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[elvenshimmer]

Man, I love Tony and Bruce's friendship. Meeting each other intellectually, geeking out together. Chef's kiss. Also the way Tony's so self-assured, but Bruce is uncertain. But then Tony's insecure, and Bruce has this confidence about him. Tony struts, Bruce tiptoes. But they have the utmost respect for each other. They don't mind each other's quirks--they appreciate it, even.

Mutual respect. Love it.

[nerdyfangirlmel]

I feel people often forget that Rhodey is also like genius. Maybe like not child prodigy genius but still a genius.

And I also feel like people forget that like Dr. Strange was a literal doctor and keep using Bruce as a doctor when he ain’t that type of doctor.

[dangerousangerissue]

[voiceoffenrisulfr]

Multitudes Chapter Fifteen

... And Into the Fire.

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 -> Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov, James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov, James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton, James "Bucky" Barnes/Natasha Romanov, Clint Barton/Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers/Natasha Romanov, James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov/Steve Rogers

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 -> Nat is reprimanded, and the process begins again.

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 -> 5941

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 -> (E) CW: Brief mentions of injury and suicide attempt, a lot of talk of weight and BMI, treatment plans, food.

𝐀/𝐍 -> Dead Dove: Do Not Eat. Please read the warnings, and proceed with caution. You know the drill. A surprisingly feel-good chapter in the end, though. Corresponds to Magic and Madness - Chapters Two through Four. Start here. Masterlist can be found here. Check it out below, or on AO3 here! The snazzy Black Widow divider comes from @/firefly-graphics and I love it <3 The Multitudes Universe one is our own! The awesome goulash concept came from @captainofalltheships and can be found here - it gave me so much inspiration and I'm endlessly grateful. <3

<- Previous Chapter (14/72) Next Chapter -> (16/72)

My muscles groaned in protest as I was stirred by soft fingertips travelling the length of my arm. “Nat? C’mon, Little Spider. It’s lunchtime, believe it or not.” I grumbled in protest, burying my face in the comforting linen, wreathing myself in the scent of sex and Clint, and eliciting a laugh from the man himself. “You think you have it bad? I’m going to be the talk of the table.”

I looked up sharply, finding my lover in only jeans, his bare torso coated in bruises and crescent wounds, violent red lines and fingerprint impressions.

Dear God, that’s hot.

Honestly? Agreed.

Despite the thrill humming through my body, I flinched guiltily. “Sorry. Are you okay?”

His hand found the bite mark in his shoulder, then the unmistakable, dime-sized clusters at his throat, layered atop the bruises I’d already inflicted in the woods – and he grinned. “Don’t apologise, honey. I am… great.” He extended a hand to me, pulling me into his arms deftly. “Better than great. I- Last night- You… are perfection.” I winced at the slight rasp in his voice, pressing my lips tenderly to his skin, and he shook his head. “Sore from the sounds I made, not your actions.”

“Still,” I muttered, running my palms gently down his chest. “You look… Tender.”

“Delightfully, and proudly, so,” he replied with a grin, his body puffing under my touch. “If I had the choice, I’d go about my day like this.” I quirked an eyebrow in disbelief, and he caught my hands with his.

“This – these marks… Nat, I don’t think you quite understand. I can’t put into words how much I fucking love this. Every single one of these bruises, bites, scrapes and claw marks are a sign of your passion, and your ownership. And damn, do I want to be owned by you.”

I smiled, touched, then turned his wrist to show his tattoo. “This isn’t ownership enough?”

“There’s never enough,” he replied with soft growl, pulling me closer. “You could tattoo your name on my forehead, and it wouldn’t do justice to how very yours I am.”

I blushed then, ducking my head shyly. “Well. You wouldn’t be the first to forego a shirt at the table.”

Clint was practically skipping as he led me down the hall, his fingers laced through mine, jeans riding low on his hips to display as much of his marred flesh as he could. I shook my head fondly, following him through the glass doors with only the slightest hesitation.

Aren’t you worried what people will think? Widow offered uncertainly, and I smiled in appreciation at the bit-back harshness she hadn’t used.

