#clint barton whump

[famousinmyfandom]

Selling a 1500 Clint Barton Whump fic!

I was contacted by someone on July 30th about a commission for Clint Barton being whipped by a Hydra with dead dove elements. I added references to Clintasha because this user shipped them. This user has not responded to me since, and I am afraid something may have happened to them.

Unfortunately for me, I was bit by a plot bunny and started writing the fic before confirming payment, so I have a 1500 word fic that I am offering to share in exchange for proof of a $10 donation to any of the following charities:

Gaza Funds, Operation Olive Branch, and Palestine Action, as well as fundraisers for Sudan that are on this list.

My regular commission rate is 100 words for a dollar, but seeing as this is already written, I have decided to decrease the price so I can at least get something out of this. Examples of my work can be found here.

[superalk]

AilessWhumptober 2023 - gunshot wound

They started not with a door breach but with a tear gas cannister and Clint swore as he cursed whoever had drugged him and those asshole anarchists who had smashed his head in and broken his leg and Bobbi being in fuckin' New York CIty or whatever because he was not at the top of his game and Raakaan was depending on him and ---

[creative-caramel-coffee]

The Spiders Sister - Chapter 3

Summary: Reader meets the team.

Tw: mentions of sickness, teasing

Words: 2.8K

A/n: Thanks for all the support this series has been getting :) If anyone has any suggestions for things that could happen in this series lemme know and I’ll see what I think. No smut though I don’t write that here.

The next day you woke to knocking on the bedroom door. Sitting up in bed you quietly called for whoever it was to enter.

A moment later Wanda poked her head through the door. Seeing you awake or at least semi-awake she slipped through the small space she had created.

“Good morning.” She smiled coming to sit beside you on the bed. “Did you sleep well?” She asked pressed her hand to your forehead.

“Mmm.” You hummed still half asleep.

“You don’t feel warm anymore.” She smiled at this achievement as if she was proud of you. “How are you feeling today?” She asked moving her hands to rest in her lap again.

“Tired, but that’s probably because I just woke up.” You smiled.

“Nat sent me to wake you up. She wanted to know if your well enough to meet the others today.” Wanda explained looking slightly guilty.

“I mean, I’m game if you are. Where’s Nat?” You asked coving a yawn.

“Nat’s training with steve. And not so fast, I want to know more about how you're feeling. No more headache? Cough? Wheezing? Give me something.” She grinned.

“My headaches gone, no more cough, maybe a slight wheeze I’m not too sure.” You begun and Wanda’s brow furrowed slightly at the mention of your wheezing. “I’m like ninety-nine percent sure my fever is gone, and I feel pretty good all things aside.” You finished.

“That’s good. Maybe keep your inhaler on you today just in case. And after the meeting I’ll see if I can get Bruce to give us a few spares, just in case.” Wanda said softly.

“You really don’t have to.” You said shyly toying with a loose thread on the sheets.

“Its no problem. I would make me feel better. Breathing is important.” Wanda teased easing your concerns.

“So, when’s the meeting?” You asked.

“Well, I think Nat wanted to do it as soon as possible. Like straight after training and then I’m going to make you some pancakes for brunch.” Wanda said poking your side. “But for now, hop up, get dressed and I’ll be back soon to show you where the meeting room is.” Wanda said, standing up and heading for the door.

Once wanda had left, probably to go and find Nat to call the meeting, you crawled out of bed. Rifling through your backpack you changed out your sleepshirt and shorts for a pair of black track pants and a pale-yellow t-shirt. Throwing on some goofy socks and lacing up your black converse high tops you braided your hair sat in front of the mirror and threw on some deodorant.

Once you were ready and had been to the bathroom to wash your face and go through your morning routine, you sat at peters desk.

Picking up your backpack you went through it until finding what you were looking for.

Pulling out the black sketchbook you opened it to a fresh page and began mindlessly doodling things you could see around peters room and the cityscape beyond the open curtains.

Just as you were getting into the details of the New York skyline you heard a knock on the door.

Lowering your pencil, you sat a little straighter.

“Come in.” You called your voice sounding better than it had in days. And surprisingly good for someone who had spent hours coughing and wheezing for days on end.

Wanda opened the door and smiled seeing you up and about for the first time.

“You look much better.” She commented coming to stand by your shoulder. “Wow, you’re an amazing artist.” She smiled looking at your drawings.

“Oh, um … thanks.” You smiled still a little awkward when it came to compliments. “So, what’s the news?” You asked.

“Hmm? Oh, yes.” Wanda said looking up from where she had been inspecting your sketchbook. “Nat called Fury. He’s kinda the boss. He’s given the go ahead if steve and tony sign off on it. Nat then called a meeting and I’m going to bring you to the room where you're going to meet the team.” She explained.

“I have two questions.” You said.

“Shoot.” Wanda said pulling you up and gesturing to follow her out the door.

“One, is peter going to be at this meeting?” You asked as Wanda lead you down some seemingly endless corridors.

“Yes.” Wanda nodded, pressing the button to call the lift.

“And two, this Fury guy said yes? Just like that?” You asked sounding slightly confused.

“Yes and no.” Wanda begun, stepping onto the lift with you beside her. “Nat asked Jarvis, Tony’s AI assistant to pull up all CCTV footage of spider-man and separate footage based on bio-signatures. So, she could differentiate between when it was peter and when it was you in the suit. She sent Fury the files and after he reviewed them, he approved you a place on the team. If you want it and the others agree.” Wanda explained.

“Okay.” You said slowly. “Seems like a good plan.” You smiled.

And the lift dinged softly as it slowed to a stop.

“This is us.” Wanda said and you followed her out of the open doors. Walking beside her down a hallway she stopped in front of a door and paused to look at you. “You ready?” She asked, her hand on the door handle.

“Yep.” You nodded swollowing down your nerves. “Ready as I’ll even be.”

“You’ll be great. Just be yourself and they’ll love you.” Wanda said and pushed the door open.

Nat was stood at the head of the table, a screen behind her queued up with spider-man videos. She smiled at you and wanda as the rest of the people turned to face you.

Seeing the people you had only ever seen on Tv in real life was a little overwhelming at first but wanda squeezed your hand and lead you into the room to stand at the front with her and Nat.

Peter smiled at you from where he was sat beside Tony. Looking proud of you just for standing in front of the avengers.

You stood there silent for a second simply making eye contact with your shoes before Natasha spoke up.

“This is Y/n.” Nat begun, and you gave a small half wave with an awkward smile. Tony was staring you down with an unreadable expression. He looked like he was analysing your face mentally. Most likely already having connected you to Peter.

“Hi I’m Y/n Parker.” You said lifting your eyes to meet a few smiling faces around the room a fair few of them sporting shocked looks.

“Parker?” Tony echoed sounding smaller than you had ever heard from his times on Tv.

“Y/n Parker is Peters sister.” Wanda explained.

“Kid?” Tony looked hurt. “Why didn’t you tell me there were two of you?” He asked looking sad.

Peter looked slightly sick at the open disappointment his mentor was showing right now and so you stepped in before peter had a panic attack.

