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space-mermaid-writing · 3 years ago

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House Arrest [Reader X Loki] Chapter 5

Summary: You are Clint’s 'little' sister and actually a trained Shield agent. But you gave that up a few years ago and became a Chef, because you wanted a normal live. Then one day Natasha shows up at your door and takes you to the Avenger Tower for a while for security reasons.

Tags: Reader is an former Shield Agent, chef!reader, Reader Barton, 2012 Avenger vibes, everything is still alright, Slice of Life, Avengers Family, Loki has a good heart, still the god of mischief, Slow Burn, mention of food and cooking

Read it on AO3

Chapter 5: Sneaking Out

Six weeks. You have been here for six fucking weeks. At least your brother has calmed you down enough that you no longer start a heated discussion with Hill or Coulson about your 'release' every time you see them. Instead, you scowl at them from afar and sharpen your new collection of kitchen knives. Loki finds this incredibly hilarious every time he sees that.

Since you don’t really have anything to do, you've restarted your former agent training. It’s also a good excuse to punch some noses to reduce your anger. But neither does it replace the missing outgoing, nor is it really fun for you to stand alone in the huge training hall. You'd rather be cooking.

You're looking at your latest purchase: a long dining table for at least ten people. A splendid piece you have had set up in a room next to the kitchen that has been converted into a dining room. The door opens and Tony walks in, phone to his ear. At the sight of the dark, solid wood, he freezes for a moment and then looks to you. "I'll call you back... Y/N, darling, why did you put this...monstrosity here?" You tilt your head, your eyes continuing to focus on the table. "Isn't it eccentric enough? Maybe I should have gone with the version with gold-plated table legs after all. Dinner, by the way, is at 6:00 sharp. Jarvis will call everyone." With that, you head back to the kitchen, leaving Tony alone. "...Jarvis", he finally brings out. "Yes, Sir?" "How did she wrapped you around her finger for that thing?" "Miss Barton kindly asked me to order it, and there was enough of a budget available to her." "Well..." Tony joins you in the kitchen. "What if someone doesn't have time to eat? I'm afraid we're not all home all the time, darling", he asks you arms crossed. You shrug your shoulders. "Their loss."

It was evening as you wipe your hands on your apron and take the pan off the stove. "Jarvis, will you please tell everyone dinner is served?" "Sure, Miss Barton." As you set the table, a few of the invited people gradually appear - Steve, Natasha, Bruce, and finally Tony. They look at the selection of food and sit down. A home made meal was a pleasant exception. You make another quick trip to the kitchen for salt and napkins. "Jarvis, did you inform Loki?", you ask the computer. "I did. He prefers not to show up." The prince probably wants an extra invitation. You bring the things to the table and then take one of the unused plates. Paying no further attention to the others, who are perfectly occupied with eating anyway, you enter the elevator and go up one floor, where you walk down the long hallway to Loki's room.

There is no response to the first knock on the door, so you unceremoniously just open it and let yourself in. "Dear Prince, dinner is getting cold." Loki sits in his chair with a book and looks up as you place the tray on a table. "Room service? That’s nice." He sets aside his reading and steps closer. "Better not get used to it”, you reply with your brow raised. The corners of Loki's lips twitch upward, but he doesn't press further. His attention is on the food you've brought. "That smells magical." Although you're used to getting praised about your cooking and also know exactly what you're capable of, you're very happy to hear, and you notice a flutter in your stomach. That’s weird. "You should try it", you say quickly. The Asgardian looks at you thoughtfully before nodding slowly. However, he makes no move to reach for the silverware. You sigh softly, wish him a bon appetite and then go back to the new dining room, since you yourself are quite hungry as well. There the meal is still in full swing and as you sit down, you receive further praise, which you accept with a smile.

This routine goes on for a few days. It's always a different combination of people sitting at the table, depending on who's in the house at the time. But Loki never shows up. Contrary to what you said, you bring him his dish every time. You always get a little compliment about how the food looks or how a certain spice smells good. But he never eats anything in your presence, nor do you know if he really likes it. The plates always show up freshly washed in the cupboard the next morning.

It makes you a little sad, especially because you notice that Loki seems to visit you less and less often. Today is one of those rare encounters and in your conversation you come up of your imprisonment here in the tower. "Oh, what would I do to visit the farmers market again”, you sigh. Jarvis orders everything you need, but the stuff fis nothing compared to the fresh produce from the farmer, who still collects eggs from the hen house himself in the morning. Loki creates a shiny silhouette of a rabbit that runs through the air around your outstretched fingers and then slowly dissolves into gold dust. He seems to weigh the options. His time here is getting quite long as well, and he has been looking for a way to stir up a little trouble for a while now. And if it's just for a major disagreement among the so called Avengers.... Thinking about this, he turns his head to you. "I could arrange that”, he replies absently. You perk up and look at him puzzled. "I can send you out early in the morning disguised in an illusion and you'll be back before anyone notices you're missing." It takes your brain a moment to process the idea. "That's genius", you finally bring out quietly. "But that's way too simple for it to work. Why haven't you done this yourself before?" Loki holds up a wrist with the blinking bracelets. He would trigger an alarm if he tried leaving the building with them or took them off. "Right, sorry." You let the plan run through your mind. As you do, something occurs to you that dampens your euphoria. "Jarvis monitors everything and would report something like this immediately if he overheard it." A soft crackle is heard before the computer's voice rings out. "That‘s correct, Miss Barton." So this was no option. Too bad. But maybe it was time to talk to Maria Hill again about your stay here.

It's the next morning and you're just about to fry up some bacon and eggs for breakfast when Loki enters the kitchen. It seems unusual to you, especially because you've already seen his dishes from last night dinner in the cupboard. "Good morning", you greet him. "Up early?" "I’ve got news", he replies mysteriously, beckoning you to join him. Curious, you take a few steps closer, but that's not enough for him and he leans forward, bridging the last bit to you to whisper something in your ear. At first you're surprised, you've never been this close to him before, both of you keeping a personal comfort zone clear around you. For the first time you can really perceive his scent, of which usually only a hint had remained. And you pull yourself together to actively listen to him and not get distracted. What he has to tell you is really interesting and when he finishes his explanation, you look at him and nod enthusiastically. Before he can pull away, you hug him, which again seems to surprise him. However, you also quickly let go of him so that he doesn't change his mind about his idea.

On the following Saturday you get up very early. It‘s still dark outside and the others are probably still asleep. At least you hope so. Well, everyone except Loki, who has managed to make it look like you woke up to go shortly to the bathroom and then back to your bed again. But in reality, you're walking through the streets of New York with a shopping basket. It's wonderful and you still can't believe that it really did work. You just have to be careful not to run into anyone who might recognize you, because the illusion only works digitally. When you left the tower through the underground parking garage, you made sure to avoid all employees and went unnoticed. And now you walk with joyful steps in the direction of the farmers market.

The name may be a bit confusing, because here you can find everything that nature has to offer in terms of food: from fish to cheese to fruit. And the hall is huge. So you don't mind that the sun was just rising. You love the dozens of different smells that hit you as soon as you enter, with new ones coming in at every corner. It's loud as people haggle, praise their wares, and some argue over prices. You take your time shopping for the best ingredients. You had made a rough plan of what you need for the next few days beforehand. However, you realize soon that it's way too much and you'll never be able to transport all the stuff back alone. So you abandon the plan again and buy what appeals to you spontaneously.

After a short discussion with a merchant about the ripeness of mangoes, you decide that you want to bring Loki something for his trouble. Of course, you realize, there is nothing like that feeling of freedom, of being able to move outside without worrying about anything, of feeling the wind in your hair. But a little gift is in order. So you go searching through the stalls. Meanwhile, you think about the Norse god. You can no longer deny that you've developed feelings for him. But you're not sure if it's just a crush or something serious. You wouldn't rule out some kind of Stockholm syndrome either. He’s good looking, tall and exactly your type. Although that's just the surface. There is still this sharp-tongued and challenging nature, but you have also met his considerate and compassionate side. And he seems eager to entertain and distract you in your position as a fellow prisoner, so to speak - because that's how you still see yourself. Even if it's just through little magical tricks or a laugh. Loki's amused laughter is a wonderful sound. His velvet voice in general.

You sigh softly, recalling the reason why Loki is here in the first place. He's a troublemaker, and in the past he's gone too far. It’s a shame. Really. Also, he's some kind of god. To him, you're just a nice mortal in a boring, ungrateful world. Perhaps a good companion in a house full of fools. After all, you know about the strained relationship between Loki and the Avengers. That's no big secret.

Late in the morning, you sneak into the Tower the same way you left it. None of the Avengers are up yet, at least none cross your path, so you quickly stow your purchase in the kitchen and then go back to your apartment to dissolve Loki's illusion. Afterwards, you knock on the Asgardians door. "Come in." You enter and find the one you're looking for standing by the windows. "Ah, there you are", he states, and you merely nod. As if he didn't already know that. Otherwise, Jarvis would probably be pretty confused that you're standing here and sleeping in your bed at the same time. "I have something for you”, you tell him, trying to maintain a neutral tone. With no word you must reveal your trip. You hand him a bowl in which lay some red and yellow fruits in the shape of stars. Astonished, Loki looks at you. "I know, it's just something small", you say evasively. "But try it." Loki takes one and bites into it.

It's a rare fruit and you spotted it more by accident at a small stall in the market, had almost passed by. It tastes sweet and had several dozen small seeds inside that tingle on your tongue as you chew. "That's... very interesting", Loki comments after swallowing the second bite. “Good", he adds when he sees the look on your face, and he smiles. "Good interesting."

During one of Thor's longer stays in the Tower, you strike up a conversation with him and ask him a little about the cuisines of the other worlds. After all, the prince has traveled them and knows a thing or two. And you make him promise to bring you some typical specialties from his homeland next time. In addition, you ask him to tell you about the dishes that he and Loki prefer. An idea has taken root in your brain that won't let you go: to prepare the two princes' favorite Asgardian dishes. That would be a welcoming challenge.

By now, you've gotten a pretty good idea of the favorite foods of your other Avengers. It's probably hardest with Tony. Because on the one hand he's used to overpriced five-star restaurants whenever he takes Pepper out to a Date. But on the other hand he's the one of the group you see most often with a fast food burger or a frozen pizza. And when you ask him about it, he just replies that he likes everything that’s prepared by a pretty woman anyway. Tiresome.

#Loki #Loki x Reader #House Arrest #Chapter 1 #my writing #Clint #clint barton #hawkeye #loki laufeyson #imagine #chef reader #mcu #marvel #maria hill

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tryingmyves · 3 years ago

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Sober

Denki Kaminari x Y/N

A/N: A fic inspired by Wish You Were Sober by Conan Gray (I swear they put crack in this song). You’ve been in love with Denki Kaminari for as long as you can remember and he only seems to think of you as more than a friend when he’s inebriated. Simple, right?

C/W: Alcohol mention, weed mention, smut (eventually), angst

chapter fic, part one, college!au kinda

image source

Some Eminem song is blaring so loud in the background it’s hard keeping anything other than how much you want to go home in the forefront of your mind. You’re sunken into the world’s lumpiest sofa, which may have been beige at one point but it’s so covered in stains that it’s hard to be sure. You’re in the middle of determining whether the dried, greenish splotch near your left thigh was made from liquor or vomit when Jiro elbows you in the arm.

She offers you a bong covered in an eye motif, “Are you getting in on this?”

The physical contact pulls you from your very pressing investigation of couch stains. “Huh?” you yell over the music. You look down and see the bong and answer her without waiting for her to repeat herself.

“Uh, nah. I’m the DD tonight,” you explain loudly, leaning in to her so she can hear.

Jiro doesn’t pressure you to change your mind, just nods and reaches her arm across you, handing the bong over to Sero.

“I need the lighter too,” Sero calls to Jiro, one hand still extended towards her.

“No way, sticky fingers!” she answers, slapping his hand away, “You still owe me like six lighters. They always end up in your pockets and then I’m shit out of luck.”

Sero starts to whine about how it’s always an accident until Tokoyami tosses his lighter to him. He quickly positions the bong in his lap and lights the bowl, only flicking off the lighter and removing it after inhaling his entire lung capacity. You watch the milky smoke disappear from behind the glass and into Sero’s mouth. He gives the group a doofy, toothless grin before finally exhaling through his nose. He hands the bong to his right and makes a show of returning Tokoyami’s lighter to him. Jiro only rolls her eyes and repositions herself on the couch, claiming the vacant space you leave as you stand up, announcing you’re going to the kitchen.

