#Natasha Romanoff x Clint barton

[icantopenwaterbottlecaps]

I drew some art for @quidnunc-life's clintasha The Proposal AU! The fic itself is still a WIP, but I'm already obsessed with the little tidbits she's shared with me in chat 💜❤️

This is also technically my first complete clintasha art ahhh, hopefully I'll find the energy to make more someday :D [reblogs are appreciated :")]

[[edit: some people have been asking in reblogs for a link to this fic, so I just wanted to clarify that this fic is an unpublished WIP, gsparkle is still writing it and was privately sharing some tidbits of progress with me. I’m afraid it’ll be a while yet before it’s published, so I drew art of it to tide myself over because I too can’t wait to read it. Sorry y’all, there’s no link/fic to read yet]]

[voicesinthedarkness]

friends

Clint Barton

Feburary 17th, 2008

Unspecified location

Clint wakes to the sound of the other hotel bed creaking.

“Nat?” he mumbles, rubbing at his eyes. “I’m fine, Barton,” she snaps, but her voice shakes—just barely.

She heads to the bathroom, and he can hear her washing her face at the sink. He sits up, turning on the lamp as she returns. “You okay?” he asks gently, noticing her red, puffy eyes. She grunts, the sound nearly a growl, and gets back into bed, facing away from him.

“Why do we need extraction?” Nat asks after a long, silent moment, and Clint’s heart skips a beat when he realizes that she’s never had anybody come back for her.

He shrugs. “In case we got badly injured, I guess?” She looks over her shoulder at him, examining and evaluating his response. 

“You know you can tell me if you’re not okay, right?” he says just before she turns back around. “It’s—it’s okay to not be okay. I won’t think any less of you for it.” Nat stares at him. “I had a nightmare,” she says bluntly. Then she faces away from Clint again.

He turns out the light, curling back up under the blankets with a sigh. It’s a while before Nat breaks the heavy silence.

“I dreamed that the extraction squad were double agents from the Room,” she says quietly. “And they came for me. And you let them take me.” Clint sighs sadly. “You will never have to go back there if you don’t want to,” he tells her firmly. “Not on my watch.”

Nat doesn’t answer. Maybe she doesn’t believe him; maybe she’s reached her limit of vulnerability for the month. Clint can’t tell.

He really, really hopes she believes him.

>>>———————————————>

Natasha Romanoff

April 12th, 2009

Odessa, Ukraine

"Ястреб."

Natasha's voice echoes raspily through the comms, cool and calm as ever despite the immense pain dancing merrily through her injured body. Barton reopens his end of the comms immediately.

"Паук," he answers easily. She coughs, wiping dust off her face. "I've been shot," she tells him, rummaging through the supplies in the half-smushed jeep for a first-aid kit. "The engineer is dead." She pauses to focus on bandaging the bloody hole in her gut, and Barton panics. 

“Паук?! Respond!” he yelps right in her ear. “I’m doing first-aid, ястреб!” she snarls, and she can practically hear his embarrassment. “Sorry,” Barton mumbles, “I… I got worried.” His American accent is rough, raw, genuine.

For some stupid fucking reason, this makes Natasha’s heart constrict. She doesn’t deign to respond except with a cold, “Over and out.”

She thinks about it as she’s cleaning up the many, many scrapes from falling down the cliff. Did Barton really care for her like that? Was it all some greater scheme? 

Fucking hell, she thinks, I’m so damn sick and tired of being so wary of the first person to ever show me kindness.

>>>———————————————>

Clint Barton

June 5th, 2010

Clint and Natasha’s shared apartment

Clint flops on the couch, exhausted. Absently, he wonders when Nat’s going to get home. A few days was the longest S.H.I.E.L.D. had let them be apart since Budapest, and now they’d been apart for two weeks, give or take.

He’s only vaguely surprised to realize that he misses her.

The door clicks open. Lucky barks excitedly, and Liho meows from the back of the couch. And Nat’s there, just as exhausted and even more beautiful. She looks at him, unsmilingly, yet Clint can see the glint in her eyes.

“How are you?” she asks casually, sitting down on the couch next to him. “Tired as shit,” he answers. She laughs genuinely. It wasn’t even that funny.

He leans closer, waiting for the punch to his groin. Nat continues to watch him calmly. Clint swallows, tentatively running his calloused fingers through her red-gold curls.

Nat’s eyes drift shut, and she leans into his touch. Clint’s breath hitches audibly and a delighted smirk curls Nat’s scarlet lips. “I missed you, you dork,” she whispers, snuggling close against his side. “I missed you too,” he whispers back, nuzzling a kiss into her hair and holding her close. He closes his eyes, breathing in her pine scent. 

God, she smells amazing.

~ ~ ~

so this was meant to be long but the MCU's timeline is confusing and even longer and also I don't like having to bullshit scenes where we know they happened but we don't know the exact details because my brain is just like "But What If 🤭 This Didn't Actually Happen 🤔”

anyway

"Ястреб" = Hawk

"Паук" = Spider

[quietlyimplode]

the language of flowers and silent things.

Whumptober 2023: Day 1 - How many fingers am I holding up

Warnings: perceived death (no death I promise), panic

Word Count: 2.3k (gif not mine)

Summary: The marriage of Clint and Natasha.

A/N: there are people that stand with you in darkness, brave the shadows and not shy away, if you have friends like that hold them tight. This is for you @broken--bow .

Friend, without you there would be no whumptober, there are no words for the consistency of friendship you have supported over the last month, and thank you doesn’t seem enough. I wish it were more, but thank you all the same.

Masterlist

Whumptober Masterlist

.

KASHMIR

2011

“It’s cold,” Natasha grumbles.

“Yep,” Clint replies, popping the p, and trudging on through the snow.

“How far?”

The snow is white and endless, and Natasha is sure they aren’t going the right way. Her rifle, slung across her shoulder, rubs and feels heavy, as it hits the back of her thighs; even though likely it’s her backpack that has the weight.

Clint glances at the gps, a small look of surprise on his face.

Natasha stops.

“What?”

“It’s less that two hundred metres,” he says, pointing to the left.

He adjusts his pack and trudges forward, giving Natasha places to put her feet as she grumbled again.

“You’re Russian!” he says, exasperated as the safe house comes into sight.

She throws him a look a rolls her eyes.

“I don’t like the cold,” she deadpans.

Approaching the house, they both split up, covering the front and back and simultaneously breach the door way.

Covering the rooms in a pattern, Natasha is first to call all clear, followed by Clint, as she beelines for the generator and sets up the heater.

.

The white noise of the generator infuriates Clint as he keeps the first watch; more snow falling. He

wonders if it will ever stop.

The cold that penetrates is icy, even though they’ve used spare blankets under the doorways and old newspapers on the window.

Natasha was finally asleep.

He knows by the soft breaths, slow and even.

She doesn’t like sleeping in the cold, and he knows why, it reminds her too much of the barracks of the Red Room.

She berates herself about becoming too soft, even as she makes their apartment and their rooms a constant temperature.

Less nightmares.

He tells her it’s not a bad thing to protect yourself from bad dreams, but it never seems to stick.

She sighs audibly and he wonders what she’s dreaming.

If the snow continues to fall at this rate, they’ll be snowed in. The trek here all uphill, and he hates Maria a little for directing them to this one.

“Hydra,” she’d said, “they’ve taken advantage of the political climate, and infiltrated the region.”

It’s a shame; he think idly, Kashmir is beautiful, but the evil that has infiltrated made it unsightly.

The man that they had killed was wanted by Interpol, crimes against humanity and all that.

Natasha’s kill shot hitting him between the eyes, as Clint had done the calculations quickly around wind speed and elevation.

One shot, one kill.

They made it look easy; isn’t that why Fury sent them?

Now, stuck in the snow, in a quaint house, Clint has too much time to reflect and worry about the repercussions of not being extracted until the snow stops.

His grip tightens on the gun, and he adjusts his position.

.

Natasha focuses on the landscape, the parts she can see anyway. Snow covers the door, just reaching the window and she feels vulnerable at not being able to see all the ways around them.

She knows if she looks at Clint, she won’t be able to hide her disappointment.

He won’t be able to hide his fear.

The satcom phone lays inert, as they await the next call.

Any way out.

Any opportunities for exfil.

Not likely for the next twenty four hours anyway.

The tension in the room is palpable. The generator has enough petrol for the next five hours, and the temperature is far below zero.

.

Clint focuses on the bowl of cereal, the snow still around them.

This was supposed to be easy.

He suppresses a shiver and pulls his coat around him trying to gain any heat he can.

The one room they’d kept heated, now growing colder.

He knows they both feel it.

Natasha pushes away her bowl, half eaten.

“You gotta eat, Nat,” he murmurs.

“We need to leave,” she argues, “the generator is done, the food almost gone, and the pipes are frozen. We have no water apart from what we have in that bucket.”

He shakes his head.

“It’s cold outside, no one is coming here in that weather; plus where are we gonna go? We have to wait for them to come.”

She’s knows he’s right. Standing and staring out the window, she shivers.

It’s not a good sign.

“Clint.”

The seriousness in her tone has him on edge as he joins her.

“It’s stopped snowing.”

They both know, when the temperature drops the snow stops, the sun, or what was left of it, hides behind the dark as the black starts to descend, night approaching; though the hour not late.

“What are we going to do?” she whispers.

.

They move to the smallest room, a tiny broom closet, big enough for the both of them. No windows, blankets piled in.

“I hate the cold,” she gristles, her teeth gnashing.

Clint pulls her closer, trying to stay warm, even though he’s sure it’s not helping.

“Talk,” he asks, “take my mind off this.”

The request isn’t lost on Natasha, the beginning of the third day had begun and they still had no way out, the sat phone silent, stood next to the door.

“Mmmm,” she says; trying to stop her teeth chattering.

“If you changed around this house, what would you do to make it better?”

It’s an old game, one they used to play when nightmares would keep either of them awake and neither wanted sleep.

