#clint's severed toe

[notlhecxzsa]

Stubborn Red Head - N.R

Warning: None(but, if I miss something that triggered you, please, kindly let me know! Mwaps)

Sum: Just natty, being a big stubborn head and a scaredy tiger to her girlfriend.

NatashaXFem!Reader!W/specs

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Natasha's POV:

"Come on Nat, your bruises are too deep to be ignore. Why can't you just simply go to the medbay, get your girlfriend to check and clean that?" Clint said as we sit on the living room. I sat there, staring hardly at the floor while crossing my arms, trying to ignore the pain, and Clint's scolding.

Me, Clint, Wanda and Steve just finished out mission. Something went out of the plan, it leads us to a very chaotic event. Wanda got her hand and foot dislocated, now she's being checked by Dr. Cho, while on the other hand, Steve is being treated by bruce, fortunately, for Clint he didn't injured himself.

While me, i have so many cuts and bruises around my body, some of the are black and blue already, some are deep, some are not. I can almost feel myself getting light headed as seconds past by, i know that im losing blood already.

"I can still manage, don't worry. I'll just go to my room and clean this up, it's not that too severe." I said as i tried to stand up, only to get stumbled back down on the sofa again.

"Yeah, you can really still manage..." Clint mocked me, making me glare at him.

"Come on, Nat don't be stubborn, or else that'll just get worse." He said warningly.

Before i can even utter a word, Wanda walked in the room with Steve, immediately taking notice of my state.

"You still haven't got that cleaned and checked up on, Nat?" Wanda said while frowning worriedly.

"No, i-" I was cut off by Clint.

"She's too stubborn." Clint said.

I immediately got an idea. Steve and Wanda are already done, it means, i can take my turn to get checked up on and cleaned by Dr. Cho.

But, once again, someone joined in on our conversation, and that someone is my girlfriend.

"What's with all the commotion here?" Her soft alluring voice called out, making their head whipped on her direction, while i just stayed frozen form where im sitting, closing my eyes as i bite my lip.

"Well, your stubborn girlfriend here, is being the stubborn woman that she is. She doesn't want to get checked up on, because according to her, 'she can manage'.", I heard Clint said.

"Well, i guess our job ends here. Let's go, boys!" Wanda exclaimed, before snapping her fingers.

I heard their footsteps descending, until i heard nothing anymore. There's a moment of silence, before i heard a heels clicking on the floor, as soon as it stopped, i opened my eyes, immediately gazing at my gorgeous girlfriend who is scanning me from head to toe.

There's no emotion in her face, but i can tell she's disappointed. I smiled sheepishly at her while scratching the back of my neck. I saw how she shook her head, before turning away and snapping her fingers, motioning me to follow her, which i did with no hesitation.

I followed her like a puppy, dragging my pained and aching body, stumbling as i did so.

"Sit." She said in a straight tone, and pointed the bed, as soon as we step inside of her very own clinic.

I obediently followed, i sit on the bed while waiting for her to do whatever she needs to do with me. I watch her movements, flinching at the sound she would make, like she wound throw things hard on the table here and there, and i can tell that it's in purpose, meaning that she's pissed.

"Discard your suit." I did carefully to not to harm my sore bruises, when i finished, i was left only with my tank top and tight boxers.

She sat infront of me, sitting on her chair that has wheels. She started cleaning my bruises, too focus on what she's doing that she doesn't notice me staring lovingly, but with guilt on her face.

How can she look so amazing, and hot at the same time just by wearing those spectacles of hers? Like, DAMN, what did i even did to have someone like her?

But, even with all the disappointments i see in her, the worried expression that is plastered on her face didn't go unnoticed. Her eyes are soft, and her touched are so gentle as she did her job, and it makes me more guilty.

"I'm sorry..." I said sincerely, trying to catch her gaze, but, she didn't even flinch, nor reacted, her face still stayed the same, while she just continued what she's doing.

"You should be." She said with no emotion.

The reason why i didn't want to go here, and let my girl see me in this state, it's because i know she will gonna be so worried, and mad. I mean, the last time i went home when im nearly losing my consciousness, she yelled and cried at me after i recovered. And believe me when i say, she didn't talked to me for a whole 3 days.

I mean, it's my fault tho. I promised her to come back just the way i left, although i know she knows that it doesn't really go by that, considering that my job is literally like a suicidal missions. But, i always try, and i failed. Sure, i go home with light cuts and bruises, but that didn't matter, because it's only a little, but i know that sometimes, i reached beyond my limits.

I just watched her as she gently took care of me, when it came to the stitching, she would say sorry whenever i would flinch and winced. After it was done, she stood up and cleaned everything, and packed it all up, while i just stayed seated, watching her every move, thinking of what i should do.

Don't get confused tho, im the top on this relationship, but everybody know that im an 'under' when it comes to my girlfriend.

She still didn't utter a word, and i know that i have to do something if i don't want this to go any longer.

I walk from where she stands, which us infront of our vanity table inside our room. We're just getting ready to go to bed, im already done, she is too, but she still needs to do her night routine. I snake my arms around her waist, and i felt her become tensed by the sudden action, but soon enough she relaxed as i kiss her shoulder and neck softly.

"I'm sorry, baby. Please? I'm really sorry. I didn't want to make you worried, something just went really wrong along the mission." I said softly while rubbing her tummy.

She still didn't utter a word and continue on what she's doing. I sighed defeatedly, but continue on comforting and wooing her.

"Hey, darling can you forgive me, please?" I ask while looking at him with my puppy eyes as i pleadingly pout my lips. She looked at me, and i know that she will gonna forgive me sooner.

I wrapped my hands around her middle part as i put my head on her chest, we're now laying on our bed, and only the moonlight, and the lamp in our bedside table are the only thing that are giving us light to see each other.

"Please? I don't want to sleep knowing this is our situation. You know how i can't sleep when we're like this, and i know you too. So please, come on, my love. Something just went really wrong along the mission, Steve and Wanda are injured too, so it wasn't really our fault, or my fault." I explained looking at her straight in the eyes, and now i saw how they soften, as i felt her arms wrapped itself around my head.

"Okay, i forgive you. Sorry too, i just- im just really worried and- disappointed and upset because you wouldn't come automatically to me when things like this happens. I mean, like, we already talked about this, but it's still the same." She said and i can see the sadness in her eyes, making me feel bad.

I kissed her forehead and buried my face on her neck, instantly sniffling her comforting smell. I put small kisses over it before i look at her again.

"I'm really sorry. I was just really scared and i don't want to see you being all worried like the last time." I said, and she frowned.

"Am i that mean for you to be scared at?" She pouted, making me chuckle and kiss her lips, making the pout go away.

"No, no, that's not what i mean, baby. It's just that, i already know how you'll react, and you know....i don't want to see you sad and upset." I said, and now, it's hee turn to kiss me, as a way of saying that she understands.

"Don't worry, baby. I promise, i'll be more careful soon, okay?" I said, giving her a reassuring smile, with tired eyes.

"Okay. Let's sleep already, im tired. Goodnight, i love you." She said before giving me a lingering kiss.

I hold the nape of her neck, deepening the kiss, but she pushed me away giggling as she did so.

"Okay, stop. I'm really tired, okay? You should rest to, i know you're tired." She said, and i nodded my smiling widely at her.

"Roger that, boss. Goodnight, i love you till the earth stops moving." I said, and she playfully pushed my face away while laughing.

"Cheesy." She said, before settling in.

I shifted into more comfortable position, usually, im the big spoon, but for now, i feel like needing more of her warmth to be wrapped around me, so that's what i did

God, i truly love this girl.

[ussgallifrey]

(She Moves With) Shameless Wonder | 21

✦ Summary: Your badge clearly said SHIELD consultant, so you weren’t entirely sure where Fury was getting this whole make you an Avenger idea from. But you had a feeling it might have something to do with the recent discovery of an artifact at the bottom of the Arctic Sea.

✦ Pairing: Steve Rogers x Female Reader

✦ Warnings: Canon divergence, dialogue taken directly from Avengers: Age of Ultron, language, mentions of Hydra experimentation, moderate violence, Steve Rogers definitely not being jealous.

✦ Word Count: 9.4k

✦ Playlist: Here

✦ Author’s Note: Uh...hey. How's it going? I'm just visiting as it was. For anyone who might be totally unaware, I've been away for almost a year now. At the beginning of 2023, my partner experienced a near fatal injury and well, life has kind of revolved around that for some time. He's physically healing, I'm emotionally and mentally healing and life is finally moving along once again.

Consider this me dipping my toes into writing once again. Maybe not regular updates, but a start. The majority of this chapter has been sitting in my drafts since, god, November of last year? As a spur of the moment kind of thing, I decided to reread the entire story earlier today and felt determined enough to maybe add to it once again. And... here we are. Anyway, back to the story <3

[Master List]

Steve finds himself in one of the several glassed-in conference rooms in the tower with Tony and Hill - only a few hours after Natasha was cleared by Dr. Cho. The billionaire looks like he’d rather be doing anything other than this. Most likely wishing he could be back in his precious lab, studying the scepter for all its worth before it was returned to its rightful home.

He closes the door behind him, eyeing the laptop on which Maria is typing, “Said you got a lead?”

She hums in soft acknowledgment, eyes scanning something on the screen before she finally gives him her attention. Tony rocks back in his chair, feet crossed at the ankle on the adjacent seat. Steve remains standing at the end of the table.

Images appear on the whiteboard behind her as she begins her report, “It took us two hours to bypass the corrupted files and the top-of-the-line encryption - ”

“No thanks to JARVIS,” Tony adds quickly, with a knowing smirk.

She nods, but otherwise ignores the comment, “We’re looking at roughly thirty years of backlog.”

Steve watches the images on the projection switch between the scepter, schematics, and patient files. Jesus.

“You were on the right track, Captain. Strucker wasn’t just using that thing for weapons - though we have at least a good amount of information on the weaponry he successfully made. But I believe your interest was focused on the containment cells?”

It’s at that moment that you and Clint walk in, offering an apologetic nod as you take a seat beside Tony. You lean forward almost immediately when you see what’s on the screen - an image taken just earlier today of the mangled cell block.

The screen changes to two prisoner files marked PATIENTIENT 4.1and PATIENT 4.2. Admittedly, his German isn’t as good as it used to be during the war, so he fumbles through the article with little to no comprehension.

“Anyone get that?” Clint gestures at the screen, an incredulous expression on his face.

Before Hill can even bring up the translation, you’re muttering out, “They… they weren’t experimented on. The scepter, it wasn’t - ”

“What do you mean?” Steve asks, eyes narrowing at the files as if he could somehow understand the foreign words now.

“Is there any language you don’t speak?” Tony whirls around in his seat to stare at you instead; totally missing the point.

“Jedek, Sentinelese, and Mudbara to name a few,” you answer levelly, before craning your head back to look at Steve and then over to Clint. “It says Patients 4.1 and 4.2 were entered into their program in 2005 - ”

Hill nods, the projection changing over to a set of images - body parts being measured and cataloged. They looked surprisingly small - skin stretched tight over the bones of a forearm, a calf, and a shockingly skeletal spine.

Children. He was looking at the images of two children that HYDRA had taken in.

Gritting his teeth, he manages to get out a sharp, “What else?”

Maria takes over then, back to more pages of files, “They were part of a series of off-the-record adoptions, during the country’s last civil war. People went missing by the hundreds back then. The official death count is still incomplete from the time. But it appears that individuals like Strucker were using the war to their benefit.”

The screen is flooded with images then, hundreds of people - primarily children, he notes with a sour turning of his stomach and the clenching of his fist at his side.

“And he was what, using the scepter like he was playing at God?” Barton scoffs with a bitter tone.

Steve is reminded then of the fact that if anyone understood the gravity of the scepter and the capability of its power in the wrong hands, it would in fact be Clint Barton.

Hill’s lips form a thin line, “For some, yes.”

“But not these two?” Tony fills in, twirling a pen between his fingers.

“Why?” Steve questions, unable to pull his gaze away from the new blurred image of a dark-haired girl, no older than eight - her eyes wide as she’s seemingly forced into a position for the camera.

It’s then that you lean forward in your chair, squinting at the file next to the girl’s picture before you rock back in your seat - “They were showing abilities on their own accord?”

And then the bombshell drops.

“This is their DNA structure against the typical human’s - ” In the center of the table, a blue holographic projection is displayed. Two double helixes slowly rotate alongside one another.