“Mr Stark, Sir, it was my decision to keep myself out of the spotlight. And to do that I needed to maintain a low profile. Which is harder to do when the avengers know of your existence. No offence.” You explained. And the team exchanged a few glances as they noted how you had come to Peter’s aid almost immediately.

“That’s alright, I’m sure Pete will open up now you’re here.” Tony said with a grin as he ruffled Peters hair, “Won’t-cha kiddo?” He asked with his usual charismatic charm and Peter gave a small nod and smile while he ducked his head not liking the attention.

“So, anyone have anymore questions?” You asked drawing the attention off of Peter once more much to your brothers' relief.

Looking away from the small smile he sent you as thanks you laughed, seeing every hand in the room up with a question for you, bar Nat, Peter and Wanda of course.

You looked to your left and nodded to Steve.

“Hi, nice to meet you kid.” Steve said. “I have a question though, if Peter’s identity is secret, why did you need to stay away from us?” He asked looking confused, and his statement drew a few nods around the room.

“If Tony scares you honey, I can assure you that the man would forget his own shoes without me.” Someone you recognised as Pepper Potts said with a smile causing Tony to grumble to himself. How Nat had managed to wrangle the CEO of Stark industries into this meeting you didn’t know.

Little did you know that all it took was ‘There’s something you should know, it has to do with Peter’ and she was on her way.

“Actually,” Wanda said drawing the gaze of the room to her, “This should explain it. Jarvis play the video.” She said and the lights dimmed as the Tv showed a compilation of some of your best moves in the spider-suit.

When the video ended the lights retuned to their normal brightness and everyone still looked confused.

“How exactly does a compilation of Peter doing tricks explain that?” Bruce asked.

“Um…” You said looking slightly nervous. “That was me.” You said in a small voice and the room was silent for a second.

“Sick moves kid. Peter your sister’s awesome.” Sam said and a few people laughed at his perfect comedic timing.

“Prove it.” Tony said and you paled slightly.

“Tony.” Pepper said placing her hand on his arm and shooting him a look.

“No, its ok pepper.” Nat said. “Jarvis?” Nat called to the ceiling. “Was that peter in the suit for those videos?” She asked.

“The height and weight as well as body stature and proportions do not match Master Parker.” Jarvis said.

“Ok,” Nat continued, “Who do those body descriptors match in this room?” She asked.

“The person in the suit does match the body of Miss Parker.” Jarvis said and Tony frowned.

“Do the sticky thing.” Bucky called drawing a few smiles. You rolled your eyes and put a hand up, splaying your fingers before jumping in the air and touching the ceiling where you stayed stuck.

“Crawl around.” Sam said and you glared at his heckling.

“No.” You said and you saw Peter doing his puppy eyes at you. “Fine.” You sighed.

Jumping up you did a flip and stuck your legs out, now standing on the ceiling upside down and making eye contact with Sam before looking to Bucky.

“Better?” You asked sarcastically.

“Much.” Sam grinned and you rolled your eyes again.

“Ok. Get down Y/n.” Nat said sounding part annoyed part amused at the display.

“Yes ma’am.” You said before detaching from the roof and doing a flip to landing back where you were before.

“Show off.” Peter murmured under his breath and you huffed a small laugh as his ears went red, not having expected you to hear him. Dumb super-hearing.

“Well, now we’re done with the party tricks. What are we thinking?” You asked brushing off invisible dirt from your clothes.

“Well…” Tony said. “I think its time you got your own suit.” He grinned and you smiled back. “What colours do you want kiddo?” He asked.

“Um… maybe something like purple, white and red?” You said and he nodded already sketching down ideas on a pad of paper pepper had brought with her from a meeting.

“You’re also getting an AI.” Tony added and you looked a peter who simply smiled proudly of you.

“Well, if that’s everything Y/n’s also gonna need a room.” Wanda said and Tony nodded.

“There’s a spare room on Natasha and Wanda’s floor if you want to move in with the girls. Do I need to send some movers to grab your things?” Tony asked and you looked at your shoes and shook your head.

“Not much to move.” You mumbled.

“Y/n’s apartment was taken out in the last battle. She’s been hiding out in Peter’s room for now. That’s how we met actually.” Natasha said shooting you a reassuring smile.

“Well, it sounds like I’m going to be funding yet another shopping trip.” Tony sighed and Wanda grinned at you mischievously.

“We’ll make it a girl's day.” Wanda said shooting a look at pepper.

“I’d love to.” Pepper agreed and Nat clapped her hands together.

“Alright then.” The assassin said. “I should probably tell Fury we have another spider on the team.” Nat grinned and you smiled at her.

“Great, now we have three spiders.” Tony said rolling his eyes and ducking as Pepper aimed a pretty good swing to the back of his head.

“Knock it off Tony, don’t act like you're not secretly overjoyed to have another Parker around.” Pepper said.

“Just wondering,” Bruce said looking mildly nervous as the room turned to look at him.

“Yes?” You prompted him to continue.

“Are you…” He begun before pausing, “I guess theres no real nice way to put it.” Bruce said and Tony jumped in.

“I think Brucie-bear wants to know if you come with the Parker Brain Package.” Tony said and Pepper glared at him.

“Tony.” She warned, glaring at him while you cleared your throat.

“If you’re asking about how smart I am, let’s just say I designed the original prototype for the web-shooters and chemical makeup of the fluid.” You said and Tony nodded seemingly satisfied with that small tidbit of information for now.

“Well, if nobody had anything else to say, Wanda and I are going to take Y/n for a tour of the compound.” Nat said before turning to look at Clint. “And you, have to make dinner. You lost our bet.” Nat said and then dragged you and Wanda out of the room by your sleeves.

After a very long and very comprehensive tour by Natasha and Wanda, you were shown back to the communal kitchen where most of the team ate together when they weren’t on missions.

You walked into the dining room attached to the kitchen to be hit with the smell of burnt food pungent in the air.

You looked at Nat confused, and she grinned as she heard cursing coming from the kitchen. Wanda looked like she was itching to go help but sad she pulled away Nat grabbed her sleeve at the very last second to hold her back.

“Can someone explain whats going on for me?” You asked.

“Well, Clint and Natasha can’t cook if their lives depended on it.” Wanda begun, only to shush Nat when she went to speak up. “So naturally they made a bet, loser had to cook the team dinner, naturally Clint lost so Nat is enjoying his public humiliation. And I normally cook if we aren’t getting takeout so it's causing me pain to hear whats going on in there.”

“Oh, calm down. Clints not blowing anything up.” Nat said rolling her eyes as Wanda shot her a look. “Ok that was one time.” Nat amended.

Not twenty minutes later you were sat at a table with the avengers with a plate of very burnt stake and watery mash potatoes.

“What is it?” Tony asked poking his steak.

Clint grinned. “A masterpiece.” He said.

“More like a mistake.” Nat muttered judging her steak while poking it with her knife as if she was expecting it to start moving of its own accord.

“I say we have newbie try it.” Tony posed and you rolled your eyes.

Cutting off a piece of the very tough steak with your knife you raised it to your lips and put it in your mouth.