As you weave away from the couch and through the crowd of sweaty bodies dancing in the living room, you hear Kendo yelling at you about bringing chips when you come back. You register the request, but don’t bother telling her you aren’t planning on rejoining their smoke sesh. The kitchen is a little quieter than the living room, the music muffled slightly by a few layers of drywall and paint. The island in the center of the room is a mess, littered with near-empty pizza boxes, spilled chip bags, and empty beer cans. You’re unsure if there’s a single clean cup in the entire house at the moment, so you help yourself to a bottle of water from the fridge. You might have hid out in here for a while if it weren’t for Ojiro and presumably Hagakure swapping spit in one corner of the room. Either that, or Ojiro was rehearsing a very sensual mime bit. You leave the room quickly, neither seeming to notice your presence to begin with.

You pass the dining room on your way to the backyard and see it’s been converted into a beer pong arena for the time being. You also catch a glimpse of Kaminari, who dragged you to this stupid party, extending the ping pong ball held between his thumb and his index finger towards some blonde, second year girl whose name you don’t know. She raises her eyes to his and gazes through the curtain of her lashes before blowing air on the ball through lip gloss covered lips. You shake your head to yourself and consider abandoning your DD responsibilities in favor of the high Jiro offered and a couple shots of Barton’s. But despite these thoughts, your legs carry you forward to the patio door, but not before you hear Kaminari gloat about how his partner just “blew” him in front of everyone. A symphony of groans, laughs, and a few shouts of “get it, bro!” serve as the soundtrack to your exit.

The chill of the November air stings your face, but it’s a nice contradiction to the sticky heat of the frat house behind you. You twist open the cap of your water bottle and take a small sip, making your way to a decrepit looking folding chair you were willing to take a chance on. You sit in the relative silence, disregarding the muffled sounds of the party coming over your shoulder. A sigh leaves your lips when you check your phone and see it’s only 12:07 AM. If you were lucky, you’d be able to get Kaminari home and make it back to your dorm before 1 AM.

This was the last party of the semester as UA University was officially out for winter break until the new year. You and Kaminari planned to carpool home tomorrow since you had to be out of your dorm by noon and you’d undoubtedly have to return his Rover to him in the morning. Plus, you weren’t positive that the cheap hunk of scrap you bought for college would make it all the way home. You had already done all of your packing for the holiday, so you didn’t worry about the late night. Instead, your mind drifts to the stupid blond inside, less than 300 feet away from you. You’ve been in love with him since you figured out what love was, but for some cosmically farcical reason when he mentioned he’d always wonder what you were like in bed four months ago, you offered to show him.

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mostly-marvel-musings · 4 years ago

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We were on a break - Chapter 1

A/N: Some characters from Agents of Shield make an appearance but I’ve taken way too many creative liberties to stick to that plot. Feedback is welcome as always :))

Pairing: Tony Stark x Reader

Summary: Circumstances have led (Y/N) and Tony to part ways. Continuing to work with Shield, a latest mission requires you and a few others to track down a business tycoon who could possibly be working for Hydra. Your plan to get into the man’s inner circle goes awry when a remorseful Tony shows up at the mission location.

Series Masterlist

Taglists open! If you wish to be tagged in future chapters, send me an ask.

Warning: Strong language, angst, smut in future chapters.

Word count: 1147

Tags: @shipatheart @tone-stark @thevanishedillusion @kahlanmars @loveisallyouneed1125 @kaestatic @swaggysposts @lieswithoutfairytales @agustdowney @booktease21 @panicattheeverywherekid @taina-eny

…

Persistent ringing coming from somewhere on your left, brought you to consciousness. You groaned and turned away, hoping to block it out. Through half open eyes, you saw Clint scrambling about, trying not to trip on his own feet as he answered his phone.

He was speaking to his wife a bit too loudly for your hung over self, making you blindly reach for a pillow and throw it in his general direction. Natasha chuckled at your attempt as you saw her sitting up beside you, rubbing sleep from her eyes.

“Fuck off, Barton! It’s not even morning yet.” You grumbled, not bothering to actually check the time.

“It’s ten o’ clock, sleeping beauty. And Laura wants to talk to you.” Clint grinned as he handed you the phone, making you glare at him.

You weren’t exactly in the mood to have the ‘how are you holding up’ conversation post your break-up or break or whatever it was with Tony. But you knew you had to face Laura, she meant well and cared for you just like the other two agents currently lounging in your apartment.

Begrudgingly, you took the phone throwing the blankets away and walked out onto the balcony.

After fifteen long minutes of ‘it’s gonna get better sweetie’ and ‘you should come over for a chat’, you got back inside. A visit to the Barton household was due, given that Laura was expecting a baby and you missed her and the kids.

“So, did she give you her ‘you’re better off without him’ speech?” Natasha asked, walking into the kitchen to grab a bottle of water, you following closely behind.

“Oh yes. Got the remix version of it.” chuckling, you shook your head as you sat down on the breakfast counter, waiting for either of the two to make coffee.

You partied a bit too much last night, a little at the bar, a lot back at your apartment. It ended with Clint showing off his archery skills in your balcony, and you bawling your eyes out over your failed relationships with Nat consoling you. You had also asked how Tony was doing in your drunken haze. As far as you remembered the conversation with Nat, he was equally distraught which relieved you to some extent.

“God we’re really getting old. My head is killing me.” You sat back on the sofa, massaging your temples.

“At least you don’t have to report to HQ today. Barton and I have a debriefing this afternoon.” Nat muttered, rolling her eyes as she sat opposite you on a lounge chair.

“So does (Y/N). She’s my boss now remember?” Clint yelled out from the kitchen, over the whirring sound of a blender. As happy as you were about the level up, you were in dire need of sleep.

Clint sauntered into the living room holding two large glasses of banana milkshake his hands, making you scowl. His famous hangover cure.

“Drink up boss. We gotta go.”

…

The HQ was bustling with agents as you arrived and headed straight for Maria Hill’s office. She called you in as Nat and Clint were summoned by another agent for some work.

You felt your stomach drop as you saw the man you never thought you’d see turn around in a swivel chair to look at you.

Your mouth went dry as you locked eyes with the man whom you hadn’t seen in weeks, who despite being described as ‘heartbroken’ by Nat had made no attempts of calling you. You didn’t expect him come begging but you hadn’t expected complete radio silence either, which had just added fuel to fire.

Cursing your mind to start functioning properly, you walked further into the office space, putting a considerable distance between you and Tony Stark.

Agent Hill cleared her throat snapping you back to reality.

“Agent (Y/L/N), glad you could join us. I was just finishing up here, let’s head to the conference room.”

Couldn’t she have had you wait in there instead of here with him staring at your nervous form?

He looked much more composed and unruffled than you, then again he’d been putting on a facade for media and the world for years now. He wasn’t a stranger to the practiced ‘poker face’.

“Agent (Y/L/N)?”

You had been busy staring at the ground to notice Maria Hill holding the door open for you to step out and Tony was nowhere to be seen.

When the hell did he walk out?

You saw Tony and Maria exchange a hushed conversation from the corner of your eye as you continued to walk down the hall.

Mentally shaking yourself to get it together, you reached the conference room to find Clint, Agent Simmons, Agent Ward waiting for the debriefing to begin. You exchanged pleasantries, glancing at the door every now and then, in case Tony decided to show up here too. He didn’t.

Agent Hill walked in few moments later, alone. She gave you a cursory glance before sitting at the far end of the table.

“We have a lead on the man we’ve been tracking for months, Andrew Leeds. Agent (Y/L/N), this will be your first mission as a Level 8 agent. Safe to say these guys will be taking orders from you. But first, Mr Stark had some information on Leeds as he’s had an encountered him a few times.” Maria Hill began, the lights dimmed and the conference table converted into a screen, bathing the room in a blue white glow.

“Leeds has been dealing in weapons almost for as long as Stark Industries. They met at a convention once or twice. He has a close circle of four maybe five people who do his bidding and dirty work for him. The man has a reputation for hosting lavish parties and being a flirt.”

You kept your gaze on the screen below which flashed photos of your target at various events.

Tony would never miss an opportunity to lead a team, even if it was just to give info. Why hadn’t he come in?

Your alter ego rolled her eyes at the obvious. He didn’t come in because of you.

Agent Hill began explaining the details on Leeds’ last known location, putting your obsessive thoughts on the back burner.

…

Natasha and Clint had to hang back so you drove back alone, the sky grey with gloom, picking up dinner from your favorite Thai place near your apartment. Throwing the keys in the bowl blindly, you switched on the lights and began stripping on your way to the bedroom for a shower.

Stepping out in a towel, you were rummaging through the underwear drawer when your phone buzzed. Putting on sweatpants and Tony’s old MIT hoodie that you never returned, you checked the notification.

Congratulations on your promotion, Pep told me. You deserve it, Agent (Y/L/N). – T.S.

…

#tony stark x reader #tony stark angst #tony x reader #we were on a break #tony stark series #tony stark fluff #tony stark fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #tags are open #mostly marvel musings

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sebbytrash · 4 years ago

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Through His Eyes - Part Eighteen

Summary - Bucky arrives at the compound to start afresh but you and him have a somewhat colorful past, colorful being that you met him once before as The Winter Soldier and it did not go well. New beginnings, yeah? If you can learn to forgive.

Pairing - Bucky x Reader

Warnings - Angst, denial, self loating, all the sad stuff guys. Also, weird breakfast habits courtesy of one Clint Barton

A/N - Hi, it’s me, trying not to act on the need to reintroduce myself here lol. Anyways, sorry its been forever, again. I fix? Feedback loved and appreciated. <3 HUGE thank you to my other half @manawhaat for taking my scraps and forcing me to do better. I love you.

Through His Eyes Masterlist

"Auntie Mallow, what happened to your face?" Nate asks as soon as he spies you from his place at the kitchen table, running over to tackle hug you. "Were you attacked? Was it by Ninjas? Did you kick butt?"

"Woah, woah, one question at a time, little man," you say, and then pretend whisper, "Twelve of them, butts all kicked."

"Cool!" He shouts, disappearing into the house with a few karate chops.

"Yeah, he's going through a Ninja phase at the moment. He's gonna be dining out on that story for a week." Laura explains, a cup of cocoa already in your hand and hers giving your bruise a once over, a fond smile at the edge of her lips.

"Training accident with Steve. Nothing exciting." She hugs you anyway, warm and kind and everything you need. Laura and her magical hugs, they always soften the edges of even the sharpest of pains. It's why Sam so often referred to her as Mother of All, because she just made you feel seen, loved.

"I'll be upstairs putting the monsters to bed. Shout if you need me." She gives Clint a kiss on the cheek on her way past and his eyes linger on her a little longer as she leaves. Your spine aches from the way he looks at her, a lifetime of love poured in a single glance.

He turns back to you, looks at you in an entirely different kinda way but it doesn't make you ache any less, you wonder if your story is leaking out of your eyes like a kaleidoscope of words and feelings, projected for any and all to see. Laid bare in look alone. He looks at you long enough for you to regret coming, not wanting to deal with any of the mess you'd created just yet, but he surprises you by instead asking, "You hungry?"

He makes you a burger that you readily inhale and then realise just how long it had been since you'd eaten. Clint asks nothing, expects nothing, simply fills your belly and earns a few shaky laughs before ushering you to the barn where a warm bed was waiting.

"This place looks a lot nicer than the last time I stayed here." You smile at the memory and he rolls his eyes back.

"Well, we had some time to convert it to a guesthouse. Not like the last time you and Sam showed up, drank the entire contents of my booze cabinet and passed out in the field." He hugs you again and backs up towards the door, "You're lucky I dragged your asses in here instead of letting you wake up a few fingers short."

“My fingers are grateful.” You laugh, and wiggle them a little, then add, “My back, not so much.”

“Goodnight, marshmallow.”

“Goodnight Clint.”

You wait till he leaves before letting the smile slide right off your face, exhaustion tugging on your bones with weary determination that you're almost grateful for. It means, if nothing else, that sleep might come easy and the pain might subside even for a few hours. You change into the clothes Clint loaned you, sweats and an old S.H.I.E.L.D t-shirt, and dump your stuff on the chair. You fish your phone out of your pocket to send Sam a quick text but realise the battery is dead. Well, if you weren't in trouble before, you sure are now. Tomorrow's problem, you suppose, before sliding into the lavender fresh bed and curling up on your side. Counting your blinks and willing the day to end, desperately trying not to notice how much you miss his scent on your sheets.