For all his aptitude, Steve can’t spot the immediate difference between the two. But you and Tony surely latch onto it quick enough. Leaning over the table, the billionaire swipes his hand at the helix on the left and instantly increases its size.

“What the hell is that?” Tony wonders out loud, turning the helix with his fingers.

It’s only then that Steve notices the strange strand near the center of the structure. It’s forked, compared to the other relatively straight branches. Almost spiked in its appearance.

“They called it the X gene, in the official reports,” Hill supplements.

“Which did what, exactly?” Tony asks, eyes still focused on the hologram.

She clears her throat for a moment, before saying, “From what we understand from their reports, these two individuals had naturally occurring inhuman powers on a previously unheard-of level.”

Everyone’s attention falls on her, and the silence lingers.

“Superpowered humans whose abilities can be traced back only to their own mutated DNA.”

Tony looks between the screen, the hologram, and then Steve.

“Shit. You’re saying these things can just pop up now, yeah? Any random person could get some kind of unnatural ability?”

“We have to look into it further, obviously - and if we were able to run the appropriate tests - ”

“What happened to them?” you ask, standing slowly. Clarifying only a moment later when you’re met with blank stares. “The file says they were still there when we breached the fortress. And yet we didn’t find anyone there that wasn’t already in a body bag in the morgue.”

She gives a tight nod, flicking off the presentation, “We have eyes on the city.”

“Do we even know what they look like? Let alone their intentions,” Tony questions, leaning away from the table and tapping the pen for a moment against his leg.

Hill shakes her head, “No. But we have a limited age range and a general profile to work with. And two people who were held captive for most of their lives will display a unique range of responses and choices. One slip, and we’ll find them. But if they were able to escape Strucker’s fortress on their own accord - ”

Tony seems unimpressed as he nods, walking backward for a moment as he says, “Keep me looped.”

You step forward to speak to Maria as the billionaire leaves - probably back to his lab. Clint stands up with a tired stretch.

“How’s she holding up?” Steve asks gently as the archer moves around the table.

The blonde smiles fondly, shaking his head, “You know, Nat, man. She doesn’t do bed rest for shit. I’m bribing her with coffee and I got Thor keeping her company right now.”

“Keeping her from escaping, you mean?” you turn back towards them with a knowing smile.

Clint chuckles, “Something like that.”

Steve nods, watching as he takes his leave then, waiting around for you to finish up with Maria. He recalled how rattled you had been that day upon discovering the cells. To finally have an answer to that giant unknown - well, Steve just wanted to see how you were holding up after it all.

Your brows raise marginally as you see him still standing there, but the two of you walk out into the quiet hallway together as Maria packs up her things, stepping in sync as you head for the elevator to the private quarters.

“So…” he starts, still processing the whole meeting in his head.

“So, naturally occurring superpowers,” you agree with a disbelieving shake of your head.

He shares your shock, glancing over at the curiously downturned expression on your lips. And here he thought the weirdest thing science had ever turned out was him. But in a world of literal Gods and billionaires with time and money to spend, Steve probably shouldn’t have been as surprised as he was.

“It makes me wonder,” you say as you stop at the metal doors of the elevator, “If this is the first instance of the mutation - if something in their specific genetics can be traced back to this. Or… or if this could be a totally random human mutation.”

The bell dings gently as the doors slide open and the two of you enter.

Steve just shakes his head, “I have no idea.”

You hum in quiet contemplation. The doors swish shut after a moment and Steve presses the button for the appropriate floor before stepping back, eyeing you out of his peripheral. Your curiosity was like a burning ember, he could see it growing by the second and it made him smile - seeing that thirst for answers, for knowledge, so clear on your face.

“They were seemingly random too - not necessarily connected powers or even all that similar really,” you turn to face him, eyes narrowed as you seem to work through everything out loud, “The male prisoner had an increased metabolism and improved thermal homeostasis. And the girl had neuroelectrical interfacing, telekinesis, and mental manipulation.”

Slowly he turns to face you, peering down into your energized eyes with a look of confusion clearly plastered upon his own.

With one glance up at him, you specify, “He moves incredibly fast and she can move things with her mind. The grooves on the floor, the deformed cell bars. It’s kind of unbelievable, right?”

Steve offers a look of consideration as he nods toward the now-opening doors. The two of you exit onto the pristine floor of the personal living quarters for the team.

“Have you ever seen something like this before?” he asks, glancing over at you as the two of you pass the closed door to Dr. Banner's room.

“Not like this. Gods and other immortals, sure. Gamma radiation accidents and one notable serum-enhanced super soldier,” your eyes turn playful as you look over at him - he returns the expression with a smile of his own. “But never naturally occurring human mutation, no.”

“Tony's gonna have a field day,” he sighs, at last, coming to a stop just beside the door to the room the billionaire had forced upon you.

As if he wasn't already deep in the research pool with the scepter. Once Thor returned it to its rightful home, Stark would eagerly be jumping on the opportunity to explore the mutated genome for all its worth.

You make a thoughtful humming sound as you seem to register just where you are now, peering back at the door.

“Hey, uhm,” Steve clears his throat as he looks over at you, a slight blush on his cheeks. “You're going to the party tomorrow night, right?”

That pulls your attention as you look back at him with a gentle smile, “Yeah, he roped me into it. Told me to call up some friends to come along. He wouldn't take no for an answer.”

Steve laughs, “Yeah, that sounds about right for Stark.”

“Doesn't even matter that I have no one to invite along. Honestly, what does he think I do in my spare time to warrant friendships like that?”

The words themself seem disheartening but you're chuckling despite it.

He offers a grin of his own, “Seems to be a mutually shared problem.”

Your eyes flicker up to his, a sparkle of warmth within the depths of your irises.

“Yeah,” you breathe out gently. And then your hand grabs hold of the door handle and you push back with your weight to open it a crack. “Well, maybe I can scour my contacts for someone. And if all else fails, you could always call up Sharon?”

There's a hopeful lilt to your voice, one that Steve, unfortunately, has to dampen.

“She's on assignment right now. Probably won't be stateside for another month.”

Your lips form a gentle ahh, “I'm sure you'll think of someone by then.”

Seeing a chance appearing in front of him, Steve gulps down his anxious nerves. Natasha had said to be blunt after all.

“Or… I could just take… you.”

With a surprised blink, your lips curve up into a breathtaking smile that nearly sends him reeling.

“Sure, Rogers. Though Sam might be a little jealous of me taking his wingman away.”

Relief swims through his belly as he rocks back on his heels, unable to contain his smile, “I'm sure he'll get over it.”

The lab is thrumming with energy when you come to check in on the two scientists who, by the looks of it, haven’t left the room since at least the day before - if not longer. Settling in on one of the spare stools alongside an abandoned workbench, you watch them work - flicking between screens and running computations that are basically incomprehensible to you.

“How may I assist you?”

“Cronus!” you startle as the bot seems to materialize next to you.

Unlike the rest of the Iron Legion, this particular bot has a drawn-on smile on its mouthpiece, crudely done in a lopsided Sharpie scrawl. Along with two wonky curved eyebrows above the visual optics.

“Oh, hey, Your Highness,” Tony calls out, not even looking away from the new set of schematics in front of him.

Bruce gives a little wave of his own.

“No need for assistance,” you inform the drone, watching the digitized glowing eyes seemingly blink before it walks back to the corner of the lab from which it came.

From across the room, you hear the billionaire give a slightly defeated damn it before he looks up and seems to decide that you’re far more interesting - striding across the room until he’s leaning against the workbench next to you.

“Have I mentioned how unnerving those things are?”

He glances back at the bot, “My Legion, you mean?”

You hum in agreement, “I mean, I understand that you gave up the suit and this was the next logical step. But you couldn’t have made them a bit more… friendly?”

His lips form a challenging grin, “I’ll have you know that the Ultron line of toys are currently at the top of everyone's Christmas wishlist. And there’s an anime currently in the works inspired by my Legion. So, maybe it's just you and your slightly outdated ways.”

You blink in confusion, “Anime?”

“Seriously? How long have you been around here?”

With a strangled laugh, you look away, “A few thousand years, give or take. And I’ll have you know that my interests far outreach your capitalist hold on the franchise market.”

Tony stumbles back, a hand held to his heart, “Okay, ouch. I let you into my tower, offer you a room, and you call me a money-hungry capitalist?”

A shrug is all you offer him in return.

He gestures at Bruce with a pleading look in his eyes, looking for backup apparently. But the other scientist merely holds up his hands in a clear sign of not wanting to step into the fray.

“Okay, I’ll play,” he resigns, leaning his elbows on the workbench - watching you with a playful intensity. You can make out each ring under his eyes, the speckles of red veins in his tired expression.

“While I’ve been coming up with more and more exuberantly creative ways to fund this entire group operation, you’ve been doing what exactly?”

Turning on the seat to better address him, you state quite plainly, “Cleaning up SHIELD’s mess.”

“Which we’ve also been doing,” he shakes his head. “My question is: why haven’t you joined us on any of these little adventures?”

Admittedly, you kind of blank for a moment.

It was a legitimate question, considering you were doing nearly the exact same thing for the past year, just on your own. While you knew Steve had been silently tracking his long-lost friend during this time, you also were aware of the many raids he had partaken in with the team.

“I mean, even with this whole scepter business just about wrapped up, there’s still bases and terrorist cells out there. And since you’re already here - ”

“Anonymity,” you answer, suddenly.

Tony blinks, jerking his head back as you slowly and calmly press forward.

“I spent centuries being nothing more than a legend amongst your kind. I could come and go as I pleased. I worked for SHIELD while remaining almost entirely off their records. Yet one instance in New York and suddenly my identity was dragged into the open and now - ”

You gesture vaguely around the lab, “Now, I’m here and a part of a household name. I preferred it when it was just me doing the quiet work behind the scenes and not having my name and image on the news.”

“And lunchboxes and costumes and a few knock-off toys, to name a few other things, right?” Tony’s eyes flash with what you think is meant to be humor.

Your anger simmers and you offer him a tired, half-hearted smile, “It was an easier life when my name was only associated with museum pieces and ancient tales, yes.”

He nods thoughtfully, biting at his lip as he looks between you and Bruce.

“So… it’s a maybe?”

You shove his arm away, good-naturedly, “I’ll see you at your party tonight, Stark. You too, hopefully - ” you call over to Bruce.

The other man quirks his lips into a shy smile, “I’m not sure I have much of a choice in the matter.”

“You don’t!” Tony responds cheerily, eyes flickering over to you as you exit the lab. “Okay, let’s run it again, JARVIS, and see if we can keep the system from overloading this time.”

The party is in full swing now. The drinks have been flowing freely from the bar as comfortable music streams from the speakers. It’s a surprisingly casual affair for Tony’s standards - though the man is dressed in a three-piece suit. There’s a mix of colognes and perfumes and the sharp bitterness of alcohol in the air.

He hasn’t partaken in any of it, in all honesty. He’s on the precipice, waiting for your arrival.

Steve had done his best to hide his disappointment earlier in the day when you informed him that you would have to catch up with him at the party later.

“I’ve got to pick up some friends from the airport,” you had said, almost sheepish when you knocked on the door to his room.

And he had responded with a nonchalant of course, yeah, it’s no problem sort of answer. But now that the party had officially been going on for almost an hour, he couldn’t help but feel an anxious twinge in his side as he kept sweeping the room with his eyes - trying to find you in the crowd.

It’s not that he can’t socialize with the team, the veterans, or the other partygoers. It’s a completely different reason entirely that he keeps seeking you out amongst the celebration.

“So,” Sam knocks his elbow against Steve’s arm. “You find a place in Brooklyn yet?”

He gazes out over the atrium, knowing the well-recycled conversation was just Sam’s attempt at distracting him for another few minutes. While he had never explicitly spoken about his feelings towards you, it seemed it was apparently evident to just about everyone in his inner circle of friends - Sam and Natasha included.

“I’m not sure I can afford a place in Brooklyn.”

It was true. But like he had told you the other night, he didn’t all that mind staying at the Tower. It at least kept him busy when he wasn’t working on the missing person’s case with Sam. Everything had changed after the collapse of SHIELD and Steve hadn’t been particularly interested in going back to square one and attempting his shot at normalcy.

No, joining them on the HYDRA raids had been exactly what he needed.

The other man takes another swig of his drink, “Well, home is home, you know?”