Clint bites, he wants nothing more than the deep dread that fills his body to go away.

“Thicker windows,” he starts, “and for there to be a better security system.”

Natasha grunts in agreement.

“Insulation,” she continues, “the bedroom, I’d move to the back of the house, maybe another bathroom.”

Clint snorts.

“Like our house?”

She laughs, shivers hard and suppresses another.

“What’s that like again?”

He sits up a little straighter, and starts talking about the blueprints he’s sketched out when they’d first started dating.

“You know, you’ll have a library, and I’ll have a target room, the kitchen will be big, and the bathroom always warm.”

“The house is always warm,” she corrects.

“Heated floors?”

He nods, “definitely heated floors.”

She rests her head on his shoulder.

“”It sounds nice.”

.

The night passes slowly.

Both in and of consciousness, eating where they can and bodies shivering hard against the cold.

“My lungs hurt,” she grunts, forcing herself to take a breath.

Clint can’t answer, he agrees, but can’t do anything but nod his head.

She’s terrified; not because she’s going to die, but because he is.

“Talk to me,” she says, her teeth chattering.

She remembers Russia, the coldness of the room and the lack of heat in their dormitory rooms. The blankets thread bare.

She felt it then, but had no context about how warm the world could be.

“You think the world is warm?”

Natasha hadn’t realised she was talking out loud.

“It’s different, here, don’t you think?”

He swallows, trying to readjust his position but finds his limbs uncooperative.

She’s not making sense and he’s worried. He can’t think straight though and maybe she can’t either.

They won’t die here.

Someone will come.

.

“When we get married,” she starts.

They both laugh.

But it’s the silence that hangs.

“What are we going to do, Clint?”

She can see their breath, and movement is getting harder. Natasha knows this cold, Russian winters this biting, freezing kind of bitter. If they die��.

If they die it’s not a bad way to go, here, safe with someone she loves and a life she curated for herself.

If she dies…

“What kind of wedding will it be?”

Clint stops her train of thought.

Desperate to change the subject to anything apart from their imminent death, he hugs her closer, trying to not be unnerved by how cold her skin is.

“Small,” she considers, indulging him.

“I’ll wear white, you’ll wear a tux, but it’ll only be our closest friends.”

He nods.

“Who are we inviting?”

“Maria.”

“Coulson.”

They take turns naming their friends.

“Pepper.”

Clint frowns, “really?”

“Yeah, why?”

The shiver stops him from answering, and she tries to pull the blankets more around him.

“If you invite Pepper, we’d have to invite Tony,” he says grumpily, disliking the fact that someone who heavily objectified Natasha would be invited.

Natasha’s head rolls over to him, a smile on her cracked lips.

“We’d make him sign a NDA,” she almost laughs.

“He wouldn’t be able to talk about it, and it would destroy him.”

Clint laughs, a cough bubbling as he sucks in too much cold air.

“He’d probably get a good present anyway.”

“Fury?” Natasha asks, and Clint nods.

“Yeah I think so.”

He sighs.

“Is it sad it’s such a short list?”

She shrugs.

“Who else would you invite?”

Clint knows.

Family. Isn’t that who you’re supposed to invite for your wedding? For you brother to be your best man? Or for your mother and father to sit in the front row and cry?

“Who’d walk you down the aisle?”

She ignores the question.

“I’d invite Yelena,” she decides, looking wistful.

Clint rubs her leg.

“Yeah. I’d invite Barney,” he agrees. Even though it’s likely his brother and her sister as long since dead, it’s a nice thought to have.

“Your mom,” she opens the thought.

Natasha stops but continues after a moment.

“I think I would have liked our mothers to come, even if mine abandoned me.”

Clint doesn’t know what to say.

“I would have liked that too,” he breathes.

“I think you’d walk me down the aisle,” she whispers, coughing into her gloves.

“Where?”

He knows where, he just wants her to say it.

“Okinawa,” she smiles, knowing he loves the shores of the tiny island as much as she does.

“Of course,” he smiles back.

They sit in silence

“We can find them, I think.”

Clint says it with conviction.

Natasha looks at him intensely, breath white, nose red.

They’re going to die here, he thinks idly. Why not give them another mission, even if it only gives them hope.

“Our parents?”

He shakes his head.

“Our siblings.”

Natasha sees Yelena standing at the door, sad eyes, hands waving goodbye.

Her eyes open and close languidly.

“Okay.”

She knows what he’s doing.

Offering hope when there isn’t any.

Gloved hand reaches out under the blankets and takes his.

“If we survive this, and if we find Barney and Yelena, we will get married. You just have to ask,” she proposes.

Clint nods, his movement slow, his voice quiet and somber.

“Yeah, of course.”

“Natasha? Will you marry me?”

Head against his, she kisses him slowly, purposefully; like it’s the last draw of breath she’ll ever take.

“Yeah, Clint, of course I’ll marry you.”

.

Maria panics at the empty house, wondering where her friends are.

If they thought she wasn’t coming, maybe they left to find safety; it would have been a death sentence.

Temperatures outside so cold it had taken far too long to trek anywhere for safety, the snow too deep.

As it was, it had taken too long for the helicopter to land anywhere safely.

Maria looks around.

Two people that already have so much trust issues, she’s not sure what they would have done.

She’s sure they would have thought no one was coming.

In the instant, Maria feels panic.

She clears the first room and the medic clears two more rooms; then — Maria finds them.

Huddled together, Natasha’s head on Clint’s shoulders their faces pale and they look half dead.

She calls the medic over, unwrapping them from the blankets.

“Thready,” the man tells her, assessing Clint, then Natasha.

They drag them out, laying them down on stretchers as they both call it in on the sat phone.

Maria places the warmers over their chests, as the medic works on placing an IV for both of them.

They work quickly and efficiently; slowly working to warm their friends, hoping against all hopes that the hypothermia has no permanent effects.

.

Natasha hears before she sees, the whir of the plane, the pain in all her muscles as life starts flowing back into her.

“Clint,” she tries.

Voice cracking, not loud enough, she can’t see him or hear him, her heart hurts and her thoughts race.

They’re going to get married.

They’re going to find Yelena and Barney.

They’re going to…

Breath comes fast, alarms blare and she panics; sitting up, eyes now open she finds herself connected to machines and monitors.

Clint lays next to her.

Laying back, doctors surround her.

“Clint,” she says again.

Maria appears in her field of vision, a stoic face.

“He’s okay too,” she clarifies.

Panicked eyes greet her.

“Natasha,” Maria says, “look at me.”

Wild eyes look her.

“How many fingers am I holding up?”

She sticks two fingers in Natasha’s face, and predictably, her friend rolls her eyes.

“Two.”

Maria puts three more.

“Three.”

She nods.

“He’s okay,” she assures.

Closing her eyes, Natasha grunts and sinks back into a deep sleep.

.

“God you’re both so predictable,” Maria grunts, half holding him down.

“She’s fine, look, okay?”

Clint gives her a goofy smile, clearly still delirious.

He sees Natasha, oxygen mask on, eyes closed.

“She’sgonnamarryme,” he tells her, words mumbled.

“What?”

Maria thinks she misheard, because neither Clint or Natasha feel like the marrying type.

He nods, “jus’ gotta find Yelena and Barney.”

Clint’s eyes slip closed.

“She’sgonnamarryme,” he says again, falling back into a drugged sleep.

.

[herospark18]

twelve is max so enjoy <33

[braveclementine]

CTV Footage Shows. . .

Warnings: None

Copyright: I do not own any Marvel characters or locations. However, I do own my OC Elizabeth Lightwood. I do not condone any copying of this.

"What's going to happen to your friends?" Bucky asked behind Steve. Steve was flying the Quinjet and Bucky was sitting in the chair behind him.

Steve sighed and shook his head, "Whatever it is, I'll deal with it."

"I don't know if I'm worth all this, Steve." Bucky said.

"What you did all those years, it wasn't you. You didn't have a choice." Steve said.

"I know. But I did it." Bucky sighed.

Steve looked behind him. Bucky. . . he looked so familiar yet not at all. Steve liked the long hair though. He smiled a little.

Bucky unlatched himself from the back seat and carefully sat in the one next to Steve. Slowly, he extended his flesh hand to rest on top of Steve's. Steve turned his hands slowly, lacing their fingers together.

"I missed you." Bucky whispered. "So much."

"I've missed you too." Steve murmured, squeezing his hand. He looked at Bucky. "She helped you a lot, didn't she?"

Bucky smirked a little, "I almost wish she didn't have that soulmate of hers. Could've shared her. I liked her a lot."

"Yeah." Steve chuckled, "Me too."

🎃 :::::  🧡  ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━  🧡  ::::: 🎃

"The doctors say he shattered L4 through S1." Tony said. "Extreme laceration to the spinal cord. Probably looking at some form of paralysis. Or would be, if Elizabeth hadn't healed as much as she did. He might not even need braces now." Tony sighed.

Elizabeth had also run the minute the cops had shown up, letting the rainbow light take her up to Asgard, while glaring at Ross and flipping him the bird while she did it. Not that Tony really blamed her. Y/N had looked distraught as they had arrested her, putting her in the van with the others.

The Raft. They were taking them to the fucking raft like they were the top criminals of the world. He supposed it was only because they were part of the Avengers.

"Steve's not gonna stop." Natasha said next to him, looking out at the compound grounds, "If you don't either, Rhodey's gonna be the best case scenario."

"You let them go, Nat."

"We played this wrong."

"'We'?" He scoffed, "Boy, it must be hard to shake the whole double agent role, huh? It sticks in the DNA."

"Are you incapable of letting go of your ego for one goddamn second?"

"T'Challa told Ross what you did, so, they're coming for you." Tony said. Maybe he was trying to warn her, maybe trying to scare her, maybe even trying to hurt her. He wasn't even sure at this point.

"I'm not the one that needs to watch their back." Nat said, before turning and walking away. Tony turned to watch her go. His own arm would have been in a sling, but Elizabeth had healed that when she had gone as well. Funny, considering she had been the one to hurt his arm in the first place.

