissively. “A glorified babysitter?”

Pepper forces a polite smile. “A bodyguard, Tony.” You don’t rise to his bait. The best reaction here is none at all—just a stony expression. Let him get it out of his system. He cocks an eyebrow at your silence, clearly expecting some snark in return.

“Fine,” he says, turning on his heel. “Follow me. Or don’t. Whatever." Pepper shakes her head apologetically as she goes to leave. Before she goes, she places a hand on your shoulder, giving you an unspoken good luck. You already know you’ll need it.

Tony tries his best to make your life difficult. He’ll disappear from his home at odd hours, use his snark to try and aggravate you, or do something reckless like attempt a suit flight test above the Malibu cliffs. However, you're never that far behind and your patience is endless. One night, he’s just touched down too hard in the Mark II, crashing through his garage and damaging several of his expensive cars. You rush in, weapon at the ready, scanning for threats.

“Relax,” Tony says, struggling to peel off the broken armor. “It’s just me doing some, uh, routine test improvements.” You exhale slowly, then calmly dismantle your sidearm. No threats—except the one Tony poses to himself.

“You know,” you say eventually, picking up a piece of the shattered gauntlet, “if you keep messing around with these half-finished upgrades, eventually I won’t just be your bodyguard. I’ll be the one scraping you off the ground.”

Tony stares at you, momentarily struck by the genuine concern in your voice, before clearing his throat. “Point taken,” he mutters, but for the first time, he seems less antagonistic—and almost thankful.

The slow thaw between you and Tony continues. He starts sharing details of the Iron Man suit, half to show off and half because he’s realized you’re more at ease when you know everything that’s going on. You learn that behind the smug exterior, Tony is propelled by guilt, determination, and a heart that aches to do genuine good. And for your part, despite your initial refusal to get personally involved, you find yourself caring about him—protecting him matters, but so does understanding him.

Late nights often find the two of you in the workshop. Tony’s hyper-focused on some new repulser tech while you stand guard, occasionally offering your own insight to whatever he was working on. You’d never guess Tony would be the type to listen, but he does, especially when your suggestions keep him from blowing up half the lab. He’ll acknowledge your tips with a half-smile, or a nod that says more than words.

Pepper noticed the shift. She’d smile at you in passing, relief evident in her eyes. She once patted your shoulder and said, “You’re good for him. He trusts you, and that’s not something I say lightly.” Rhodey, Tony’s closest friend, warmed up to you fast. He appreciated having another military mind around. When Tony got lost in his own arrogance, Rhodey and you would share an exasperated look.

Then everything changes again when Tony becomes an Avenger. Suddenly, it’s not just small-scale threats or paparazzi you have to worry about—it’s cosmic forces, alien invasions, global catastrophes. You do your best to keep Tony safe in these new, unpredictable situations, but it’s a challenge.

The Avengers team is a powder keg of personalities. Steve Rogers, Captain America himself, openly clashes with Tony over leadership and moral ideals. You see how the tension weighs on Tony; he deflects with sarcasm, but you’ve come to know the signs of when he’s hurting.

One night at the tower, you’re standing off to the side while Tony and Steve butt heads—again. "Take away the armor," Steve says, voice steely, "and what are you?" The words hang in the air. Tony’s jaw tightens, and you can practically see his heart sink. It’s a cheap shot. And it’s wrong. You step forward before Tony can snap back with a trademark insult. There’s a calm coolness in your voice, the kind that hushes even the Captain.

“Tony Stark is the mind that built that suit,” you say evenly. “He’s the one who sees solutions where everyone else sees dead ends. If you take away the armor, you’ve still got the man who pulled himself out of a cave and saved his own life with scrap metal—because that’s who he is. He’s more than the suit, Rogers, and you know it.”

Steve meets your gaze and steps forward, but you aren’t intimidated. There were lines you simply wouldn’t let him cross, not tonight, not after he delivered that cheap shot at Tony without even knowing him. You can see Tony stiffen beside you, as if ready to jump in—or bolt. But you’re not about to let Steve’s words cut him down.