When sleep finds you, it comes armed with weapons of anguish laden eyes or the defeated sigh of your name, and your heart tears itself in two when the sighs turn silent. It's a punishment, you think, when you wake that morning no longer sure if you can stand to lose him from your dreams, too. You’ve lost most of the skin around your thumb nail by the time you work up the energy to go to the house, the blood that leaks out of the worried away skin is like a physical representation of your heart. You hate it.

You don’t.

The kitchen is unusually silent when you enter and you wonder how long you spent avoiding leaving your bed when you spot Clint at the counter, eating happily, but horribly, from his bowl. He smiles and tips his spoon, then tips it towards the empty bowl and cereal packets waiting on the counter for you. A cereal buffet.

“Mornin’,” you say, pouring out the sugariest one you can find, “Is that...is that all the cereals in one bowl?”

“Yup,” he grins, “Laura and the kids are away to swim in the lake, so I get to do this.” He scoops a mishmash onto his spoon and has the indecency to enjoy it. Disgusting.

“That is… honestly, I don’t even have words.” You do everything you can not to stare at the grey looking milk that is swirling around in his house of horrors of a bowl.

He fills in the silence with some nonsense, a little laughter and a tale or two about the kids, letting you shake off the sleep, and the dreams, and finish your cereal before he pops the bubble. You love him for it, and hate him for it. A theme, it seems.

“So…” He begins, eyebrows raised in a little ‘tell me’ motion.

“So,” you say, and nothing more.

“Steve called.” That didn’t take long.

“Of course he did.”

“He was worried.” He says, and then adds, not unkindly, “Sam was, too. Apparently, you left without any heads up.”

You huff, “Well, I’m grown. I do what I want.” You throw in a pout for good measure.

“And that means you couldn’t reply to a text?”

You tuck your shoulders at that. “I, uh, didn’t exactly bring a charger.” You hold out the offending item and he sighs, but says nothing, simply takes your phone from you and plugs it into a waiting wire beside him.

“Right.” He waits, knowing your little pout is for show, until the scowl slips into something else. “You wanna tell me about him.”

And so you do, how much you hated him, and then how much you wanted to hate him, and then how much you didn’t hate him at all.

He lets you pour it all out, lets you drain every last drop of guilt and whisper every unchecked secret, the words burst from within that pressure cooker inside your chest. It hurts so much to bare yourself like this that you expect to look down and see blood seeping from a hole in your chest. Instead, you see only granite countertops and blurry hands.

"So, I ended it." You say, flattening your hands on your knees so you don't have to see them shake, see the physical manifestation of your very bad decision making. "It's for the best."

"Is it?" Clint asks plainly. "For him, or for you?"

"What do you mean?" You frown, his words making the hairs on your arms stand up, your body one step ahead as your mind fights to catch up.

"Ok kid, I'm gonna level with you, yeah?" He fixes you with a look that feels very Dad-Like and you bite back a little smile, despite the heavy tone. "I don't think it's a coincidence that you came here, to me, the only other person who might have the slightest inkling what it might feel like being under someone else's control."

"I…," You begin, and then snap your mouth closed as the words settle over you. Was he right? Was it intentional, you wonder, to seek out Clint? No, no...

"You just live the furthest away." You scoff, but not with much luster, doubt creeping in over that wallowing fog.

"You're not running away, kid." He says, confidently, "You're looking for answers."

You consider that for a moment, wonder if there was some remaining strand of hope left in the burnt out tapestry of your want, but you know that even that strand is not enough.

"There are no answers you can give that will fix this." You say sadly, resolutely.

"Why don't you try me?" He offers, reaching out to stop your hands from worrying away the skin around your nails again. Something you hadn't even noticed you were doing.

"I don't think I have any questions?" Even to your own ears, you don’t sound sure. He simply looks at you a little longer, waiting. “Fine, maybe...maybe, just one.” He nods for you to continue. “How did you face Nat, you know, after Loki?”

“After I tried to kill her, you mean?” He supplies helpfully, face graced with that confident little smirk that never really leaves, refusing to balk at it like any sane person should.

“Well...yeah.” You admit, trying not to cringe at your cavalier questioning. This was his idea, after all.

“I didn’t.” He says, “Not at first anyway, but you know Nat, stubborn as hell and she just outright refused to let me have a pity party.” He laughs, “Monsters and magic, she said to me, we weren’t trained for that. And she was right, nobody is prepared for what we went through, or what he went through.”

It’s true, there’s nothing in the world that can prepare you for something like that, so how can anyone expect a how-to guide on getting over it. Or at least, working through it. You doubt there is a therapist in the world that has much insight on these particular demons, god knows they had enough trouble with yours.

You think about Clint now, about how very much a team he and Nat are, even within the team itself. It’s like it never happened.

“But don’t you think about it, that day, when you see her?” You ask, subconsciously zeroing in on what you really want to know. There’s something there, you know it, but you're not sure what it is yet.

“No, not anymore. Maybe initially, but I did the work. Laura helped me work through it, so did Nat.” He looks at you intently, like he just figured something out, frowns a little and tilts his head. “Do you?”

“Do I what?” You ask, watching his puppy dog tilt with confusion.

“Do you think about that when you see him?” Oh. Oh, that.

“No.” You answer honestly, “Not for a while.” It’s the truth. The soldier and Bucky feel so far apart from each other it’s like they’ve never even met. And they haven’t really, you think. One existed exactly over the top of the other.

“So seeing him, being with him, it doesn’t take you back to that time?” He asks, and it feels like he’s getting at something or putting puzzle pieces together the way he words the question, but it’s inherently still the same one he asked.

“No... I mean, it did, of course it did, for a long time. But, like you, I did the work.”

It doesn’t even occur to you what Clint is getting at, as you sit there sifting through what he said and how it overlaps with what you know. So when he asks, your heart suspends in place, simply stopping in between beats like there was a limit and you’ve simply reached it.

“Then tell me, why are you so sure he does?”

“He still has nightmares about me, Clint.” You point out, the fear in his eyes still fresh in your mind, like a brand on your soul you’ll never be rid of. Another stain, another scar. The final matching one.

“He has one bad dream in the what, months, you’ve been together and you think you know what he needs?” You blink stupidly at him, feeling the pit in your stomach extend just a few more inches, digging itself further into your soul. “Look, kid, if you had come here and told me you didn’t feel a certain way about him, I’d be behind you 100%. But you’re denying yourself something here. Is it complicated? Fuck yes. Look at your life, what part isn’t?”

Complicated, ha! The blood in your vein sings angrily at the notion, that you weren’t over here tearing yourself in two just to protect Bucky from himself, from you. That it wasn’t bigger than complicated. Your feelings, whatever they were, they didn’t matter. What was so difficult to understand in that? It’s exactly the reason you were here and not with Sam, although that decision is becoming stupider by the moment.

You start to shake your head, ready to say much of the same to Clint when he holds up a hand, not in surrender but to continue.

“You asked what I see when I look at Nat, now. Well, I see movie nights, and Sal’s pizza, and pissing off Tony and every other memory we’ve made together since then. Isn’t that what you see when you look at Bucky?”

Like a prayer, his name conjures his image in your mind, those smiling ocean eyes, the kind tilt to his smile, the shape of his mouth when he says your name. Not even the ghost of the Soldier hovers. You blink back the tears that are threatening to escape your eyes and answer honestly. “Yes…”

“I’m willing to bet that’s what he sees too.” He smiles at you, sad and sorry. “I remember just after I got back from New York, I had this whole thing about everything being my choice. You know, what missions I went on, when I went on them, what I had to eat - Laura was a saint with that one. There’s just something about it, not being in control of yourself, that unsettles your whole being, right, that every choice I made felt like I was taking something back from Loki. Like I was fighting back even though there was nothing to fight against.”

You reach out and squeeze his hand, his words dropping like stones in your chest, each one adding to that growing feeling, that one you can’t or won’t name.

“So, if this is about him, about protecting him or whatever it is you think you are doing...don’t. Don’t take that choice from him.”

The stones turn to boulders, drag down in your gut and pull till you might tear at the seams, pull and pull till your nerves are screaming with all that guilt, again, that you carry around and the unending pain that follows it. You knew what it was like, you knew, and yet Clint was right, you’d stolen his choices just like they had, when all he’d ever done was give you them.

“Just answer this, okay?”

You nod, but you already know what he’s going to ask and you can’t answer him, don’t know how to. Your whole being is centered around this part of you, this shadowed pain that makes up half of your personality. Who were you if not the half broken remains from behind the green door? How can you possibly move past it enough to...feel that way?

“Do you love him?”

No, you don’t love. You can’t. You like him? Sure. You want him? Absolutely. But love? Unattainable. The ghost of him is there again, sudden and solid, looking at you the way he does, grazing his lips along your cheek that way he does, the gentlest of hands holding you that way he does, loving you that way he does.

Because he does. He loves you and it's awful and terrifying and euphoric. Suddenly, you can’t stand another minute of this war with yourself, with him, with everyone. The fight was always pointless anyway, you’d lost long ago on the dirty floor of a gym where secrets sprouted from pain and bloomed into hope. The boulders grow wings and they lift, letting your chest fill up with that fear and euphoria, shaking off the shackles of your guilt for the last time. You have your choices, so he should have his, right?

There they are, those damned butterflies. “Yes.”

Clint smiles, knew the answer the second he laid eyes on your weary face yesterday. “Then let him love you back.”

TAGS: @manawhaat @theashhole @captainrogerss @higherfurtherfasterbby @peculiar-persephone @captain-rogers-beard @chrisevansnco @howlingbarnes @poealsobucky @samingtonwilson @vintagevalentinexx @abovethesmokestacks @imhereforbvcky @avengerofyourheart @stormy-thomas @danijimenezv @angelicthor @betheboo55 @palaiasaurus64 @raxacoricofallapatoriuspotter @johnmurphys-sass @katbird787 @sexyvixen7 @jobean12-blog @justreadingfics @justareader @smoothdogsgirl @theliarone @aikibriarrose @timeladylaurel @badassbakers @earinafae @crushed-pink-petals-writes @tardis-is-mine @httpmcrvel @bucky2-0 @mocking-rain @sociallyimpairedme @jezzula @bless-my-demons @ign-is @indominusregina @-supernatural-coffee-llama @alwayshave-faith @shifutheshihtzu @mizzzpink @yknott81 @haven-in-writing @xtina2191 @reniescarlett @notsoprettykitty @wickedwerewolf @ayeputita @tatalopes23 @pineapplebooboo @mizzezm @thefridgeismybestie @memory-of-a-goldfish @supernatural-girl97 @standing-onthe-edge @ruinerofcheese @mysweetcookie99

#through his eyes #kale writes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #winter soldier x reader #marvel fanfic

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apples-r-rubbish · 4 years ago

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Institute (13th Doctor x reader) Part 5

Summary: You’re on the run, no doctor, no time. Word Count: 2.4k AN: I’m going to be taking a lil break after the next chapter, just as I’m moving and I need time to adjust sorry -L x Warnings: none i think Tags: @startrekkingaroundasgard @penguinwithitsarseonfire

(PART 1) (PART 2) (PART 3) (PART 4) (PART 6) (PART 7) (PART 8) MASTERLIST

Panic. Screaming. Wind. Noise. Fear. Tense breathing. More screaming. More panic.

“Hold on!” Graham shouted over the monstrous amount of noise. Ryan found a panel and somehow managed to fly the plane on his phone. You were too shaken to understand. O. The plane was finally level. The Master. You were shaking. Nothing really sunk in. You blinked and you were helped off the plane by the worried trio. You snuck past the guards as Barton spoke to someone official looking. You were in Essex according to Ryan, and now that you were off the plane things had finally begun to fall into place within your mind. You were being stared at by everyone.

“It’s hard not to stand out, when we look like this,” Ryan groaned frustrated at the suit

“We’ve just been on a night out and we’re going home, that’s all,” Yaz reassured a soothing voice trying to calm you all down. Your phone went off, as did the others. Cautiously you answered it. Barton. “Hello, friends. What, did you think I wouldn't be able to track you? We have your numbers, e-mails, GPS. I even know how many more stamps you need for a free coffee. So close, Ryan. Or should I say Logan? Look up.” You did as he said. On a screen above you all your faces were displayed, claiming you were dangerous. More cursing. “Your passports have been revoked, bank accounts frozen,” Barton continued “We have a record of everyone you know - friends, family, colleagues, everyone you ever followed on social media. Of course, we have cameras everywhere, and now you're wanted for hijacking. Go off the grid see how long you’ll last,”

In a panic, Ryan smashed his phone, Yaz attempted to call her mum and Graham froze. “Oh and Yazmin is attempting to call her mum, how sweet,” He spat sarcastically. Yaz had rambled into the phone briefly for a second before Ryan grabbed the phone and stomped on it, he did the same with your phone and Graham’s. Then you ran.