Suddenly, his watch beeped and he tapped it to get a picture of a dead man in a bathtub on the holographic screen. "What am I looking at F.R.I.D.A.Y.?"

"Priority upload from Berlin police."

"Fire up the chopper." He said.

🎃 :::::  🧡  ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━  🧡  ::::: 🎃

"The Task Force called for a psychiatrist as soon as Barnes was captured. The UN dispatched Doctor Theo Broussard from Geneva within the hour. He was met by this man." F.R.I.D.A.Y. said, showing Tony a clip of the doctor attempting to get into his car.

"Did you run facial recognition yet?"

"What do I look like?" F.R.I.D.A.Y. retorted.

"Uh, I don't know. I've been picturing a H/C head." Tony responded.

"You must be thinking of someone else." F.R.I.D.A.Y. responded cheekily.

"Must be."

"The fake doctor is actually Colonel Helmut Zemo. Sokovian Intelligence. Zemo ran Echo Scorpion, a Sokovian covert kill squad."

"What happened to the real Broussard?" Tony asked, scanning all of the military pictures of Zemo.

"He was found dead in a Berlin hotel room." F.R.I.D.A.Y. said, pulling up a larger picture of the one Tony had seen on his watch. "Where police also found a wig and facial prosthesis approximating the appearance of one James Buchanan Barnes."

The photo of the CTV camera that looked like Barnes and Sergeant Barnes military photo were pulled up side by side.

"Son of a bitch." Tony sighed. "Get this to Ross."

"Yes boss."

🎃 :::::  🧡  ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━  🧡  ::::: 🎃

"So? You got the files?" Tony asked as he stepped out of the chopper. "Let's reroute the satellites, start facial scanning for this Zemo guy."

"You seriously think I'm gonna listen to you?" Ross asked quietly. "after that fiasco in Leipzig? You're lucky you're not in one of those cells."

So this was why they didn't want to sign the Accords. Fitting. It made sense.

Tony followed them into the rooms where they were being monitored. He stopped when he saw Wanda, in a straight-jacket with black ties. He continued walking until he was let into the room where they were all being kept.

He suddenly heard clapping and then Clint's voice, "The Futurist, gentlemen! The Futurist is here! He sees all. He knows what's best for you whether you like it or not."

"Give me a break Barton." Tony said, walking up to his cell. "I had no idea they'd put you in here. Come on."

"Yeah, well, you knew they'd put us somewhere, Tony."

"Yeah, but not some super-max floating ocean pokey." Tony protested. "This is place is for maniacs. This is a place for-"

"Criminals?" Clint stood up. "Criminals, Tony. Think that's the word you're looking for. Right? That didn't used to mean me. Or Sam, or Wanda, or Y/N. But here we are."

"Because you broke the law." Tony explained.

"Yeah."

"I didn't make you."

"La la la."

"You read it. You broke it."

"La la la la."

"You're all grown up. You got two wives and kids. I don't understand, why didn't you think about them before you chose the wrong side?"

Clint stood up quickly. "You gotta watch your back with this guy." He called out and then slammed his cell window, "There's a chance he's gonna break it."

It hurt. It really did. He'd fought with Clint multiple times, even when he didn't expect it.

"Hank Pym always said you never can trust a Stark." The man that had shrunk and grown said, leaning on his cell. He didn't look spiteful though and Tony registered the name in the back of his head as a future possible enemy.

"Who are you?" Tony asked and kept walking.

Sam was facing the back of his cell and didn't turn when Tony stopped in front of him. "How's Rhodes?"

"Elizabeth healed him up. They're gonna fly him to Columbia Medical tomorrow to see if the magic is affecting him for worse. But he seems to be okay. Might have a little trouble walking but with some physical therapy he'll be okay." Tony answered. "What do you need? They feed you yet?"

Sam turned and Tony could see the huge bruise that covered his cheekbone. "You're the good cop, now?"

"I'm just the guy who needs to know where Steve went." Tony answered.

"Well, you better go get a bad cop because you're gonna have to go Mark Fuhrman on my ass to get information out of me." Sam said.

Tony sighed, quickly messing with his watch. "Well, I just knocked the A out of their AV." Tony said. "We got about thirty seconds before they realize it's not their equipment. Just look, because that, is the fellow who was supposed to interrogate Barnes. Clearly, I made a mistake. Sam, I was wrong."

"That's a first." He quipped.

"Cap is definitely off the reservation but he's about to need all the help he can get. We don't know each other very well, You don't have to."

"Hey, it's all right." Sam said. "Look, I'll tell you, but you have to go alone, and as a friend."

"Easy." Tony nodded. Sam gave him what he needed and Tony quickly rebooted the systems and then walked over to Y/N's cell, "Baby?"

She sighed and stood up, putting a hand against the cell window. She never looked more beautiful than when he couldn't touch her. She parted her lips and look up at him through her eyelashes. "Tony. . ."

"I was wrong." He whispered.

She nodded her head a little and then asked, "How's Everleigh?"

"She misses you. I'll get you a plea deal and you'll be home soon, I promise." Tony said quietly.

Y/N nodded. "Just. . . do what's right."

"I will." He whispered, putting his hands against hers on the glass, then turned and left.

"Stark, did he give you anything on Rogers?" Ross called after him as Tony started to get back into the helicopter.

"Nope. Told me to go to hell. I'm going back to the Compound instead. You can call me anytime, I'll put you on hold, I like to watch the line blink." Tony smirked, letting the helicopter door slide closed. Once he was in the air, he stuck his finger on the button, letting the suit cover his entire body.

His chair slid back into the tail of the helicopter, dropping him down into the sky. He zoomed off in the direction that Sam had told him they were going.

And down below the clouds. . . a little something tailed him.

[mutlifandomloverblog]

A banger...

Baby, Don’t Kill Him

Yelena Belova x Fem!Reader

Clint Barton x Step-daughter!Reader

Please, Don’t Go. (Part 2) | 3,651 Words

"Baby... Wake up..."

You groaned, rolling over in the bed to hide from the light seeping in through the windows.

"Five more minutes..." You mumbled, and Yelena chuckled at your grumpy state, finding you absolutely adorable.

"You said that ten minutes ago moya lyubov'." She laughs out, and uses her immense strength to flip you over and straddle your lap.

"Oh my God! It burns!!!" You shriek, as you dramatically move to block out the sun, and she falls against you in a fit of laughter.

———

You wrap your arms around her, and smile, more than happy to have been able to brighten your girlfriends mood as she's been rather down in the dumps as of late.

"I love you..." She whispers, an air of vulnerability visible in her features as she now hovers her face above yours.

You move your hands up to her neck, scratching ever so lightly, then pull her face down to yours for a sweet kiss and she sighs against your lips.

"I love you too, my darling girl..." You mumble as her lips eventually release yours.

"I'm going to miss you." She whimpers out, as she finally situates her body atop of yours comfortably, nuzzling her face into your neck.

"Are you sure you can't come with? I'd really love for you to finally meet my family."

"I've got some business to handle, but maybe I can still make it, just depends on how difficult this job ends up being."

"What business? I still have yet to see where you work."

"Freelancing darling, I do whatever I'm offered within my acquired skillset." She quips, winking down at you, then jumps up out of the bed before you can push the issue.

"Yeah, yeah..." You grumble, as she laughs at your irritation.

She then peaks her head back out of the bathroom, as she smirks mischievously your way.

"How about one last shower for the road?" She quips, as she not so subtly drops her towel from her body, and you leap out of the bed, nearly tripping on the blankets on your way to her.

Your girlfriends secretive nature should bother you, but you've spent your life immersed in secrets, so you let it roll off your back with relative ease.

It's not like you don't have secrets too...

—

Your mom had you young, and the man she created you with was gone as fast as he came...

Due to the nature of your mother, and eventual fathers line of work, your whole history is a jumbled up, fabricated mess. As far as single mothers go, you were blessed with the kind that coveted your existence, no resentment was ever present. Once she'd settled down with Clint, you were about eight years old, and much to her shock you were rather accepting of the man. It didn’t take long for him to take you under his wing, and show you the ropes of archery. He'd eventually entered the Avengers initiative, and your mom retired once the two of them started having kids of their own, Fury was able to help hiding them much better than your mom did you.

You grew up in SHIELD, so really, you are nothing but a vessel of overheard secrets.

Yelena and you had originally planned to spend the next few days together before you headed home, and she got to work. However, your father—well, the man you call dad, had called you to ask you to take your younger siblings home. He'd run into some trouble in the city, and desperately needed them gone. You weren't due home for another week—when it's appropriate to return for the holidays, but you'd be damned if you'd let your younger siblings get caught up in the mess that follows him around.

—

Lila and Nate were blessed with soundproof earphones in the back, you sadly had to be exposed to the radio your brother controlled by way of aux cord.

"Coop, so help me God, if you play another Green Day song, I will make you walk the next fifty miles home. Maybe then you’ll discover your boulevard of broken dreams, yeah?." You groan out, not entirely thrilled with your brother's newfound Pop Punk phase.

He lightly smirked, as you caught it from your peripherals, then changed over to Linkin Park, you fought the urge to wrench the wheel of the car to pull off onto the shoulder, but you'd decided to plot his demise somehow else.

Once you pulled up, your mom ran out to greet you all, then once the kids went indoors you'd seen the unintentional scowl take over her features.

"I'm sure dad will make it home for Christmas mama, don't you worry." You attempt to quell her obvious thoughts, and then pull her into your arms.

"I'm so grateful to you, you're my rock, and that's just not fair." She sighs against your chest, as you're slightly taller than her, and you move to place a comforting kiss to her temple.

"It's always been you and me mama, I don't mind being your rock."

"I'm supposed to be yours..."

"You are! We're each others." You relay, as you hold her that much tighter, before heading inside with her.

—

As the lonely days drug on, you'd become painfully aware of the unfolding mess your father found himself in. His actions during the blip seemingly catching up to him, and you can't help but feel saddened for him all over again. He'd gone through five years with no hope of ever seeing his family again, then at the first sign of it, he had lost his best friend in the most brutal way.