“Think very carefully about what you say next, Rogers,” you warn, voice low and steady. “Because none of you would be here—Avengers, Stark Tower, anything—if it weren’t for this man. Armor or no armor.”

For a split second, you can feel everyone’s eyes on you. Clint shifts uneasily near the back, Natasha straightens from her casual lean against the wall, and even Bruce lifts his head from the tablet he’s been absorbed in. Steve’s jaw tightens; he clearly didn’t expect you to stand your ground so bluntly—and you don’t care. Your top priority is Tony’s well-being, not theirs. With nothing more to say, you turn on your heel and head for the workshop.

By the time you reach the corridor leading to Tony’s private workspace, the echo of your own footsteps has become a steady, reassuring beat. Only then do you register the soft tread following behind you. He’s close—but conspicuously silent, which is out of character for a man who thrives on quips and banter.

“Sir, you have arrived at the workshop,” Jarvis’s polite voice chimes overhead, and the door slides open with a hiss.

You step inside and finally turn around. Tony lingers just past the threshold, his eyes lowered. His silence seems almost heavy, like he’s struggling to find the right words. “I never asked you to defend me,” he murmurs. “But you…you did. Why?” The workshop’s lights glow softly, illuminating half-built armor pieces and scattered blueprints. You let the sound of humming machinery fill the short gap before you speak.

“Because you needed someone to,” you say simply, though your voice carries an undercurrent of heat—residual frustration from your confrontation with Steve. “And because I wanted to.”

Tony’s gaze flickers upward—he looks uncertain, almost disarmed. “I can handle myself,” he says, though he doesn’t quite meet your eyes. It’s a weak protest, more habit than conviction.

You exhale, crossing your arms. “I know you can. Doesn’t mean you have to face it alone. Especially when the hits are coming from the people supposed to have your back.”

“You caught me off guard,” he admits, voice low, “standing up for me like that. Especially in front of the team.”

You stand your ground, letting the seriousness of the moment settle in. “You act like I never stand up for you.”

A wry huff of laughter escapes him. “Not the same way. Usually, you’re telling me not to blow up half my lab or reminding me to eat something other than coffee. This time you had my back when it counted.”

“Isn’t that why I’m here?” you ask, tilting your head. “I’m your bodyguard, Mr. Stark. That means I protect you—against outside threats and inside threats too. Even if that threat’s a super soldier with a knack for colorful speeches.”

“So that’s it?” he asks, a thin note of vulnerability in his tone. “You did it because it’s your job?” You take in his tense posture—shoulders rigid, hand flexing at his side. Tony’s never been good at showing his more vulnerable edges. Carefully, you move closer, letting your voice soften.

“Let’s get one thing straight. Defending you isn’t just me ‘clocking in.’ I do it because I care. Because I know you’re more than just the suit, no matter what Steve says.” Tony looks up at you in surprise, but you're not done yet. "If this was just part of my job, I wouldn't be spending all my free time down here with you. I would've jumped at the chance to quit when you offered it on a silver platter."

Tony cracks a half-smile, remembering when he outright tried to bribe you to quit, and you surprisingly rejected his offer. The money could've set you for life, supported you and a family if you so desired, but you simply shook your head and informed him about a meeting he had in the morning.

Tony moves closer, so close you can count the faint freckles along his cheekbones. “I hated the idea of having a bodyguard,” Tony admits, voice low. “But I’ve come to realize how much I needed you.” Your heart stutters, unsure of how to respond. Tony swallows thickly, looking uncharacteristically unsure. There’s no witty remark, no deflecting sarcasm. It’s just him, raw and honest, baring feelings you never thought he’d share.

“You’ve become one of the closest people in my life,” he continues. “I trust you in ways I don’t trust anyone else. Hell, Pepper might be the only other person who gets me anywhere close to this.” He hesitates, eyes flicking to your lips before returning to your gaze. “And…I’ve been trying to figure out how to say I might—well—I feel something for you.”

Your stomach flips, warmth blooming in your chest. There’s something surreal about this: Tony Stark, the man who refused to even acknowledge your presence at first, now openly admitting he cares—that he wants something more than just having you as security detail.