It was tough and kind of disgusting. But you smiled anyway.

Finding the meat tougher than you had been expecting, you made the switch as you called you fangs up. Your canines sharpened as you chewed managing to decimate the meat. Swallowing you looked at Clint.

“Not the worst thing I’ve every eaten.” You said with a smirk and Tony who had been watching you closely squeaked.

“Jeez kid you didn’t tell me your sister was a vampire.” Tony said turning to Peter.

By this point most of they eyes were on you, so you hid your teeth and retracted the fangs out of embarrassment.

“She’s not. It’s a spider thing she got.” Peter said coming yo your defence.

“Either way her new name is fangs.” Tony said with a grin.

This time you glared at him.

“For the record i think they’re awesome.” Wanda said sensing your embarrassment.

“Seconded.” Nat said her spy training honing in on your body language to see you were insecure about it.

“I gotta admit it’s a cool trick doll.” Bucky said.

“Pretty neat.” Steve agreed with a smile.

“Badass.” Sam nodded flicking a still frozen pea at Bucky. “Alright, now that y/n probably has food poisoning, who wants pizza?” Nat asked with a grin. Cheers came from all sides of the table as Clint slumped dejectedly in his seat.

PART 4

[promptsforyourwhumpfic]

Whump Prompt #1360

Whumptober #10: Slurred Words

A: “B, do you copy? Where are you?”

B: “‘m here… sort of… kinda cozy in this corner…”

A: “There you are! Are you alright? What’s your status?”

B: “Status… uh… bit fuzzy, but I’m still kickin’… well, kinda… head’s… spinny.”

A: “B, did you hit your head? Are you hurt? Where are you?”

B: “Um… was tryin’ to… get to, uh… sector …can’t remember. Everything’s sorta… blurry, y’know?”

A: “Okay, okay. Just hang on. Keep talking to me. I’m tracking your signal, but you need to stay awake.”

B: “Aw, c’mon… I’m not… not goin’ anywhere… room’s doin’ enough spinnin’ for both of us…”

A: “Yeah, I bet. Just keep that radio on, alright? No shutting down on me.”

B: “Hey… do I sound funny to you? Can’t… can’t get my mouth to… to say things right…”

A: “You’re doing fine. Tell me what you’re seeing.”

B: “Uh… somethin’ like… a hallway… I think… and some kinda… uh, blue light… real pretty…”

A: “I’m almost there. Just stay focused on that light, alright? Talk to me. What’s the first thing you’re gonna do when we get you out of there?”

B: “Gonna… take the longest… nap… maybe grab… somethin’ to eat… got this craving for… uh… pizza…”

A: “Pizza sounds good. Hang tight, B. We’ll get you that pizza, after we get you to a doctor.”

There’s a distinctive groan over the radio, and A can’t help but chuckle. 

B: “With sides?”

A: “If you don’t fight the doctors this time.” 

B: “...f-fine.”

[frenchfriedgiraffe]

from all-new hawkeye #5

this comic is so sad but this one line is too funny not to draw

[wheelsup-sevenup]

whumpuary 2025: day 3!

prompt: choice / storm / black eye

pairing: clint barton & natasha romanoff (marvel)

warnings: arguments + violence, implied dissociation

“…And will that be one or two beds?” the woman behind the desk asked Clint, looking askance at the muddy footsteps he’d tracked over the patchy carpet.

“Two, if you’ve got ‘em,” Clint said absently, wrapping the soggy Ace bandage back around the already bruising sprain on his wrist.

Clint was the only other person in the lobby aside from the receptionist. The motel was by no means nice, just the first Holiday Inn he could make out through the pouring rain. He’d asked Natasha if that was alright, but she’d just kept staring out the window. Nothing behind her eyes. He had yet to get used to it.

Apparently, Clint hadn’t got to know his new partner during her months of debrief as well as he’d thought. Their first unsupervised mission together had been something of a disaster: though they’d managed to get the intel they needed, the cover identity he’d spent years building up was left as ashes in their wake.

He was pissed. The car ride had been spent in silence.

“All right, your room’s gonna be 113, just across there.” The receptionist slid across two room keys, and Clint thanked her before ducking back out into the rain.

It was still pouring outside, and Clint jogged across the parking lot, trying in vain to keep himself from getting more soaked than he already was. In the car, Natasha still sat in the passenger seat, curled up loosely with her chin against her knees. She didn’t react when Clint rapped on the window the first time, and, irritated, he knocked again. “Natasha. C’mon.”

She opened the car door, turning minutely to face him while keeping herself out of the rain. Clint tossed a room key to her, which dropped onto her thigh, then fell into the footwell as she continued to stare at him.

“Natasha. I’m freezing. Let’s go.”

She didn’t move.

“Let’s go, I said.” Frustration swelled within him — at her, for being dry while he was wet, for not saying a word to him the past five hours, for the cover identity of Jamie Baker that no longer existed — and he leaned forward, seizing her bicep in his grip.

For some reason, he hadn’t expected the blow that came, swift and hard enough to knock him on his ass.

“Fuck,” he hissed, eyes watering, fireworks of pain shooting their way through his eye socket. “Natasha, what the fuck?”

He looked up at her, sitting curled in the passenger seat like she hadn’t moved at all, but this time he recognized the look in her eyes. He’d seen it before in wild animals, in the eyes of a fox about to sink her teeth into her own leg. Clint took a deep breath.

“I’m sorry.”

Anger still roiled in his chest, but he pushed it down. “I shouldn’t have grabbed you. Shit, Natasha, I’m learning too. I’m new at this. I’m sorry.”

A flicker of recognition. She met his eyes.

“I’m not mad at you,” he said, and to his surprise, he wasn’t. “I’m gonna go inside. You can follow me, or not. We don’t have to talk, if you do want to come in. It can be your choice, got it? Your choice. I’ll stay out of your way.”

Slowly, he got up, retrieving his bag from the trunk and leaving Natasha in silence.

The room was nothing special. Quiet, small. Two beds. Clint barely noticed any of it, checking through the window as soon as he got in to make sure the car was still there in the parking lot. He half-expected it to be gone, for her to be on the interstate already. But she had waited.

When he got out of the shower, the car was gone.

Her choice, he’d said. And if she’d chosen to leave, take her chances elsewhere? Well, he’d never live that down at SHIELD, but ultimately, she might be better off for it.

He took the bed farthest from the door. Didn’t secure the extra locks, just in case. He flipped through the channels for a moment before he fell asleep still sitting up, in the middle of a rerun of Family Feud.

He woke up to the shower turning on. Somehow, Clint hadn’t registered her presence when Natasha came in, and he wondered what it said about him, that he already trusted her that implicitly.

The room was dark, save for the TV, now playing Wheel of Fortune. He couldn’t see out of his right eye, didn’t even want to know what the swelling was going to look like.

Illuminated on his nightstand was a plastic shopping bag, a CVS receipt piled alongside it. Inside the bag was a hard wrist brace, a new Ace bandage, Tylenol, and a bag of Haribo gummy bears.