Steve looks at him for a moment before he returns his gaze to the room - eyes not quite seeing the actual location itself. But lost in the beginning of an idea that his mind sometimes liked to dangle in front of him. Images of a possible future that didn’t seem all that unwelcoming - just a little improbable.

It’s only with the loud boisterous sound of Thor’s booming voice that he’s able to focus back on the party itself and, more importantly, on the three women who have just come up the stairs.

It’s like an immediate sucker punch to the gut as he takes you in. He’s not sure if he’s ever actually seen you in a dress before. But what a debut this is.

It’s very… Grecian, he’ll admit. Bathed in soft white fabric and glistening golden embellishments, you’re every bit a goddess as you make your way over to Thor - introducing your guests.

Steve finds himself literally muttering a silent wow to himself, feeling the uptick in his heartbeat and the sudden rush of warmth to his cheeks.

And then he’s clamping his hand on Sam’s shoulder, “Think I need a drink.”

The other man just chuckles into his glass, already knowing exactly where his attention has fallen for the rest of the night.

You can’t help but smile as Thor tugs the taller woman into a tight hug. The shorter of the two immediately backs up before he can grab hold of her.

“You’ve gotten bigger,” she states with an air of disinterest.

He chuckles, patting the other on the shoulder fondly, “Still using the same mystical illusions then?”

Sprite shrugs.

Her disguise is about five inches taller than her actual form and abnormally similar to the airport's gift shop cashier they had passed on the way out to meet you. With dark chestnut-colored hair and a pair of striking green eyes, she looked nothing like her usual self - but that was the entire point, of course.

“We’re trying to keep a low profile,” Sersi says gently, leveling Thor with a look that was filled with the expectation of continued secrecy.

It wasn’t every day two Eternals were invited to a Stark Tower party. But then again, only the two of you knew of their existence in the first place. A well-kept secret indeed.

He makes an understanding ahh sound, nodding your way, “Friends from work, then?”

“Yes, actually,” you tug Sersi’s hand into your own. “We worked together at the Louvre for two years.”

“And at the Acropolis Museum - ” she fills in.

“And the Natural History Museum in D.C. and - ”

“London and New York, yeah. We get it,” Sprite interrupts briskly, her attention drifting over to a young waiter with a tray full of champagne.

Sersi’s expression softens as she looks over at her companion, “And that’s our cue to get a drink. We’ll catch up later.”

She makes a valiant effort to pull Sprite away gracefully to a nice quiet corner while you look upon Thor in his crimson jacket and casually messy smoothed-back hair.

“I half expected to see you surrounded by your kind,” you admit.

He chuckles, eyes raking over the fit of your dress, “While it is no Asgardian revel, I must admit, I quite enjoy the company I have made here on Midgard.”

“Hmmm, I see.”

Your shoulder brushes against his upper arm as the two of you move through the crowd.

A glance across the room has you spotting Steve at the bar, conversing with Natasha and Clint. You want to make your way over to them, but you know how out of place Thor is in the room - much like yourself, honestly. You had never been one for parties, even back on Olympus - and they were frequent there. Not wanting to interrupt your companions' conversation at the bar, you remain with your fellow god.

“And when you speak of good company, I assume you are referring to your good lady? Dr. Foster?”

The way his brow creases as his lips form a thin line makes everything that much more abundantly clear, especially when the God of Thunder attempts to duck out of view to grab hors d'oeuvres from one of the caterers. He pops the caviar cracker in his mouth and immediately blanches, forcing himself to swallow it down and smile.

“Yes, of course. Very good, very… happy,” he nods, hands on his hips.

Taking pity on the poor man, you rest your hand upon his arm, “Odinson. I know you have been here far more often than you’d like to admit - ”

“Well,” he smirks, “Midgard is quite low on daring quests for someone such as myself to partake in. I seek leisure where I can.”

With an unsurprised huff, you say, gently, “If you were here for leisure, as you say, you would not be here with us, I believe.”

His shockingly blue eyes meet yours. An air of long-held familiarity passes between the two of you as the party around you continues on. It’s with a knowing look in your eyes that he has to force his own gaze away, coughing roughly into his fist.

“Ah, advice from the virginal goddess herself. Have you become an expert in the field of relationships, my Lady Athena?”

You release your hold on his arm, shyly rubbing at your own elbow as your eyes flit across the crowd.

“Hardly. But I’ve been around long enough to know these things, Thor. How long will you be away after you return the scepter?”

He sniffs indignantly, “I have been away from my home for a long time indeed. I feel it warrants an extended visit.”

Something in those eyes makes your heart clench, your features softening in intensity as it dawns on you. He was not spending time with Jane Foster because there was no longer a reason to do so. He wanted to be here. He desired to get away from that place and therefore that relationship.

The realization is heartbreaking, so you find yourself asking, “Are you okay?”

The god nearly balks at that, plastering on a very tight smile, “Wh-why would I not be? Come! We should have a drink to celebrate such an accomplishment!”

His arm wraps around your waist in an instant, his large hand covering the middle of your bare back - fingers splayed across your heated skin. If he did not want to ruin the evening with talk of his past love, then you certainly weren’t going to push the topic tonight.

“I swear if it’s anything like the terrible drink your kind used to have back in the day - ”

He beams, looking down at you as the two of you walk over to the railing overlooking the lower levels of the Tower.

“I come bearing only the best for such revelries - ” he grins, pulling an ornate flask from his open jacket, “And only for the closest of allies.”

Flicking the topper off, he holds it out for you. Taking a wary sniff, your eyes nearly bulge as you giggle a nervous sound.

“Cronus, help us all.”

Grabbing hold of the flask, you take a single swig of the fast-burning liquid, sputtering pensively as it runs down your throat. Voice turned hoarse as you wave it back his way, “See? Truly terrible. Your people have no concept of a good drink.”

Thor chuckles, taking a shot of the Asgardian liquor for himself before pocketing the flask once again, “For tonight only - and because I am in the presence of a friend - I shall try not to take personal offense to that.”

You give him a nod in return, eyes blazing with a playful challenge, “Do try that.”

Natasha, for all appearances, is fully healed up. She’s perched on the barstool, sipping on her red-tinted drink, eyes scanning the room when Steve approaches. Clint has a grounding hand on her waist as he talks to a man on the other side of her, though she doesn’t seem to mind the lack of attention. Settling her drink down on the counter, she smiles up at him sweetly.

“Well, well, well. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Steve scoffs a quiet laugh, tucking his hands into his pockets as he glances over at you - your two friends seem to be familiar with Thor, or at least extrovertedly confident enough to greet him with a hug.

“You got cleared to drink?”

Nat waves a dismissive hand, “I’m Russian, this barely counts as alcohol. Though I see you’re not participating.”

He shrugs, eyes flickering back over to the four of you as the conversation with your friends seems to wrap up fairly quickly, leaving you alone with Thor.

“Doesn’t do any good with the serum, you know.”

She makes a soft hum of understanding, taking another sip of her drink as she watches him watching the two of you from across the room.

You were the point of his focus.

The soft draping of your dress seemed perfectly tailored to you, with its flutter sleeves and high neckline. The hem fell just above your knees, and as you turned to walk towards the balcony overlook, Steve felt the sudden tightening of his throat as his eyes fell to your back. It was fully exposed, save for the clinching collar at your neck and the guiding hand of the Asgardian whose fingers were resting far too low for Steve's liking.

Clint’s laughter pulls his attention back over to the bar, as he leans down to whisper something in Nat’s ear before dipping back into the crowd of people. Steve’s focus falls on the arrow-shaped necklace the assassin begins to fiddle with.

“If you were looking for a moment, Captain, now would be a good one.”

Sometimes, he found it unnerving how quickly Natasha could read a person down to their very core. Even after all of his time training and working for SHIELD and the STRIKE team, he had never managed to school his features away like they did. He was probably an open book for her abilities, whether he liked it or not.

With a sigh, he finally looks back over just in time to see Thor’s hand on your bare back, his head lowered down as you clutch something small and silver-colored in your hand. You’re laughing and even across the noise of the room, he can make it out with near clarity.

Natasha slides her finger along the rim of her glass, with a teasing, “Tick, tock.”

Pulling back his shoulders and forcing a purposeful breath from his lungs, Steve begins to weave his way through the crowd. He’s stopped one too many times for his patience, but he gives each person a polite and respectful greeting before apologizing and attempting to continue forward once again.

At last, he spots the bright white of your dress. He can even hear the tail end of your conversation above the low hum of the music playing on the speakers.

“ - probably best if you just... yeah. We’ll speak later.”

And only once he’s made his way through the last few party-goers, does Thor press past him with a tightly-lipped Captain in lieu of a greeting. Steve watches him go for just a moment before he focuses his attention back onto the person he had crossed the floor to see.

Your brow is furrowed and your voice cuttingly vicious as you eye two new strangers beside you.

“What in Cronus’ name are you doing here?”

A man with dark curls and a warm complexion merely rolls his eyes at you, “This is how we’re greeted.”

“Well, what did you expect?” You snip, eyes flashing something dangerous as you round on the taller man. “A hug and a kiss? I mean... you can’t just come here and expect – ”

“A warm welcome?”

Steve’s gaze falls to the shorter of the two – still a hair taller than you of course. His grin is worryingly bright, forced, but not sinister. Steve takes a step forward.

The movement alone drags your attention away from the men and the tension on your face seems to dissipate with relief when your eyes lock in on him.

“Steve,” you plead gently, extending your hand out for him.

Unsure of what exactly he has stepped into, he grips his belt and stares straight ahead at the two visitors – only after giving you a quick glance.

“Captain Rogers,” you say with a hint of salt. “May I introduce my brothers.”

He knows his brows have risen in surprise as he refocuses on the men.

The dark-haired one, with the thin beard, sneers down at them both. While the shorter of the pair, decked out in a plum-colored velvet jacket, offers a more comforting smile. But Steve’s reassurance wains when he reaches out and grabs hold of your shoulder – trying to steer you away from him.

“Pleasure, of course. But we need to speak with our dear sister.”

You grip the man’s hand and yank his wrist back in a clear warning.

“And if you decided to seek me out in such a public place, clearly you give little care to who may be around to hear what you intend to say.”

A very clear I’m staying where I am. Steve almost wants to smile with pride as he crosses his arms over his chest and gazes down at you. Not a sign of fear or trepidation lies on your face when you shoot him a quick look.

The taller of the two sighs. Dropping his arms, he reaches into his wheat-colored pant pocket and pulls out something that glints in the ambient lighting. While he takes hold of the silver chain, a small locket slips to the bottom – dangling in the air beneath his fingers.

“A gift.”

Steve’s eyes instinctively trail to your face – curious what your reaction will be. But your expression remains resolutely blank.

Flipping the locket into the palm of his hand, your brother carefully flicks open the silver cover to reveal a gentle flickering orange flame.

If he were able to look away from it, Steve would have seen the near-gasp of surprise on your lips.

“You’ve been away, ‘Thena,” your other brother says gently. “For far too long.”

With a twist of his wrist, the locket snaps shut and Steve’s gaze rises to the dark eyes of the other man.

“A message, I give to you, dear sister. Goddess of Wisdom.”

Extending his hand out, the locket dangling precariously between the two of you, Steve watches as your fingers carefully wrap around the item – slipping the chain from your brother’s fingers until the piece of jewelry is safely secured in your own hand.

Leaning in close, ducking his head down to almost your ear, the taller of the two harshly whispers, “Uti prudenter.”

When he pulls back, your eyes harden and Steve swears a flicker of gold shines there for just a moment. Staring up at the man in question, you ask, “What have you seen?”

“Nothing but what is to come.”

You snort indignantly, tossing the locket in your hand for a moment of thought.

“How ever helpful, Hermes.”

He crosses his arms, sparing you a calculated look.

“I’m not the god of visions, am I?”

“Only a carrier of precious flames, is that right?”

Holding out his palm, as if to say well, give it back then. You hold the locket closer to your chest, turning your shoulder toward Steve, making the man smirk.

“As I thought.”

With a hmph, you watch as he disappears through the small crowd before descending the stairs. Your other brother watches on for a moment before giving you a small, albeit sheepish, smile.

“Be careful.”

At that, your features soften a hair. Raising a brow at him, you ask, “Aren’t I always?”

A sharp laugh escapes from his lips as he steps forward to wrap you into a quick, tight, hug. One that you quickly accept.

“Never.”

Without a parting word, he too follows the steps of your other sibling and heads down the stairs. You stare on for a moment longer, glancing down at the locket in your hand before at last you turn those brilliant eyes toward him.