A ghost of a smile curves your lips. “I might feel something for you, too.” Tony’s grin is immediate—relief and mischief dancing in his eyes. He leans in, and for a moment, the rest of the world fades.

“Do I have to make an appointment to kiss my bodyguard,” he murmurs, “or is this—” You cut him off by closing the distance, your lips finding his in a slow, tentative kiss.

[literaryavenger]

Thoughtful

Summary: You find something of Bucky's.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avengers!Reader

Warnings: My poor attempts at being funny. No use of Y/N. Bucky being a bit of a tease. Just a whole lot of fluff.

Word Count: 1.1K

A/N: This is a dream I had and I couldn't get it out of my head so I decided to write it down. Hope somebody enjoys it!

Masterlist

“Good morning.” you say casually to Bucky sitting at the island as you enter the kitchen.

He merely nods back to acknowledge your presence while sipping his coffee. It’s not like Bucky doesn’t like you, he’s just not a morning person. But the whole team is used to his morning grumpiness.

Also, you and the brunette supersoldier aren’t particularly close, so you don’t really expect bells and whistles when he sees you.

You pour some coffee for yourself and then sit on the kitchen island in front of Bucky. A light jingle coming from under your shirt gets Bucky’s attention and he raises an eyebrow at you.

“What was that?” He asks you, his curiosity getting the better of him.

You frown at his question before following his eyeline and seeing him looking at your chest. But he’s not staring at your boobs through your admittedly thin tank top, he’s looking under them where he can see something resting between the fabric and your skin.

You’re honestly confused at what that is for a moment before you remember and your eyes widen a little as your cheeks start reddening in embarrassment.

Bucky’s confused at your reaction as he watches you take the chain around your neck to bring out the set of dog tags around your neck and Bucky frowns even more.

“I didn’t know you were in the military…” He comments while looking at the tags and then at you, unclear as to why you’d be embarrassed about it.

“I wasn’t…” You say quietly while glancing down at the tags. “They’re kinda… yours.”

Bucky’s even more dumbfounded by your answer. But, after letting your words sink in and deciding he indeed heard you correctly, he couldn’t help the grin that started to grow on his face, much to your surprise.

You thought maybe he’d be mad, although it’s not like you stole them, you simply found them. But still, you were worried what he might think about you wearing them.

“Oh good, I thought I lost them!” He says relieved. “I looked for them everywhere.”

“Well, can I have them back now?” He asks you after a moment of silence and you realize you haven’t even taken them off yet this whole time.

So you quickly do, leaning over the kitchen island and setting them down carefully on his outstretched hand. You watch him put them on, your eyes lingering on the metal on his chest a minute longer than necessary before going back up to his. 

“And why exactly are you wearing my dog tags?” He asks, and right now you wish he’d get mad at you instead. Anything is better than the amusement that’s all over his face at watching you squirm in your seat.

“I found them at the gym… But it’s not like I was planning to keep them.” You quickly justify yourself, your tone entirely too defensive even to your own ears as you blush more. “But you had just left for your mission with Steve and I thought I would just keep them safe until you came back, so I put them on… But I had every intention to give them back, I swear!”

“That’s very thoughtful of you, doll...” He says, his grin turning into a full grown smirk as he points out the obvious. “But I’ve been back for a week, and you were still wearing them.”

“Yeah, I-I guess I got so used to them that I forgot to give them back…” You say quietly, your face turning impossibly red as Bucky seems to be having the time of his life right now.

You groan internally when you see his smirk still going strong at your embarrassment and you decide to cut your losses and not give him more fuel to add to the fire before 9am.

You get up and put your empty cup in the sink. As you turn around you’re startled to find the Sergeant much closer to you than he was before, the kitchen island no longer between you. He doesn’t give you a chance to say anything or even pull away before he’s talking.

“On the other hand…” He takes his dog tags off and reaches out to put them around your neck, making sure to keep his eyes on the metal and not glance at your boobs no matter how much he wants to. “Maybe you could hold onto them for me.”

He looks at the tags on your chest then up to your face before he pulls away completely with a quiet “Beautiful.” and takes a step back, leaving you a flustered mess.