Clint couldn’t help but smile. It was something.

i feel like i’ve wanted to write more fics like these about clintnat, those early shield days where they didn’t know each other as well yet, where maybe things weren’t so smooth as they are later. and i’m really glad i did, because i love the way this one came out :)

i will probably keep this one a tumblr exclusive. but watch out bc i have at least another two-parter for clint/nat coming, (which i’ll probably post on ao3) with a lotta hurt and a lotta comfort ;)

[cap-a-cinno]

I love long hair Bucky and Clint whump.

Mission gone wrong?…

[quietlyimplode]

ignite your bones

After the fall of General Dreykov, and the remnants of the Red Room still at large, Natasha first year at SHIELD is anything but healing. Labeled a traitor and a turncoat, Natasha tries to find her footing in a strange new world.

Whumptober 2024: Day 24 - I never knew daylight could be so violent. (No light, no light)

Warnings: whump/angst/therapy

Word Count: 2k (gif not mine)

Summary: Olivia needs help; but then again so does Natasha.

Masterlist

Whumptober Masterlist.

.

Pain shoots through her abdomen and and she bows to it.

She doesn’t allow herself a cry of pain, only a huff of a breath and closes her eyes.

Her hand shakes as she empties the last of the tryptophan her heart sinking as she feels nauseousness rise and tremors shudder through her.

“Fuck,” she swears.

The night is going to be long.

She takes one of the last two tablets anyway knowing it’s only delaying the inevitable.

She sighs, laying down and trying to breathe through the pain.

Shield had the medications that she needed, but she didn’t quiet trust them.

Pain thrusts its way through her, making her clench her fists and forcing breath in and out consciously.

She decides in the moment to find Coulson or Fury. Shield is not safe but the two men would perhaps help.

She owed them, they owed her, and she’s sure she could call in a favour.

.

The seizure leaves her on the floor, her head pounding as she feels her consciousness return to her.

Wiping her mouth, she pushes herself up.

Hands still shaking, Olivia takes the last pill, hoping it makes her functional.

She knows she’s running out of time. She didn’t realise how close she was running out when she left.

Stupid, she berates herself.

Living in America had made her soft, dependant… Compliant.

If she was on her own, she’d have stocks, but instead, she’d just worked through the emergency medication knowing she’d have access to more.

Allowing herself a moment of self pity, she wonders just how to find the others, and slowly dresses herself.

The number she’d memorised for Fury may still work, and she contemplates if she’s able to make it to the closest pay phone.

The small apartment’s furniture helps her to move on shaking legs, and the walking stick she keeps in the closet feels like a good option.

Armed with a knife and sunglasses, she makes her way out to the harsh light of day.

Nauseous, she descends the stairs, tremors still wracking her body.

She can do this, she’s done much harder things.

One hundred steps, she tells herself.

When she reaches that, she counts 100 more.

At 345 she stops, breathing labored at the public pay phone.

“This better fucking work,” she mutters to herself, dialing the number.

Four rings in and she feels bile rise in her throat.

On the fifth, the phone picks up and she closes her eyes in relief.

“It’s bad,” she opens, “I need… what you owe me.”

Fury seems to understand.

“Safehouse six. I’ll organise for it to be sent there.”

He pauses.

“You owe me too. Don’t think I won’t collect.”

The phone hangs up and she groans, sinking to the floor, holding onto the walking stick and feeling another seizure coming on.

.

The knock at the door sets them all on edge.

Even though Fury calls to tell them that Olivia is coming, they all stand. Maria’s hand on her gun, Clint close to his bow and Natasha stands near the draw with the knives.

Coulson opens it, and finds Olivia standing there, just as Fury had said.

He opens the door wider, letting her in and showing the others that they have nothing to fear.

She enters, and Clint frowns.

“Are you… are you okay?”

The woman waves him off, and says something quietly to Coulson. He walks to the back room and returns alone.

“She needs some privacy and sleep,” he announces, much to all their confusion.

The shower starts running and Clint thinks of all the scenarios that could have had her looking so drawn and pale.

He turns back to the game of cards that he had been playing with Maria and swears as he loses again.

“I’m bored,” he complains.

Maria shares a look with him.

“How do we know Fury is okay?” she asks, much to Coulson’s annoyance.

“He’s okay,” he assures, “but if you want to go help, then fine, I can’t stop you.”

Maria grins at Clint.

“I’ll let you know how I go.”

“He’s gonna be angry,” Clint assumes, throwing the cards to the container.

“Nah; he’ll be appreciative. Who reads the lackies of Shield, better than me?”

Coulson sighs.

“I should go with you.”

He looks to the door that Olivia just moved through, and sits back down.

“Go. Call me in four hours and tell me what’s happening.” He looks at time.

“Four hours okay?”

Maria grabs the keys and a piece of pizza.

“Yeah yeah, I’ll call,” she smiles, pleased to have something to do.

The evening feels early, even though it’s 6pm, the sun moving to sleep. Maria reveals in the fresh air; and heads for shield.

.

Natasha lays on the couch. She’d opted to take first watch.

Olivia was still in the room, door closed having not come out since she went in.

Coulson in the other room, and Clint gently snoring on the other couch.

She doesn’t feel tired.

Probably, would be unable to sleep anyway.

If nightmares plagued her like they did in the cabin, she would have the whole house on edge.

At least the cell was soundproofed.

Here, she thinks she would wake up the whole apartment block.

Clint has eyed her when she’d offered to take first watch, and she had nodded assuringly.

Maria had called to say she was with Fury, he hadn’t sent her away much to Coulson’s surprise.

Coulson had decided he’d return in the morning, barring no incidents during the night.

Natasha was determined to just let them sleep.

She liked the darkness, and with others around, she was sure she wouldn’t be seeing anything… anyone.

Lost in her own thoughts, she catches movement on her left and stands to confront it.

“It’s me,” Olivia announces quietly.

Natasha sits up straighter.

The psychiatrist moves into the dimly lit room, and then to the kitchen finding water and taking a sip.

She downs two pills as Natasha watches on in interest.

“I’m defective,” she says, noticing Natasha watching her.

“They experimented with us, trialing… god knows what, to try and make us better soldiers. And they succeeded but at a cost.”

Olivia’s eyes rake over Natasha.

“Shield has drugs that help combat the symptoms. The Red Room would have just killed me.”

She feels scrutinized and wants to hear so much more of her experience of the Red Room.

It’s like piecing together bits of her own history, things she’s forgotten, things that have been wiped.

Part of the debrief had asked so many basic questions that she should know, but couldn’t retrieve it.

Experimented was right.

Natasha moves to seat at the bench to sit across from her.

Her face itches where the cut on her forehead is healing, and she suppresses the urge to touch it. Her whole body is itchy, uncomfortable and foreign.

Olivia looks to Clint, and deciding he’s asleep enough, starts to make coffee.

Natasha watches practices motions and refrains from talking.

She wants to ask her so much.

Waiting until Olivia sits, Natasha takes an offered coffee and they sip it together.

“Ask, if you need to,” she tells her, voice tired and resigned.