A little, I admitted, glancing at the team as we drew closer, waiting for someone to notice us. But I care far more about making him happy, and this makes him happy. I’m a grown woman, and he’s a grown man – our sex life is nothing to be ashamed of, even if the Red Room taught us differently.

She simply hummed thoughtfully in response, lapsing into considerate silence once more. On cue, Wanda glanced up from her conversation with Vision, and let out a shocked laugh.

“Light exercise - бред сивой кобылы!” (Bullshit!)

I snorted at the expletive, while Vision simply raised a surprised eyebrow at his partner. “...She didn’t learn that from me.”

The rest of the team turned their gaze to us one by one, each having a visible reaction. Bruce flinched minutely before smirking, immediately returning to the food on his plate. Cap folded his arms, deeply unimpressed, while Tony grinned, hands behind his head. “Well, if any of us had doubt that you two were screwing... That’s some great handiwork, Nat. Gotta say, I’m a little jealous.”

Stephen was sat beside the scientist, and we both smiled sheepishly as our eyes met.

I wonder what Stephen’s doing here so early...

I wonder if Stephen ever left.

Clint bounded to a free seat, piling sandwiches onto his plate as his stomach growled, making me chuckle as I sat beside him. “Hungry?”

He met my gaze, steady and heavy. “Starving. I didn’t eat much last night.” I felt myself go crimson at the double entendre, heart spiking in my throat, but Clint just tucked in happily, oblivious.

Steve, on my partner’s other side, rubbed his neck uncertainly. “Uh, guys...?”

“Oh, God, calm down, old man. It’s just sex – it isn’t contagious,” Tony scoffed, draining his whiskey glass in one swallow.

Steve glared at him briefly before shaking his head, hesitant. “It’s not that. It’s just... Clint, I’m the only other person on your floor, and my hearing is excellent. I’d appreciate not being party to your... Crescendo.”

I’d just bitten into a sandwich as the War Hero spoke, so found myself quickly choking once I snorted at his words, Clint’s hand patting my back firmly. He waited until I’d finished coughing to turn back to Steven, only the barest hint of a blush colouring his ears. “Sorry, Cap. It won’t happen again. I guess we got a little, uh... Overexcited.”

I flushed at the memory of the primal sound I dragged from my lover, ducking my head, fingertips brushing his thigh wordlessly. I can think of plenty of things we could put in his mouth to prevent that problem.

Tony stood to refill his glass, and Stephen leant across his empty seat quickly. “... It seems we both fulfilled our part of the deal, Natasha.”

“It seems we did, Doctor Strange.” I glanced at the billionaire by the counter, than back to the man quickly becoming my friend. “Did you... Were you at the Sanctum this morning?”

“I was.” He grinned as my face fell, stretching closer conspiratorially. “But just to change my clothes,” he added, glancing about himself before surreptitiously tugging down his own collar. There, significantly lighter than Clint’s but no less real, was a circular bruise, nestled into the flesh between throat and collarbone.

I bit my knuckles to suppress a squeal, giving myself a heartbeat to calm before shimmering forward. “No way. Seriously?”

The unshakable doctor blushed, making me smirk. “Nothing further, you’ll be sad to know. But... That was enough, I think. ...I’m not even certain he remembers it. Or if he does, it’s behaviour he harbours intense regret for.” His gaze cut to the scientist once more, watching pensively as he dropped ice cubes into amber liquid.

I flinched sympathetically, patting Stephen’s hand gently. “You’ve said it yourself; Tony is... Complicated. He might just need time. Not many things are new to him, but I imagine this is.”

I wanted to ask- to learn the possibly-sweet, likely-sordid details for no purpose other than my own curiousity, but I held my tongue. If he wants to tell me, he will. Speaking of which...

I turned to the second of my magical friends, who was still chucking lightly with a good-natured shake of the head, smirking to Vision as her eyes flickered intermittently in my direction, but her gaze focused fully on me when she saw me watching.

“Хорошая ночь?” she pressed, grinning. (Good night?)