Blipping was such a weird concept for you...

You'd been on the phone with your girlfriend of a month at the time, while sitting in your bedroom from your teen years back at the farm. Freelancing had taken your newfound lover across the world, so you decided visiting back home would be a great idea. One second Yelena's telling you about this 'really cool' food she'd just tried, while your dad was showing Lila how to use his trusty bow; then the next second you're coughing harshly as a layer of dust clouds your room, and your greeted with deafening silence.

You'd looked to your phone, finding it beyond dead, so you had plugged it in then raced downstairs in search of clarity. Your moms glossy gaze locked on yours, then yours dropped to the TV hers looked up from.

"All Those Blipped, Suddenly Re-emerging on the Streets After Five Long Years."

Even though you'd only been together for a month, your mind went straight to your girlfriend. You raced up the stairs, sending off a slurry of texts to her, then your dad, then your favorite human—Natasha.

After hours of waiting, your beaten down father had made an appearance at the front door. He was covered in dirt, and blood, and his eyes were swimming with despair. Once he'd gained a semblance of his current reality, he broke down in your mothers arms. His broken sobs were hard to decipher, but you heard 'she's gone' loud and clear.

Finding out that your 'Auntie' Nat, had sacrificed her life for the world broke your heart in two. The same world that did nothing to deserve her sacrifice. The both of you were only six years apart in age, so the bond had always been a bit stronger than with your younger siblings, she was truly your best friend.

Yelena had called you the following day, in tears of her own, and you jumped at the possibility of seeing her. The reunion was intense, and you could tell she'd clearly lost someone in this mess as well. Vulnerability wasn't something you expected from her so early on, as her walls were so clearly built up when you'd met, so you just chose to hold her incredibly close.

Two years later and you two are happier than ever, and she's all but moved into your apartment in New Jersey.

—

They always tried to leave you out of their messes, but you were always at the ready to help in anyway you could. So when you heard your mom mention that along with his onslaught of enemies past, that Natasha's younger sister is also after your father you couldn't seem to pinpoint why.

When Clint called the next time, you'd tapped into the call, with the skills Natasha had lended to you. He muttered out two words that stopped your heart, your beautiful girlfriend, the absolute love of your life, the one you'd planned to bring home this week, was the same Widow trying to kill your father.

Your mind went into a full blown spiral…

You were dating a 'former' Widow?

Natasha's little sister nonetheless?

God.. If she were alive she'd probably kill you... or her…

Freelancing?!...

Freelancing to her essentially equated to assassinating, and in the grand scheme of things that honestly makes sense because of where she came from. Natasha had told you all about her little sister back in Ohio, the beautiful little blonde girl full of hope, and promise. She also told you their heart wrenching story, and she'd even called you to tell you all about how she was able to find her again. The thing is, she'd never given her full name, only ever speaking in Russian pet names, and a simple mumbling of 'Lena,' so the revealing all comes crashing down on you in the moment.

The only solution, you fear, is for you to find her, and hope that outing yourself as his honorary daughter, and Natasha's best friend, doesn't cost you the love of your life. So, in the middle of the night you'd slipped out of the farmhouse, and set off on your way to NYC, as your mom watched from her bedroom window in absolute horror.

She wasn't stupid, she'd put the puzzle pieces together ages ago on who you were dating, and then she heard your breath hitch on the phone earlier, so she's highly aware of where you're headed. Part of her knows you're right to go, but she just hopes it's not at the cost of your life and or your happiness.

—

The whole drive to NY, you'd been reliving moments with Yelena over the last two years that could make it all make sense. She'd even talked about Natasha, after finally relinquishing information on the loss she'd dealt with, and you'd never put it together. In retrospect, it all adds up now. Her older sister, the one full of spunk, with a fierce need to protect, and a massive heart.

Your calls to her went straight to voicemail, same to be said with your dad. So, after a little bit of hacking, once again taught to you by Nat, you'd been able to reach his protege—stalker—who was able to fill you in on the plan.

The gala wasn't something you'd prepared for, but you'd used your trusty credit card, and purchased a gorgeous green suit, and just beneath it you wore Natasha's old mission suit. Once you entered, you felt every hair on your body stick up, just knowing deep down you were surrounded by a crap ton of dangerous criminals. Kate had told you everything—that girl really does talk a lot—you chuckle at the thought that your dad's probably turned his hearing aid off when she gets carried away.

So, you definitely knew that though Yelena's to be expected, she's not even their focus. Everything moved rather quickly, and the fight was absolutely brutal. Once the onslaught of arrows had slowed, you got closer, and that's when you saw Yelena fighting with your father.

She'd looked incredible, with her tightly fitting mission suit, and her hair in a tight braided bun. The streetlights had caught her face just right, and your heart absolutely melted. Then you heard your father grunt, and got pulled back to reality, as you saw her punt kick the man across the ice.

"Baby, don't kill him!" You shout, but you can tell she doesn't hear you, or she just doesn't want to, you're not entirely sure.

You carefully ran across the ice, trying to not slip, but that didn't matter as Yelena—without even looking up, had shot off her widow bites.

You couldn't tell if it was the insane amount of electricity coursing through your body, or the slamming of your body into the ice that hurt more, but either way, your body was in an overwhelming amount of pain.

Clint had sparingly glanced up, and his face contorted into obvious angered shock at the sight of your seemingly unconscious body.

"Y/N! What the hell are you doing here?" He shouts through the pain, as he clutched at his obviously broken ribs, and ignores the gun Yelena has pointed at his head to crawl over to you.

The sound of your name threw her off, so she'd looked up to see you laid out cold on the ice. Her pistol holding hand stuttered, as she swiftly holstered it to run over to you.

"Y/N? Detka?! Why are you here? Please say something..."

Clint's eyes widened in shock, but he said nothing, as he realized now that you had some sort of plan. He’d been more concerned by your seemingly unconscious state, seeing as how you have a heart condition that you’re on beta-blockers for.

The pain was debilitating, your heart was fluttering rapidly, but her warm, soft hands on your face, and the vulnerability in her voice was enough motivation to coax you through it.

"Lena... Why are you trying to kill my dad?" You groan out, and her hands still, you slowly open your eyes to see her sullen face.

It hurts when you can clearly see the sheer feelings of betrayal flash across her face, but you expected it. You go to sit up, but the both of them push you back down by your shoulders.

"Stay down Y/N, this fight doesn't concern you." Yelena says, and her gaze slightly hardens.

"No, it doesn't..." Clint seems to agree.

"Please stop, both of you! This is the last thing Natty would ever want." You shout, then groan as a residual shockwave runs through your body.

"Natty?" Yelena questions in bewilderment.

"Yeah, a little birdie told me you're my best friend's sister.."

"I thought Barton was her best friend."

"That's what we let him think, but really it was me." You chuckle out, and your dad playfully nods in agreement.

"You know, she'd talked about you all the time, but she used nicknames so I hadn't put it all together." You groan out, as you move to sit up, and your father scoots behind you to cushion you.

You send him back a grateful smile, that drops in an instant as she lifts her pistol once more.

"Yelena, baby, don't. Just listen to me."

"No! You don't get to call me that, you've been the enemies child all along. He killed her! My sister is dead because of him!"

Her words cut right through you, and you’re not sure if your heart skipping was because of the previous electrical shock, your heart condition, or her sudden anger towards you. Truth be told, it was probably all three, but regardless, you’re going to clean this mess up.

"Okay, fine, Yelena it is." You sigh out dejectedly.

"So… I'm an honorary Barton, that's why I'm assuming your look into my past that you clearly must've made led you nowhere significant. My lineage is fabricated to a deceased elderly couple in Minnesota. I didn't lie to you though, I told you all about my living parents, and I'd had every intention of bringing you home to meet them this week..."

Her hardened gaze didn’t waver, nor did the nausea in your stomach, or the fluttering in your chest.

"Now, Yelena, I guess this is the part where I have to inform you that you got it all wrong. Whoever your source is lied to you, the manipulative bastards used your own loss and pain against you. My father here had no part in killing Nat, she regretfully gave her life of her own free will. It was the only way she could bring back all that was lost. My dad here tried desperately to stop her, he dangled over the side of a cliff, clinging to his hold on her but she never relented. She's stubborn like that, and I know you know I'm right. Natasha was only moving to ensure that the people she loved got to live on, that they got to return... I'm sorry..."

"No! She never would've left me behind... Not again..."

Your metaphorical heart breaks along with your physical at the broken tone, and emergence of tears on her face.

"Lena... Sweet angel, Tasha didn't leave you behind, she's smarter than that, she knew you had someone on your side. Whether that had been Melina, or the widows you saved along the way, hell, maybe she even knew about us. I doubt it though, because she would've scolded both of us if she had." You lightly chuckle out the last bit, imagining the consistent fire behind her gaze whenever she'd been worried for you, being set on you instead for once.

"Either way, Clint here is innocent." You continue.

Your father was looking at you with a quirked brow, not exactly believing your words, and Yelena scoffed venomously. Neither of the two had noticed your physical changes, both rather distracted by their own heightened emotions.

"Innocent?! You call what he's done free of charge?"

"No, what he's done isn't free of sin, but it's not like he was out there killing saints. He killed ruthless thugs, though rather brutally, he was grieving the same way you are now. Spilling blood over your grief is never the answer though, and you should clearly understand him as your guns pointed at his head over Natasha. The same person who pulled him away from the monstrosity's and also in the end gave her life for his... Natasha is honorable, truly, and this is the last thing she’d ever want. She loved you with all her heart Yelena, and all she’d ever wanted was for you to live a prosperous life. So, just go on, and do that for her…"

You could feel your body was weakening by the minute, but if this is how you go, then so be it. At least your mom won't be alone, and your precious siblings will still have their father. A rather large cough, followed by a wheeze leaves your body, and your father stiffens beneath you, as he begins to fear the worst. Yelena has no clue about the long QT Syndrome, as you keep that to yourself, so she’s not all too concerned in the moment.