You had finally settled on a building estate, hours late. Bones aching, out of breath and tired.

“No CCTV we should be safe for now,” Graham said, clearly weary from the day. You filled into a half built house. You took a seat on a sort of wall as did the others

“How do we know we can trust you?” Ryan asked suddenly “We don’t know you. The Doctor trusted O, and he betrayed us, how do we know you won’t?”

“You don’t.” You replied shortly “I’m an outsider. You’ve seen me what? Twice before today? Three times because one of them hasn’t happened to me yet. You don’t know you can trust me. But you have to. If I wanted to turn on you, if I had malicious intent I would have ran off with the master, but I didn’t.”

“Who are you really? O said you were a missing person,” Yaz asked inner police woman jumping forward

“I am. Technically. I was recruited by people I know very little about to do a job, told me it was important so I took the role. Wiped me from my old life, gave me a new one,” “How come the Doctor didn’t recognise that person? Surely you would recognise someone like that?”

“Their species, they have a way of cheating death, burn up every cell in their body, change their face and who they are. The Doctor used to be a man, we have 12 other faces on file. The master also can do that, same species same thing,”

“Who was he?”

“Well, do you remember Harold Saxon? That used to be him,”

“What- I voted for him!” Graham exclaimed

You examined the looks on their faces, “You want to know about my future don’t you, you want to put the pieces together, but she’s said you can’t tell me. One question won’t kill me,”

“You mentioned you were going to die on another planet? How would you know something like that?” Yaz wondered

“This, this interaction. Time isn’t linear. It’s more a big lump, as time travellers, we jump in and out at various points, things aren’t linear things can be changed and rewritten. Surely she told you that?”

“She doesn’t exactly tell us a lot. Who are you to her really?”

“I’m no one important, I think, I don’t know. I get pieces in passing. A bit like a conversation you aren’t a part of yet, just occasional whispers. Her late wife visited me once, and told me to keep track of everything. Keep journals and notes, telling me it would help make things easier, clearer. She was in a similar position, they met when she died and they kept meeting, bumping into each other, in the wrong order, fell in love, nearly destroyed the universe,” You explained “The doctor trusts me and I trust the doctor. Good enough for me. Also we went on a date,”

“Since we’re admitting things, I stole some of the gadgets from MI6, I’m wearing the laser shoes. Before you ask, no I didn’t read the instructions,” Graham laughed

“I took the rocket cufflinks too,” Ryan smiled

“You utter doughnuts, all of you. But there’s no one I’d rather be on the run with,” Graham turned to you “Even you, you seem to know a lot and I trust you. You’re on the same wavelength as the Doctor and that’s good enough for me.”

“Did you hear that?” There was a noise, and light. Kasaavin. You stepped out the building one by one.

“The shoe, use the shoe,” Ryan urged

“What?”

“Just stomp or something!” Graham did. A bolt hit a nearby streetlight.

“Your aim is terrible,”

“Graham, just dance.” He did and a few bolts hit the figures. You grabbed the others hands and ran.

The sun was coming up, you hadn’t slept for about 36 hours and whilst Yaz made a phone call, you and Ryan leant against each other in a desperate attempt to stay awake. She hung up suddenly as a car pulled up. Men stepped out, threatening you. Graham came up behind them and waved his laser shoe dramatically

“-and don’t make me do the soft-shoe shuffle!” He stated over dramatically, as you got into the car. You had decided to drive

“Are you sure you’re going to be safe? Driving, I mean, 36 hours is a lot-” Yaz began cautiously

“I’ll be fine. I once stayed a awake for a week on some planet so I could do my job, and the days were 25 hours, this is nothing,” You joked

“Can we go to the institute? Surely they’ll keep us safe?”

“No, they won’t. Anything linked to present day criminal activity immediately gets you dropped. We deal with time, you so much as breathe wrong you’re dropped,” You explained, “We have to follow their GPS.” You sped off

The hanger was cold and empty. There was a single figure on a chair along with a stand and a screen, you rushed to it.

“Is she still?” Ryan asked, not wanting to say the word. You checked for a pulse, she was cold. You shook your head, “No she isn’t. She hasn’t been for a while, a few hours, at most, I think.” Barton appeared on the screen.

“Well done overpowering my people. But did you really think they wouldn't tell me? I have a significant announcement to make, and you, my friends, are two steps behind. As usual,” He mocked

“So what are you? Part alien or something?” Graham asked

“You really don't understand who I am. I build things. I test them. So I let them test a tiny part of me. And now it's time for the global roll-out. I'm proof of concept,”

“As the head of the Bad Wolf institute, I have to ask, what are you testing? Why don’t you stop with the theatrics and murder? Make my job the tiniest bit easier,” You asked, temper flaring

“Look after my mum.” The call ended. You went to hit the screen and decided against instead choosing to make a loud noise.

“He killed his own mum,” Yaz breathed

“And abandoned her, in a hanger, to rot,” You stated, formal tone back. The screen came on once again, this time to an image of Barton giving a talk.

“-We told you, of course your lives are private, of course your data's safe. And you believed us. You kept clicking Agree. And now, we can do anything. I can send a text to every device on this planet.”

“Something doesn’t make sense, I’m missing something, I’m being stupid. God why does lack of sleep does this,” You grumbled. A message flashed up on the screen. Humanity is over, you have three minutes to prepare. The statue started spinning.

“Funny, right? Except, not a joke. We are way past peak human. We've created systems that are smarter and can run more efficiently than we do. So what's our purpose? We must be useful for something. Well, the data tells us we are. We can repurpose. Well, you all can. You know the most efficient type of hard drives on Planet Earth? Humans. Human DNA can store so much data. We're the perfect storage system, which means there are over seven billion potentially incredibly useful hard drives on this planet. All that's needed is to reformat the whole of humanity. Luckily, there's an app for that.” Barton chuckled, tone sinister.

The room was filled with light. The Kasaavin. The hangar door swung open. The master.

“Move away. Now! I've just had the most infuriating seventy seven years of my life. Have you any idea how hard it is to live through the 20th century? The places I've escaped from. Still, just in time to watch you all pay.” He grumbled, he looked aggressive like a wolf ready to attack.

“What is it? What the hell is that thing?” You asked, barely giving the others time to react

“Back with us I see? Aw shock was good look on you, shame the Doctor won’t get to see more of it,” He snarled “ If you must know, dear, it converts and transmits. We're transmitting Kasaavin energy around the world all at once into every device, hitting every human being and erasing all their DNA simultaneously. And it’s beautiful.” The energy grabbed Yaz, she couldn’t let go, you tried to pull her off, it wouldn’t move, she couldn’t budge.

“No use. It’ll take her, then you then you, and finally Miss Institute herself, a shame.” The machine stopped suddenly, the figures vanished.

“You were saying?” You replied smugly

“Sorry. I’ll admit I was close,” The doctor. Relief washed over you. She entered the hangar followed by two other women.

“Two can play at embedding things in history. I knew the Silver Lady was important, and that you built it for a reason, but I couldn't work out why. So I traced its movements through history. And when I saw that Barton now owned it, we stopped by his office. Middle of last year, using your Tardis, I built a fail-safe into that machine. Planted a virus. If it ever detected the massing of a Kasaavin army within its systems - total shutdown,” She explained. The room glowed again, circling everyone.

“Well Doctor, looks like you’re going to have to explain everything to them,”

“Look, I’ve rigged the Silver lady to send you back your own dimension. And that deal he made with you?” She pulled out her sonic and played a audio clip

‘Barton and these creatures do the dirty work, and once they're done, I get rid of them, having destroyed your precious human race in the process. Win-win-win.’

“Oh,” Was all the Master could manage to say

“Yes that’s your name, don’t wear it out,” She replied before the light increased. And with that the room was empty again, “Everyone alright? Everyone safe?” A chorus of yes sounded of from the group

“Miss me?” She asked a small but beautiful smile on her face, wrapping her arm around you

“Always,” You replied pressing a small kiss to her lip

“I hate to break up a sweet moment but I have questions. Who are they? And are we being replaced?” Graham asked

“Oh these are Noor and Ada, I’m dropping them off back in their timeline, like I could ever replace any of you.”

They were dropped off back in their respective times.

“So where to now?” The doctor asked, flipping a few switches

“The institute for me, I’m afraid,” You cringed, desperately wanting to stay

“What?” She suddenly looked up staring deep into your eyes, clearly hurt.

“I have to warm them, the Master is out there, and we have to prepare. We’ve barely managed to fix everything after the issues in 2015. I do want to stay, I truly do, but it’s hard and I have to look after them,” You avoided her eyes

“It’s ok I get it. Since we’re synced I can say this, whenever we meet up synced or not we have to go on a date, because we don’t know when it’s going to happen so we might as well enjoy it,” She wandered over to where you were stood

“Like time girlfriends?” “Time girlfriends,” She nodded. You kissed her cheek, and she smiled into it, hugging you tightly.

“Miss you already,” You joked taking steps out of the TARDIS and back into your office the day that you left.

“Are you ok? You’ve been a bit distant recently,” Yaz asked, breaking the Doctor from her thoughts. It had been a few months, since they’d seen you as a group.

“I’m fine,” She replied shortly

“You miss her don’t you?” The doctor ignored the question continuing to focus on the random buttons she was fiddling with. “Look, why don’t you take us to visit your home?”

“Can’t. Shouldn’t. You’ll ask too many questions. It’s boring. Why do you think I ran?” She explained, her usual answers combining into one, “but yes I miss her,”

#doctor who self insert #thirteen x reader #thirteen #thirteenth doctor #thirteenth doctor x reader #thirteenth Doctor imagine #doctor who x reader #doctor who x you #13th doctor #13th doctor x reader #13th doctor/reader #13th doctor/you

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theundercovermarvelfan · 4 years ago

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Whumptober 2020 - Day 11

Whumtober Challenge @whumptober2020

Day 11 Psych 101 Defiance | Struggling | Crying

Clint came awake with a gasp and a cry of pain, sitting bolt upright. He threw up his hands protectively as he scrambled backward until his back slammed into something solid. Then he froze, gasping and trembling, attempting to brace himself for the next attack…

Which never came.

Carefully, Clint squinted his eyes open, blinking hard as he struggled to take in his surroundings. The room was dark, pushing heavily in around him as he gasped desperately for breath. He listened hard for any kind of threat. Because there was a threat, it was out there, looming just out of sight, waiting for the right moment to attack him. He couldn’t let down his guard, not even for a second, or else that was it for him…

Everything around him remained still. Agonizingly slowly he began to regain control over his breath. Once he was able to stop fighting for oxygen, his mind slowly began to catch up with what was going on.

Which was nothing.

Clint took in an unsteady breath as he focused on the soft surface underneath him. A mattress. Something thin and flexible tangled around his ankles, that fell away as he shifted his feet. Blankets. He sighed heavily as he leaned his head back against the wall behind him.

“JARVIS? Can you turn on the lights? Slowly.”

“Of course, Agent Barton,” JARVIS’ voice floated over him as Clint’s bedroom slowly lightened around him.

Clint concentrated on his breathing, slowly inhaling through his nose and then carefully exhaling through his mouth. He flexed his fingers, trying to work out the tingling feeling and then scrubbed his hands over his sweaty face.

Damnit. This never got easier.

Clint was no stranger to nightmares that bled over after he woke up. He had suffered from night terrors ever since he was a kid. And these days, in his line of work, post-traumatic stress was a constant companion when he wasn’t on mission. He dealt with it better these days, but after an especially difficult mission he would still have bad nights.

Bad nights like tonight.

Clint had spent almost two weeks in captivity before the Avengers had rescued him during their last mission. He had spent another week on the hospital floor of the Avengers Tower and he had finally convinced the doctors to release him just two days ago. Physically, he was healed. But apparently, mentally he still had a little ways to go.

Finally, Clint mechanically pushed himself out of his bed. He paused, making sure that he felt steady before he tried to move. He ended up shucking off his shirt, which was drenched through with sweat, and pulling on a clean one. Then he headed out of the bedroom and into the main part of the apartment.