“Family reunions, am I right?”

He can’t help but chuckle at that.

With a soft sigh, you lean against the banister behind you, encouraging him to do the same as he falls into place on your left. His eyes have a hard time trailing away from that silver-chained locket though, still sitting in your palm.

“They never travel this way,” you explain. “Must be important. Probably on word from the Fates.”

His curiosity piques ever more, but one question seems to fall into place at the forefront of his mind.

“And that flame... was that...?”

Your eyes lift from the necklace to meet his pointed gaze.

“The Promethean Flame, yes. Or an extension of it, at least.”

Giving another sigh, your fingers pull open the latch before you tilt your head to the side. Your hair cascades over your right shoulder as you pull the chain around your neck – clasping the lock together – before you gaze down at the heavy locket now resting against your bosom.

“You know that when I’m away from Olympus for too long, my powers weaken. My body grows more prone to suffering as a typical human would. This, I imagine - ” you take hold of the plain-faced locket, staring at it as though it’s a puzzle to answer, “May keep me from experiencing too great an injury.”

Releasing a breath he didn’t realize he had been holding, Steve says, “For your sake, let’s hope so.”

Your warm eyes trail upward to meet his gaze and a curved smile befalls your sweet lips.

There’s a faint feeling of warm inebriation now running through his veins – having partaken in one or two sips from Thor’s special flask. He uses that reason, and that alone, for the lazy arm he has resting on the couch behind you. His whole body flushes as you turn your head toward him – laughing at something Clint had said just a moment ago. Your left shoulder brushes against his bare forearm and he grins in return – not having heard a single sound above the ringing of your laughter.

“Absolutely not,” Clint’s saying – twirling a pair of drumsticks on the floor beside Maria.

Tony raises a brow in return, “Why would I lie about that? No, I had a rep from Ben & Jerry’s literally here before this whole scepter business blew up. They want to make a whole line of flavors around us.”

Your head lolls to the side, a tired smile tugging at your lips. He can feel the gentle bobbing of your pointed heel against his calf, though you don’t seem to notice as you glance back at the man to your right – saying something soft and apparently funny in nature to Thor who barks a laugh in return.

“What’d ya say, Cap?” Tony grabs his attention. “Up for a little rendezvous with apple pie and other such iconic flavors.”

Steve just shakes his head in return.

“ - yes, a solid rum flavor would do you well,” he hears you say to the other God.

“And for you?” Thor muses playfully. “What shall it be?”

Before you can even conjure up a reply, Steve finds himself saying, “Honey.”

Your sharp gaze turns to him and immediately a smile blossoms across your features.

“Honey, strawberries, and a touch of cream. You know me well, Rogers.”

Steve shrugs in return, secretly pleased with himself for anticipating such an answer and for turning your attention away from the other man for just a moment more.

Somehow talk of ice cream flavors and brand deals gives way to a more interesting topic of conversation amongst the group in only a matter of minutes.

“But it’s a trick,” Clint bemoans.

Thor smiles in a pleased fashion as he passes along the silver flask from you and then onto Steve who quickly knocks back another shot of the fiery liquid.

“No, no, it’s much more than that.”

He can feel the curl of your fingers around his hand when he hands back the container and his eyes fall to the small patch of uncovered skin above your knee – your white dress having risen slightly higher as you lean back against the warm cushions.

“Ah, whoever he be worthy shall have the power!” Clint exclaims, holding his hands out toward the hammer resting on the coffee table. “Whatever, man. It’s a trick!”

“Please, be my guest.”

Thor gestures at Mjolnir and silence seems to befall the group for just a moment as everyone’s attention pinpoints on the infamous hammer. There’s a second of silence as Clint seems to take in the words.

“Come on. Really?”

“Yeah.”

To his right, he can hear Rhodey sigh, “Oh, this is gonna be beautiful.”

Even you turn your attention to the archer now as he approaches the legendary weapon.

“You know I’ve seen this before, right?”

At Thor’s nod, he grips the handle and attempts to pull. But it doesn’t even budge a millimeter as he grunts with the effort. With an incredulous laugh, he draws his hand away, shaking his head.

“I still don’t know how you do it!”

“Smell the silent judgment?”

Glancing across the room, Clint offers his hand out to the billionaire.

“Please, Stark. By all means.”

With his typical air of arrogance, Tony lifts from the couch beside Rhodey and plucks open the button on his suit jacket. Steve leans back beside you and watches with glistening amusement as he rounds the table.

“Never one to shrink from an honest challenge. It’s physics.”

He takes a moment to wrap the leather strap around his wrist, preparing his hold as he looks toward the God in question.

“Right, so, if I lift it, I then rule Asgard?”

Thor, unsurprisingly calm, responds, “Yes. Of course.”

Steve covers his mouth with his fist, already anticipating the likely outcome.

With two solid tugs and a few bitten grunts, Tony releases the strap – a sudden look of determination overcoming his features, as he says, “I’ll be right back.”

As he wanders off, much to the hooted badgering from Clint and Rhodey, Steve catches the familiar look you share with Thor. You lean into the other’s side, nudging his arm with your elbow as you whisper something too soft for even the super soldier’s ears.

Arriving back with a piece of a suit, Tony attempts the feat again. And, when that ultimately fails, he has Rhodes following after him to grab a part of War Machine’s armor. That attempt also fails – rather spectacularly as your sweet laughter fills his ears.

There’s also an attempt made by Bruce and Sam. The latter grunts with the effort before ducking his head down with a laugh.

“Man, I don’t know how you do this.”

And then he feels the gentle pressure of your arm against his elbow. When his gaze trails away from Sam, he meets your heated expression.

“Steve?” you softly goad.

What more can he do than roll back his sleeves and rise to the challenge?

“Go ahead, Steve. No pressure,” Tony drawls, still in defeat over his own failed attempt.

Sam gives him a warm slap to the shoulder as he passes.

“Come on, Cap,” Barton encourages.

Staring down at the hammer, he fixes his gaze upon the engraved runic wording. Physics had failed Tony, sheer force of will failed Clint. Maybe if he just...

Wrapping his hands around the handle, he offers you a quick glance – catching your watchful stare – before he pulls back with all of his might. He swears, for just a second, that he can feel it budge, but when he looks down... nothing.

Holding his hands up in defeat, a smile on his face, he catches the biting laugh from Thor as the other man shakes his head.

“Nothing!”

Steve presses past the two of you before taking his seat once more. You give him a solidary pat on the shoulder and a gently murmured tough luck, Cap. Someone clears their throat and Banner gestures his hands towards Natasha.

“And... Widow?”

Realization crosses her features as she leans back with a too-obvious smile.

“Oh, no, no. That’s not a question I need answered.”

Drawing their attention to the last remaining member of the team, Steve’s eyes fall upon you. Too busy watching the moment unfold with Romanoff, you’re suddenly staring at the group of them before also laughing – holding your hands up in pure dismissal.

“Absolutely not.”

“Come on,” Tony goads in an instant. “If there was anyone who could manage a feat of godly power...”

“Out of the question.”

This time, it’s Thor’s daunting timber that speaks.

Steve knows he’s not the only one curious by the sudden change in format as all eyes seem to fall on the God himself. Thor stiffens, fingers clutching his glass as he peers over at you for just a second.

“That’s not something that can be done,” you say in slow calculated words. “We will never wield one another’s weapons.”

“Can’t or won’t?” Tony immediately inquires.

Your nervous expression pauses on Steve for just a moment, as if needing strength for whatever conversation was suddenly unraveling. Your knee presses against his outer thigh and he immediately pushes back in return.

“Can’t, obviously,” Thor sniffs, gazing at the contents of his amber drink before taking a healthy drink of it. And then his dark eyes fall upon you, “Show them.”

Sparing the other God a heated glance, you stand up at once – your dress falls back in place with a careful draping of soft white fabric as you brush past Thor’s spread knees – taking your spot before the hammer.

Shooting a look at the accompanying group, you reach your hand out towards the weapon in question – just for a sharp bluish-white zap of lightning to arch out and singe the end of your fingertips. Pulling away with a sharp hiss of discomfort, you bring your digits up to your lips and gently suck at the burned flesh.

“See?” Thor drawls.

And then a light seems to glow in your eyes, a new wave of confidence, as you say with a teasing tone, “Fair is fair.”

Tossing your hand up into the air – a ray of golden light stretches down from the ceiling as your shield materializes in your hand. You hold the Aegis close to your side – looking ever so much like the fictional Goddess of legend that you were.

Steve’s fully, hopelessly, entranced.

Thor actually shrinks away from the object in question – digging himself further into the corner of the couch cushions as though he could vanish into them.

“No mortal man can wield such an item and I do not wish to try.”

Clint barks a laugh, “Come on! Like the lady said, fair is fair. Own up!”

The shield seems surprisingly light in your hand – though even Steve knows that appearances are entirely deceiving, having been in a position to use it on more than one occasion.

But with keen interest, everyone watches as the God of Thunder slowly rises to his feet. His hand reaches out, then pulls away, before he grits his teeth and finally goes for the strap of the inner handle.

You slip your hand away until you’re just barely holding it up at all. Thor’s fingers curl alongside yours for just a moment before you pull away entirely and –

BANG

“Fuck!” Barton hollers.

Thor screeches as the shield connects with the floor – splintering the wood – as the Aegis just barely grazes the toe of his shoe. He leaps back as if burned, though clearly he suffers from nothing more than burnt pride.

But Steve’s attention falls on the beaming smile on your face.

“Anyone for a go?” you ask cheerfully.

“Absolutely not.”

“Enough bruised ego for one day.”

And then your eyes cross over the group to meet the super soldier’s, a knowing glint in your warm expression as you ask, “Steve?”

Returning the grin, and feeling a bit prideful in the fact that he presses past a somber-looking Thor, Steve leans down and pulls the Aegis free from it’s temporary holding place in Tony’s floor – offering the shield back to you with little more than an uncomfortable twinge of discomfort from the sheer weight of the item.

“Thank you,” you smooze, taking hold of the shield once again and allowing it to lift up into the air and back to its home of origin.

There’s a moment that passes, between the two of you then, where a silent understanding almost occurs, but it’s immediately lost to the sharp ringing of a mechanical sound across the room. Steve’s hands fly to his ears as he cringes away from the noise.

Just as fast as the ringing occurred, it’s gone in an instant. But the sound of something metal upon the floor grabs everyone’s attention. Steve feels himself stepping closer to your side as you all look on at the metal bot that staggers out of the lab.

“Worthy? How could you be worthy? You’re all killers.”

He takes a breath, unsure of what exactly he’s seeing, but trusting it no more than he did SHIELD or any other faction he had found himself up against in the past three years.

“Stark.”

“Jarvis.”

“I’m sorry, I was asleep,” The mangled bot continues, glancing around – almost unseeing – at the room. “Or I was a dream.”

Tony’s pulled out a device and is speaking into it, but Steve can hardly look away from the sight before him – before them all. As the bot twists and turns, unsteady on its feet. Wires hang from its body like dangling tendons and veins, it holds a hand to its head as if in pain.

“- there was this terrible noise. And I was tangled in... in... strings. Had to kill the other guy,” the bot waves its hand in fleeting reference. “He was a good guy. But down in the real world, we’re faced with ugly choices.”

“Who sent you?” Thor demands.

The electronic voice of Tony Stark then plays out for them all to hear.

“I see a suit of armor around the world.”

Beside him, Athena barely breathes out, “Ultron.”

The bot fixes her with a glowing blue-eyed look and Steve stiffens.

“In the flesh. Or... no, not yet. Not this chrysalis. But I’m ready. I’m on a mission.”

Hill clocks the hammer on her gun, staring down the bot, “What mission?”

“Peace in our time.”

And then, as if fixing its look on one person in particular, the bot’s thrusters come to life and it surges forward – hand open – as it grabs hold of Tony and careens out the window.

Steve lurches forward, rushing to the shattered glass as the malfunctioning robot grips the billionaire by the neck over the bustling city street many stories below them all. Tony digs into the arms of the creature, his feet dangling, kicking uselessly for purchase.

Turning his attention toward the group now circling the open space, the bot seems to sneer.

“Look at you. The very ideal of peace-keeping. But what are you really?”

The bot soars closer, not enough to be within full reach. And Steve knows that any attempt at disarming it will bring Tony’s safety into immediate question. He can do nothing more than stare on in disturbed wonder as the robot begins lecturing them.