Natasha has so many, she thinks of the last couple of days. How impaired she had been to take care of herself, of Clint and how, if she was back in the red room, she would have been killed ten fold by now.

“How do you stop the nightmares? The flashbacks? How do I… I can’t sleep and then when I do… it bleeds into the day. I try.. But everything in me keeps remembering.”

Natasha holds back, the feelings and worries that have been plaguing her, she wishes she knew how to articulate them.

She feels like she’s going insane.

Wounds wide open and she can’t stop remembering.

Olivia looks at her, takes a slow sip of her drink.

“Your mind is an open wound, they’ve dug into in debrief and left it bleeding.”

Natasha nods.

It’s exactly what it is.

She feels like an exposed raw nerve.

Olivia sets down her coffee.

“We don’t have a lot of time together. Not what you need anyway.”

She sighs heavily, fatigue seeming to weigh her down, but the kindness and patience that she has always shown to Natasha remains.

“It’s not fair, that you have to deal with this. So the coping mechanisms I’m going to say to you I want you to use when and where possible. There are going to be a myriad of times, where they don’t work, but for a lot of the times it will.”

Natasha swallows, understanding what she’s saying.

“We haven’t the time so I need you to listen. To hear me. Okay?”

Olivia doesn’t even wait for her to respond.

“Being triggered, doesn’t apply to you because your nervous system is always going to be heightened, walking on eggshells, and when they crack, is likely going to be when you will feel it. With or without flashbacks, the emotions will come, and you won’t always understand it. When this happens I need you to note that it’s there, label it and stay with it, even for a moment.”

The urgency in her voice makes Natasha give undivided attention.

She doesn’t notice that Clint sits up, moves closer; but Olivia does.

“Emotions, they try and tell us something, things we aren’t subconsciously aware of, they sit in our body, in our chest, sometimes like a weight, sometimes like itch you can’t scratch. They can sit in our minds; numbing us to the world that’s happening around us. In small ways, in big ways too.”

Natasha feels her face grow hot.

Olivia’s words are true and she knows it.

“Work on finding where the emotion is in your body. Close your eyes, for a moment and extend your mind out. Learn Natasha, learn about emotions, their labels and how they feel. The Red Room didn’t care and the words you have for emotions mean nothing. You have to learn beyond happy and sad.”

Natasha swallows.

“Learn what happiness feels like, and remember it so you have something to compare it to. Learn anger, and how it’s different to hatred. Disappointment. Anxiety. Frustration. You know these in a sense, but your education on them is poor.”

Olivia stops, taking a breath and then a sip of her coffee, acknowledging Clint.

“Accept help from those that are willing but don’t trust blindly. You have your own thoughts and feelings and they matter too. Do you hear me?”

Olivia talks softer.

“They never taught you, because they never wanted you to know, how smart and powerful you are. The feelings and emotions and the rawness of it all won’t last forever. But when it comes do something with it. Do something with your hands like shooting a gun at the range, clean, shower, breathe. Anything that you can do that acknowledges the feelings but doesn’t erase them.”

She reaches across and grabs at Natasha’s hand, pulling her sleeve up to expose raw handcuffed chaffed wrists.

“Nights will be the hardest,” she acknowledges, “but they will get better.”

Natasha pulls away, embarrassed.

“Feel it,” encourages Olivia, “try not to hide from it.”

The silence in the room extends; but it doesn’t feel uncomfortable.

“What if I can’t?” Natasha whispers.

Olivia smiles.

“Then you can’t. And you try again next time. This is not pass or fail. This is not the stakes of the Red Room. You won’t die because you can’t do something; even though it might feel like it.”

Finishing her coffee, Olivia stands.

“I’m truly sorry, Natasha, for everything you’ve been through. I can see why you’ve made it this far. I believe our paths will cross again, but it might not be for a while.”

Natasha nods, biting down on her lip.

The one person that understood her and everything she had been through… disappointment and grief floods her.

She feels it.

Olivia touches her hand again.

“You’re not without support.”

She nods to Clint.

Coulson bustles in and looks at the two women and Clint.

Daylight streams through the windows and Natasha feels herself withdraw.

.

[whumpdoyoumean]

Someone has probably done this but I wanted to, too

[kitcat992]

“Recognition algorithm for identity facial features complete,” FRIDAY’s voice was laced heavy with her Irish accent, and sounded no different than the few minutes that she spoke before. “No results found.”

Tony barely moved at her announcement — didn’t respond, didn’t look up — the muscles in his knuckles flexed as he squeezed at his temples, but it was all he did.

Steve noticed it.

Less than five steps were separating them. Steve was speaking before he even made three.

“We’re not going to let anything happen to him, Tony,” he insisted, reassuringly, with a tone as hard as stone.

Suddenly, Tony shot his head up; a scoff shaking his back so roughly, it pushed him right off the wall.

“There are times when you astound me with your nativity, you know,” he easily responded, smooth enough that it was almost impossible to tell he was fighting for control — of what, exactly, didn’t matter. It was clear he just needed it, any sense of control he could get his hands on.

Everyone kept working around them, determined — dedicated. But so far, they came up with no answers. Just more questions that were starting to push Tony to the brink of his patience.

Steve frowned. He could tell.

“We knew this was ahead of us with Peter,” he said, seriously, firmly, right to Tony’s face. “All of us, we’ve all been preparing for this.” Steve took another step forward, his dress shoes hitting the floor with resolve. “And we’re all prepared to do whatever it takes to make sure Norman doesn’t harm him in any way. You have my word on that.”

For what it was worth, Tony met his look — his eyes stayed as hard as Steve’s, the fear painting his expression one that Steve wasn’t fond of seeing.

“Right…right, right—” Tony swiped at his nose, quickly. “Just like all the people who’ve been involved in OsCorp’s experimentation's?”

Tony, no different then Natasha, also wasn’t afraid to speak of what no one wanted to hear.

Even Clint looked uncomfortable at what had finally been vocalized, turning back to his monitor without any remark.

Meanwhile, Tony didn’t break his attention away from Steve.

Steve didn’t look away from him, either.

“The Mysterio’s, the rock android’s, the re-assembled, violently programmed Chitauri bombs.” Tony took a step forward, closer to where Steve stood. “How about those unsuspecting, hung up of some quick cash college students who found themselves electrocuted until they became farm grown vegetables? Or the outright revolting archives of Experiment X that I saw, first hand, with my own eyes — or, I know, how about the symbiote project—”

“Stop,” Steve firmly interrupted. He shook his head, hard. “You can’t think like that—”

“—for all we know, the kid’s strapped to a table right now being dissected like a frog,” Tony choked out, forcing to speak through a throat that was tightening by the word. “The nuremberg code has never once stood in the way of what Osborn wants. And now he knows what he needs — now he has it. There’s no telling what he’ll—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa!”

Quill wasn’t shy in interrupting what was clearly a tense conversation.

He quickly made his way towards Steve and Tony, both whipping their heads over to face him — Tony far more agitated than Steve — but not even that got Quill to slow down.