After a minute you remember how to breathe and you glance down at the tags. “Are you sure?”

“Absolutely. We wouldn’t want me to lose them again now, would we?” He says with a smile, reaching out to lift your chin gently and making you look at him. “But you’ll keep them safe for me, right doll?”

You nod almost without thinking about it, his eyes putting you in a trance. You’re sure you’d agree to anything right about now, all you can really hear is your own heart pounding anyway.

“Plus, now I can do this…” He lets go of your chin and wraps his hand around the chain of the dog tags. 

He uses his hold on them to pull you closer and your heart skips a beat as he leaves you a soft kiss on your lips. You barely realize what’s happening before he’s pulling away again and you merely look at him with your mouth agape in shock.

Before you can say anything, though, you hear snickers from the door of the kitchen and you both turn towards it just to see the whole team there. All of them have smirks, grins and smiles, everyone delighted at the situation as your face starts getting redder than Tony’s Iron-man suit.

You look back at Bucky and the cheeky bastard is also smirking, clearly much more amused than you at being caught like this.

“Okay, well,” You say while clearing your throat awkwardly and stepping away from Bucky to escape from this situation altogether. “I’m gonna go research the tallest building in New York so I can throw myself off of it.”

Your deadpan reaction leaves everyone laughing as they get away from the door so you can pass.

“Oh, come on, sweetheart, it wasn’t that bad!” Tony yells after you between laughs, obviously sarcastic and you roll your eyes.

“Bite me, Stark!” you yell back, not even tempted to look back as you try to hide a smile of your own while hearing the team’s amusement in the kitchen.

You’re still a little in shock that Bucky kissed you but, once the embarrassment at the team having witnessed it washes away, you can’t wait to follow up on this with Sergeant Grumpy.

Part 2

[waltermis]

Too?

*Y/N trying to throw everyone off her scent about the fact that she's married*

Y/N *sigh*: I'm never gonna get married.

Clint: I used to think that too, but now I’m married to my best friend.

Y/N *gasp*: YOU MARRIED NATASHA TOO?!

Clint: NO! Laura!!

Clint: Wait what?!

[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]

[togrowoldinv]

Falling for Christmas

Natasha Romanoff x Female Reader

When you wake up from an accident, you don’t remember who you are. A local ski lodge owner helps you find yourself

Note: Yes, this is based on the very cheesy movie on Netflix with the same name. Some big plot differences, but cheesy all the same. Enjoy!

Natasha Masterlist 1, Natasha Masterlist 2, Natasha Masterlist 3, Main Masterlist

Your life was perfect. You had everything you wanted. And everything you wanted came easy to you. So, why are you waking up now in a hospital bed so confused?  

The doctors try to calm you down, but you keep incessantly asking why you are here. It isn’t until a beautiful red headed woman walks in that anyone answers your question. 

“Hey, you’re okay,” the woman says. “You just had an accident.”  

“What kind of accident?” You ask. You feel a pounding in your head. Undoubtably, you feel sure you have a concussion.  

“A skiing accident. At my lodge,” she says. She walks further into the room and asks the doctors and nurses to leave you be.  

“Thanks,” you remark.  

“No problem. I’m Natasha.” She holds out her hand for you to shake. You take it and feel a shock of electricity in your veins.  

“Hi Natasha. I'm- I- well-”  

“The doctors were worried you might have had some amnesia.”  

You shake your head and drop her hand. You have no idea who you are. The beautiful woman, Natasha, excuses herself to talk with the doctors again. They come in to tell you that you can stay here or go stay at her lodge until someone comes to claim you or you get your memories back.  

“No offense, but I don’t know you,” you say.  

“Well, you don’t know anyone,” Natasha counters. You want to make some snarky reply, but she keeps talking. “Maybe coming back to the lodge will spark some memories for you. We have plenty of extra rooms.”  

“That would be good for her. She needs to get into a routine doing normal things,” the doctor explains. “Natasha will take good care of you.”  

“Thanks, Monica,” Natasha says. The woman nods and leaves the room.  