“Your very existence is a threat to peace. Agent Romanoff and Barton, the two gallivanting criminals.”

Its mechanical eyes rove across the group, landing on the person standing to his left. Your chin juts out in defiance. The robot chortles.

“And the Gods from another realm. How much destruction can you cause with just a flick of your mighty finger? Of course, your faith in humanity’s greatest threat is of grave concern to any being with a twinge of intelligence.”

A pointed metal finger singles out Doctor Banner, who shrinks away from them all – nervous glances shared – as he ducks his head down.

“Captain America, himself.”

Steve’s hardened gaze refuses to be moved by the bot as it focuses all of its attention on him.

“So locked in your ideals, Captain. But at what cost? Unwilling to compromise for something you believe in. Endangering the entire planet at the cost of a ghost.”

A surge of discomfort lashes up inside of him and Steve can’t help but look away – if only to catch your equally concerned eye.

“And you - ” At last, the bot jerks Tony away – giving the man no secure hold beside the arm extending him out to his doom. “Anthony Stark. A man so obsessed with making amends for his past, that you end up causing more harm than good.”

Tony struggles, his face turning red as he puffs out desperate breaths.

The bot turns toward them with the most menacing look a robot could ever give.

“This group – this team. You put the world at large at risk. Every argument, every guilt trip, and jab will lead to your failure. Where I was created to see the world as it is. How it should be. The ultimate global peacekeeper.

In an instant, the wall behind the bar explodes as three similar robots shoot out towards the group.

Tony is all but tossed toward them, landing in a curled heap beside Rhodey and Clint – panting out a worrying series of breaths before he manages to stand and call out to the Legion’s operating system.

Gunshots ring out, the heavy metallic clunk of Thor’s hammer making contact with something equally dense, shattered glass, and the shrill cry of Helen Cho meets his ears as he pushes forward. Leaping over the glass banister, Steve lands atop a silver bot, yanking back on its head with all his might as it tries to slam him into the wall.

It succeeds, with the second blow, as he tumbles down onto the floor – broken glass shards dig into his palm as he tries to steady himself.

“Cap!”

Sam’s voice rings out across the room as a shield is tossed his way.

Using a chair for a weapon, you manage to knock away another bot from Dr. Cho’s reach – sending it back into Thor’s hammer. Steve swivels in time to catch the shoulder joint of another robot, bringing the shield down on its back with some relief as the bot splutters out electrical shocks before ultimately disengaging.

Looking up from the remnants of the mayhem, his chest heaving and his hands gripped into tight fists, Steve watches as Tony takes a heavy step back from the initial mangled-looking bot as it presses further into the room.

“That was dramatic.”

Steve spares you a glance as he tightens his grip on the shield.

“I’m sorry, I know you mean well. But this... this team will never work. You will be humanity’s downfall. You want to protect the world, but you don’t want it to change. How is humanity saved if it’s not allowed to... evolve?”

Glancing down at one of its fallen comrades, the bot kicks the side of its head – the steel faceplate gives way, revealing the wires and mechanisms that lie underneath.

“With these? These puppets?”

It looks back upon them all.

“There’s only one path to peace,” it stares at Tony then. “The Avengers’ extinction.”

And then the bot shatters with the might of Thor’s hammer.

“I had strings, but now I’m free...” The bot drowns for just a moment longer before its lights dim and the entire thing grows silent.

Stepping forward, Steve stares down at the last remaining pieces of the mangled robot before his full fury turns toward the billionaire resting on the glass steps with another torn-apart robot beside him.

Previous Chapter || Next Chapter

[justsomeclintasha]

Clint sighs, sinking back into the leather seat of the Quinjet. He’s exceptionally glad for the automatic piloting system today. The mission had been rough. He reaches to his side and flicks on the heat.

Warmth radiates over his muscles. He can feel it even through his jacket. Natasha putters around the rear of the plane, putting away her knives, his bow, digging through their pack for some food. He closes his eyes.

Several minutes later, she joins him, pressing a bag of chips into his hand. He wasn’t falling asleep. He wasn’t. She smiles at him knowingly as he opens the snack.

“Do you think I’m old?” he blurts out.

“Yes.”

“Seriously, Nat?”

“Yes. Downright ancient. In fact, is that another grey hair?” She reaches toward his temple and he brushes her hand away with a grunt. Maybe he shouldn’t let it him bother him. It was just one hair after all. “Hey.”

“It’s fine.”

“What’s the matter?”

“Back.” He shifts, wanting to take off his boots, but finding no energy to do so. Seeming to read his mind, she leans over and begins undoing the laces.

“You’re not old. I’m teasing.”

“You know Bucky loves these heated seats and he’s like a hundred years old.”

“Yeah, because they feel good. I use them, too.”

“I just don’t know if I have a lot to bring to this team anymore.”

The confession is out before he can take it back. She straightens, and he toes off his shoes, looking at a spot on the floor so he won’t have to meet her eyes.

“I’m already deaf. I’m sore. I’m tired. The past few weeks have been hard. What if I miss, Nat? What if I slip up and you get hurt?”

“Shield has been putting too much on us. You know we should have had a week off in there and they cut it back to a day. We both need a break.”

She curls her fingertips under his chin, tilting his gaze up. Her lips press to his in a soft kiss.

“Hey.”

“There is no one else I would trust to have my six,” she murmurs, her voice and eyes serious. “If you want out for another reason, then I trust your judgement, but don’t you ever doubt your capabilities.”

He’s surprised at the lump in his throat, and he pulls her close into his arms, burying his face in her hair. It’s not often he gets emotional like this. Maybe he does need a break. Just a few days to relax and wind down. Dog Cops and pizza on the couch with her sounds perfect.

“I’m insisting on two weeks vacation,” she says quietly, a hand rubbing up and down his back. “We both need it.”

“That’s a good idea,” he manages. She draws away slowly. “I think we’re almost home. I bet Lucky missed us.”

“I’m sure he’s gained like twenty pounds with the way Kate feeds him.” He laughs, settling into the heat.

“You want to do anything particular tonight?”

“A bath sounds good. My hair feels disgusting.”

“Maybe I can help you wash it.”

“How about you relax and let me do the work this time, old man?” she teases, giving his thigh a squeeze. He flushes.

“You still want me? Grey hair and all?” She grins, leaning in for kiss that promises more.

“Every day of my life.”

[sapphicsmaximoff]

the hood - kate bishop

a/n: this another fic adapted from my script scraps, and i haven’t added this one to a formal project, so i might as well use it! also kate is a little more of a seasoned fighter here. (written in third person)

Pairing: Kate Bishop x Super Soldier!Reader

Y/N quietly stalks out of the hotel, looking across the street to see if anyone is coming as they search for their motorcycle. They walk forward, their black boots pounding on the concrete, when…

WHIP!

Their eyes widen as they feel an arrow lodged into their shoulder. Their breath begins to frantically pick up, and they look around at the buildings before them. 

They can feel a laser circling their face, and they sneer, looking straight ahead. 

WHIP!

Before another arrow can hit them, they catch it, breaking it in half. They stare at the assailant but jump when an arrow breaks a window right next to their head. 

Grunting, they press the button on their palm, their shield protecting her as she runs, rolling down next to a car. They open their palm and the shield disappears. 

They sigh, grabbing their backpack.

Across the street, the assailant ziplines from the roof. 

He runs across the street, and into the hotel’s unnecessarily large parking lot. Meanwhile, Y/N pulls out a machine pistol from the backpack and takes out a silencer, screwing it on top of the pistol. 

They can hear the clanging off the roofs of several cars, telling her that the assailant is running atop them. Frowning more, they ready the gun, scooting the front on the right side. 

They hold up the pistol, and the man shifts on the roof of a car two rows away, and they’re ready as well. Y/N is slower than him, shooting after they use their crossbow, which inserts a beeping bow into the car directly next to Y/N. 

BOOM!

Their eyes widen as they runs fast, barely missing the explosion, which knocks them into the bumper of the car in front of them, making a large nasty dent in it. 

The explosion catches Kate’s attention as she plays Candy Crush on her phone. She rolls her eyes, turning off the game. 

She begins to unzip her hoodie, before pulling it off, revealing his costume. She places on a monocle, the gadget from Clint, working well. 

She moves out of her car, grabbing her gear from his trunk. She looks around at the mostly empty street, before running into an alley. Pointing her grappler at the top of the building, she pulls the trigger. 

Y/N comes to after a few seconds, the arrow in their shoulder now gone. She groans, noticing it not far away, meaning the impact caused it to fly out of her shoulder. The alarm of the car behind them is ringing as they stands, their bag miraculously still strapped on.

They can hear heavy feet pound onto the ground, the man stalking towards her. Their eyes widen in fear, they know him. 

They stands up quickly and grabs her pistol as they take off fast, the man not far behind. 

Above them is Kate who brings her arm to his hip, attaching the grappler to it, before kneeling. He squints as his helmet is now up, and he has a scope on his left eye. 

It zooms in as it falls on the man in the hood. 

“Yelena, get me an ID, please.”  

In a computer lab, Yelena sits, eating an ice cream sandwich as she clicks on the keys of her large computer. The image from Kate’s scope pops up, and Yelena finishes her code with a click of the enter button. 

This brings up footage from surrounding cameras. 

“I can see him, but his face is covered, I need you to get the hood off, and I’ll get him.” Kate sighs. 

Below her, Y/N continues to run but the man easily shoots a bolt into their calf, making them tumble forward onto their face. 

“Fuck!”

They closes their left fist, and her shield pops out of the mechanism on her arm. The man speeds up, pulling a machete from the side of his pants. He holds it up, swinging it down hard enough to make a large CLANG! on Y/N’s shield. 

“Alright, I’m going in.” Kate mutters. She pulls out her bow as Y/N pushes the man back hard. She stands up, holding her injured right leg on its toes to alleviate the pain. 

They hold out their shield as he chuckles, swinging it several times which they blocks. As they block, they push a swing away, immediately following with a punch. 

CRACK!

Even behind the hood, they can see the blood coming from his mouth. They use the distraction to yank the bolt from their leg, making them hiss. 

THUNK!

The sound of an arrow going into a car beside them distracts Y/N, and they don’t see Kate who jumps from the roof of another one, kicking the man back into the car. The woman kips up, looking over at Y/N. “God, that was awesome.” She mutters. 

“It’s you.” The soldier mutters. Kate chuckles, walking over to the taller man, who quickly recovers, swiping her feet from under her. The man straddles her, going to punch her, but Y/N pulls her shield off of the magnet and tosses it at his head. 

It roughly hits off the back of his neck, bouncing back onto Y/N’s magnet, knocking him out. He slumps over Kate, who pushes him off. Turning him on his front, she lifts the man’s neck, which already is showing a nasty bruise. 

She rips off the hood, focusing her eye on the man’s face. 

“All righty, Katey. I got a face, just give me a sec.” Kate rolls her eyes, sighing annoyedly. “Stop calling me Katey, please.” 

“I thought you liked my nicknames.” Yelena smiles, finding a match for Hugh Kendrick. She clicks on the file. 

“Got a match. Hugh Kendrick. Father was Gunter Kendrick, former HYDRA. He’s a trust fund kid, used to play Lacrosse, and went to Harvard. An injury leads him to drop out. He’s depressed. The boy joins his father. Now he’s a uh…cleaner of sorts, ties their loose ends.” 

Kate gulps, looking over at Y/N. 

“I’m assuming they’re one of them?” The blonde hums over the line. 

“Their father and his father were essential to the growth of the Black Cross subdivision. Leopold, their grandfather. His experiments and torture were infamous. One of his pupils was the head of Unit 731 during World War Two.” Kate winces, standing up. 

“Jesus Christ. Thanks, Yelena. I’ll call when we get back to base.” She looks around before standing and holding out a hand to Y/N. They simply stare at it. 

“I know you don’t need help, but you can’t go anywhere on your own. Black Cross is going to send hundreds more foot soldiers after you. He isn’t the only one.” Y/N scoffs, taking her hand, and Kate lifts them up. “Trust me, I know.” 

They start limping away, and Kate follows after them. “Let me take you back to base. It's off the grid. I can get someone to patch you up, and they won’t find us.” Y/N reaches into their pants pocket, wincing as they feels their key lodged in their thigh. There is a squishy sound when they pulls it out, and Kate winces at the sight of blood. 

She tosses it to him, and he catches it, thankful she has on gloves. Y/N swallows, their eyes slightly rolling back from tiredness as they point to a  motorcycle. 