“Лучшая ночь в моей жизни,” I sighed contentedly, eyes shifting to my partner, currently stuffing his fourth sandwich ravenously down his throat, and he snorted around the mouthful of bread. (The best night of my life.)

“Лучшая ночь в твоей жизни пока что,” he amended, muffled and full of carbohydrates. (The best night of your life so far.) “Give me chance, Little Spider. Cap will need noise-cancelling headphones before I’m through with you.”

I choked on my water, glancing at the All-American soldier with wide eyes, but he simply grimaced and smirked. “I think I’d prefer it to yours, Hawkeye. I’ve seen and heard a lot in my life, but I think being dragged from sleep to that godawful sound was up there with one of the worst experiences I've ever endured. I thought the bombs were back.”

I blinked in disbelief as Steve’s lips twitched playfully, my gaze finding Wanda’s, and we burst into riotous laughter, my stomach aching from the contractions.

“О, он пожалеет об этом...” Clint murmured, his hand finding my thigh and squeezing lightly. (Oh, he's going to regret that...) 

Cap chortled, biting light-heartedly into his own sandwich. “I was a super-solider in World War II, Barton. I don’t know why you assume I don’t speak Russian. Вы ошибаетесь,” he added pointedly, his accent almost flawless, leaving my lover to raise a surprised eyebrow. (You are wrong.)

Are you… Should we finish that?

I looked down, startled from my light-hearted enjoyment, to the single, half-eaten sandwich on my plate, unable to prevent myself from glancing surreptitiously around me. Clint, Steve and Wanda continued laughing amongst themselves while Vision looked on, eyes on his partner fondly. Stephen and Tony were talking quietly, heads a little closer together than necessary, eliciting a brief smile.

Bruce.

My gaze darted to the end of the table, finding the doctor’s stare firmly upon mine, and winced as he inclined his head toward my plate.

He probably thinks our fun was just a diversion tactic.

… Wasn’t it? Widow clarified, noting my unshakable delight at the low ache in my abdomen.

No. Well… Not entirely.

He's not going to stop watching you.

I sighed, picking up my sandwich and smiling scathingly at the doctor, who simply nodded in response. “Once you finish up here, we’ll do your vitals. Clint wouldn’t let me wake you this morning – he said you needed your sleep,” he added, one brow arched. My jaw tightened, carbs and fat turning solid in my throat.

I wonder how long he’s been watching?

Only one way to find out, I guess.

I theatrically swallowed the rest of my sandwich, pushing my chair back. He only watched me steadily, knowingly, before his eyes flicked to my partner, who was currently proudly showing off his tattoo – and the rope burns on his wrists. Flinching, Bruce stood, inclining his head.

He knows.

He does. But he also wants to leave, so… Take the win, Nat.

“I still think putting extra toll on your body at this time was inordinately stupid,” Bruce muttered as he patted down my gown-covered form, perfunctory and polite. I cocked my head in confusion, and he glanced up. “The tattoo. I haven’t seen your own yet, but if it’s comparable to Barton’s, its stress that your body didn’t need.” I turned obligingly, smoothing stray hairs from my neck, and I felt one tentative finger touch my still-warm skin. “… They match.”

“They do,” I agreed hesitantly. “Though it wasn’t entirely deliberate. He had several options – he just happened to pick the one I’d already used, quite by chance. Not that I’m complaining.”

He hummed under his breath, jerking his head toward the scales when I faced him once more. Following him obligingly, my footsteps faltered as the flat, unobtrusive platform loomed threateningly before me. “… I shouldn’t really be weighed after eating, right?”

He snorted humourlessly, gesturing me onto the device. “Three things, Natasha. First, and most importantly; I’d hardly call your lunch ‘eating’. Second; I will factor your meagre consumption into my charts.”

I swallowed dryly as he jotted down the number behind me, a miniscule frown tugging at his lips.

You’ve lost weight.

Yeah.

“And thirdly?” I prompted, nervous fingers tangling in the coarse fabric by my thighs.