Yelena’s stance readjusts as she seems dead set on shooting him, but then your father takes over for you, and whistles the tune you’d once heard Natasha do.

“How do you know that?” Yelena chokes out, and you calm at the realization that your dad had it in the bag all along.

“Y/N’s not lying… That’s your secret whistle with Nat, she really did talk about you all the time. All she could think about was that you were safe, and that never changed Yelena. She loved you, she always wanted you safe.”

“I loved her so much…” Yelena sobs out, and you feel a tear flow down your cheek at the same time.

“Me too…” Clint mutters, as he drops his gaze to your distant one, and panic instantly floods his system.

“You guys had so much time with her…” She continues to sob out, not registering your fathers sudden fear ridden face.

“Y/N, sweetheart, can you hear me?” He panics, then lowers your body to the ice, and taps at your cheek as Yelena’s just now registering that something is off with you.

“Papa, I don’t feel so good..” You whimper in confusion.

Clint’s heart skips a beat at the utterance, you hadn’t called him that in nearly a decade, and you only ever did it when you were sick.

“Detka, hey, what’s wrong? Please, tell me what’s wrong, I’m sorry I yelled at you. Nothing’s your fault, I’m—please, what’s going on?! I love you so much, I’m so sorry, please…”

“I love you too, it’s okay Lena, you’ll be okay…” You murmur as your eyes flutter closed, and a heart wrenching scream tumbled passed her lips.

Clint nearly vomits at the words flying out of your mouth, as the deja vu nearly topples him over, and he tells the medical services exactly where to find you.

“No!! I most certainly will not be okay! Fanny, and Gus will not be okay! No… I can’t-I won’t lose you too..” She shouts out, slowly moving into a sob as her teary eyed face hits your chest.

Clint leans down to scoop you up, to get you off the ice for the EMT’s, but Yelena pushes him away. She does it herself since he’d ended up with broken ribs, but more so because she refuses to not be touching you.

Once she lays you in the grass, she looks to Clint for clarity, but your body starts to shake. Clint rolls you to your side, but then you go limp under his hold, and he registers that your heart has stopped.

“No… No, absolutely not!” He cries out, while moving to perform CPR, and Yelena crawls backwards, pulling her knees to her chest, and begins to rock herself in an attempt to calm down.

“Baby… Wake up…” She continues to cry out, with her eyes tightly shut, as the sounds of sirens slightly pours into her pounding ears.

————————

[waltermis]

I miss them 🥹🥲

[alixandra-multifandom-version]

How different marvel and dc characters would hold your face:

Tony stark, loki, bucky Barnes, Bruce wayne, Oliver queen, Dawn Granger, donna troy, Carter Hall

Thor, Clint Barton, Agatha harkness, rio vidal, Jason todd, Arthur Curry, Hal Jordan, Diana prince, Dinah lance,

The joker, poison ivy, harley Quinn, Jason todd, logan howlett, Mystique, Erik Lehnsherr

Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson, Peter Parker, Peter quill, natasha romanoff, wanda maximoff, dick grayson, Tim drake, Barry allen, John Stewart

[incorrectquotesmcu]

Steve: Why is Y/N crying?

Tony: They're drunk and Nat just told them that she couldn’t be their girlfriend.

Steve: Has anyone told them that she’s their wife?

Clint: Nah, we’re having too much fun.

[urdreamydoodles]

MARVEL COMICS CHARACTERS x FEM!READER

Marvel Comics Characters Receiving a Dirty Picture from You in Public

Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, Thor, Loki, Clint Barton, Natasha Romanoff, Bucky Barnes, Matthew Murdock, Frank Castle, Marc Spector, Johnny Storm, Reed Richards, Felicia Hardy, Stephen Strange, Namor, Johnny Blaze, Eddie Brock / Venom, T'Challa & Elektra Natchios

God, I love Marvel Comics...

Peter Parker aka. Spider-Man

Peter has been through a lot. He’s fought villains, lost people he’s loved, and carried the weight of responsibility since he was a kid. But nothing—not Venom, not Doctor Octopus, not the Green Goblin—has ever hit him as hard as opening his phone and seeing you.

He’s perched upside-down on a fire escape, mid-stakeout with Daredevil, when his phone buzzes. He barely glances at it at first, assuming it’s an update from MJ or the Bugle. But then—his Spidey-Sense misfires. His stomach drops. And suddenly, he’s scrambling so fast that he almost falls off the fire escape.

“...Parker?” Matt’s voice is suspicious, brow furrowing beneath the red mask. Peter clutches his phone like a lifeline, heat rushing to his face, his entire body going rigid. “Uh—nope! Nothing’s wrong! Totally fine! Just, uh—gotta—go!” Before Matt can say another word, Peter web-slings away, heart pounding.

Later, in his apartment, he stares at the image, biting his lip so hard he might draw blood. Then, fumbling with his phone, he types back: You cannot just drop this on me in the middle of a mission. I almost DIED. You’re gonna make it up to me. In person. Immediately.

Tony Stark aka. Iron Man

Tony Stark is always the one making people flustered. He’s the king of inappropriate timing, the grandmaster of chaos. So when you flip the game on him? When you send him something completely indecent while he’s in the middle of a live press conference? Oh, he is in trouble.

He’s mid-sentence, standing in front of a sea of reporters, when his phone vibrates. He glances at it without thinking, because hey, it might be about stock prices or another alien invasion. But no. No, it’s you. In the filthiest pose imaginable.

He visibly freezes. Blinks. Blanches. Then—his brain blue screens. The entire room stares as Tony suddenly cuts off mid-sentence, clears his throat, and forces a smirk that’s absolutely not covering up a crisis. “Uh—ladies and gentlemen, I think that’s enough questions for today.”

The moment he’s offstage, he stumbles into the nearest private room, yanks at his tie, and pulls out his phone like it holds the meaning of life. He types back immediately: Oh, now you’ve done it, sweetheart. I hope you’re home right now, because I’m on my way, and I’m bringing consequences.

Steve Rogers aka. Captain America

Steve is not a prude. He’s been around, he’s seen things. But there’s something about you—about the way you know exactly how to knock the breath from his lungs—that makes him feel like a kid again.

He’s in the middle of a strategy meeting with Sam and Bucky, his shield leaning against the table, when his phone vibrates. He checks it without thinking, eyes flicking down—and then every muscle in his body tenses. His grip on the phone tightens. His ears burn red.

“You good, Rogers?” Bucky gives him a knowing smirk, because he immediately recognizes that look—Steve flustered beyond belief. Steve clears his throat, hard, locking his phone like it’s offended him. “Fine,” he says, voice a little too even. “Let’s, uh—let’s keep going.”

But later, when he’s alone, he exhales deeply, pressing a hand over his face before looking at the image again. Then, with slow deliberation, he types: I hope you know what you just started. Because I don’t break my promises, sweetheart. And I promise—you’re not leaving that bed when I get there.

Thor Odinson aka. God of Thunder

Thor has seen battles, has waged wars across the cosmos, has faced monsters and gods. But when his phone pings—when he sees the absolute sin that you’ve just sent him—he forgets how to breathe.

He is in the middle of the Avengers’ common room, laughing boisterously with Bruce and Natasha, when he pulls out his phone. He expects something simple—a text from his brother, perhaps, or a message from Jane. But instead? Instead, he sees you.

The entire room feels it when Thor’s laughter stops. There is a moment—just a beat of silence—before the lights flicker. The air crackles with static electricity. His fingers twitch around the phone, and then, in a low, very serious voice, he mutters, “By the Norns…”

Natasha raises an eyebrow, but Thor abruptly stands, clearing his throat. “I must depart. Urgently.” Bruce frowns. “What? Why?” Thor barely offers an explanation before storming out of the room, typing furiously: You dare tempt the God of Thunder? Very well, little one. You shall learn what it means to summon a storm.

Loki Laufeyson aka. God of Mischief

Loki is the undisputed master of control. He is calm, composed, always one step ahead of everyone else. But when you send him something so shameless, so brazen, in the middle of an important diplomatic event in Asgard—he nearly drops his goblet of wine.

He’s reclining on his throne, listening to some dull ambassador drone on about trade negotiations, when his phone vibrates. He lifts it lazily, expecting nothing of importance—until he sees you.

His entire body goes rigid. His grip tightens around the goblet, the silver denting beneath his fingers. His green eyes darken, and for the first time in centuries, he feels his pulse stutter. The ambassador keeps talking, oblivious, but Loki? Loki is seething.

Later, in his chambers, he lounges on his bed, turning the phone over in his fingers before smirking. Then, with slow, careful precision, he types: You dare tease the God of Mischief? Oh, darling, you are in such trouble. And you know how much I enjoy trouble.

Clint Barton aka. Hawkeye

Clint Barton is used to chaos. He’s fought alien invasions, taken down crime syndicates, and, most impressively, lived in a house with three dogs and somehow survived. But nothing—not the Avengers, not S.H.I.E.L.D., not even Kate Bishop’s endless sarcasm—could have prepared him for this.

He’s in the middle of a debriefing with Captain America and Black Widow when his phone vibrates. Normally, he’d ignore it, but boredom gets the better of him. He sneaks a glance, tilting the screen just slightly—and immediately chokes on his coffee.

“Barton?” Natasha’s voice is sharp, her suspicious gaze snapping to him. Steve looks concerned. Clint, on the other hand, is malfunctioning. He quickly locks his phone, pressing it to his thigh like it’s burning him. “Yep. All good. Just… wrong text thread. You know how it is.”

The second he’s alone, he whistles, rubbing a hand down his face before sending a text: You are absolutely trying to kill me, aren’t you? I’m a trained marksman, babe. You know I always hit my target. Hope you’re ready.

Natasha Romanoff aka. Black Widow

Natasha Romanoff is a professional. She’s endured psychological conditioning, trained with the deadliest assassins in the world, and can lie so well that even she forgets what’s real. But when you send her something so utterly filthy, in the middle of a high-stakes poker game with some very dangerous people—she nearly loses her composure.