“Hey, Yelena, are you still on?” The woman over the phone hums a yes. 

“Call Clint, tell him to come and get my car, there’s a tag on it.” 

“Will do.” 

She walks over to Y/N. She grabs one of the helmets off the back, shutting down the visor of her helmet, and hands them the other. She sits on the seat, attempting to jam it into the keyhole, but Y/N’s chunks stop it from turning. 

She groans, pulling it out and cleaning it off with her jacket before placing it in and turning it. The motorcycle starts up, and Y/N sits behind her, wrapping their arms around her waist. 

“You awake back there?” Kate quips, despite feeling their breathing her neck. She doesn’t receive a response, and sighs before pulling out of the parking lot. 

[iriel3000]

Hurry, She Needs You - part 5

Summary: Natasha becomes ill from what they think is food poisoning. Tony and Bruce try to care for her until Clint arrives home from a deep cover mission. Part 5 of 6

Whumptober Day 5: (ALT) Shaking | Panic

Joyce and Marcus returned for Natasha’s second round of the antidote. Clint sat her up, but she remained huddled against him. 

“I’m going to swab your arm, Agent Romanov.” Joyce made sure Natasha could see her. 

"No, you." Natasha begged Clint.

Nurse Griffin handed him the syringe and a swab. Both he and Nurse Miller stepped aside knowing how often Barton had to play doctor in the field.

“Eyes on me.” Clint instructed as he cleaned the inside of her forearm with alcohol. 

Natasha listened, wincing as he inserted the needle.

“Doin good.” Clint soothed when Natasha began to tremble. 

“It burns.”

“I know, I’m sorry. Few more seconds.”

Tears began to fall but she kept still. 

“All done.” He handed off the syringe and quickly engulfed her tiny body against his. “One more to go.”

“Hawk.” She moaned.

He kissed her temple, rubbing circles on her back. 

Natasha doubled over, but it seemed the muscle cramping wasn’t as severe as the last time. Unfortunately, it still made her sick. 

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s nothing, hon.”

Nat had thrown up what little fluids she drank. Hawkeye didn’t flinch. Bruce grabbed some towels from a drawer.  

Clint leaned Nat against his knees, stripped off his shirt, and removed her gown. Nurse Miller cleaned up Natasha and helped Barton put a fresh cover on her. She found Clint a clean SHIELD t-shirt.

“Go get some sleep.” Tony told Bruce. 

He started to argue, Clint interjected.

“You both need it. You’ve done enough, go.”

Tony made Bruce leave first. He sat back down.

Clint gave him a wary look.

"The two of you have stuck by my side too many times. I’ll leave when she can leave.” 

Barton could no longer hide his weariness.

“Thank you.”

“Don’t get sentimental.” 

The corner of Clint’s mouth turned up. He leaned his head against Natasha's and was out within seconds. 

Tony kept watch while the two assassin’s slept in each other’s arms. Whenever Nat made a small noise, Clint would unconsciously comfort her, making her aware of his presence. And when he moved, she made sure to have a tight grip on him.

Clint jerked awake the next time she called his name.

“Nat.” He gently shook her.

Her whimpering increased. 

“Nat, wake up.” He tried again when she started crying.

“No!” Natasha bolted upright, pulling at Hawkeye’s shirt.

“Widow, I’m fine.” He remained still.

“I have to stop the bleeding.” Tony watched her frantically search for an injury that wasn’t there. “There’s so much blood.”

“Natasha!” Clint finally lost his patient tone.

She stopped, breathing in big gulps of air, shaking from head to toe.

“There is no blood.” 

Looking down, she ran a trembling hand over his ribs. 

“You’re not there. We’re safe.”

She collapsed against him, continuing to touch a faint scar below his heart until she fell back asleep.

Clint motioned for Tony.

I’m going to hit the head. He mouthed.

Barton rolled Natasha onto her side, stood and stretched his six foot three, ‘I’m not a superhuman - but I’m built like one’ physique.

“Don’t leave.” Natasha pleaded, awake and looking at Clint with big, green eyes.

“Nature calls.” He bent, running his fingers through her hair.

She made a small noise, moving towards him.   

Clint crouched beside the bed.

“Stark, would you toss me that jug please?” 

Tony handed him a container with a wide mouth, normally used for incapacitated men.

“Give me a minute?” 

Tony closed the curtain and stepped outside, pretending not to hear Barton relieving himself.

Clint washed his hands in the nearby sink and dragged a chair across the floor. He groaned as he sat down. Natasha called for him.

“I’m here, мой паук.”

“I can’t feel you.” The beeping of the heart monitor increased. 

Clint didn’t say anything. Tony knew by the rustling of sheets Hawkeye crawled back in bed with Natasha.

"Sir, Sgt. Barnes and Lieutenant Wilson are here." Jarvis informed him.

"Send them up." Tony had the entire building on high alert since Natasha was brought in.

"What'd you find?" He asked when they rounded the hallway.

"He got the jump on us, but Sam used Red Wing to put a tracker on his car."

"He's moving north and fast, Tony." Sam leand in. "Want me to contact Torres? He and the boys will create a road block."

"Call Rhodey first, then do it."

"She okay?" Bucky nodded towards the room.

"She's out of the water. Come see."

They entered, Bucky and Sam heading to each side of the bed. Clint and Bucky clasped hands. Clint pulled him in close, careful not to disturb a sleeping Natasha.

"She wouldn't have..."

"Don't." Bucky stopped him. "I owe her and you too much."

"Here." Sam held out a plain black ring. "I know you guys don't need this kind of stuff but Dr. Banner said it might help."

"You're a good friend, Sam." Clint slipped it on the fourth finger of his right hand.

"You need anything?"

"Only what you're doing for us right now, thank you."

"We got it covered, brother. You get her better and we'll fill you in."

find the whole story here

Hurry, She Needs You

[blog-of-a-multitude-of-fandoms]

Wound- Kate Bishop

Pairing: Kate Bishop x Reader

Characters: Kate Bishop

Warnings: N/A

Request: Anon- Hi 👋 I was wondering if I may be allowed to request being a nurse and dating Kate Bishop? Or a nurse in training and just taking care of all of Kate's wounds when she goes out with Clint or if she ever gets hurt during archery or fencing practice??

Word Count: 500

Author: Charlotte

“Babe!” Kate screamed, as she flung the front door to your apartment open, letting it clang against the wall behind it. 

The loud collision of door and wall sent you jumping from the sofa, your highlighter drawing a haphazard line across the page as the textbook and notebook tumbled from your lap, narrowly missing your sock covered toes. 

“Bloody hell Kate,” you said, attempting to catch your breath. “You scared me half to-“

Your words fell short when you entered the hallway and saw the state of your girlfriend. Kate was there, holding herself up with help from the doorway but her body was trying to double itself over. You didn’t know if all the blood that was on her was her own but you could see several visible cuts on her face and a growing blood stain on her shirt below where her left hand grasped. 

“What the hell happened?” You screamed rushing to her side to help support her as she stumbled into the house. “We’re you jumped?”

“Something like that,” she groaned as you swung the door closed. 

You shot her an impressed look. “You were playing hero again, weren’t you?”

Kate tried to give you an innocent smile, but the pain of hobbling along got to her too quickly. 

You managed to haul her into the living room and with a loud cry of pain, she was laying on the sofa still gripping onto her side. Without a second thought you gripped the hem of her t-shirt and ripped the material up until you could see the waistband of her bra. Her abdomen was smeared with blood but there was one main wound on her lower left side that was about an inch deep and spitting out blood as she breathed.

“Fucking hell, Kate,” you said, your breath catching in your throat as you observed her injuries. “We need to get you an ambulance.”

You reached out to grab your mobile, but Kate swatted at your hand, stopping you from moving any further, forcing you to look back to her.

“You’re a nurse,” she stated.

“A nursing student,” you corrected. “I’m not even allowed to take someone’s blood pressure unsupervised, let alone stop you from bleeding out.”

“I trust you,” she said with a weak smile. “If I go to the hospital, not only will it bankrupt us, but they’ll also ask questions and I do not want to explain how I was stabbed with an arrow.”

You let out an exasperated groan, running your hands through your hair, not caring that you were smearing blood through them. You overlooked her wound again and tried to make a plan; it wasn’t going to be perfect but hopefully it would work.

“I fucking hate you sometimes,” you huffed standing up from examining her wound. “Don’t hurt yourself whilst I go find stuff.”

Kate called out a weak laughed thank you as you rummaged through your belongings to find anything that could assist you in treating her wound.

[hawkzeyes]

What do you hate the most about fanon Ollie and Clint?

I don’t necessarily hate the Arrowfandom’s ‘fanon’ Ollie because for the most part I see pretty fair takes. They acknowledge he is very flawed and just a man, but he tries his best through and through. He might not always be right but he isn’t trying to hurt anyone on purpose and ultimately he has the good of everyone in his heart.

What I hate is another fandom’s interpretation of Ollie… which is that he is a billionaire abusive father who doesn’t give a shit about his kids… so people who haven’t even sniffed a Green Arrow comic in their life… but unfortunately this particular fandom is rather dominating in DC and so that word spreads faster than the actual canon.

For Clint I truly hate the the meek, life is coffee and pizza and nothing else, I wake up in a dumpster everyday, I’m a piece of shit and not competent at all take that I see based around Matt Fraction’s comic. Am I saying he is perfect? Hell no. Am I saying he isn’t messy? Absolutely not. He’s figuring shit out and there is A LOT of shit piling up he has got to figure out, but he isn’t actually stupid. This characterization is really sad considering it’s missing the entire point of that comic and idolizing the lowest of the lows for Clint. He’s so much more if y’all stretched your toes past Fraction’s Hawkeye and Freefall (I like both for the record but a large portion of the fandom have SEVERELY misinterpreted them or saw token aspects and just ran with it and now it’s spiraled out of control)

[normaltothemax]

"Sit down." Please. Seriously, just - "I'm a paramedic, Clint, lemme look." Let him look.

“’s not that bad.” The blood seeping through his fingers said otherwise. It wasn’t that Clint was trying to downplay the severity of his injury… Well, okay, it wasn’t only that (TK didn’t need to worry about him, not over something like this). Mainly, it was that, in the grand scheme of things, of the mile-long list of extensive injuries Clint had gotten throughout his life, this didn’t even make the top ten.

‘This’ being a knife sticking out of his side. Asshole had gotten a lucky shot (lucky stab?) in. At least Clint hadn’t already taken it out.

Not yet, anyways.

“Seriously,” he was calm, mostly unconcerned by it. He was pretty sure it said something about his life that getting stabbed had received less of a reaction than stubbing his toe would have, he just didn’t care to examine that, right now. “TK, this is nothing. Totally not a big deal. Nothing to worry about.” He sat, not because TK told him to, but because he just so happened to feel like it. “There’s a suture kit under the sink, there.”

And then he grabbed the handle of the knife.

@parameddic (x)

[biitchcakes]

@oceansfirst sent: Picture worthy moment is Clint Barton asleep on their couch, with Leftovers on his chest, Lucky on his legs and Jeff the sharkdog is snuggled in there too.

Jess is careful to keep quiet as she enters their home, not wanting to disturb such an adorable moment. It takes several seconds longer than it should to silently close the usually quite creaky, front door. Creeping further inside on her toes, it's only then she notices Jeff tucked away under Clint's arm ⸺ at first only seeing LEFTOVERS AND LUCKY on display.

Deliberate, careful movements as she takes her phone from her pocket, aiming the camera at the four SLEEPY BASTARDS cuddle-piling on the sofa. Well, that's definitely now her new phone background.

She's also TOTALLY showing it to Gwen later.

❝ Aaaww, ❞ she can't help but hum as she strokes her phone, gazing down at the new wallpaper. Her heart swells, whole body overtaken with warmth. A fuzzy feeling. Looking back up to the actual scene before her. It's nearly impossible to fight the urge to jump into her boyfriend's lap, to join them all in their snuggles. But, she'll let him sleep ⸺ HE NEEDS IT.

So, no tackling him. Even if it were affectionately. Instead, she tiptoes backwards toward the kitchen ⸺ off to refresh the water for their children, to rummage around in the fridge for food, either premade by Clint or something to cook for them. Fingers were crossed for the first option, not only because she was also EXHAUSTED, but she simply just prefers the taste of his cooking.