“Thirdly… Outside of significant changes – level progression, and the like - I’ll no longer be disclosing your changes to anyone outside of this room. So whether or not you gain a third of a pound because you ate a sandwich beforehand, nobody will know except me.”

“… Why?” I whispered, distrustful of this change of circumstances. Bruce sighed, hand running through his hair.

“Because I am your doctor – nobody else’s. At least, not in this. You are - arguably, given the change from your start weight, though I'm inclined to disagree - out of immediate danger, so how you conduct yourself should be up to you. You know the rules – as does Clint – and it’s up to the two of you to follow that as you see fit. Evidently, my orders mean little,” he added, a swift green flicker in his gaze. “I’ll keep an eye on you when I’m present, but I will no longer be pushing others to do the same.”

My mouth worked wordlessly, stunned to silence. “I… Don’t understand,” I admitted, frowning.

“You and Clint are going to do whatever you want, and I’m tired of arguing with you – either of you – about it,” he replied tersely, jaw clenched.

I laughed shortly, dry and derisive. “Is this because we had sex? I thought we moved past this, Bruce.”

Tongue poked into his cheek, he stepped back, gesturing me toward the curtain. “For the most part. But I can’t pretend it doesn’t still hurt, Nat. Both because of my feelings for you, and because of the effort I put into carefully establishing a treatment plan that seems to have been wasted."

I hesitated, stunned into silence, one foot still in the air. “… Then why do you bother with all this at all, if that’s how  you feel? If everything is just… Pointless?”

Teeth ground into a reluctant smile, he met my gaze. “Because, as I said, Natasha… I still have feelings for you. I’m coming to accept that you’re not going to be mine, and starting to let them go, but it’s a process. But, either way, I will always care about you, and want you to be okay. I just can’t keep whipping myself by watching you take recovery as casually as you have been.” I opened my mouth to protest, to enthuse that I’d been working hard, but his quirked eyebrow closed my jaw silently. “You want the numbers, Nat? I’ll give them to you. I can tell you exactly how hard you’ve been working – and how much you’ve been getting away with, despite me constantly enforcing the rules to every single member of our team. The only significant weight gain you’ve had was while you were in your coma.”

“How would you know?” I laughed, panicked. “It’s not like you could weigh me.”

He smiled wryly, clearing his throat. “Friday?”

“Yes, Dr. Banner?”

“How much do I weigh?”

“I’m sorry, Dr. Banner. I am forbidden to discuss weight or perform calculations in the presence of Ms. Romanoff.”

He waved a hand, irked. “Override code - 2 1 14 14 5 18.”

Override code-

-2 1 14 14 5 18. ‘Banner’. Not very imaginative, is it?

There was the most inifinitesimal of pauses, and then-

“Current weight is 128.94lbs, with an estimated discrepancy of 0.001lbs.”

“Height? BMI?”

“Current height is 5 feet and 9.21 inches. Your BMI is 18.9, with classifies you as a healthy weight, according to most diagnostic criteria.”

His gaze cut to mine, sharp and terrifying. “I don’t need scales to weigh you, Natasha. I never did. We do it this way because it’s more polite.” I swallowed dryly, and his voice raised once more. “Friday – recount Natasha’s weight measurements on day one of treatment, day one of coma, day eleven of coma, day eight post-coma, and today.”

“101.5, 96.2, 105.4, 102.2, and 99lbs, Dr. Banner.”

16.4. My BMI is 16.4. That’s half a point lower than it was when this hell started.

I couldn’t help myself – a smile twitched at my lips, and Bruce simply tipped his head, profoundly, encompassingly sad. “That should horrify you, Natasha. You’ve been ‘trying’ to recover, as you so passionately argue, and yet since this begun you have lost two and a half pounds. My oversight was in defining the parameters of your levels – I stipulated that gain would be in accordance to your lowest weight. On day twelve post-coma, you were exactly five pounds heavier than your lowest weight – 101.2. You were lower than the weight this started at, and I saw my failings. But I hoped that this would motivate you, encourage you to take a more active role in your recovery. It has been twenty-four hours, and even with half a sandwich inside you, you’ve somehow managed to lose another 2.2lbs, Natasha. Unfortunately, I also didn’t stipulate what would happen if you no longer fulfilled the terms of your level.” He paused to take a breath, fists balled by his sides.