“You guys haven’t mentioned that this fella of yours tortures people,” Quill, for once, sounded serious; even as he made a face that crinkled his brows into one long, oddly shaped line across his forehead. He shook his head while marching forward. “Not awesome, man.”

Tony couldn’t have thrown Quill a more wild expression if he had tried, with his eyes wide enough that they were a threat to fall out of their sockets.

“I’m sorry,” he stressed, each word tighter than the last, “was I talking to you!? Does this involve you!?”

Tony’s shout could’ve echoed the R&D room, if the noises from computers and machinery didn’t already sound over their own voices. The video footage kept playing and keys continued to clack on, and each minute they stood around agitated his nerves harsher than the last. He could feel himself starting to crack at the seams.

“Dude!” Quill returned Tony’s look with his own. “It’s kinda hard to mind your own business when people are talking about other people being experimented on!” Quill pointed a finger firmly against his chest. “I’m part people, I kinda care about that!”

A inquisitive hum sounded not far from behind Quill.

“That is right,” Drax spoke up, staying in the corner where he sat away from the others, sitting on a stool that hunched his body forward. “You are half weakingly. I forgot this about you.”

Quill spun at the hips to throw Drax a dirty look, glaring with enough aggravation that Steve knew right away to intervene.

“I appreciate your worry.” Steve held a palm outward in the air, waiting until Quill returned his attention before speaking again. He was firm in his response. “But we don’t want anymore people getting involved in this than necessary. There are things that Norman Osborn has done—”

“What kind of things?” Quill wasn’t playing around this time. There was a noticeable shift in his posture. “Cause I’m not sure if you’ve been able to tell, but we aren’t the type to just stand about and let certain kind of things happen, if you know what I mean.”

Quill puffed out his chest — just slightly, enough that they all could see — and it was the first time Steve noticed the sense of sternness in his tone, unwavering through and through.

In a way, it sounded familiar.

A little too familiar.

“Oh, good God,” Tony exasperated the words in a single exhale, turning his back on both Steve and Quill — walking away the few steps that could give him extra breathing space.

Steve didn’t chase after him.

He still kept him close in sight.

“It’s…it’s complicated.” Turning slightly to face Quill, Steve crossed both arms over his chest, keeping one eye on Tony while the man paced the computers repetitively searching camera’s of New York. “Norman, he’s…he’s a very smart man — one who’s done terrible things with that intelligence. He’s used—he’s killed…people…for genetic engineering. He claims it’s all for science—”

Across the room, Bucky scoffed. Loudly.

“Yeah? And so did Unit 731.”

Bucky didn’t raise his voice.

He didn’t need to.

The whole room heard him.

Steve spared a look to no one, eyeing the ground for a passing moment before finally returning his attention to Quill; tough, but grave.

“We’ve been trying to stay ontop of him for months now,” Steve had to clear his voice to talk again. He worked his jaw along the way. “We’ve only recently found out what it is he’s done. Who he’s experimented on, how he’s experimented—”

A chair screeched from across the room.

“Now hold on a d’ast flarkin’ minute!” Rocket jumped onto the nearest table, knocking over his chair the process. “You trying to say that scrawny, awkward, weird, runt-sized, talks-a-lot, nervous looking funny kid is in trouble of getting experimented on?”

The bluntness of Rocket’s exclamation shot through the room like a bullet, and Steve nearly lost his balance when whipping his head over to Tony — who continued to pace, holding his head in the palms of both hands as the conversation kept on.

A deep frown sunk the lines around Steve’s face. The stress in the room was starting to weigh on him worse by the minute.

[melles1276]

New chapter is online!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/56470924/chapters/158510032

Excerpt:

Chapter 21 - It's not over yet

Ahmad’s back and enters the hut unnoticed by Steve. It’s only when the man kneels next to him that he becomes aware of his presence. While he says a few words to Bucky in Dari, he holds a long-stemmed, slim pipe to Bucky’s lips, the tobacco already burning in the bowl.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Steve asks irritably and is about to take the pipe from Ahmad. They don't have time for things like that. Instead, he tries to hold Bucky tightly, but the sobbing man keeps tossing and turning away from his embrace in pain. If he hadn't stopped him, Bucky probably would have fallen out of bed.

But Ahmad shakes his head firmly and raises his index finger in warning. Additionally, he gives Steve a stern look and scolds him in his native language. Undeterred, he continues to talk to Bucky, this time supported by Jamila.

“Please… make it… stop! Please!” There are these sonorous voices that hold him back. Pulling him down. That envelopes him, grounds him. He knows these voices. Trusts them. And he feels something on his lips.

“That’s no use,” grumbles Steve.

The old man doesn't let up and talks to Bucky, encouraging him to take a puff on his pipe. As with the broth, it takes Bucky several tries, but he finally manages to inhale the smoke.

To Steve’s amazement, Bucky complies and inhales the smoke as best he can before he starts coughing and exhaling it through his mouth and nose. Over and over again.

A few minutes of waiting passes, which Jamila bridges with a prayer.

And something else catches his eyes. Just a moment ago, Bucky had almost crushed Steve's hand. Now it’s as if all the strength is gone. Bucky's hand, no, his entire body, goes limp and his head rolls to the side.

The blackness is pushed back. Not completely, but the bright, warm light expands more and more, envelopes him, and makes him float. It feels good. Really good. He feels safe. His body rises upwards as his hand falls weakly down.

"No no no no! Don't do this to me now, Bucky! Please!” He frantically pats Bucky’s cheeks and reflexively feels for his pulse. A wave of relief washes over him after he feels Bucky's heartbeat under his fingertips and he looks at Ahmad.

The man looks serious but satisfied because he nods at him.

Frowning, his gaze goes back to Bucky. What the …?! , Steve is peeved until he realizes what the old man wanted to achieve with the pipe. The aroma of the smoke lulls him. Drugs!, flashes through his head. And by all accounts, it’s really good stuff, because Bucky actually seems...high as a kite. His eyes are glassy, but his breathing is no longer quite so ragged, his facial features are more relaxed, although still slightly distorted with pain. Overall, the changes are clearly visible, but Steve becomes increasingly aware of the seriousness of the situation.

Bucky mutters incomprehensible syllables quietly to himself, seeming so incredibly fragile.

Steve still holds him in his arms, but he can feel how little by little all the strength drains from the man’s limbs. A deeply sad sigh escapes his own lips. His emotions rush over him, while he buries his face in Bucky's hair, sobbing, because he’s sure his friend won't survive the next few hours.

[somber-sapphic]

Dealing With Her

You felt on top of the world when you returned from your mission, only to find that your girlfriend was sick. (natasha x reader)

Word Count: 899

-----

“Where’s Nat?” You asked, strolling into the Compound feeling pretty good about yourself. Your mission had gone exceptionally well and to celebrate you wanted to make her dinner and eat pie in bed. You loved that woman so much. 

“She's sick, Clint’s dealing with her,” Tony mumbled, focused on the Stark Pad in his hands. He was doing something you didn’t and would never understand.

“What do you mean dealing with her?” You felt your blood run cold and the color drain from your cheeks. “What’s wrong with my girlfriend?” The tech genius looked up, realizing that what he said sounded pretty bad. 