She’s holding a perfect poker face, one leg crossed over the other, a cigarette between her fingers (purely for effect). Then, her phone buzzes. She never checks her phone during missions, but for some reason, she does this time.

The second she sees the image, her fingers twitch. She almost fumbles her cigarette. Almost. A single slow breath is all that betrays her before she locks the screen and smirks, adjusting her sunglasses to hide the flicker of heat in her gaze.

Later, after she’s won the game (because of course she has), she finally responds: You must be very confident, sending me something like that. I hope you know what happens when I catch my prey, моя любовь (my love). Because I always catch them.

Bucky Barnes aka. Winter Soldier

Bucky is already always on edge. He spent decades being controlled, his mind fractured, his instincts constantly telling him that danger lurks around every corner. But when his phone vibrates in the middle of a mission briefing and he makes the mistake of checking it—he nearly self-destructs.

He’s sitting next to Sam Wilson, arms crossed, trying to focus on the tactical discussion. Then, out of habit, he glances at his phone. And suddenly? His enhanced heartbeat spikes. His grip on the phone tightens, metal fingers creaking.

Sam immediately notices. “Dude. You okay?” Bucky doesn’t answer. He just exhales deeply, jaw clenching, and locks his phone like it’s personally offended him. “Fine,” he mutters, but the way his throat bobs betrays him.

Later, in the privacy of his room, he leans against the wall, pressing his flesh hand over his face before looking at the image again. Then, he types—slow, deliberate, full of promise: You are playing with fire, doll. And you know I don’t burn alone.

Matthew Murdock aka. Daredevil

Matt has learned to control himself. He has to, considering his senses pick up everything. The heartbeat of a liar, the scent of blood, the whisper of fabric against skin. But when he puts in his earpiece during a stakeout with Elektra and hears you—sultry, teasing, wicked—his composure shatters.

Your voice is a purr, warm and full of amusement, as you describe, in explicit detail, exactly what you want to do to him. Every syllable slides into his ear like a sin, and for the first time in years, Matt Murdock forgets how to breathe.

“Murdock.” Elektra’s voice is unimpressed. “Are you even listening?” Matt clenches his jaw, forcing his expression into something neutral as he slowly removes the earpiece. “Yeah,” he lies, his voice way too tight. “Loud and clear.” But his fingers twitch, betraying him.

Later, alone in his apartment, he plays the message again. And again. Until his own heartbeat is thunderous in his ears. Then, with a slow smirk, he records his reply—his voice low, gravelly, barely more than a rasp: Angel, you have no idea what you’ve just done. And I promise—you won’t be able to walk tomorrow.

Frank Castle aka. The Punisher

Frank Castle does not fluster. He’s a man who’s seen the worst of the world, a soldier who has lost everything. He does not get distracted. But when he’s sitting in the middle of a grimy bar, brooding over a whiskey, and his phone vibrates—everything stops.

He checks it absently, expecting intel from Micro or maybe a warning from Daredevil. But instead, he gets you. And just like that, his grip on the glass tightens. His jaw locks. His entire body tenses, muscles coiled, because you have just sent him something so utterly indecent that he has to set his whiskey down before he crushes the glass.

The bartender notices. “You good, man?” Frank barely glances up, his fingers white-knuckled around his phone. “Fine,” he mutters, voice rough. He shoves his phone back in his pocket and downs the rest of his drink in one go.

Later, in the dead of night, he finally lets himself look at the picture again. He exhales, rubbing a hand over his face, before sending a single message: You think you’re real cute, huh? Yeah. Keep that same energy when I get home. See if you’re still smirking when I’ve got my hands on you.

Marc Spector aka. Moon Knight

Marc has lived multiple lives. A mercenary. A vigilante. A fist of vengeance. But the moment his phone vibrates in the middle of a stakeout, and he sees you—he nearly blows his own cover.

He’s perched on a rooftop, watching a weapons deal go down, his mind sharp and focused. Then, out of habit, he checks his phone. His breath hitches. His grip tightens around the device, and he has to physically restrain himself from groaning. Khonshu’s voice rumbles in his mind: "Your mortal desires are distracting, Spector." Marc grits his teeth. "Yeah, no shit."

“Something wrong?” Jake’s voice purrs from inside his head, amused. “She send you something nice, hermano?” Marc rolls his eyes, exhaling sharply before locking his phone. “Mind your damn business.” But his pulse is thundering.

Later, back at his apartment, he leans against the wall, staring at the image before typing: You have no idea what you’ve just done. Hope you’re home. Hope you’re ready.

Johnny Storm aka. Human Torch

Johnny Storm is used to attention. He thrives on it. He’s a celebrity, a hero, a walking flame. But when you send him something scandalous in the middle of a live television interview, even he isn’t ready for it.

He’s laughing, flashing his signature cocky grin at the camera, when his phone buzzes. He checks it without thinking—because hey, it might be Sue yelling at him again—but instead, it’s you. In the filthiest pose imaginable.

Johnny visibly chokes. His entire body tenses. For the first time ever, he forgets what he was saying. The interviewer blinks. “Uh… Johnny?” His brain short-circuits. His face heats—literally. The tips of his ears ignite before he clenches his fists and forces himself to not spontaneously combust on live television.

The second the interview is over, he’s sprinting to his dressing room, slamming the door shut and typing frantically: Ohhh, you are in trouble. You’re really trying to set me on fire, huh? Hope you’re home, babe, ‘cause I’m flying over. Right. Now.

Reed Richards aka. Mister Fantastic

Reed Richards is a genius. His mind is constantly working at speeds beyond human comprehension. But when he’s mid-lecture at a prestigious scientific conference and his phone vibrates—his brilliant mind suddenly goes blank.

He absently checks his phone, half-expecting an alert from the Baxter Building. But instead, it’s you. Wearing almost nothing.

For a solid ten seconds, he is frozen. His eyes slightly widen. His fingers twitch. And then, very slowly, he locks his phone and clears his throat. “Ah—excuse me, esteemed colleagues, but I must—um—attend to an urgent matter.”

Later, he adjusts his glasses, staring at the image with a fascinated, almost scientific appreciation. Then, with methodical precision, he types: You are a very distracting woman. I will be conducting an… in-depth study on you as soon as I return. Expect a thorough examination.

Felicia Hardy aka. Black Cat

Felicia Hardy is a master of seduction. She flusters men for fun. But when she’s in the middle of a high-stakes casino heist, and you send her something utterly indecent, even she loses her composure.

She’s leaning against the bar, sipping an expensive martini, eyes locked on her mark. Then, her phone buzzes. She lazily checks it, expecting an update from her crew. But instead? Instead, she sees you.

Her eyelashes flutter. Her lips part just slightly. And for the first time in years, her poker face cracks. The bartender—oblivious—raises an eyebrow. “Everything okay, miss?” Felicia exhales, smirking as she locks her phone. “Oh, it’s better than okay.”

Later, she lounges on silk sheets, staring at the picture before purring into her phone: You really think you can tease me, kitten? Oh, sweetheart… you just made a very expensive bet. And I never lose.

Stephen Strange aka. Doctor Strange

Stephen Strange is not easily shaken. He’s fought cosmic horrors, bent reality, and wielded power beyond mortal comprehension. But when he’s in the middle of a magical duel with Dormammu, and you send him a sinfully explicit picture—he almost loses.

He’s mid-incantation, floating above the Sanctum’s rooftop, when his phone vibrates. Normally, he’d ignore it—except something in the back of his mind tells him it’s you. He flicks his fingers, glancing at the screen—and immediately regrets it.

His spell stutters. His fingers twitch. The fabric of reality briefly warps. Wong, standing below, yells, “What the hell was that?!” Stephen clenches his jaw, locking his phone immediately before snapping his wrist and repairing the timeline. “Nothing,” he mutters. “Absolutely nothing.”

The moment the battle is over, he retreats into his study, loosening his Cloak, before typing: You dare distract the Sorcerer Supreme? You have no idea what you’ve just unleashed, darling. And I do hope you’re prepared for consequences beyond mortal comprehension.

Namor aka. The Sub-Mariner

Namor is a king. He does not answer to anyone. He has waged war against the surface world, stood against the mightiest heroes, and commands the loyalty of an entire empire. But when he is seated on his throne, discussing politics with his council, and his communicator vibrates—everything else becomes irrelevant.

He glances down, expecting a diplomatic missive. Instead, he is greeted by you—a vision of temptation, captured in a way that only he has the privilege to see. His grip on the communicator tightens, his lips parting slightly. The light of the display reflects in his dark, narrowed eyes.

The council drones on, but Namor hears nothing. His golden gauntlets flex, his knuckles tightening as his jaw sets. A slow, deliberate exhale is all that betrays his reaction. But those closest to him—his most trusted generals—see the flicker of something dangerous in his expression. A storm, barely contained.

Later, as he stands upon his balcony, overlooking the endless ocean, he types a single response: You seek to tempt a king, my love? Then be prepared for the wrath of a god. When next we meet, you will drown in my devotion.

Johnny Blaze aka. Ghost Rider

Johnny Blaze has seen Hell—literally. He has ridden across the desolate highways of damnation, stared into the abyss, and laughed. But when he’s sitting in a biker bar, nursing a whiskey and half-listening to some guy ramble about the Devil, his phone vibrates. And when he checks it—he nearly sets the whole place on fire.

The image of you is burned into his mind, seared into his soul. He sucks in a slow breath through his teeth, his fingers tightening around the glass. His knuckles go white. Somewhere deep inside, the Spirit of Vengeance chuckles.

“Something wrong, Blaze?” One of the other bikers eyes him warily. Johnny forces a smirk, setting his whiskey down before he crushes the glass in his grip. “Nah,” he rasps, his voice a little too rough. “Just realized I got… unfinished business to take care of.”

Later, on his Hellfire-coated bike, he sends a text: You got a real bad habit of making me wanna sin, sweetheart. And I promise—I’ll make sure you repent. Over. And over.