After a couple of hours, you are discharged from the hospital. Natasha drives you to the lodge in an old truck. Part of you wants to ask for more details about this woman, but the other part of you is just ready to sleep and try to forget this is happening.  

“So, we’ll set you up here,” Natasha says, opening the door of a suite. “My sister stays here a lot when she’s in town and she’s picky, so this is the best room in the place.”  

You manage to smile at that. Natasha walks further into the room and you follow her around. She tells you she’ll bring you some clothes to wear and to call her if you need help with anything.  

You turn in for the night without much fuss. The next morning, you put on some of Natasha’s clothes and go to the lobby.  

“Good morning,” Natasha greets you. She is wearing a sweater that looks extremely cozy. You’re not sure why your brain thinks about how it would feel to hug her while she is wearing it.  

“Hey Nat,” you say. She smiles at the nickname. “Is there coffee?”  

“Oh, yes,” Nat chuckles. “Caffeine addict Clint over here couldn’t live without it.”  

“I’m Clint,” the man working the front desk tells you.  

“I’m-” you stop, still not sure what your name is. “Sorry.”  

“No worries,” Nat reassures you. “Let’s get you that coffee.”  

You follow her into the dining area, but she keeps walking to the kitchen. She enters with ease and greets several people on the way to the back.  

“Danvers, I need your best cup of coffee,” she tells a tall blonde woman. The woman grins. 

“Coming right up, Romanoff.” She turns around with a mug full of coffee that smells amazing. “Special guest?”  

“Something like that,” Nat replies. “This is Carol the head chef.”  

“Hi,” you say to her. Your eyes catch a pendant necklace resting against her skin. “I love that necklace.”  

“Oh, thank you. My wife got it for me when our daughter graduated medical school,” Carol explains. Her smile is the brightest one you’ve ever seen.  

Natasha takes you to the sitting room where a fire burns and there are walls of books.  

“I have to take care of some things, but you make yourself at home. Feel free to explore the lodge. We have horses around back and whatever you’d like to eat or drink is on us,” Natasha says.  

There’s a comfort you feel around her that you really can’t describe. But you’re sad to see her go. Though she walks by throughout the day, you feel like you didn’t get much of a chance to see her.  

Dinnertime comes and she finally gets a moment to stop. She plops down in the chair across from you and smirks at the way you fell asleep in the chair with a book open.  

“Hey,” she says gently trying to stir you awake. “Sleeping beauty, it’s dinnertime.”  

“That’s a good name for her,” Clint says. “Especially since you think she’s cute.”  

“What? I don’t- it’s not-”  

“You totally think that,” the newest member of the team, Kate, pipes in. “As you should though. She is beautiful. And hopefully single.”  

Nat raises her brow at the girl. “Should I tell Yelena about this exchange?”  

“Please don’t,” Kate says, her face going white.  

Everyone laughs at that and you stir awake. You're met with a smiling Natasha.  

“Hey there,” Nat says. “Join us for dinner?”  

You expect to go the dining room, but Natasha leads you to the next building over. She opens the door to reveal a Hallmark level decorated living room and kitchen.  

“This is where I stay when I’m at the lodge,” Nat explains.  

“You don’t stay here year-round?”  

“I have family in Ohio, so I spend some time there in the summer.”  

“Your sister?”  

“She actually spends time all over the world, but my parents live in Ohio. It's glamorous,” she jokes. “Carol made us some dinner.”  

“Aw man, I thought you would be cooking,” you tease her. 

“Oh, you do not want that,” she replies, throwing her head back laughing. You don’t remember, but you have a feeling you haven’t made anyone laugh like that lately.  

Dinner is going smoothly with small talk and Natasha telling you about the wildest things that have happened to her since running the lodge. But you’re interrupted at dessert time by a knock on the door.  

Nat excuses herself and opens the door to be met with three children tumbling through it.  

“What are you guys doing here?” Natasha asks excitedly. She hugs the older two kids and picks the youngest one up. “How is my namesake doing?”  

“So good, Auntie Nat!” The little boy says. You watch on with a smile, but something twinges in your gut at the sight of family. He catches your eye and points to you. “Who’s that?”  