After the battle in New York, Tony had converted Stark Tower into Avengers Tower and had built it out so that each member of the team got their own floor to call home. Clint still felt like his space was unnecessarily large, but he was slowly getting used to it.

He shuffled into the kitchen and with movements that were slowly becoming familiar, he found the cabinet with the drinking glasses on the first try and then moved to the sink to fill it. He braced one hand on the side of the sink as he sipped the water, letting it ground him firmly back into reality.

He downed two glasses of water before he started to feel more stable. He glanced around the apartment. He was still too anxious to go back to bed. He ran a hand that was still trembling slightly through his hair. He needed to get out some of this energy before he had any chance of getting any more sleep tonight.

He turned and headed toward the front door of the living space, padding along in his socked feet. The other half of his floor in the tower was an elaborate and high tech shooting range. It was by far his favorite space in the entire tower. He had spent many nights in the range when he wasn’t able to sleep. Shooting his bow and arrow has always been therapeutic for him. But as he stood outside the door he found himself feeling… nothing. He stared blankly at the door as if he had never seen it before. The thought of going in there and practicing suddenly didn’t appeal to him at all.

Clint sighed heavily as he ran a hand over his face, frustrated. It was like his mind was finally mounting a final rebellion against him, bent on anything he used to find enjoyable away from him.

Without a solid idea of what he was going to do, he suddenly found himself making his way down the hallway to the elevator. He entered the elevator and without a conscious thought, he hit the button for the Avenger’s shared common floor. He shifted unsteadily as the elevator smoothly descended. When the elevator doors opened, he automatically stepped out.

“Well, look who decided to join the party.”

Clint looked up in surprise, glancing around the floor. Tony had spoken to him from where he stood behind the bar on one side of the room, leaning over heavily on one elbow as he sipped brown liquid from a glass. Steve turned to look over the back of the couch at the elevator. Natasha paused her pacing in front of the couch in order to look over at him.

“Are you okay?” Natasha asked, concerned.

“Um, yeah,” Clint mumbled, through off balance by the turn of events. “I just couldn’t… um…”

“Couldn’t sleep?” Steve supplied. Clint nodded and Steve gave him a sympathetic smile as he patted the couch. “Join the club.”

As Clint carefully crossed the room, he looked critically at his teammates. They all had mirrored bags under their eyes, haunted and tired looks behind their gazes. Clint took a seat on the couch and not five minutes later Bruce turned up, that haunted look to him. Even Thor eventually showed up.

The group chatted about nothing in particular. They watched random sitcom reruns on tv. They shared snacks and drinks. And finally, just before four in the morning, one by one they each drifted off as they were draped lazily over the various couches and overstuffed chairs in the living room.

The demons that Clint carried from doing the work that he did would never really leave him. But that night showed him that he wasn’t the only one who carried a heavy burden. And, with that knowledge, the burden suddenly didn’t seem as heavy as it used to.

#whumptober2020 #no.11 #psych 101 #struggling #Avengers #MCU #fic #post traumatic stress disorder tw #post traumatic stress tw #nightmares tw #panic attack tw #clint barton #hawkeye #fanfiction #whump

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centralmobilitysblog · 4 years ago

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the--sad--hatter · 6 years ago

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Name Calling (14)

FANDOM - MARVEL MCU

PAIRING - BUCKY X READER (female reader, no physical descriptions)

WARNINGS - ALL OF THEM, SMUT, VIOLENCE ANGST

DESCRIPTION - In which the ongoing and bloody war of words between you and Bucky turns in your favor when a disgruntled one night stand of his lets slip a secret when you run into her in the elevator… Now you have all the ammunition you need to destroy your enemy but you don’t plan on killing him quickly. Oh no, Bucky Barnes was going to suffer and you were going to enjoy every second. You just didn’t count on how much you would enjoy it.

MASTERLIST

Chapter Fourteen - Safe As Houses

By the time the rest of The Avengers arrived at the Blue Moon the fight was over. Tony landed on the sidewalk outside the club, amongst the police cars and officers and ignored them all, heading straight over to Natasha and Clint.

“Where is my daughter?” Tony demanded.

“Safe.” Natasha said with a placating tone.

“Good but not what I asked.”

“She’s not here, she left.” Clint said.

“Don’t fuck with me Barton, where the hell is my daughter.”

“We’re telling you all we can tell you Stark. she’s safe and she’s not here.”

Tony was rightfully agitated.

“She was here on a date, he turned out to be Hydra. We were forced to fight back and we got her out, she’s gone dark for her own safety. That’s all you can know Tony.” Natasha explained.

“Why is that all I can know, this is MY kid we’re talking about.” He protested furiously.

“Because of the accords.” Wanda cut in.

Tony looked between the three of them scornfully.

“What is really going on here?” He asked.

“She knows Docherty is working with Hydra Tony.” Natasha revealed.

“And how does she know that?”

“I told her.” Natasha said simply.

“What the hell gave you the right to tell her that?” He snarled.

“What gave you the right to keep it from her?” Natasha rebutted.

“You know there are things she can’t know about!”

“This isn’t one of them. This is something she had to know about, she was going to go after him with or without our help and if I didn’t tell her then she would have walked into a trap.” Natasha said carefully.

“So you told her the man she hates most is hunting her and you did what, helped her honey trap a Hydra agent? Great plan Romanov.” He barked furiously.

“You, Docherty and Hydra all have something in common Stark. You all underestimate her. Vernichtung is not the only part of her that makes her dangerous. She is capable of saving herself and if you don’t allow her to do just that you’ll only push her away.” Wanda snapped.

“You two need to stop projecting your own issues onto her.” Tony yelled, gesturing between Wanda and Natasha.

“I think perhaps you need to accept that while you may love her more than anyone else could you do not understand her the best.” Wanda returned.

“What I do understand is you three orchestrated a mission that was unsanctioned by The UN without clearing it with me or Cap and now my daughter is out there, alone.”

Natasha, Wanda and Clint shared innocent looks.

“Like Nat said, She was here on a date, he turned out to be Hydra. We were forced to fight back and we got her out, she’s gone dark for her own safety.” Clint said.

“And she’s not alone, Barnes is with her.” Natasha added.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The safehouse was actually a converted warehouse. It had a large kitchen/living area and a locked off basement where you assumed Bucky had stashed your prisoner. You wandered upstairs and found the bedrooms. Halfway down the hallway you realised you’d been leaving little pink footprints behind you.

Your feet were scratched to hell and you grumbled as you searched the en-suite of the biggest bedroom for a first aid kit. You rinsed your feet off and thankfully there were no deep cuts so you decided against bandaging them. So long as you didn’t go outside barefoot again they wouldn’t start bleeding again.

Once that was taken care of you started hunting for clothes. You hadn’t exactly prepared for this impromptu trip but to your surprise and suspicion there was a black gym back with your name on it in the bottom of the closet. There was also one with Natasha’s name on it. She must have prepared this place in case of emergencies.

You dug through the bag and found a bunch of plain back clothing in your general size, as well as a pair of combat boots and some toiletries. Natasha didn’t generally do things by half, and you were fairly certain she wouldn’t have packed you a bag without putting in your exact shampoo brands. You suspected that there was a to go bag for all the Avengers in the various rooms. So who would go to all this trouble and make sure everyone had supplies?

Bucky stormed into the room behind you without knocking.

“You can’t just throw out something like that and then walk off.” He protested.

“I’m not in the mood to talk out our issues, I want to torture that man downstairs for information. First, I’m going to get this stupid dress off.”

“That’s not going to happen. I’ll be doing that.”

“I beg your pardon?”

Bucky had the good grace to blush.

“The torturing, I’ll be doing the torturing.” He quickly amended.

“I caught him, he’s after me.”

“Have you ever actually tortured anyone?”

“Well no, but everyone’s got to start somewhere.”

“No, actually they don’t. Not everybody and certainly not you.” He said firmly.

“Because I’m a paragon of innocence...” You said bitterly.

“Even as Vernichtung you have only ever killed Hydra agents. You’ve never spilt innocent blood.”

“That man down there is not innocent Bucky, he’s a Nazi overlord wannabe.” You pointed out.

“There’s a difference between taking somebody out and purposely inflicting pain on them.”

“So you don’t think I can handle it, that’s it?”

“I think you don’t have to. You admire me for using the bad in past to do good, don’t start trying to take away my opportunities to do just that.” He said cockily.

You narrowed your eyes in annoyance. It hadn’t taken him more than half an hour to throw your little confession back in your face.

“Get the fuck out and go do your little Soviet Assassin act. See if I care.” You snapped at him.

“I will, but we are going to finish this conversation later.” he warned you before he left.

You cocked your head and listened to him go into another room and start rummaging. You quickly pulled the soaking wet, ruined dress of and slipped into a pair of jeans and a shirt. You had to move quickly. Slipping out of the room you ran to the stairs when Bucky opened his door and poked his head out.

“What are you doing?” He said suspiciously.

You looked back at him smugly and grabbed the bannister, vaulting over it and landing softly on the main floor. You heard bucky swear and call your name as you ran over to the basement door. At the bottom of the stairs there was, as you had suspected, a large metal door. You rushed towards it, sliding it open and you saw Bucky’s furious expression only a few feet behind you as you slammed it shut on him. You quickly barred it shut as his metal fist slammed into it.

“Open this fucking door right now!” He yelled.

You ignored him and sauntered over to your prisoner who had been dumped in a metal chair and handcuffed to it and gagged. He was awake and glaring at you hatefully. You slipped your finger under the gag and pulled it down. Placing yourself behind him you leaned down and whispered in his ear.

“I have some questions for you before my acquaintance breaks down that door, and neither of us want him to hear what you have to say do we?”

“And why is that?” He spat.

“Because when you tell me where Docherty is, and you will… We don’t want the Avengers accompanying me to the reunion do we?”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Steve caught Natasha’s arm and dragged her away from the centre of the room where Tony was yelling.

“You have ten seconds to explain to me why I shouldn’t tell Tony I just got an alert that someone just used the security code to enter my safehouse.” He told her.

“Barnes will call if he needs you, until then you should let them figure things out alone. And if you were going to tell Tony, you already would have.” She smirked.

“What game are you playing at Natasha? Unsanctioned missions, going behind my back, sending her away? What’s your end goal?”

“I want to give the Kotonok what she wants. She wants the same thing you always did. To put an end to the bullies. Docherty is the biggest bully there is and she needs to be able to face him.”

“I’m smart enough to know you’re manipulating me Natasha.” He warned.

“Of course I am, but that doesn’t change the fact it’s also true. You trust Barnes more than anybody, trust him to help her. She needs him with her on this but she doesn’t need us. We’ll only get in the way.”

“If this blows up on us...”

“It probably will. Things aren’t going to be simple but the end result is all that matters.”

“They have twelve hours and then I’m telling Stark.”

“That should be more than enough.” She conceded.

He clenched his jaw and nodded, walking away.

“Hey Cap?” She called.

He turned back and looked at her expectantly.

“Thank you for trusting me with this.”

“Consider it payback for all the times you’ve had my back.” he told her with a fond smile.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

When he kicked the door down the first thing he saw was you standing at the side of the room. There was a table covered in sharp objects and medical supplies in front of you. Torture supplies, drugs to make them weaker or more compliant, bladed and scalpels to make them bleed. Thankfully the prisoner was where he had left him, unharmed.

“I can’t. I don’t want to. You were right.” You told him as you rushed past him and up the stairs.

He followed, propping the broken door back into place and found you stood in the middle of the space, looking lost.

“It’s not a sin to have compassion. Not being able to torture somebody doesn’t make you weak.” He said softly.

“You were wrong. When you said I’d never spilled innocent blood.” You whispered.

Bucky didn’t say anything, he had a feeling silence and listening would serve him better in this situation.

“I think I killed my mother. She died the day I was born so...” You wiped away a traitorous tear.

He was surprised to learn you had a mother, but it made a certain amount of sense. Docherty wanted you to be a weapon, not a person.

“It doesn’t mean she died giving birth, for all you know Docherty had her terminated once he had what he wanted from her.” As soon as he said it he winced.

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” You snapped.

“It was but I’m not great at comforting people anymore.” He admitted.

Maybe once he would have known how to handle this situation. Then again how was he supposed to make the woman he could barely admit to himself he didn’t actually hate feel better about something like this?

“How do you think I learned how to fight? By practising. I never killed anybody but I still fought them, because he made me. That’s what I told myself. But I stood up to him when he tried to make me a killer, no matter what he did I said no. I was capable of saying no. But I still hurt them, to save myself a bit of pain.” You hung your head in shame.