[painted-piggy-ships-archive]

tony stark x keaton

698 words

@canongf @futurewife

Everyone was gathered around the island in the Avengers Tower kitchen, with Tony sitting in the center of the crowd, a cone-shaped party hat perched precariously upon his head. He smiled good-naturedly as everyone began singing Happy Birthday in several different tones, making him internally cringe. However, he could never feel awkward when looking into the eyes of his partner, who was now setting a large cookies&creme flavored ice cream cake in front of him.

“Happy birthday to you,~” Keaton finished sweetly, “now make a wish, Tony!”

He blew out the candles as everyone clapped. “C’mon, guys, did you really have to do all this? What am I, five?”

“Well, we thought it’d be a little more personal and healthy for you than going out to some big party hosted by the mayor and getting drunk off your ass,” Nat chimed in as she began cutting slices of cake for everyone.

“That was an option?”

Keaton rolled his eyes, grinning at his boyfriend… but his mind, instead, was somewhere else. Somewhere in a tiny box hidden by the larger boxes and bags that held Tony’s presents, which he didn’t really need but definitely completed the birthday experience. The Avengers eagerly dug into the cake, talking about all they had done that day in honor of their “great part-time leader;” Keaton had spent an intimate morning with Tony, having had Happy help him cook up the man’s favorite breakfast, and ended up watching two of Tony’s favorite movies as well as spent time lounging around the pool. When noon came around, it was time for everyone to meet for lunch at a fancy new restaurant. After that, they went to watch an auto race, and finally, they returned to the tower for dinner, cake, presents, and maybe a few games if everyone stayed awake for long enough.

“Alright, Tony, open this shit so I can go to bed,” Clint joked, gently tossing one of the bags to Tony once he had finished his second helping of cake. Tony ooh’d and ahh’d at his shiny new toys; another watch, a model airplane, a knock-off Iron Man action figure (well, he thought that was less funny). Even an Asgardian cookbook from the God of Thunder himself.

“Thank you, really, I mean it.”

“There’s one more,” Keaton piped up, holding out a box much smaller than the others. Tony tilted his head.

“It’s going to be a singular skittle, isn’t it?” He smirked as he took it from Keaton’s hand.

“Well, not exactly…”

He opened the box, and his eyes widened as he stared down at a translucent ring endowed with golden flecks. “I-is that what I think it is? Are you…?” He looked up at Keaton’s glowing face.

“Will you marry me, Tony Stark?”

The small box fell into Tony’s lap as he covered his mouth, dark eyes shining. “Yes.” He squeaked out.

“Speak up!” Thor thundered.

“Yes! Yes, I’ll marry you!” Tony lept up, careful not to lose the ring, before engulfing Keaton in a hug. The room erupted into whoops of approval. He quickly scooped up the ring and slipped it onto his finger. “Oh, it fits perfectly, isn’t that just gorgeous??”

“I picked it specifically so it’d stand out from your other rings…” Keaton explained through silent, happy sobs. Tony brought his fiancé into his arms again, a sturdy hand placed on his back as he dipped him toward the floor and captured his lips with his own. The Avengers applauded again. When the two stood straight at last, Thor thumped Tony on the back.

“Keaton’s been telling me how much he wanted to do this for weeks, now. Do you know how hard it was not to say anything?! If he hadn’t performed an Asgardian pinky promise on me, I might’ve spoiled the whole thing…”

Tony’s smile was ten times as bright. “Well, thank you for keeping your tongue tied, Point Break.”

“Yeah, thanks, Thor,” Keaton stood on tip-toe to briefly kiss his other partner’s cheek, sending a blush across the God’s cheeks. He swiftly swept both Keaton and Tony into his large arms, hugging them tight enough to cause their backs to crack in protest.

[yourgirlsarchived]

Open: anyone @indiestarter Concept: War Bride but rival crime syndicates.  Muse:Natalia Romanova 

“I’ve got this,”  Nat murmurs to Clint as the car to take them to the church pulls up. She allows her friend, the closest thing she has to a brother, to usher her into the car. Her hair is up in a simple if severe bun, veil attached. The dress is her defiance. The Patriarch - her father and her soon-to-be-jailer were of an accord. They wanted demure, covered in some manner from neck to the tips of her toes. 

Natalia had waited until she was left alone to hunt for this dress. She’d been calculating, too. They wanted the good little ‘transplant’ girl to conform. Natalia chooses to throw her culture in their faces. The gown is red, as Chinese and Russian tradition dictates. It has only draped fabric for sleeves, the back scandalously low, though the sweetheart front is rather boring. Her train is short, modern. Let them keep their purity, their traditions. She’ll take luck that looks dipped in blood. 

“Be careful, Talia,” Clint murmurs as the car rolls through the streets. “This is all so we live happily ever after or some shit. So get the idea of freedom gone.” 

Her eyes shift to the side, lips tipping slightly. It would sound like a warning, but she hears if you have to kill him, wait a while first. Together, she and Clint leave the car, making their way up the steps. She’s taking her last breaths as a Romanova. Somehow it’s less earth shattering that it had originally seemed. Her hands are filled with flowers, the music starts, and Natalia walks toward her groom, head held high. I’ve got this. 

[mastcrmarksman]

I'm not online yet. . . . Been continuing my read of Avengers, and opinion time.

I'd say there's definitely more than doesn't hold up as well from the 70s than other eras, like 60s avengers has it rough patches, but there's definitely (the entirety of Clint's first stint) with the Avengers that for the most part holds well or at least a fun laugh to read.

I got to around #170s (korvac saga) and the year is 1977, the Jim Shooter stuff and few one-two writers, and it's a little rougher. It's not awful, the Korvac stuff that's focused on Korvac pov better than not. Now see, I knew that 1977 and the 70s was an era where Marvel was losing some popularity and on a slight decline, change of writers and staff, and such and that definitely shows.

I will say for 70s Avengers, the Kang saga with Clint in the Old West? That was fun, which was Steve Englehart, which he did leave during the 70s and for 8 years. Now I'm just reading exclusively the Avenhees run (I'll be dipping my toes in other stuff later date).

So as a Clint writer, Clint is kind of there but not really, he's fine. Harder character to screw up in that decade, but I mean Clint and a cowboy is a fun thing, and it's so silly he leaves the Avengers to show said cowboy around the present. The stuff that's really rough, I don't think Jim Shooter did a incredible job at highlighting the characters who were the Avengers, in their moments and saves. I don't think any character particularly shines in the narrative, although I will credit that Beast and Hellcat are fun additions.

I also additionally think as a newly re-christened (I always loved Hank, pow reminding me how EMH did him good) Hank fan? The 70s do not hold up for him and Janet at all, it's rough, it's bad, and so the YJ suit introduction will always be a rough part of the 60s, but his actual character from the Avengers 60s to early 70s until he and Jan left (again), like especially when it was just Clint and Hank And Jan as a team? Hank was a decent character. 70s also in general really poor about mental health, and so the Hank character suffers. Like he has a lost of memory not shown why and turns back to Ant-Man attacking the Avengers, Janet reveals she was going to a psychiatrist for Hank (not for herself but for hank instead of hank), faces Ultron, and then Tony has a machine to fix Hank's memories loss, fand then he's like fine and peachy and back in YJ with no explanation, in like two issues after, when before the whole memory loss return ant-man there were several issues displaying Hank's disinterest in heroics and being an avenger, and a legitimate interpersonal conflict with that, which just reburried under the rug or removed from the character after he suffers another mental breakdown.

That's an era thst definitely needed deserved some cleaning up, and where a retxoj would not be the worst thing, which Busiek's run in vol 3 of Avengers does attempt to smooth over, which will be lost when Geoff Johns (he gets somewhat of a pass since he just kept things the same) and Chuck Austen (namely Chuck Austen; I just loathe his writing and decisions i think hes a poor writer for a lot of characgers) take over.

[vivitalks]

omg i didn't see that you did a writer's ask game! hopefully it's not too late to send asks? if not, may i ask 1, 7, 12, 15, & 5 about "blow a kiss to concern"? thank youuu 💙

i reblog a writer's game and then don't answer this ask for several days SORRY! love you here i am now let's go

1. What fic of yours would you recommend to someone who had never read any of your work? (In other words, what do you think is the best introduction to your fics?) this is a tough question because i write in a lot of different fandoms. however, i am going to give two answers. one is the stydia fic blow a kiss to concern (which will be discussed later) because it has a lot of tropes i enjoy - driving, flirting, canon compliance, fluff with some angst, all the good stuff. the second is my kate bishop & peter parker series young & not too wise which has two fics - one of kate and peter meeting before the events of the hawkeye show, and one of them meeting right after. one thing i really enjoy doing is taking two characters who haven't really met or interacted but have the grounds for a fascinating interaction to meet and talk. so like, post-nwh peter has all this trauma from being a superhero, and pre-hawkeye kate is all starry-eyed wanting to be a superhero, and i loved the idea of those two perspectives meeting, two young new yorkers with such different life experiences. i do this kind of pseudo-crossover a lot and it's always so much fun.

7. Any worldbuilding you’re particularly proud of? i don't worldbuild that often. i am a big big fan of writing things that are canon compliant or very slightly canon divergent (one character lives instead of dies, a relationship is broken up instead of still together, that kind of thing) where the broader universe is still intact, because i feel like in fictional media, part of what's so fun and interesting about writing the characters is dealing with the shit they've gone through and experiences they've had as a result of the universe they exist in.

that being said, i did a smidge of worldbuilding (really more like world-expanding) for my bellarke fic taking the world off your shoulders, particularly the couple of grounder villages they wind up in, and that was fun. the 100 established this bit of canon where only the warrior grounders speak english but then we didn't get a lot of opportunities to see the communities of non-warrior grounders who didn't speak english at all, so i especially liked dipping my toes into sonia's village and exploring a community of people who aren't involved at all in the grounder violence/war and are just peaceful and self-sustaining

12. Are there any tropes you used to dislike but have grown on you? mmmm i'm thinking about it but can't come up with any. i think i've probably gotten to like more rarepairs, but that's not a trope (maybe just an influence of hanging out with you lol).

15. What’s your favorite AU that you’ve written? like i said before i don't write a lot of AUs outside of your garden-variety canon divergence, so my options for answers here are limited. i guess my favorite AU is the whole post-age of ultron series i wrote where everything is the same except that pietro lives (bc seriously wtf was that). the series is called pietro lives 'verse but it wound up becoming an entirely clint-barton-centric series and i apologize for nothing.

5. What do you wish someone would ask you about blow a kiss to concern? Answer it now! "hey raviv, what's so special about driving stick shift?" look. you'll never know. you'll never understand until you're driving a bunch of foreigners from literally any other country other than america and they suddenly go, "wait is this a manual?" and you get to very nonchalantly say "yeah it is." you just can't know the level of smug pride you get to experience when people are impressed with you for something as simple as that.

also, driving stick is an even more involved way to do the already-hella-romanticizeable act of driving, and in my experience, it is frustrating as SHIT to learn. and like, stiles loves his fucking car so fucking much. the only other person we ever see drive that car is scott (i think?), most likely because it's not something most people can do, but also because scott is like a brother to him, one of the people he loves the most in the entire world. it's a huge act of trust for stiles to let someone else drive his car. so the idea that there's a skill lydia doesn't have but wants, and only stiles can realistically teach her because he's the only one with both the know-how and the actual car to teach her with is just. very charming in its potential. plus, learning stick at ALL is really hard and it's a testament to the relationship between stiles and lydia that she isn't constantly in tears, because like. he completely believes she can do it, and she completely trusts him to teach her. I JUST THINK THEY'RE NEAT

ask me a question for fic writers!