Eddie Brock & Venom aka. Venom

Eddie Brock has been through hell. He’s fought monsters, been one himself, lost everything, and still kept going. But nothing—not a damn thing—could prepare him for the absolute carnage of getting that picture from you in the middle of a crowded subway.

He’s scrolling through his phone absentmindedly, Venom muttering in his head about wanting tater tots, when the image loads. For a solid five seconds, he is completely still. Then—

“Eddie.” Venom’s voice rumbles, amused. “Your mate is very… bold. We approve.” Eddie, red-faced, slams his phone against his chest like that’ll somehow erase what just happened. “Jesus Christ,” he mutters, eyes darting around to make sure no one saw. A teenager across from him raises an eyebrow.

Later, when he’s alone, he finally lets himself look at the picture again. A slow, predatory grin spreads across his face as he types back: Oh, you think you’re being cute, huh? Yeah. Just wait till I get my hands on you. Hell, maybe we’ll even let Venom have a little fun, too.

T’Challa aka. Black Panther

T’Challa is a king, a warrior, a legend. His mind is a fortress, his will unshakable. But when he is seated in the royal palace of Wakanda, surrounded by dignitaries, and his Kimoyo Beads alert him to a personal message—his focus wavers.

He allows himself a discreet glance. And in that moment? His heart skips a single beat. His fingers—steady even in the heat of battle—tighten just slightly around his beads. His expression does not change. But to those who know him well—Okoye, Shuri—they notice the subtlest flicker of something dangerous in his eyes.

Shuri smirks. “Brother,” she murmurs, leaning in. “You look… distracted.” T’Challa exhales deeply, locking the message with a casual flick of his fingers. “I am merely… anticipating a conversation.”

Later, when he is alone, he reviews the picture once more, fingers grazing his jaw before he types: You are testing my patience, beloved. And you know I am a man of great discipline. But for you? I am willing to break my own rules. Expect me soon.

Elektra Natchios aka. Elektra

Elektra Natchios does not fluster. She has slit the throats of kings, danced on the edge of oblivion, and played cat-and-mouse with death itself. But when she is sharpening her sai on the rooftop of a New York high-rise and her phone buzzes—her grip falters.

The blade nicks her glove. Barely. But it happens. Her lips part in a slow, dangerous smirk as she tilts the phone toward the moonlight, drinking in the absolute audacity of your message.

“Something amusing?” A voice—a rival assassin, lurking in the shadows. Elektra does not answer. She merely tucks her phone away, standing smoothly, her stance lethal. “Yes,” she purrs. “Something… very amusing.”

Later, as she leans against the window of her penthouse, she finally sends a reply: You are so very reckless, my love. And I do enjoy breaking reckless little things.

[chaxan08]

Some random agent dude: Do you like your coffee like you like your men, tall and dark?

Natasha: No, but I do like my coffee like I like my women: sweet, strong, and able to keep me up all night.

Some random agent dude: What?

Clint: What?

Maria: What?

Natasha: You all hear me.

[moonlit-imagines]

Headcanons for being an Avenger with a low social battery

Avengers x reader

warnings:

a/n:

prompt: anonymous: “Can I have the avengers with a reader who has a really bad social battery. Like they can be out in public and then they just disappear and are like “nah I’m done with these mofo’s””

the avengers are quite the rowdy bunch

but you always as excitable as them

these guys were often in the public eye, always being asked all sorts of questions

but you just couldnt handle it a lot of the time

"y/n, can i get a picture with you? you're my hero!" -fan

"uh...yeah, sure. big smile!" -you, completely exhausted

you tried to be nice and not obvious that you were drained but boy was it hard

especially when tony threw his parties

you'd typically sit in the corner with a drink and try to make it through the night

but there were always some guests who were just dying to come talk to you

"hey! why are you hiding over here, there's a party going on! come, have some fun!" -clueless party guest

"oh, i'm okay over here, thank you" -you

"i'll keep you some company, then. why don't you tell me a story of one of your avenger missions"

some people just could not take the hint

but the avengers usually knew when you'd had enough

"wanna get out of here?" -nat

"please." -you

you'd recharge alone whenever you escaped the madness

dont even get me started on the news

they would do anything to get an interview with you

"y/n! could you comment on the recent events in [country] that you accompanied the avengers in?" -reporter

"we were there, we saved the day" -you, obviously exhausted

"is that all you have to say?" -reporter

"hey! don't you want to hear what i have to say? huh?" -tony

"thanks, tony" -you

"no problem, kiddo" -tony

wanda got it

you liked spending time with her because she liked to be calm and alone sometimes too

you'd read or watch tv or listen to music together in silence for hours

it was nice

it was funny because sometimes the team would all be socializing and then bam

"hey, where's y/n?" -steve

"i think they tapped out" -clint

"oh. i'll go check on them" -steve

"no, just leave them alone, they'll be back" -tony

after a lot of missions you'd just wait for the avengers on the quinjet while they spoke to authorities or SHIELD or whoever

"just forward me the mission report, i'll fill it out" -you

everyone just kinda let you do your thing

which worked out just fine for you

it drove fury crazy back in the day

"just why are we giving y/n special treatment? what? they're tired?" -fury

"i didn't say that, i said they were over your shit" -tony

"you better not have said that, i'll give you one last chance" -fury

and that is just another reason you were depleted

some days were better than others, and sometimes you could keep up! but once your battery died, that was it

"'social battery,' you say? any way i could be of assistance? maybe a small jolt from mjolnir to charge it back up?" -thor

"oh, no, just a figure of speech, no need for...that" -you

taglist: @alwaysananglophile // @locke-writes // @sweetheartlizzie07 // @queen-destenie // @johnmurphyisqueer // @captainshazamerica // @ravenmoore14 // @canarypoint // @procrastinatingsapphictrash // @swanimagines // @randomfandomimagine // @petersgroupie // @summersimmerus // @scarthefangirl // @bad4amficideas // @sheridans-dynamos // @simsrecs // @prettysbliss // @skdkdkckfk // @simp-legend // @wild-rose-35 // @nekoannie-chan // @evilcr0ne // @v0idl1nq // @ruvaakke // @thedarkqueenofavalon // @amirahiddleston // @beth-gallagher22 // @brutal-out-here // @rqmanoff // @elenavampire21 // @mymelodymia // @pheonixfire777 // @deanzboyfriend //

[quietlyimplode]

Whumptober Masterlist 2023

Masterlist of fic

(Warnings at the start of every chapter, please be kind to yourself. Gif not mine; I do not possess that kind of power. This will be updated with links as we go and when placed on ao3 will be updated with the link. A lot of these can be read as one shots (I’ll try and mark the ones that can be read as such with a *) but together make a whole story; the story of how Clint and Natasha got married.)

the language of flowers and silent things.

2011 - Kashmir (how many fingers am I holding up) *

1984 - Russia (I’ll call out your name but you won’t call back) *

1984 - Iowa (make it stop) *

2012 - New York (shock)

2012 - New York (it’s broken)

1999 - Iowa (made to watch)*

2013 - New York / Wichita Falls (radio silence)

2013 - New York (it’s all for nothing)

1994 - Ohio (Polaroid) *

2014 - Budapest (you said you’d never leave)

2014 - Singapore (Captivity)

2014 - Singapore / Malaysia (Red) <now with amazing art by @oceanspirit9 >

2009 - New York (I don’t feel so good) *

2010 - Okinawa (just hold on)*

2010 - Okinawa (I’m fine) *

2014 - Rome (don’t go where I can’t follow)

2007 - Russia/France (leave me alone)*

2014 - New York (I tend to deflect when…)

2011 - Iowa (floral bouquet)*

2013 - New York (found family)*

2014 - New York (vows)

2012 - New York (watch out)*

2014 - New York (Shadows)

2014 - New York (I thought they were with you)

2014 - New York (buried alive)

2014 - New York (you look awful)

2014 - New York (scars)

2014 - Berlin (aftermath of failure)

2014 - New York (what happened to me)

2014 - New York (borrowed clothing)

2014 - New York (take it easy)

Elevation - Charles Baudelaire

Above the lakes, above the vales,

The mountains and the woods, the clouds, the seas,

Beyond the sun, beyond the ether,

Beyond the confines of the starry spheres,

My soul, you move with ease,

And like a strong swimmer in rapture in the wave

You wing your way blithely through boundless space

With virile joy unspeakable.

Fly far, far away from this baneful miasma

And purify yourself in the celestial air,

Drink the ethereal fire of those limpid regions

As you would the purest of heavenly nectars.

Beyond the vast sorrows and all the vexations

That weigh upon our lives and obscure our vision,

Happy is he who can with his vigorous wing

Soar up towards those fields luminous and serene.

He whose thoughts, like skylarks,

Toward the morning sky take flight

- Who hovers over life and understands with ease

The language of flowers and silent things

Translated by - William Aggeler

[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

[braveclementine]

Surprise?

Warnings: None

Copyright: I do not own any Marvel characters or locations. However, I do own my OC Elizabeth Lightwood. I do not condone any copying of this.

"My mom tried to talk me out of enlisting but um, not Aunt Peggy." Sharon said as her and Steve walked through the hotel. "She bought me my first thigh holster."

"Very practical." Steve almost laughed. He wondered how old she was on that day and imagined a little toddler running around with a thigh holster on.

"And stylish." Sharon said. She pressed the up button and turned to face Steve.

"CIA has you stationed over here, now?" He asked.

"Berlin. Joint Terrorism Task Force." Sharon answered.

"Right. Right. Sounds fun."

"I know, right?"

"I've been meaning to ask you." Steve said, trying to fill the awkward pauses between. "When you were spying on me from across the hall-"

"You mean when I was doing my job."

"Did Peggy know?" Steve asked.

Sharon sighed, "She kept so many secrets. I didn't want her to have one from you." The elevator door dinged so that it opened for her, "Thanks for walking me back." She said.