“You’re right, you could have said no. Then he would have probably killed them himself anyway, or worse. There wasn’t a right decision to be made, you did the best you could with what you had and you did better than most people could have done.” He told you honestly.

“Stop trying to justify it. You can’t.”

“I’m not. You’ve done horrible things and had horrible things done to you. You’re capable of much worse and unless you hold yourself back you could create untold chaos. You aren’t a monster but you easily could be. Those are just the facts.” He said plainly.

You looked up at him then, confusion and hurt flickering across your face.

“I’m not going to walk on eggshells around you or treat you like some perfect little princess like everybody else does. But don’t expect me to see you as a monster just because that’s how you see yourself.” He decreed.

“That monster is real, It’s inside me all the time. My mind is like quicksand and unless I fight it I’ll get pulled under and lost while it runs free. Hundreds of people died screaming, alone and in pain so he could create that monster and he’ll do anything to set it loose on the world. If killing him turns me into a monster, at least it’s not the one he created.” You told him.

“You’re really willing to become that person, one consumed with vengeance, to kill him?”

“I have too. It’s justice.”

“Doesn’t make it right.”

“You are aware that you sound like a hypocrite right? You’re treating me the same way the rest of them do, just in your own harsh, mean way. You’re trying to protect me.” You pointed out.

“Yes, I am, because I’m afraid for you. If you find him, if you manage to survive it and you get to him then killing him won’t fill that void inside you. It won’t take away that pain. No amount of killing will.”

“So what do I do?”

“You work with us, you let us help you find him. We bring him to justice, throw him in a cell and leave him to rot. And you keep going, keep living.” He said.

“You’re not going to let me kill him are you?” You asked sadly.

“You’ll thank me one day doll.”

“No, I won’t.” Your voice was hard and your stance changed, you back straightening.

Realisation dawned on him.

“You know where Docherty is don’t you?” He asked.

“I do.” You confirmed.

Bucky sighed. He wasn’t going to let you walk out of that door and you knew it.

“Don’t do this.” He pleaded.

“Don’t make me.” You rebutted.

You carefully edged away from him, towards the front door and he followed. You threw yourself to the side and made a run for it and he leapt after you, grabbing your arm and pulling you back. You tried to throw your elbow back and into his face but he ducked, wrapping his metal arm around your waist and holding you against his chest.

“We can fight if you want sweetheart but I won’t be holding back and you’ll lose. I have 70 years of training on you.”

“You spent most of that in a freezer.” You sputtered, digging your heel into his shin and throwing yourself forwards with all your bodyweight.

Bucky’s metal arm didn’t let up and all you succeeded in was wriggling a few inches away. He chuckled at your attempts and he started dragging you backwards, towards the basement.

“Stop struggling. I’m not letting you go.”

“You don’t have a choice.”

Your hands fumbled at his belt for a brief second and you shoved a stolen knife into his shoulder blade, just past the metal. He grunted in pain and released you. He looked at the knife in shock and back to your semi guilty expression. You hadn’t stabbed him deeply, just enough to make him release you and it would probably heal quite quickly but you had still stabbed him.

“You are going to pay for that.” He warned and slammed into you.

Your body crashed into the wall cracking the plaster and he wrapped his flesh hand around your throat, holding you there. Your feet were dangling off the ground as you struggled for air. You got one of your legs between your bodies and pushed, forcing him to stumble back. You landed lightly on your feet and punched where you had shoved him away with your foot, right in the solar plexus.

Now both of you were struggling for breath.

“Are you really going to beat the hell out of me just to stop me leaving?” You asked.

“Only if you’re going to beat the hell out of me to get away.” He returned.

You growled and struck out, aiming for his face and he ducked under your arm and grabbed it and twisted. You’re back was against his chest again and you threw your head back, the back of your skull connecting with the stab wound in his shoulder. He winced but didn’t let you go. He grabbed your other arm and held it still lest you try and steal another weapon from him.

You wriggled and struggled against him, further twisting your own arm dangerously. He would either have to let you go or he was going to snap your arm.

“Stop it, you’re going to hurt yourself.” He admonished.

“I’m willing to bet you’ll back down before I do.” You taunted.

You purposely twisted your arm in his grasp, pushing it round behind your back at an obscene angle and he could feel the bones creak. He released you and you spun round, your fist cracking into his face. He could feel the bruise start to form straight away and knew that he would have a hell of a black eye. He grabbed your wrists in his hands and strode forward, bodily pushing you against the wall. He trapped your legs by pushing his hips against you.

“ENOUGH.” He roared.

Hurting him was one thing but you were willing to hurt yourself to get away. He ground his teeth as he glared down at you. Your breath was laboured and your chest was heaving as you glared back at him.

“That’s enough.” He repeated, quieter this time but just as furiously.

His blood was boiling as he saw you narrow your eyes at him and open your mouth to respond and something came over him, something that consumed him and all his inhibitions. He leaned his head down and fiercely pushed his lips against yours.

There was nothing tender or affectionate about it as he pressed his body into yours further, his grip on your wrists tightening almost painfully. He poured every ounce of rage and hatred into the kiss and took every bit you poured back. Your lips were sinfully soft as he took the bottom one between his teeth and nipped, sucking the sharp pain away when you gasped. He could feel the heat of your skin against his own burning flesh and it was a wonder the two of you didn’t combust as he released your wrists so he could tangle his fingers in your hair, pulling your head back and giving him better access.

He felt your fingertips brush across his chest as it travelled up and you wrapped one arm around the back of his neck and he groaned into your mouth at the sensation of you holding him tightly. Every one of his senses was overwhelmed by you, the smell of your hair, the feel of your flesh and the taste of your mouth against his. He should have been wondering where your other arm was. There was a sharp pinching sensation in his thigh he ignored until he stumbled backwards, his head spinning and his vision flickering. He looked down blearily to see you holding a syringe.

You’d slipped one into your pocket in the basement and waited for the opportunity to use it on him so you could make your escape he realised. The last thing he saw as he fell to the ground was your tears as you caught him, lowering him gently. His eyes closed and he heard your voice echoing through the darkness swiftly over taking him.

“I’m so sorry James.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

I know you probably want to hurt me right now but you don’t know my name or where I live thankfully....

@nerdandproud-86 @harrison-shot-first @chook007@thejourneyneverendsx @thelostallycat @inquisitor-selvala@the-corruptor @iovher @kendrawr-kitkat @phoenix-whiskey-tears @the–real-wombat @buckitybarnes @fairislesheets@angieptt @meganjonezzzz

@dugan365 @fluffeh-kitty @memanda17 @krystallynx@theonelittleone

@piscesbarnes @free-as-fishes @tarastudiesalot@captainamericasbeard

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beautiful-eulogy · 4 years ago

Text

So I realized that not everyone wants to click a link for A03 or another site to read a fic, and sometimes its much easier to read things when they are in a post! So I will post the chapters for my fics in separate posts as well! I will tag all chapters to their appropriate fics to keep them organized in their own tags so they are easier to find. I will also post appropriate trigger warnings and other related things in tags! Thank you all for your comments, feedback, and likes as they help me and warm my heart! So enough of my rambling...here is the first chapter of my first fic PETALS FOR ARMOR! I hope you enjoy and let me know if you do!!!

One: Ready or Not

Avengers Compound 11 PM

Natasha settles back into her chair slowly, inhaling deeply the aroma coming from the steaming cup of tea in her hands. She’s hoping the strength and warmth of the tea eases the dull throbbing pain now residing underneath her right temple, or at the very least that it will distract her from it. She forgot how much sparring with Clint could hurt when she let the rare accidental misstep happen in the ring.

The blow to her head that was already in the early stages of bruising, hurt less than the blow to her pride. If there was one person she relished the opportunity to spar with it was Clint, because while his senses are the sharpest of any man she knew, they have never been as keen as her own. Not when it comes to close combat anyway. He always gives her one hell of a fight, but is never quite capable of physically outmaneuvering her...well almost never. On the rare, one in a thousand sparring matches where she miscalculates ever so slightly, Clint with his ever vigilant keen eyesight, will seize the final blow—and Natasha suffers the consequences until the next spar. Not physical consequences, as she has always healed quickly due to her enhanced nature, but the fact that she must endure endless teasing from her best friend about how the famous Black Widow was bested by someone who, while feared for his long range attacks, is a few ticks below her when it comes to hand-to-hand combat.

Clint knows that he is the only person in the world who can get away with teasing her about a loss without suffering her wrath fully, because he knows that she knows that his opinion of her is not truly altered. Natasha knows deep down that none of her teammates would think any less of her ever for a loss, and even deeper down she secretly loves the teasing and joking from the team because it makes them feel more and more like her family. But she can’t let that enjoyment be known otherwise the boys would dial down out of shock and switch to new tactics to annoy her. So Natasha maintains her carefully curated annoyance, which she currently is building up to counter Clint in the morning at breakfast.

Tomorrow she’ll be ready for round two, and her chance to reclaim her title as the resident reigning champion of sparring. But for now she sips her tea, thinking about her best friend, and the look on his face tomorrow when she knocks him on his ass in front of every Avenger in the compound. Every bruise will be worth that moment. She smiles as she finishes off the cup, and rises to shower before turning in. She has a feeling that tomorrow is going to be a good day.

* * *

6 AM

Natasha awakes the next morning as she always does, relishing in a nice stretch after her eyes creak open at six on the dot. She has always prided herself in the accuracy and efficiency of her internal clock. It’s developed over a lifetime of rigorous training and time sensitive missions, and it never fails to wake her early. Even on her days off. A blessing and a curse because she never gets a day to sleep in even if she’s up late, but she also gets the facility to herself for a few hours before everyone else begrudgingly wakes and stumbles to the kitchen for breakfast. This precious alone time gives her the breathing room she needs to eat, do her morning workout, and shower in peace before any of the compounds other inhabitants are up. It allows her the freedom to just be Natasha and not Black Widow for a few hours.

With her mind on the ticking minutes of her coveted time alone, she rises and makes her way down to the kitchen in the first floor living area to enjoy eating her breakfast of mixed fruit, yogurt, cinnamon oatmeal, summer sausage, eggs, and black coffee in her pajamas. Once the team is awake, the boys usually deplete the kitchen supplies and hog the meat, so she enjoys the opportunity to eat her fill and energize herself for the day ahead while surrounded by peace and quiet. After cleaning her plate and putting the dishes and utensils back in their proper places, she makes her way back up to the second floor and into her room to change for her morning workout.

Donning her favorite tank top and leggings, Natasha moves to the fully outfitted gym that Tony so graciously built to be the entire left wing of their new headquarters. The first floor branching off of the kitchen housed their sparring ring, weights, boxing equipment, and anything else required for hand-to-hand combat training. The second floor, just off the hallways containing their bedrooms, is a fully padded mile running track that encircled and looked down on the floor below and could be converted into an obstacle course when needed. The third floor, located off of the labs, offices, and conference rooms, is an area designed for aerial combat and flight training. The roof here is domed to allow for flight pattern, aircraft simulations, and also maintains a visual on the floors below. Tony says the open floor plan is because he enjoys a nice scenic balcony and likes being able to see floor training, jogging, and flight practice all at the same time, but they all know it’s because he doesn’t want to constantly rebuild the floor every time the Hulk decides to smash in a fight.

Natasha’s destination is the second floor, in order to get a run in before doing some floor training. She loves beginning her morning with a ten-mile run to get her blood pumping and her mind and body focused. So she slips her earbuds in and takes off, easing up to her top speed within a few minutes and eventually cruising up past that speed to push herself and see if she can beat her own time. By the time she’s slowed to a halt after her final lap, she is drenched in sweat and can feel the beating of her pulse in her ears. She checks her watch—thirty seconds faster than yesterday. She smirks, guzzles some water from her bottle, and heads down to the ring to go a few rounds with the weighted dummies that Stark designed for her martial training.

After another forty-five minutes of punches, kicks, flips, and body slams, Natasha finally feels fully awake and can feel her senses sending signals through her body to keep her prepped for action and alert to changes around her. The Black Widow is awake and ready to face the day and any surprises it may bring. She glances at her watch and knows she has just enough time to shower and get back to the main room before the boys arrive to hungrily devour a morning meal. With a smile on her face and a lightness to her step, Natasha bounds to her room to clean up and spend the day with her family.