“That is Auntie Nat’s new friend,” she explains. She tries to put the little boy down, but he hangs on tight. The girl, maybe a preteen, sticks close to her as well. “These are Clint’s kids. Cooper is the one too cool to be here, Lila is the best girl, and this guy here is Nathaniel.”  

“Hello,” you tell them.  

“Hi, sorry for interrupting dinner,” Lila says. She seems sweet.  

“No worries at all,” you say. “I think I'm going to head back to my suite.”  

“Oh,” Nat reacts. She puts Nate down after some protesting by the kid. “You don’t have to leave. They just only see me a few times a year, so they get excited when they do.”  

“That’s sweet,” you say. There is that twinge again. “I think- um- I think my brain is trying to process some stuff so I just-”  

“Need some space?” Nat asks.  

“Yeah. Thank you for today, Natasha. I had fun.”  

“Of course,” she says, helping you to the door. “Oh hey, if you hear anyone calling you Sleeping Beauty I might be to blame.”  

“I’m not even going to ask,” you joke. Natasha chuckles and you try to memorize the sound. 

The next few days go by without anything too exciting happening. You meet Carol’s wife Maria, Clint’s wife Laura, and even Natasha’s sister makes it into town. You really like Yelena.  

And you find yourself now sitting by the fire with all of them. Carol and Maria sit close together. Clint and Laura do the same, watching their kids play. Natasha sits by herself, but close to where Yelena and Kate are snuggling tentatively.  

“So, you don’t remember anything?” Maria asks you.  

“Not really,” you say. “I just get gut feelings. Like seeing you all with your families, I think I have family.”  

“I’m sure you do,” Laura says. “We’re your family in the meantime.”  

“Yeah. We are always here for each other,” Carol adds.  

“Speaking of,” Yelena starts. “How are you doing this holiday season, Natasha?”  

You figure she is referring to the lodge or maybe the busyness of the season, but when Natasha’s eyes drop you realize there is something more.  

“I’m good,” she says. No one believes her. Not even you. 

“Natasha,” Clint begins but he’s interrupted by Nat.  

“I just said I'm fine. Can we drop it?”  

She stands up and disappears into the kitchen. The group sighs and you look around confusedly. Something more is definitely up here. You excuse yourself and follow after Nat. You find her placing cookies on a tray.  

“Hey, are you alright?” You ask her. She wipes a silent tear from her cheek. “Sorry, obviously you are not. But I wanted to make sure you weren’t not okay all alone.”  

“That’s kind,” Nat replies. “I- it’s hard for me to talk about.”  

You nod. Although you don’t remember your life, you’re sure you have your own set of things that are hard to talk about.  

“You don’t have to talk about the sad parts,” you say. “But if there was any joy in there it is probably worth telling. Tragedy is only tragic because it was once beautiful.”  

“Poetic,” Nat teases. You smile at her. She feels comfortable. She takes a deep breath. “I was married. Very happily. And she- um- she got sick a few years ago.”  

“I’m so sorry,” you say, placing a hand on her shoulder.  

“She passed away last fall,” Nat says. “I actually didn’t even celebrate Christmas last year.”  

“That’s understandable.”  

“Yeah, but I realized it made my friends and family miserable too. So, I tried to be more festive this year. It wasn’t going that great until I met you, but now I feel like I have a reason to celebrate again,” Natasha explains.  

“Yeah?”  

“Yeah,” she says. “I know it sounds fucked up to be glad you ended up here with no memories, but-”  

“No, actually I am glad I did too. I’ve met so many wonderful people. Especially you.”  

You are standing close to each other now. Nat starts to lean in, but she stops a couple inches shy of your lips.  

“I don’t know if you are with someone, so if you are I don’t want to cross that line,” she explains.  

“Oh, yeah. No, I guess that makes sense,” you say.  

“We should get back out there.” 

The next few days are lighter on your heart. You spend time with all of the wonderful people you’ve met, and get geared up for a Christmas Eve party that the lodge always hosts. You help decorate, prepare food, and pick out clothes for everyone to wear.  