"Sure." Steve said. He wanted to kiss her, but Sam interrupted them.

"Steve. There's something you gotta see."

🎃 :::::  🧡  ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━  🧡  ::::: 🎃

"A bomb hidden inside a news van ripped through the UN building in Vienna." The news anchor said as Sharon paced behind Sam and Steve, talking to someone on the phone.

"Whose coordinating?"

"More than seventy people have been injured. At least twelve are dead, including Wakanda's King T'Chaka. Officials have released a video of a suspect who they have identified as James Buchanan Barnes, the Winter Solder."

Steve felt the realization hit him, and then the guilt.

"The infamous HYDRA agent linked to numerous acts of terrorism and political assassinations."

"I have to go to work." Sharon whispered.

And then the hope.

They were going to find Bucky.

🎃 :::::  🧡  ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━  🧡  ::::: 🎃

"Yeah?" Natasha's voice spoke into Steve's ear as he called her.

"Are you alright?" Steve asked immediately.

"Uh, yeah, thanks. I got lucky." There was a pause and then she said, "I know how much Barnes means to you, I really do. Stay home. You'll only make this worse. For all of us. Please."

"Are you saying you'll arrest me?"

"No. Someone will. If you interfere. That's how it works now."

"If he's this far gone, Nat, I should be the one to bring him in." Steve said heavily. He looked over at where he could see Nat, talking into her phone.

"Why?"

"Because I'm the one least likely to die trying." And then he hung up and walked into the café where Sam was eating.

"She tell you to stay out of it?" Sam asked and nodded his head, "Might have a point."

"He'd do it for me." Steve said.

"1945, maybe. I just want to make sure we consider all our options. The people that shoot at you usually wind up shooting at me."

Sharon joined them at the bar, "Tips have been pouring in since that footage went public. Everybody thinks the Winter Soldier goes to their gym. Most of its' noise. Except for this." She quickly slid along a white packet. "My boss expects a briefing pretty much now so that's all the head start you're gonna get."

"Thank you." Steve said sincerely.

"And you're gonna have to hurry. We have orders to shoot on sight." Sharon said, before pushing away from the bar counter and leaving.

🎃 :::::  🧡  ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━  🧡  ::::: 🎃

Elizabeth and Bucky were in the fruit stands. Bucky was wearing a sweatshirt and a baseball cap, his metal hand covered by a glove. She had grabbed some limes and Bucky was now speaking Romanian in a really hot accent and she loved listening to his voice.

He had such a nice voice. It reminded her of Loki surprisingly on a spectrum of voice ranges. In reality, they did have with different voices. But they were both eloquent and nice to listen to.

After they had paid, Elizabeth slipped her arm through Bucky's to act like they were a couple and she let him lead. He paused in the street and instead of heading back to the apartment, starting heading towards a newspaper stand.

"What's wrong?" She asked, seeing that the man who had left the newspaper stand was running down the street now. She grabbed the newspaper on the counter and saw with horror that he was being blamed for a bombing attack on the UN.

"Shit." Elizabeth cursed. "Bucky, let's get back to the apartment now." She pulled out her phone, "Y/N, you see me? Where? Okay, I see you. Hurry we need to get back to the apartment now."

🎃 :::::  🧡  ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━  🧡  ::::: 🎃

"I'll make sure the apartment is safe." Bucky said, when he saw the door was open. He looked over at the two of you. Elizabeth nodded hesitantly, bending down so that she could pull out her shuriken's and knives. You pulled your pistol from the holster and waited.

It was a minute before you heard a familiar voice ask, "Do you know me?"

"You're Steve." Bucky said. "I read about you in a museum."

You hurried inside and stopped when you saw Steve there all suited up, Elizabeth next to you.

Steve looked at you. "Y/N? Elizabeth? What-"

Elizabeth hurried to Bucky's side. She had a faint smile on her face and nudged Bucky playfully. "Liar." Bucky smiled just a little.

"I know you're nervous," Steve said slowly, though he seemed rather confused now, "and you have plenty of reason to be. But you're lying."

"I wasn't in Vienna. I don't do that anymore." Bucky said.

"He's telling the truth." Elizabeth said quickly. "Steve he hasn't left this apartment anywhere except for groceries in the past week."

"And how do you know that?" Steve asked.

"Because we've been here with him the entire time. When the UN building blew up, we were eating Ice-cream and watching the Sound of Music on his crappy little TV." Elizabeth answered, slightly angrily.

"A week!" Steve nearly shouted.

"Surprise." You said weakly, remembering how you said you wouldn't go looking for Steve's soulmate without him.

Oops.

"Okay, well the people who think you did are coming right now." Steve said quickly. You released the safety on your handgun. "And they're not planning on taking you alive."

"Well they can just try on getting through me." Elizabeth said heatedly.

"That's smart." Bucky said instead. "Good strategy."

"This doesn't have to end in a fight, Buck." Steve said. You could hear the footsteps pounding outside.

Bucky sighed heavily. "It always ends in a fight."

"You pulled me from the river." Steve said angrily as Bucky took off his glove. "Why?"

"I don't know."

Elizabeth shook her head and muttered 'Liar' to you again.

"Yes, you do." Steve muttered.

A grenade came through the window, which Steve hit with his shield. It bounced off the window and Elizabeth kicked it towards Steve, who slammed his shield over it. Bucky hoisted the mattress to block the next shots and you leaned around, firing and knocking someone off the nearby building. A battering ram hit Bucky's door.

Bucky slammed the kitchen table that you had been so used to eating at, at the door, which jammed it shut.

One of the men came through the window. Elizabeth tackled, him getting her legs around his neck and choked him out, though she didn't kill him. Bucky punched the second one straight in the face.

"Buck stop." Steve said as they worked together to kick someone out of the room. "You're gonna kill someone."

Bucky slammed Steve to the ground, punching his hand into the floor. "I'm not gonna kill anyone." He grabbed his backpack that he had hidden there, throwing it out the window. Bullets started to spray. Steve grabbed Bucky, trying to block the two of them from the bullets, while you grabbed Elizabeth and threw the two of you behind the wall.

Bucky grabbed Steve and threw him at one of the soldiers so the two of them crashed through the window on Bucky's balcony. You watched as he used his metal hand to block the bullets, before smashing the man into his bookshelf.

Elizabeth joined Bucky as he smashed down his own front door and started to fight his way down the stairs. Meanwhile, you jumped through the window, kicking the gun from the man's hands, helping Steve to his feet.

"Me and you are going to have a talk after this." Steve said angrily, breaking the rest of the window to get back in.

"Yep." You muttered unhappily.

You sighed as Steve decided to just jump entire stairwells instead of running down the stairs like a normal person. Then you saw that both Bucky and Elizabeth were jumping stairwells too. Elizabeth looked like a fricking gymnast as she swung from the railings to the next floor.

Okay, so you were going to run down the stairs like a not normal person apparently.

By the time you got to where Steve was, he was just leaping off the building like a fucking moron, landing on the other building.

"Aw c'mon." You groaned.

"Hold on cause there's no seatbelts." Elizabeth sighed, before turquoise mist wrapped around your body. You screamed as you were catapulted to the other side of the roof. You landed on the cat man, knocking him to the ground. You rolled off quickly, shaking.

"I'M GOING TO MURDER YOU!" You screamed as Elizabeth launched herself over, rolling.

"Love you too bestie." Elizabeth sang.

And then, they were jumping off that roof too, just one after the other. Elizabeth groaned this time. "You know, I only have so much magic."

"I want Pietro." You whined as she lowered the two of you gently to the ground. You caught sight of two motorcycles. "On the other hand."

Elizabeth glanced over. "We need permission, right?"

"What would Loki do?" You asked as a joke, the two of you racing for the bikes.

"He'd totally steal these. Definitely makes it right." Elizabeth joked and the two of you took off on the bikes.

You sped in and out of the cars, finding the on ramp to get under the tunnel where the others were just running past cars like dumbasses. Seriously, they could get hit!

"Listen." Elizabeth shouted over to you as the two of you attempted to catch up. You watched Steve steal a car and nodded your head in approval. "I need you to block the cat man. I'm going to try and get Bucky on my bike. I think if I can get us away from civilization, I can get him to Asgard. Once we're safe there, I can work on his mind more. Loki can help me as well."

"Okay." You said, trying to get the AR-12 out of your own backpack while you drove. You positioned it over the handle bars and shot out the tires on another car. "The cat man seems powerful though, I'm not sure how that's going to go."

"Hopefully Sam and Steve join in on the help." Elizabeth said, driving off onto your left, speeding through more cars. You quickly pulled up, passing Steve in his car, which the cat man had just jumped on.

Elizabeth had almost pulled up level with Bucky, before he stole a bike from somebody while they were speeding past him, somehow straddling it in midair and taking off. Seriously, it was like he had super strength- oh wait.

Elizabeth was riding level with him now, the two of them looking like they were racing each other. She was shouting stuff at him, and you decided to focus more on yourself now, reaching behind you, trying to shoot the cat man off of Steve's car.

Suddenly, the cat man grabbed Sam while Bucky planted an explosive. The cat man then leaped off of Sam, popping the back wheel of Bucky's tire. He went down and Elizabeth flipped off her bike to stop and get back to Bucky. The Cat man threw her away easily. You flipped off your bike- on accident unlike Elizabeth- as your tires hit rocks. You tumbled off and rolled, while Steve ran and tackled the cat man.

Elizabeth was by Bucky's side in an instant, shuriken's in her hands. You limped to their side, holding your pistol and AK. Cars and sirens surround you on all sides.

All of a sudden, Rhodey dropped from the sky, gun out, and lifted his hands. You groaned. Party over. "Stand down, now." Steve put his shield in his holster, raising his hands, "Congratulations Cap. You're a criminal."

"Leave him alone." Elizabeth snapped as they shoved Bucky to the floor. They shoved her to her knees as well, arresting her too. You let the handcuffs be put on you easily and your eyes widened when the cat mask was taken off.

"Your highness." Rhodey said.

[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?