“I-”

“So that leaves me with two options, moving forward,” he continued, beginning to pace as his skin tinged green, heart rate monitor beeping gently. “I either acknowledge my mistake and redefine the terms of your recovery contract – which will certainly lead to more disappointment when Cl- the team fails to follow the guidelines – or I let you continue as you are. At this point, though, it’s less about recovery, and more about preventing death for the longest time possible. Which… If you carry on this way, Natasha? That ‘longest time possible’ won’t be very long at all. We’ll soon be talking weeks, not months.”

Weeks. Are you… Are we… Really that sick?

Weeks. Weeks with Clint. I promised him a lifetime, but this wasn’t what I meant. I wanted to see him grow old. I wanted to see him get his farm.

A ragged, hitched sob resounded in my throat, bringing the doctor to a sudden halt, the flush of his flesh draining quickly as he looked at me. “What do I do?” I whimpered, fingernails falling instinctively into the permenant ruts on the back of my arms. “Bruce… Tell me what to do.”

He paled, his own eyes filling, and he moved to put a gentle hand on mine, interrupting the injury. “You talk. Through one thing and another, you haven’t yet had a therapy session. I can set that up for you. You talk to your therapist, you talk to me, you talk to the team… And, yes, you talk to Clint. Because as much as I am loathe to admit it, I imagine he is your biggest motivation.” I nodded desperately, and the doctor offered me a weak smile. “The other option is, of course, inpatient treatment. And I think that needs to be discussed as a very real possibility, and one that you would accept, with the right circumstances. A ‘level 0’, if you would.”

I don’t know if I can do this. I don’t know if I can do this.

“We renegotiate the terms of your treatment plan, correcting my earlier oversights. We – together – tell the team how important it is to not let you slip. You need their support, and sometimes that will feel like monitoring; sometimes, that will be exactly what it is. You will stumble, over and over again. You’ll gain weight, but you’ll also lose weight. You’ll relapse in every way possible. But, if you accept it… We can stop you from falling entirely. And, God, Natasha… I really don’t want to see you fall. Not again,” he added, wincing softly at the memory of my broken and bleeding body.

… Agree.

What?

You need to agree, Natasha. Agree to his terms, whatever they are.

But what about being thin? Being strong? Being perfect?

I have always tried to protect you, Nat. Maybe wrongly, but that’s what I did. And the best way I can protect you right now is by letting someone else do it.

My breathing hitched, panicked and touched. …Will you still be here?

Always, Little Spider. Like you said… We’re a part of one another. And besides, you’re not the only one who needs this recovery. I felt them flinch and recoil, burdened by memories they’d protected me from for so long. Maybe if they teach you how to love yourself, you can teach me.

I whimpered aloud, burying my face in my hands. “Thank you. Thank you. For everything.”

It took three hours for Bruce and I to renegotiate my treatment plan. After twenty minutes, Clint was pacing outside the door, his intermittent knocks and muffled conversations with Friday punctuating the solemnity of our proceedings. The doctor had looked at me inquisitively, but I’d only shook my head.

“That’s the first of those conversations I should have, right?”

“No, Natasha. This is.”

It took three hours, and a hell of a lot of tears, for Bruce and I to renegotiate my treatment plan. But eventually I stood, feeling lighter than I had in a long time, and crossed to the door, fingers toying with the vibrant red band around my wrist.

Level one. Here we go again.

I’d argued most vehemently against my right to physical activity – or, more accurately, physical intimacy. Bruce and I had got through our negotiation with as little awkwardness as possible, with me briefly recounting my recent reclamation of my sexuality, and the fears that it would fade if I was forced once more to avoid sleeping with Clint. Bruce had been ever sympathetic, outlining the way that could progress through the levels, and what that could look like; he took the time to listen to my values and desires, and suggested ways that we could implement these things into my treatment plan, eventually coming to a tentative agreement.