[sterlingpiner]

Sloth face

Pilosa is one of the smallest of the orders of the mammal class its only other suborder contains the anteaters. These names are from the Latin 'leaf eater' and 'hairy', respectively. Sloths are in the taxonomic suborder Folivora of the order Pilosa. The earliest xenarthrans were arboreal herbivores with sturdy vertebral columns, fused pelvises, stubby teeth, and small brains. Anteaters and armadillos are also included among Xenarthra. One study found that xenarthrans broke off from other placental mammals around 100 million years ago. Sloths belong to the superorder Xenarthra, a group of placental mammals believed to have evolved in the continent of South America around 60 million years ago. The algae also nourish sloth moths, some species of which exist solely on sloths. The shaggy coat has grooved hair that is host to symbiotic green algae which camouflage the animal in the trees and provide it nutrients. Sloths are almost helpless on the ground, but are able to swim. Their slowness permits their low-energy diet of leaves and avoids detection by predatory hawks and cats that hunt by sight. French paresseux) also mean "lazy" or similar. Sloth, related to slow, literally means "laziness," and their common names in several other languages (e.g. Sloths are so named because of their very low metabolism and deliberate movements. They included both ground and arboreal forms which became extinct after humans settled the archipelago in the mid-Holocene, around 6,000 years ago. Members of an endemic radiation of Caribbean sloths formerly lived in the Greater Antilles. The extinction correlates in time with the arrival of humans, but climate change has also been suggested to have contributed. However, they became extinct during the Quaternary extinction event around 12,000 years ago, along with most large bodied animals in the New World. Besides the extant species, many species of ground sloths ranging up to the size of elephants (like Megatherium) inhabited both North and South America during the Pleistocene Epoch. The two groups of sloths are from different, distantly related families, and are thought to have evolved their morphology via parallel evolution from terrestrial ancestors. Despite this traditional naming, all sloths have three toes on each rear limb- although two-toed sloths have only two digits on each forelimb. There are six extant sloth species in two genera – Bradypus (three–toed sloths) and Choloepus (two–toed sloths). They are considered to be most closely related to anteaters, together making up the xenarthran order Pilosa. Noted for their slowness of movement, they spend most of their lives hanging upside down in the trees of the tropical rainforests of South America and Central America. Sloths are a group of arboreal Neotropical xenarthran mammals constituting the suborder Folivora. On May 30th, the sloth-faced images of celebrities and icons were compiled into a Tumblr photoset by Tastefully Offensive, where the post gained more than 10,400 notes within six days.Temporal range: Early Oligocene to Holoceneĭelsuc, Catzeflis, Stanhope, and Douzery, 2001 Two days later, the earliest known instance of such composite image without the white margins was submitted to the subreddit, featuring an image of actor Clint Eastwood (shown below, right). On October 28th, 2012, the subreddit /r/Quasimoderp was launched. The Elijah Wood photoset resurfaced on Reddit in April 2012, gaining 830 overall points, 10,960 upvotes and 410 comments in the WTF subreddit. On December 24th, 2011, Buzzfeed published a compilation of 26 similar collage-style photo sets depicting various celebrities with their facial features in disproportionate scale. In 2011, a photoset collage of Hollywood actor Elijah Wood's facial features in close-up images (shown below, left) began circulating on Tumblr.

[xxx-cat-xxx]

When All is Said and Done

So...this is not the Irondad story I promised you. This is my 4.5th Tony vs. Migraine fic, this time featuring Bruce as caretaker. My only excuse is that plotting the other fic is making my brain cells tired and I needed some wwp (whump without plot) and Science Bros fluff to compensate.

Hope you enjoy it nevertheless.

Major thanks to @whumphoarder and @twentyghosts for beta reading ❤

___________________

“How bad is it?” Bruce asks the moment the front door shuts behind the last of their guests.

“Huh?” Tony is leaning casually against the wall, trying not to squint too hard against the bright entry lights. He lightly massages the bridge of his nose with his thumb and index finger.

“The headache you think you’ve been hiding so well from everyone tonight. How bad is it?”

Tony lets his hand drop down in surprise. “It’s nothing. I’m just peachy, worrywart.”

Bruce snorts. Then he reaches across the entryway and dials the light down a few notches. Tony inwardly sighs from relief. 

“Let’s go to bed early, yeah?” Bruce suggests softly. “I know you’re just peachy, but I for one am tired. Clint’s wilderness survival stories almost put me to sleep on the sofa. I’m gonna clean up the kitchen and then turn in. ”

Tony has a bunch of bots and probably the highest paid cleaning staff in the whole of New York to take care of the mess left behind by the ever-hungry Avengers. But he knows Bruce is uncomfortable with anyone working for him, so he doesn’t protest, just follows the other man into the kitchen and tries his best to help with putting away the leftovers. 

However, the aura obscuring his left field of vision and the slightly blurred quality of the world don’t really make things easier. When he drops a knife onto the ground next to the drawer for the second time in a row and barely misses his own toe, Bruce finally intervenes. “Okay, that’s it. Bed, now.”

“I’m good. Stop mother-henning me,” Tony bites back a groan when he bends down to pick up the cutlery and the pressure in his head compounds. He has to stabilise himself against the cupboard and take a deep breath before he can get upright again.

“Tony.” 

That’s the tone that gets him, always. The one that tells him Bruce can see right through his facade and openly wonders why Tony is even still making an effort to keep it up. 

“Yeah, yeah, okay,” he concedes. “But don’t come at me later that I’m not doing my fair share of housework.”

Bruce shuts him up with a warm look. “As if I would ever.” 

Tony lets himself be led into the bedroom and groans when he sinks down into the mattress. He feels actually dizzy now, which only increases the nausea building in his stomach. Bruce helps him change from jeans into sweatpants and removes his dress shirt, then gently pushes him into a horizontal position. 

Lying down doesn’t really do anything for the pain in Tony’s head, but at least he can bury his face in one of the pillows and shut out whatever light is left in the room.

Bruce goes back to finish the cleaning and then disappears into the bathroom for a while before joining Tony in bed. He starts circling his fingers through Tony’s hair, lightly massaging his scalp. Tony remembers how weirdly intimate this felt the first time he did it, when he told Bruce that painkillers don’t work for his migraines and the other man offered to try out a different method. Now it’s become a familiar routine, a thing they’ve done a hundred times over the years.

Tony tries to switch off his brain and concentrate on just lying still and relaxing under Bruce’s touch, but he’s kind of terrible at it. It’s hard, so hard, because even now there’s a million ideas buzzing in his head, a never-ending list of projects and potentially world-improving programmes, intermingled with upgrades for Dum-E and Veronica and his armour and inspirations for what to get Bruce for their anniversary. 

The longer Tony is lying down, the more unsettled he gets. He’s not actually that sick; after all, he’s worked through so much more than a stupid migraine. Annoyance at himself bubbles up in his chest, for being unproductive, for wasting time in bed like this. 

Bruce seems to catch on to this. He turns over and rubs his fingers along the line of Tony’s forehead. “What’s up? I can feel you thinking. It’s like an electric hum.”

“Don’t want to be useless,” Tony scoffs. “I hate being useless.” 

“Tony, you’re never useless to me.”

“Hmpff.”

“Okay, fine. Without your headache we would still be sitting on the porch with the others and I would be pretending to have fun playing stupid card games while secretly just wanting to be alone with my books. So, personally, I am pretty happy about the timing of your migraine.”

“Not convincing,” Tony grumbles, but he has to smile. Then his sluggish brain catches on to the implications. “Wait, you’re saying that’s why everyone left early? So Steve didn’t actually have to repair his washing machine?” 

“I doubt he even knows how to do that,” Bruce admits with a smile.

“And Natasha’s date -”

“Shh,” Bruce shushes him with a finger to his lips. 

“Idiots, all of you,” Tony mumbles, but there’s a sugary warm feeling surging in his chest that makes the insult sound almost endearing.

He drifts a bit after that, the thoughts not gone, but muted. His head is throbbing in time with every heartbeat, like his brain is too big for his skull and trying to come out. He’s far from comfortable, but his situation could definitely be worse than lying in bed and feeling Buce’s big spoon body heat behind him. 

Bruce’s breaths even out after a while and it’s almost peaceful, but then Tony’s stomach decides that digestion is too much to handle for it right now and attempts to creep up his throat. He tries for deep and even breaths, but soon enough every one of them starts to feel like it might bring something else with it. 

“Aw, shit,” he murmurs when he can taste the remnants of pizza at the back of his throat, then pushes himself up and tumbles out of bed. The headrush that hits has him almost stagger into the wall. 

He makes it to the toilet and clumsily lifts the seat up in the dark before coughing miserably into the bowl, but nothing comes up. His throat is tight with nausea and he gags again, and retches drily. It’s still unproductive, but this doesn’t mean it’s not hurting like a bitch.

Tony can’t stop a quiet whimper from escaping his mouth. Fucking pathetic. He gags again emptily and then presses his forehead against the cool toilet seat, hoping someone will come and simply knock him out. 

He absentmindedly and quite self-pityingly wonders what he did to the universe to deserve this, then scolds himself for the thought. Once, around four in the morning after a long night in the workshop, a very sleepy Bruce had told him that growing up with an abusive parent made you feel like you’d eventually have to pay for every good thing that happened to you, that happiness comes with a price tag, until one day you just start trying not to feel too happy at all for fear of punishment. 

Tony, who firmly believes that every problem can be solved if one is just clever enough, was horrified at the idea. Since then, he’s tried his best to convince Bruce that he does, in fact, deserve unconditional love and happiness, that pain is something that happens despite, not because of, feeling good, and has showered him with as much affection as humanly possible. 

Thinking that he deserves this migraine is stupid, Tony knows that. Although it might almost make him feel better if he knew that there was a reason why his brain is currently on the verge of blowing up.

“Oh, Tony...” He doesn’t know how much time has passed, but suddenly Bruce is there, resting a hand on his back, all warmth and reassurance. How does a person do this -become such a source of calmness in all the daily stress and pain? “I’m sorry that you’re feeling so bad.”

“I’m okay,” Tony croaks, “‘s just a stupid migraine, I’ll be fine. I'm always fine.”

“Mm-hmm," Bruce says wryly. “I know that. But I also know it hurts now, even if it'll pass eventually."

“Just go back to sleep. I know you're tired.”

“This is such a nice bathroom, though,” Bruce says with a shrug. “Really, I've spent nights in much worse places.”

“Yeah, but- ugh.” Saliva floods Tony’s mouth and then he has to lean forward and heave the few bites of dinner he'd managed to get down earlier back into the toilet bowl, every retch making his head throb viciously. Bruce’s hand is calmly rubbing up and down his back and Tony tries to concentrate on that instead of the disgusting taste in his mouth and the smell that makes him want to throw up again.

Bruce has to help him back to bed eventually because his sense of balance is shot, as is his sense of distances and his sense of, well, anything. Tony hates this most about migraines, the slightly surreal feeling as if the world is constantly slipping from his grip and he’s missing all the important details. It’s even worse than the pain and nausea, because the lack of brainpower makes him feel vulnerable, and, worse, unable to protect those he cares about. Although Bruce arguably isn’t exactly in need of protection, at least not of the physical kind. 

“Brucie?” he mumbles through the pillow and the peppermint drop in his mouth that’s supposed to ease the nausea. 

“Hmm?”

“Do you think the Hulk likes it here?”

“Considering that you built him his own playground to smash, I think he’s pretty content to live in the tower.” Tony can practically hear the frown in Bruce’s tone, but his voice stays soft as he replies. “Why do you ask?”

“Just like this?” 

Bruce hums knowingly and pulls Tony closer towards him.

Once, when Tony was sick with the flu and the fever dreams were messing with him so badly that he couldn’t quite differentiate between reality and nightmares anymore, he thought about telling Bruce how growing up with parents that were never really there and then suddenly dead makes you feel like everyone you ever get close to is going to leave eventually, and that maybe letting people close is not worth the pain of losing them. 

In the end, he didn’t say anything. But miraculously, Bruce was still there when Tony’s fever finally broke, as he was after the next bout of flu, Tony’s heart surgery, and dozens of migraines in between. And now, years later, even Tony’s subconsciousness is finally almost convinced that if Tony gives in to sleep now, Bruce will still be there when he wakes up.

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All my fics

Taglist: @toomuchtoread33  @yepokokfine

@badthingshappenbingo This is my fill for the ‘Migraine’ square.

[whumphoarder]

just curious, what’re your favorite iron dad/fam headcanons? I’d love to hear some!

Happy is 100% a softie under his grumpy exterior and Morgan’s got him wrapped around her finger. They do tea parties, she dresses him up, does his make up, etc

Peter also has Happy wrapped around his finger, but in a completely different way. Happy will yell at him and tell him off but you better believe when that kid calls at 2am he’s there

Tony has never used baby talk with Morgan—even when she was an infant, it was full sentences only and if he needed to get her to sleep, he’d just ramble on about one of his inventions in excruciating detail 

May and Pepper watch terrible reality TV shows together and drink lots of wine when they have girls nights

Pepper owns a horse, which Tony pays for top-notch everything for even though he pretends to hate it (because it’s too dangerous)

Tony gets a kick out of taking Peter to really fancy events/showing off the high class way of life because Peter’s jaw is on the floor anytime someone drops more than $100 in one go and that just never gets old