“Nope, no not what I meant. Natasha’s got the flu or something and Clint’s making sure she doesn’t kill herself.” He raised his hands in defense, trying to calm you down. “She’s fine, she’ll be fine. Relax kid.” He smiled in a gentle way that he typically saved for you and waved you towards Natasha’s room.

“Natasha?” You asked, pushing your way into the room you shared. The air was heavy with the scent of sickness, that musty, unwashed, sweaty smell that came from the lack of caring accompanied by a high fever.

The man in the corner jumped up, hand on his weapon, apparently, he hadn’t recognized your voice.

“Clint, it’s just me. I got home early.” You lowered your voice to a whisper when your eyes met the snorting woman who took up all of the bed. 

“Yeah, sorry,” Clint yawned through his words, stretched, and walked over to you. “Nat’s not doing so great, she’s been asleep for a while but I can’t seem to get her fever down. I’ve pretty much drugged her up as much as I can and I got her to drink a little water earlier. She’s not up for food yet and she’s been asking for you for a while now.” He chuckled quietly, shaking his head. Sometimes you forgot he was a dad. 

“Thank you, Clint, I’m so sorry I wasn’t home, this means the world to me.” You were so glad that Natasha had someone else she trusted at the Compound. You hadn’t known that she was and it hurt your heart a little bit. He started to leave, but you called him back “Would you stay just so that I can get dressed without leaving her alone? Please I don’t want her to wake up with no one here.”

“Course, y/n, what kind of friend would I be if I didn't?” You flashed him a grin and ran to the ensuite bathroom. It took you five minutes to wash your face and change- you’d take a real shower with Nat once she was better- and emerged in fresh pj’s, perfect for curling up with your sick girlfriend.

You waved a goodbye at Clint and scooted into bed beside Natasha, careful not to jostle her too much. She groaned quietly and pressed against you, nuzzling her head against your chest. 

“Shh, go back to sleep, love. I’m sorry I woke you up.” You murmured, pressing your lips against her temple. She leaned into the touch, moaning slightly. 

“Mmm…hi,” She sniffled sleepily and wiped her nose on her sleeve in a weak attempt to stave off her runny nose. 

“Hi, bug. Maybe we could get you a tissue?” You grimaced slightly as she wiped her nose on the blanket you were sharing. 

“Mmm…just stay with you.” She croaked, kissing your neck gently. Her lips were hot and cracked, and the kiss weak. The poor thing was so sick. 

“Okay, well this blanket is pretty gross now. I know you’re cold, but do you think we could get you a new one?” She shook her head and kissed your neck again, smiling against your skin. 

“You’ll be my blanket,” She purred, trying to get on top of you. You sighed gently and pushed her off, readjusting her so that she was in a more comfortable position. 

“Not right now bubs, when you’re better, okay?”

“You’re mean.” She grumbled, shifting so that one of her legs was entangled in yours. You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t help smiling. 

“Yeah, but you love me.” She nodded and sneezed against your shirt. You winced and stroked her hair, trying to ignore the germs. You didn’t like germs and now you were infested with germs. Oh god, you were going to get sick. Oh god, oh god, oh god. 

“...’m sorry sweetheart, I’m sorry,” She pulled away, utterly humiliated. You sighed and brushed her cheek, still nervous. 

“This is why we use tissues, my darling.” You forced out, wiping her face with a tissue. You handed her another one and she blew her nose, tears threatening to roll down her cheeks. 

“I’m so sorry, Y/n.” She curled up in a ball, facing away from you. You couldn’t help the small eye roll and sigh that escaped your lips. 

“C’mere bub. I’m not mad, just…just a little nervous.” You chuckled, shifting so that you had her wrapped up in your arms again. 

“Mhm…” You kissed her temple, a little nervous at the heat you felt there. “Sorry I got sick.” 

“No apologies from you. Go to sleep, okay? Everything’s okay. I’m here, and I’m not going away this time. I’m sorry for leaving you earlier.” 

“Mmm, missions happen. ‘S long as you don’t go away again.” 

“Not until you feel better.” 

[spwarkles]

Does anyone else remember that specific niche of oneshot fanfictions where Tony Stark and the Avengers all knew each other but the Avengers all still thought of Tony as a stuck up jerk until some form of Tony whump (usually doing with the arc reactor) happened that forced them all to realize he wasn't? Just me?? Also??? Where can I find them again?? Thank you.

Also like? The random niche of fanfiction oneshots where Peter was Tony's son and lived in stark tower and the Avengers would find out about it? Was I on weird internet places in freshman year of high school or does anyone else know where to find these????

[creative-caramel-coffee]

I think I expressed my self terribly wrong sorry!

So basically reader is sick but maybe the team doesn’t realise and they do things unintentionally that make reader even more sick (like leaving the windows open, telling her to go buy something or I don’t know) until Wanda and Nat have enough and realise that reader is sick and tell the team to stop

-🦜

Stubborn and Sick

Pairings: Wandanat x R

Word count: 1K

Summary: Your sick and stubborn, but you also can’t back down from a challenge. What happens when Tony gets involved?

TW: sickness, fever, almost kinda fainting? (Idk), bread slander, fever induced vertigo, headache etc.

A/n Hehehe bread slander. Grains and seeds sucks so bad. I don’t care if its healthy it tastes like chunky cardboard. White bread and whole meal all the way peeps.

You were stubborn. It was a fact, and everyone knew it. So, when you got sick after falling in a frozen lake on the last mission Wanda and Nat decided to wait until you came to them for help instead of trying everything to convince you to let them help you.

The rest of the team however was more than a little blind when it came to other people's needs, not for lack of trying but more so because they were dense, and not just in terms of muscles.

You stood in the kitchen, the fever you had managed to develop this morning was throwing you for a loop. You were making some toast, hoping you would be able to deal with that at least. Your throat hurt so bad and there was a dull headache settling in for the long run it seemed.

You probably shouldn’t have stayed up all night trying to finish the mission report for fury. But tony had bed you a hundred bucks he would finish his before you did, and you weren’t one to back down from easy money.

You finished buttering the toast and patted the cash in your pocket and smiled to yourself. Turning to put the knife in the sink to clean later the world spun. You staggered a bit and held onto the bench with both hands leaning against it heavily.

“Damn this stupid fever” you muttered. When you vision cleared you deposited the knife and went back to the plate. Picking it up and setting out for your room. Your muscles hurt and your head hurt more. You had barely made it three feet down the hall when you heard a voice from the kitchen.

“Who ate all the bread?” It was Clint so you hightailed it out of there, knowing if he found it was you, he would send you to buy more. And you were pretty sure a trip to the shops would kill you at this point. Alas, fate was not on your side today. Being sick you were clumsy and slow due to the fever. Needless to say, Clint caught you easily. He scowled at the toast you were holding.

“I wanted a sandwich.” He grumbled. At this point tony walked past.

“Whats up Legolas?” Tony chirped probably hyped up on coffee and energy drinks.

“L/n here ate all the bread.” He said still scowling at the toast.