Walking into the room now you see Natasha standing by the bar. She looks breathtaking. She thinks the same about you.  

“Wow,” Nat says, approaching you with a grin. “You are beautiful.”  

“I can say the same about you, Natasha.” A blush hue finds its way onto her cheeks.  

“Looking good, SB,” Carol says, her arm interlocked with Maria’s.  

“Told you the nickname would catch on,” Nat says.  

The party is going well for a few hours until a man you don’t recognize, the doctor you do recognize, and a woman that seems strangely familiar enter the lodge.  

“Y/n!” The woman calls out to you.  

Everything clicks. Your name, your family, who you are. And your girlfriend.  

“Wanda,” you say.  

“She does remember!” Wanda says to the doctor. She pulls you into a hug. Funny, it doesn’t feel like it used to.  

“What’s happening?” Carol asks. “Monica, you know her?”  

“I do, Mom. These folks were looking for our Sleeping Beauty. I treated her at the hospital and knew I’d find her still here,” Monica explains.  

“We can go home now,” Wanda says, pulling your hand. “Pietro, get the car running.”  

“Wait, I'm sorry,” you say. “Natasha.”  

“Who?” Your girlfriend asks.  

“Hey,” the redhead steps into your view. “Y/n. That’s a good name.”  

“I guess so. Although, I liked being a princess.”  

“Ah, you’re still a princess,” Nat says. She looks at you with sadness in her eyes. “Go on now.”  

“Thank you for everything,” you tell her. And then turn to the group. “Thank you to all of you.”  

Wanda pulls you away before you can say any true goodbyes. You go with her and the three of you end up at the resort just down the road. Your parents own this, you remember.  

A few days pass, but you don’t feel that normal. Things felt better at Natasha’s lodge.  

She feels the same way. Things were better with you there. Clint comes in to find her slouched over the counter.  

“You should reach out to her,” Clint says. “ 

“She has a whole life,” Nat says. “Apparently a big one.”  

She had looked you up on Google and went on a deep dive of your social media presence. The daughter of hotel mogul, she felt sure you didn’t want her in your life. But, god, is she wrong.  

“Kind of breaking HIPAA here,” Carol eavesdrops and speaks. “But Monica told Maria y/n has another appointment before she leaves town.”  

“When did everyone decide to eavesdrop?” Nat asks.  

“When you fell in love with her,” Yelena replies, seemingly appearing out of thin air. “Go get her.”  

Natasha nods. She wants this. She drives across town and parks out in front of your dad’s resort not caring that her truck might get towed.  

“Y/n,” she calls after you, seeing part of you slipping into the elevator. She runs and slips in just before it closes.  

“Natasha?”  

“Hi,” she says. “I needed to see you.”  

“I’m listening.”  

“I couldn’t let you leave. Not when I’m falling in love with you,” she says. “And I know you have Wanda, but-”  

“Actually, we broke up,” you say.  

“Oh.”  

“Yeah, we never made any sense,” you explain. “Continue about the in love with me thing.”  

“Right,” Nat says. “Maybe I should just kiss you?”  

“That would be perfect.”  

Natasha takes your face in her hands and leans in. She wastes no time deepening the kiss and your knees threaten to buckle beneath you.  

“Come home with me, y/n?” Nat asks when you break the kiss.  

“I’d love to, Natasha.”  

[srslyblvck]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐋 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖, avengers

synopsis: the avengers seem really desperate as they come to you—the person who went under their skin like no one else to help them win against hydra. while they are walking on eggshells around you, you are having fun causing chaos.

warnings: mentions of y/n (maybe), blood, violence, gore

pairing: avengers x fem!reader, bucky x fem!reader

part one [ w.c: 3.1k ]

part two [ w.c: 2.1k ]

part three [ w.c: 1.2k ]

part four [ w.c: 3k ]

part five [ w.c: 2.1k ]

part six [ w.c: 3.5k ]

part seven [ w.c: 2k ]

part eight [ w.c: 2.1k ]

part nine [ w.c: 3.6k ]

part ten [ w.c: 3.9k ]

part eleven [ coming soon! ]