9 AM

Natasha makes it back downstairs to the common areas by nine o’ clock as one by one, her housemates trickle in to begin eating. Steve, Bucky, Rhodey, and Sam arrive first, drenched in sweat from their morning jog, and laughing as they swap stories about military life and “the good ole days”. They are followed by the Vision, Wanda, Bruce, and a still groggy Tony straggling behind, mumbling something about sleeping longer on his day off. Clint and Thor bring up the rear as they are the notorious late risers when the team is in downtime. Most of them are either in their civilian clothes (or pajamas, if you’re Tony). By nine-thirty, everyone has acquired their favorite foods and has settled at the massive dining table, joking and talking about plans for their off day. By ten o’ clock, Thor and Clint are locked in a cage match to see who can fit the most bacon in his mouth at once. By ten-thirty, everyone is laughing as Clint slumps over, looking on the verge of vomiting while Thor downs what must have been his hundredth piece of the morning with a victorious grin. Natasha rises from her place at the table and walks over to Clint’s regretful form and gives him a pat on the back.

“Clint, why do you always do this to yourself? You know that Thor has enough room in his stomach for the entire pig.”

He glances up about to respond, and for a moment it looks as if vomit may spew instead of words. “You know I can never turn away from a challenge”—he pauses to compose himself against the rising bile he’s visibly fighting—“but there’s always a chance he’s having an off day.” His eyes suddenly flash with mischief. “You know, like you were having last night?” At this quip, Natasha can see his shit-eating grin, and she knows he’s trying to rile her up to distract himself from his nausea. She maintains her composure and responds by simply digging her hand a little deeper into his shoulder, right near the pressure point between the shoulder blade and the neck.

“You may want to tread carefully, Barton. I’d hate to hurt you too much before tonight.” At her remark, the conversation at the table dies down as all their friends focus on their bickering with looks of amusement.

His smile shrinks to a smirk as he tries to play dumb. “Tonight? I’m not sure what you mean. I don’t have anything on the schedule for tonight.”

She digs a little deeper, not enough to seriously hurt him, but enough to give her partner the thrill of terror at her public challenge. “There’s nothing on the schedule because I’m adding it now. You. Me. Rematch. Tonight.”

He winces just slightly, and he feigns mulling over her offer just to annoy her—before returning to his casual smolder. “Alright, fine. If that’ll ease the infamous Black Widow’s pride at getting her ass handed to her, then sure. I can take another dance or two in the ring.” He extends his hand to her, waggling his eyebrows. “It’s a date. I’ll pick you up at seven?”

Natasha releases her grip while rolling her eyes, and reaches out her hand to shake his. Clasping his hand and forearm, she smirks and uses her weight to wrench him away from the table, arcing him over her head in a body slam. Letting go at the exclamations of “ooooh” from the table and the sound of Clint slapping the marble flooring, she rises. Natasha pretends to dust off, and as she begins to walk away, she retorts: “I’ll pick you up at six-thirty, dear, so practice your tango. I like my dancing fast and—”

Her snarky reply is interrupted by Maria Hill, exiting the elevator to the second floor and walking toward them. “Whatever date you’re planning, Romanoff, cancel it. Fury wants to speak with you in his office about...” She pauses. “An assignment.”

Maria looks no different than usual, but there is a subtle undercurrent in her voice that causes Natasha to hold back whatever retort she had been about to make about Fury always interrupting her plans. She notices all of this in only a moment, and she steels herself to respond with an assured tone. “Tell him I’ll be there in ten. Thanks Hill.”

Maria gives her a curt nod and a small smile that doesn’t quite touch her eyes, before turning around and heading back to the elevator. Natasha turns her attention back to the group, noticing Clint has scraped himself off the floor and is leaning casually against the kitchen counter several feet away. His eyes, as well as most of the others, bear into hers for a moment after Maria’s mandate. She smirks, trying to ease the sudden tension at the idea that something could be serious enough to call her in on their one day off. “Guess our rematch will have to wait.”

He stares a moment more before giving a patronizing chuckle. “That’s just as well, Nat. I didn’t want to kick your ass two days in a row.” He smirks. “That hardly seems fair.”

“Watch it, Barton. When I get back, you’ll regret those words.” He raises his eyebrows at her, and they both smile.

“You better get up there before the boss man gets antsy. We’ll save you a spot in the rink.”

She gives him a genuinely warm smile. “Thanks Clint.” She turns and walks to the elevator, hitting the button. She calls over her shoulder while she waits: “You all try not to get into too much trouble while I’m gone. I’d hate to come back to a mess!” She hears a chorus of scoffing and laughter as the elevator opens with a ding. Natasha enters and selects the third floor button. As soon as the doors close, she steels herself for what lies ahead. For Fury to only ask for her, and to see Hill so shaken—whatever this is, it’s serious, and that scares Natasha more than she would care to admit.

* * *

As soon as the elevator dings open to the third floor, Natasha is greeted by the surprised looks of several agents waiting outside the door. Agents usually give her a wide berth when it comes to work because they know she likes her space and isn’t one for small talk, so with a curt nod she easily steps through them and hangs a left toward Fury’s resident office space.

Neither he nor Hill live in the Compound, but they had both requested office space and rooms for the occasions when they find themselves needing to spend time there. Natasha spends the most time in Fury’s office because she’s the only one who technically still goes on assignments for him, so she doesn’t even need to think about where she’s going. She takes a right, walks to the end of the hall before going left, and walks all the way to the end of this corridor. Fury’s office is the last door on the left. He had requested a room with a view, so Stark put him overlooking the east field.

The office is significantly smaller than his S.H.I.E.L.D. office was, but it is just as clean and bare. No art, no office supplies, no filing cabinets. Just his desk, his black leather chair, and a computer. Fury stands at the window looking out when she reaches the open door. She knows that he knows she’s there, but she doesn’t enter. She just watches and waits for him to speak. He doesn’t turn or move, but after several moments of the silence between them, she hears his calm, collected voice.

“Come in, and close the door behind you, Natasha.” She hesitates only a fraction of a moment, contemplating the need for secrecy, but then she steps through the threshold and quietly closes the door behind her. She turns and waits but remains silent, choosing instead to watch him. His posture is relaxed and his breathing is even. Coupled with the calmness of his tone, anyone would say there was nothing wrong, but Natasha knew better than that. His hands are clasped behind his back, and his grip is ever-so-slightly too tight. That’s his tell. Something has Nick Fury concerned, and that in turn makes her very concerned.

He finally turns to look at her, his good eye appearing casual but reflecting a deep intensity only perceptible to someone with her training. He gestures toward the second chair in front of his desk as he moves to take his own seat. “Please sit, Agent Romanoff.”

She doesn’t move, but crosses her arms while looking directly at him, “The last time you were this bad at faking pleasantries, you got blown up in Rogers’ apartment. Cut the bullshit and tell me why I’m here on my day off, Nick.”

He smiles in his knowing way. “I have no idea what you’re referring to, Natasha. I’m always pleasant. Now please, have a seat. With what I’ve brought, you’re gonna wanna have a chair.”

She sighs with an eye roll but complies, settling into the cool leather of the chair. Fury takes this as his cue to proceed.

“We’ve had a breakthrough in an old case file I thought you’d want to know about. Officially, this record was destroyed, but I managed to make a copy before S.H.I.E.L.D. went underground.” He pulls an old, weathered file from his coat and slides it across the desk toward her. “You may remember this particular case because—well, you opened it.”

Natasha barely registers his words because she’s gone stiff looking at the number printed on the front of the file. Of course she remembered opening this investigation. There was a time where this case was her life’s work. She was sure she’d never see it again after all of her leads went cold eight years ago, and she’s not sure whether to be thrilled or terrified at Fury’s news that the trail has suddenly become warm. She had put her burning desire for vengeance to rest, and while finally receiving a potential line to retribution for all of her suffering sounded like her opportunity to earn her peace at long last, she is weary to open this door again. To allow the emotions she has worked so hard to bury deep to unleash their full power on her, to tantalize her with the chance to finally close this haunting chapter and cleanse her ledger of its red at the source. All of this thought over a plain manila folder, but to her, it is the most weighted in the world. Case RR-3016, the formal investigation she launched upon joining S.H.I.E.L.D.—to hunt down and destroy the Red Room.

* * *

#natasha romanoff #natalia alianovna romanova #natasha romanoff fan fiction #marvel #marvel fanfiction #avengers fanfiction #avengers #not really a fix it fic per se but a giving natasha a reality she derserves #trigger warnings for violence involving children and adults #including abuse fighting combat forced murder brainwashing and sterilization as well as suicidal thoughts and severe depression #but I promise there is also tons of fluff in store and so much joy and happiness through the angst!

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dyslexicsquirrel · 5 years ago

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Chapters: 1/2 Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark, Minor or Background Relationship(s) Characters: Steve Rogers, Tony Stark, Natasha Romanov (Marvel), Clint Barton, James Rhodes, Bruce Banner, Sam Wilson (Marvel), James "Bucky" Barnes Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Western, Marshal!Steve, blacksmith!Tony, Explicit Sexual Content

Stony Bingo N4

AU: Western

This is the last prompt I’m doing for Bingo (probably). There will be a second part posted on AO3 later, but if you don’t want to read the sex it ends after this lol

Tumbleweeds rolled past, the only movement detectable down the stretch of dirt road through the center of town. If you could call it that anymore. Not six months back this place had been thriving, talk of a new rail stop being built. Now it looked abandoned.

Steve directed his horse toward the saloon anyway. If someone was still here, it was a good chance they’d be at the Black Widow. Sure enough when he dismounted, the door swung open and Natasha walked out to greet him, six shooters hanging from her gun belt. She leaned a hip against the railing, arms crossed, waiting for him to hitch his mare. Star nickered at being tethered, but calmed when he patted her neck, and Steve followed behind Nat inside at her nod toward the door.

Natasha sat heavily in a chair, the same seat she’d most likely left to greet him judging by the bottle of whiskey and the half empty glass on the table next to it. She pushed a chair out for him with one booted foot. The glass was held out in offer when he sat, but Steve shook his head. Natasha shrugged, slugged the amber liquid back and set the glass down to refill her glass.

Steve set his hat on the table, feeling his brows rise watching his friend imbibe so heavily. She might own a saloon, but she was the type of woman who preferred to keep her wits about her. “What happened here?” He asked, glancing around the empty room for emphasis.

Leaning back in the chair, Nat kicked her feet up on the table, crossing them at the ankle, glass resting against her stomach. “Mine dried up. Most everyone left.”

“What about the railroad?”

“Didn’t come fast enough. Folks needed to make a living and left for greener pastures.” She smirked, adding, “So to speak.”

His lips twitched, though he shook his head. Wasn’t much else but desert outside. Few months a year when the rains came the landscape was greener, but still far from pasture or forests.

“Sorry to hear it,” he said and he was. This had been a nice town, but like many in the territories out this way, they were short lived destined to become ghost towns. More than half the population of Copper Butte had been employed by the mine. If the mine stopped producing and the company pulled out, a lot of people would have been out of work. Like Natasha said—folks needed to make a living. Nothing came for free, especially not out here. “Where’s Clint?”

She tipped her chin up. “Where d’ya think?”

Steve looked up and sure enough Clint was sitting on the second floor landing, legs stuck between the posts and hanging over the side with a shotgun across his lap. He waggled his fingers at Steve. Steve raised his hand back, gaze turning to Natasha once more. “If the town’s deserted, what’s with the fire power?”

“Never said it was deserted,” she answered cryptically.

Steve frowned. “Who’s still here? Besides you two, that is. Never did know when to quit.”

“Still hoping that rail line brings some people here. Besides,” she paused to take a drink. “Everything we got is sunk into this place. Got some savings, business was good for a while there, but…”

She trailed off, tipping her head to exchange a look with Clint. Steve could fill in the blanks. They had savings, but maybe not enough to start over somewhere else from scratch.

“As for who all’s still here.” Nat took a deep breath and rolled her head back in his direction. “The Sheriff. Doc is planning on sticking around as long as he can. Wilson didn’t want to leave the telegraph office unattended.”

She rolled her eyes at the last. Nat was a fighter, but Sam had been a soldier before he came out here to open the general store and man the telegraph office both. A soldier didn’t abandon his post; Steve understood that and wasn’t surprised to find he was still there.