“Then it seemed fair she goes to buy more.” Tony grinned, “I know she has the money for it.” You glared at him.

“Fine.” You growled. So, despite the pounding headache and sore muscles, the fever and growing ache in your knees and back you submitted.

You huffed and nibbled on the toast before leaving it on the desk. As you left the room you shot the delicious toast a mournful longing look. It simple sat and waited.

The shops were awful to say the least. The lights hummed which hurt your head and the brightness hurt your eyes. Parts of you hurt that you didn’t know existed let alone could feel. You slouched and shuffled down the bread aisle. There were so many different types. You grabbed the first one you saw when a sudden wave of vertigo hit, and you stumbled like you had in the kitchen. Leaning against the shelf and closing your eyes.

Yelena was in town and so her and Nat were having a movie night, and as all good movie nights need, they were out getting snacks. So, you can imagine Natasha’s surprise when she saw you looking just about ready to pass out in the bread aisle. She wasted no time rushing to your side and steadying you with her hands on your shoulders.

“Y/n? Y/n!” She said patting you lightly on the cheek. You were very pale and seemed only mildly lucid at best.

Nat took the bread from your hands and shoved it in Yelena’s direction who took it and inspected it.

“Grains and seeds?” She mumbled. “Gross.” She shoved it back on the shelf and picked up a loaf of white bread.

“Y/n/n i need you to open your eyes for me sweetheart.” She said and you mumbled something incoherent.

“What was that love?” Nat asked feeling your forehead with the back of her hand. You were way too hot and defiantly running a high fever.

“I said m sick natty. ‘N i don’ feel good.” You slurred and Natasha looked around to Yelena before realising she had gone to buy the bread for you. She didn’t know why you wanted it but if it was worth almost dying for, she would buy it for you. After all you were dating her sister.

Nat scanned you up and down deciding that this had gone on for too long. In a gentle movement she scooped you into her arms and you tiredly rested your head on her chest eyes still shut and muttering nonsense. Yelena and Nat met at the register and the three of you headed back to the compound. Being an avenger Nat did receive too many odd looks for carrying her very pale and sick looking girlfriend through the shopping centre.

On the way back Yelena done with you in the back on Nat’s lap. She was fanning you with her hands in a fruitless attempt to cool you down. She had dialled Wanda who was going to meet them in your shared room with supplies and a wet cloth for you.

Nat easily carried you out of the car and back to the room. Wanda took your temperature and Yelena went to put the bread in the kitchen slightly thrown off by her sister being so domestic all of a sudden.

Your temperature as expected was far too high and so they went about cooling you down with a cloth and fever reducers. After a bit you were asleep with Wanda and Natasha laid beside you careful not to add too much extra heat to your already furnace-like temperature.

You rested and it was simple to say that Nat’s movie night gained an extra two people. Well … one witch and a half dead, half sick and fully asleep avenger.

MASTERLIST

[promptsforyourwhumpfic]

Whump Prompt #1355

Whumptober #5: Sunburn | Healing Salve | Heatstroke

“Go to the desert, they said, It’ll be great, they said. Absolute bollocks I say.” The whumpee rumbles, dragging their feet across the rocky desert. Their mission had taken far longer than expected, and they knew they’d miss the rendezvous the second the mark missed their supposed meeting time. Eventually, the whumpee managed to make the kill, and retreat back to the small cave in the hills they were hiding in, after hours of waiting in the blistering sun. 

The next morning, a terrible sandstorm hit, wiping out communications, ruining the landscape, and making it near impossible for your whumpee to retrace their steps. Still, with the commotion caused in the nearby camp due to their mission, the whumpee knows they need to press on; to at least make it across the valley to the next set of hills where surely more shelter was. They try and wait for their next chance - a break in the winds perhaps, but as night falls they know they’re stuck until sunrise. They try to hunker down behind a bend in the shallow cavern, but it does little to stop the harsh winds whipping coarse sand against their sunburnt skin. In an act of self-pity, they dig through their bag for a sip of precious water, and to see if they packed their salve…

They hadn’t. Of course they hadn’t. Nevertheless, your whumpee tries to get a few hours sleep, just managing a few naps here and there as they are kept up by debris and the discomfort of being so close to the enemy. The second the morning light hits, they’re up, though no more lucid. The heat is stifling, but they know they’re likely better off covered than exposed to the harsh heat. The winds had died down, though the valley had turned into a hazy bowl of dust. 

They trek for hours, their gps thrown by the extreme weather and heat. At one point, they trip and it cracks against a sharp stone - rendering it almost unusable. Still, the whumpee knows it’s best not to panic, but they can’t help the pit of uncertainty that begins to open in their stomach.

They begin to wonder if that is due to their hunger, as rationing the energy bars offered nothing more than vital glucose and vitamins. 

By nightfall, your whumpee finds shelter between some boulders, and sleep still doesn’t come easy. 

By noon the following day, the horizon begins to grow hazy, and their legs weak. They’re parched, they know, but they cannot afford to waste the precious water they have left on comfort. Instead they press on. At this point, maybe they’re being pursued by the enemy - or maybe they’re suffering from injuries due to a fall… 

Either way, their handler/team eventually finds them. They’re staggering across a dune, delirious from heat stroke and a blistering sunburn. They fall to their knees the second they see a familiar face. 

“Miss me?” They smirk through cracked and blistered lips; their voice raw. 

“Well someone had to come find you.” Says the caretaker, trying to be nonchalant despite the fact they’d been a whirlwind of worry the second the whumpee missed their check-in. 

[hainethehero]

Headcanon of Steve just having isolated moments of utter nostalgia, and the resultant melancholy from it is so debilitating that he has bouts of depression for days...

Like, one day while they're hunting for some random villain of the week, they get caught in a heavy downpour. And everyone filters into whatever shelter is available to keep out of the frigid wetness, but Steve... Steve remains. He stands as still as a marble statue, raindrops pelting down upon him, dripping down his skin just like it had all those years ago.

It's so oddly profound to him in that moment... that, the rain smells the same.

It looks the same.

It even sounds the same!

Then he'll remember his sweet Mama, the Howlies. Peggy's easy, confident smile. Hell- even Phillips. And Bucky. He can feel the blazing warmth of Bucky's strong hands around him, keeping him safe and cosy. The memory is so real that he takes a step forward to touch it.

That he can close his eyes and almost take himself back to the good days.

But then Tony's voice crackles to life in his ear. He's back in the future. Back in the never-ending machine of robotic nonsense. Back in the twenty-first century where the cold never seems to melt away from his skin. Where Bucky is just someone from the history books. And where there's no one on the planet who can remember him from his time.

He returns to his team with a shattered heart, thankful for the rain only because it hides his tears. But they can all see how they're red-rimmed from sheer grief. They don't poke fun at him, not even Tony is that cruel.

Instead, they get him safely back to the Tower where Bruce swaddles him in piles of blankets, Tony makes him a hot cup of cocoa and the rest of the team curls around him and keeps him warm. Safe. Protected.

After a few days of the cuddle pile (because they refuse to leave him alone, especially Thor), the nostalgia doesn't seem so bad.