The second my trembling hands turned the lock,  the door flew open, a ball of frantic archer gathering me against his body instantly. “Goddamn it, Nat, what the fuck? Friday wouldn’t tell me anything and I couldn’t open the door. What the hell were you doing in here?” He took in my puffy, tearstained face and rounded on Bruce, growling threateningly, his eyes narrowed. “What did you do to her? I’ll fucking kill you if you-”

“Clint,” I interrupted softly, tapping his chest. “Rein it in, my love. Bruce has done nothing but help me.”

He scoffed, rolling his eyes as his fingers found mine. “You’re doing really well, Nat. Whatever help he’s told you that you need-”

“I’m not, though. I… I’m not doing well.” I sighed heavily, my free hand pushing stray hairs from my forehead. “I weigh less than I did when all this started. I’ve been getting away with more than I should, and I’ve been tricking everyone into thinking I’m doing better. I’m not doing better, Clint,” I added, my voice cracking minutely.

He glanced back down at me in panic, finally looking away from the impassive doctor. “I… What? But you’re… You’re level two now. That was only yesterday.”

“I was five pounds above my lowest weight,” I conceded, nodding. “But my lowest weight came after all of this started. And I… I’ve dropped another two since then. I’ve consistently lost weight this entire time, Clint, but gained enough while I was comatose that it wasn’t flagged until now. And Bruce… Bruce made me realise that this can’t keep going. I promised you a lifetime, Clint. But now I’m promising you a lifetime that won’t be cut short by my own hand. Because that’s where this was going. Weeks, rather than months – isn’t that what you said, Doc?”

The other man simply nodded, while Clint stammered out nonsensical words, his grip on my hand almost painful. “We’ve been in here so long because we’ve overhauled my treatment plan. And actually…” I raised my free wrist, the red hospital tag prevalent and inescapable. “I’m level one again now. A restart. A reaffirmation.” I flinched at the agony on my partner’s face, taking a deep, steadying breath. “Last time, I was dragged kicking and screaming into treatment. But now I… Well, it would be easy to say I want this, but that wouldn’t be true. Honestly, all I want is to sprint as far and as fast as I can in the opposite direction, even now. But I can at least acknowledge that I need this, and I’ll do it willingly. I’ll fuck up, but I’m going to try.”

He glanced at the doctor for clarification, wincing when he nodded, turning to brush his lips against mine. “I love you, Nat. I’ll do whatever I can to support you. I promise.”

“Good. Because… We need to talk.”

I could feel his erratic pulse in his palm as I sat opposite him on our bed, thumbs smoothing the work-worn skin tenderly. “… I’m level one again. I… I currently weigh 99lbs. This is my new baseline. If I… If I get below 90, at any point, I’ll be going into a facility. Level zero.” He opened his mouth, eyes flashing with alarm, but I shook my head lightly. “Please, Clint. Just let me get through this, and then you can say whatever you need to, I promise.” He nodded once, jaw clicking shut, and I sighed.

“Level one means a lot of what it did before. Weekly therapy sessions – that’ll start tomorrow. Daily weigh-ins, weekly bloods. I managed to stipulate that you be the one who does my… Who checks for any harm I’ve done, both for my own comfort, and in the name of being thorough. I managed to hide it from Bruce twice, after all.”

“Searches after meals. Minimum servings. Restricted bathroom access for two hours after eating. I’m not allowed to be alone, and Friday’s biofeedback will be reinstated, though you’ve been given override access for thirty minute intervals on request.” A brief flash of midnight pushups performed by someone else, followed by desperately clinging at porcelain, sweat dripping, body screaming, made me wince.

Sorry. I just… I’m sorry.

“I’ve been exercising at night, ever since you turned Friday off. I’ve purged a few times – again, usually at night. That evening I spent alone in my rooms, I… Well, it likely contributed quite a lot to the weight loss.” I balled my trembling fingers, attempting to ease the racing of my heart. “But the idea is that this will stop that. I won’t be able to spend the night alone until level four, at 119lbs. The hope is that by then, even if I want a night alone on occasion, I’ll be far enough along to be okay. But even so, Friday will still be active in my rooms – just in case.”