Couldn’t say he was surprised about the sheriff, either. Rhodes took responsibility for this town when he took the job and wouldn’t give that up lightly. What he did find a bit surprising was that Banner hadn’t hightailed it back to civilization. The doctor was a city boy from a good family in Massachusetts—came out here with something to prove. Not that city folk couldn’t cut it in western territories, he was a city boy himself from New York, but he and Banner’d had very different upbringings. Steve hadn’t expected the man to last the year, as mild and gentle as he was. Even he could be wrong sometimes.

“Well, ‘spose I ought to go check in with the sheriff, then.” Rhodes was more likely to tell him whatever it was that Natasha was keeping close lipped about. Steve stood and donned his hat. “If I could get a room for the night, I’d appreciate it.”

“Take your pick. They’re all empty,” Natasha said with a smirk, not bothering to stand. “You can join us for dinner. Cook left, but it’ll be edible. Clint’ll take care of your horse.”

“I’d appreciate that, too.” Steve’s mouth curved in a crooked smile at the sound of Clint’s groan and he tipped his hat at the other man, turning for the door, spurs jangling softly. Nat’s next words stopped him before he stepped outside.

“The blacksmith is still here, too, if you were wondering.” He had been and by the sly note in her voice, Nat knew exactly why. She didn’t pull one of her guns on him, however, so he figured she didn’t find it too objectionable. She offered to eat with him and have him sleep under the same roof, after all. He nodded once without turning and stepped out into the shade of the overhang. His eyes were drawn down the main stretch of road where he knew Tony’s smithy was from having walked there many times, most recently when he rode through on his way to California.

Steve didn’t walk that way, though. He turned in the opposite direction for the sheriff’s office. Business before pleasure and all that.

By the time Steve made it to Tony’s place he was hot, sweaty and tired, dirt caked to places on his skin and co wrong his clothes, the days of travel catching up with him. He was sorely in need of a bath and a bed, but found his feet carried him here instead, his mind preoccupied with the conversation he had with Sheriffs Rhodes.

Steve hadn’t realized Hydra was out this way, last he’d heard they robbed a train in Indiana, but he must be out of the loop. The gang of outlaws had been terrorizing trains and stagecoaches from the Midwest to the Pacific for years without much luck in taking them down. More than a few of his fellow Marshalls had lost their lives to their guns. They took down one of ‘em and their ranks grew by three. The Marshal's department was always one step behind. He would need to wire Bucky and let him know the situation, maybe get him out here, though his friend wouldn’t agree with Steve’s decision to try and gather information or try to take them down.

Stopping outside the large doors to the smithy, Steve doffed his hat and used it to beat the worse of the road grime from his coat before stepping into the dim interior. Before his eyes had a chance to completely adjust to the low light, a flare of sparks and a clang off to the side drew his attention and his breath caught.

Tony was dressed in a thin shirt with the sleeves rolled, a heavy leather apron covered his chest and legs, thick leather gloves hid his ropey forearms from sight and goggles obscured his eyes. His shirt was almost see through in places from the sweat coating his skin and Steve was transfixed by the play of muscles in his back and shoulders as he wielded a hammer to manipulate a piece of metal into the shape he wanted.

Whether Steve made a noise that Tony heard over the din of metal work or he felt Steve’s eyes on him because he looked up, head turning in Steve’s direction. The hot, glowing metal went into a bucket of water, hissing and sending a ploom of steam into the air. Tony pushed the goggles up over his forehead, eyes looking as dark as the night of a new moon, fathomless and mysterious.

“Marshall,” Tony said, stripping his gloves off one by one to drop onto the table next to him. There was a question hidden in the set of Tony’s mouth and Steve’s brow furrowed at the formal address.

“Blacksmith,” he shot back, walking farther into the wide open space of the converted barn. “You didn’t leave with everyone else.” He pointed out the obvious, laying the statement down like a gauntlet. Tony was mad about something, agitation in the way he stripped off his apron and tossed it over top of the gloves, and it seemed to be directed at him, even though he wasn’t sure what the hell he’d done. They had parted on good terms or so Steve had thought.

“You know me, I’m not one to walk away from a challenge.” Like having no business because the town was all but deserted. Steve stopped in front of Tony, barely a foot separating them, staring down at the shorter man who crossed his arms and tilted his chin, cocky smirk firmly in place. From this distance, Steve could make out the dark circles under Tony’s eyes and the shadows in the brown depths. “‘sides, I didn’t want to leave without telling you. It would be rude.”

His mouth pulled down in a frown, turning those words over and over in his mind, trying to figure out what Tony meant because they were so loaded they had a weight behind them. When it hit him, like a punch to the head, Steve rolled his eyes. “I told you I was leaving at first light.”

“Could have woken me up,” came Tony’s petulant reply.

“Have you ever tried to wake you up, sweetheart?” Steve closed the remaining distance until their chests touched, hand lifting to cup Tony’s jaw even though he had his face turned away, looking at a point beyond Steve’s left shoulder. “You’re meaner than a rattlesnake that got stepped on.”

Those golden brown eyes that appeared like chocolate in the low light flicked to his. “A note would have worked if you were so scared of my bad mood.”

Tony was full of sass today and Steve had to fight the smile trying to break free. His hammer was still within reach, after all. Not that Steve actually though Tony would hit him with it, but threaten? Sure. Then Steve would have to work harder to sweeten him up.

“I’m sorry, I should have left a note.” Steve took it as a good sign when Tony didn’t pull away from the hand Steve placed on his hip. “I’ll do better next time. But I’d already stayed longer than I meant to. You’re hard to leave.”

Tony harumped, but laid a hand on Steve’s chest, under his vest so the only thing separating their skin was the fabric of Steve’s shirt, leaned his forehead against Steve’s sternum before straightening, nose wrinkled. “You stink like horse and dirt.”

“I’m telling Star you said she stinks.”

“Don’t you dare.” Tony glared up at him. “That beast already hates me.”

“She does not. She’s just a mite prickly sometimes, like someone else I know.”

“You had better be talking about Natasha or you can sleep alone tonight.”

Steve huffed a laugh, nipped at Tony’s lower lip before claiming his mouth in a kiss. Lord, how he’d missed this man. Their facial hair rasped together, the short hairs covering Tony’s cheeks felt so much different against the palms of his hands than the hair on his head when Steve moved from cupping one to gripping the other.

It’d been six months since they’d touched and Steve put ever ounch of the longing he felt into the kiss, all tongue and teeth and wet heat. When they parted, lungs protesting for air, Steve rested their foreheads together. They stood that way for long minutes, letting the sounds of their breathing surround them.

“Nat knows.” When Tony’s only response was to raise a single brow, Steve clarified, “About us. Which means Clint probably knows, too.”

Tony rolled his eyes, laughing when Steve frowned at him in irritation. “Of course she knows. The whole damn town knew, except maybe the preacher.”

“What?”

“You’re so oblivious sometimes.” Tony patted Steve on the cheek and stepped back. “It’s precious.”

Steve’s frown deepened. He was a United States Marshall—he was not oblivious. If he were, Steve wouldn’t have survived long emotional here. And there was no way Tony would have been allowed to stay if so many people had known about their proclivities. “I’m sure you’re exaggerating.”

“If you say so, dear.” Tony smiled up at him sweetly. “Now, why don’t you go back to the Widow and see if you can rustle up a bath. I’ll see you at dinner.”

“You’re gonna be there?”

“Of course,” Tony said with a snort, looping his apron back over his head. “There’s only six of us in town, we eat together most nights.”

“Oh. Alright then. I’ll see you later.” Before Steve turned to leave, Tony threw him a wink and slid his goggles back into place. Steve shook his head and walked back out into the bright sun. The whole town, huh? He reckoned that was why he’d always felt more at home in Copper Butte than anywhere else, even New York City where he grew up.

And here he had been thinking it was just Tony.

#cap-ironman bingo fill #stony bingo #stony #steve tony #stony fic #fanfiction #western au #Marshal!Steve #Blacksmith!Tony

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cricket-scribbles · 6 years ago

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Musician AU || Clintasha

They met at a music store, an appropriate beginning for an impossible relationship that should have never taken root. But somehow, Natasha Romanoff, world renowned violinist, and Clint Barton, aspiring country singer yet to hit it big, found themselves in a coffee shop on the corner, discussing their completely different tastes in music.

“Top three favorite musicians,” Clint said. He raised his eyebrows expectantly as he met Natasha’s gaze over the rim of his cup. Black coffee for him, cappuccino with cinnamon and nutmeg for her.

Natasha glanced off to the side in thought, her perfectly manicured red fingernails tapping out a rhythm on the tabletop.

“Tchaikovsky, of course,” she said slowly. “Rimsky-Korsakov...” She paused and her fingers went still and silent, palm laid flat to the table as she narrowed down the last composer. “Shostakovich,” she said with finality, confident in her decision.

Clint made a face. “Don’t you ever want to listen to something a little more...I don’t know...up to date?”

“They’re classics for a reason,” Natasha protested. Despite the coolness of her tone, there was a glint of amusement in her eyes. “What about you?”

Clint didn’t even have to think about it. “Johnny Cash, Willie Nelson, and Glen Campbell.”

Natasha didn’t make a face. She was too composed for that. But she did make a disgruntled noise. Clint spread his hands.

“What?” he said with a laugh. “I didn’t say you had to approve.”

“Don’t you ever want to listen to something with a little less...” Natasha waved her hand in a dismissive gesture as she searched for the right word. “Twang?”

“Watch it, lady,” Clint said lightly. “I grew up on that music. A Boy Named Sue was the first song I learned on my guitar when I was seven. I haven’t looked back since.”

Natasha pressed her lips into a barely-there smile with a small hum. “There’s still time to convert you.”

“To what?”

“The challenge of Russian composers.”

Clint snorted. “You’ll convert me to Swan Lake as soon as I can convert you to Ring of Fire.” He squinted one eye shut as he looked at her. “Although I could picture you as a Carrie Underwood fan. Singing at the top of your lungs about totaling the cheating ex-boyfriend’s car.”

Natasha ducked her head with a soft laugh - the first laugh Clint had heard from her and he wanted to hear it again and again as often as possible.

“Fine,” she said. “I’ll admit it. Maybe country music has its perks. Just for that one song alone.”

“I knew it. You’ve memorized all the words, haven’t you?”

“No, but it sounds like something I should take notes on.”

Clint shook his head. “I’ve created a monster.”

His phone went off in his pocket with a text message, sending up a tinny refrain. Clint sighed. His brother’s car finally gave up the ghost and he needed a ride home.

Natasha reached across the table and took Clint’s phone.

“Uh,” he said. “What are you doing?”

“Getting rid of your ringtone,” Natasha muttered, flicking through his screen.

“Excuse me. That was a classic.”

Natasha huffed. “No, it was not. If you want a classic, we can talk about Beethoven’s Fifth, or literally anything by Vivaldi. Not Rhinestone Cowboy.”

Clint opened his mouth to object then snapped his mouth shut again when the full impact of Natasha’s words sank in. He leaned back, drumming his hands on the table in victory.

“So you do listen to country music,” he said with a smirk.

Natasha slid his phone across the table back to him and rose from her chair.

“And I suspect you know more about Russian composers than you’re letting on,” she replied. “I’ll quiz you on that next time.”

Next time.

Clint glanced down at his phone. Natasha’s number was nestled into his contact list under Swan Lake.

#clintasha #clintasha au #marvel #clint barton #natasha romanoff #hawkeye #black widow #cricket boards #cricket ficlets

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tryingmyves · 3 years ago

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Sober

Denki Kaminari x Y/N

A/N: A fic inspired by Wish You Were Sober by Conan Gray (I swear they put crack in this song). You’ve been in love with Denki Kaminari for as long as you can remember but he only seems to think of you as more than a friend when he’s inebriated. Simple, right?

C/W: Alcohol mention, weed mention, smut (eventually), angst

chapter fic, part one, college!au kinda

image source

She offers you a bong covered in an eye motif, “Are you getting in on this?”

“Uh, nah. I’m the DD tonight,” you explain loudly, leaning in to her so she can hear.

Jiro doesn’t pressure you to change your mind, just nods and reaches her arm across you, handing the bong over to Sero.

“I need the lighter too,” Sero calls to Jiro, one hand still extended towards her.

“No way, sticky fingers!” she answers, slapping his hand away, “You still owe me like six lighters. They always end up in your pockets and then I’m shit out of luck.”

#bnha #boku no hero #boku no hero academia #mha #my hero academia x reader #my hero academia #kaminari x y/n #kaminari x reader #denki kaminari x y/n #denki kaminari x reader #denki kaminari #college au #angst #mha angst #slow build #slow burn #friends to lovers #repost because tumblr hates me

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