“I can’t exercise again. The only change there is our… Well, the exercise we do together. While on level one, I’m restricted to a… ‘Pillow princess’ role, to put it bluntly. Minimum strain and effort. I have to have a snack after, with at least 300 calories, and a bottle of juice before. That’s why Friday can be turned off – but she’ll still be tracking my heart rate. If it goes above my maximum healthy pulse rate, she’ll let us know, and we have to stop. Apparently that’s not negotiable – it would be, quite literally, a risk to my life.”

“Oh – I’m allowed one weekly veto,” I added, flinching as I recalled my whispered confession into my palms, explaining to the ever-patient doctor that I’d had a panic attack over mac and cheese. “Something equivalent can be made instead. But there are some things I just can’t eat – not yet – and forcing myself to try and do it is going to cause more harm than good. Either we’ll fight and I’ll refuse, or I’ll end up making myself sick.”

“And I… I guess that’s it. Bruce is going to have another word with the team, but I offered to talk to you myself. I… You can’t let me break the rules anymore, Clint. Even if I confess, even if I beg and plead and cry and tell you I hate you. You have to be strict with me.” My voice broke and I dropped my head, sobs shaking my shoulders violently. I hate this I hate this I hate this I hate this.

I know. But it’s for your own good.

His fingers reached out, shaking as they touched my chin, meeting my watery gaze with his own. “I’m so proud of you, Little Spider.”

For the third time, I found myself in the presence of more Avengers than I had seen in a long while – even T’Challa, Shuri, and Nick having made time for this.

Bruce was holding court as I entered on shaky legs, concluding his recount of our discussion and the new parameters, emphasizing the importance of every single individual holding me accountable. “If you see something, say something,” he finished, to a chorus of nods and shamed murmurs. Almost every one of them had seen me smear, shred, or otherwise skip a meal, and their faces flamed as they acknowledged their misguided attempts to allow me small comforts.

“Hey, guys,” I murmured, waving shyly, the eyes of every team member locking immediately on the red band around my wrist.

There was a pause, a throat clear, and a heavy awkward silence.

“Eat a goddamn cheeseburger, Nat,” Tony snorted, taking a sip from his ever-present glass. Half of the gathered heroes winced in horror, Clint included, but I only laughed.

“Actually, I’d love one, if that’s a genuine offer.”

There was a flurry of movement, serving dishes uncovered, a veritable feast spread across the table, and Tony picked up an individually-wrapped burger with a relish. “This lot have been cooking a bunch of what they like to call ‘real food’, but I went to In-N-Out. I cooked yesterday; that’s me done for the next month, at least.”

Take-out burgers.

How long has it been?

I glanced at my partner, remembering nights perched on rooftops and tossing fries at one another as we laughed, subtly dropping my half-finished hamburger over the edge when he wasn’t looking. Since I started one? About six months. I don’t remember the last time I finished one.

… Today seems like a good day to break that streak. Maybe even twice.

I grinned despite myself, rounding the table to drop into a seat beside Tony. Maybe.

Nick sat opposite me, watching me steadily as I unwrapped the semi-translucent wrapping, trying not to think about the grease seeping into my fingertips. “Natasha, it goes without saying that you’re on extended medical leave for the foreseeable future.”

Awkward silence fell, but I didn’t look up until I bit into my meal, revelling in the complimenting texture of lettuce, tomato, and meat. “Yeah, that makes sense. Do I need to leave?”

Clint bristled beside me, but Nick simply waved him away, my partner cowering under his authority. “No, Nat. You’ll always be a member of the team, even if you’re not on active duty. Bruce and I have agreed that you can recommence missions as long as you are at level three or above, and comply with any and all psychological debriefing deemed necessary. We can’t have a mission-gone-wrong offsetting your progress.”

I smiled weakly, touched by the consideration of this gruff man. “I appreciate your concern, and your candor, Director Fury.”

He simply nodded, then turned to the young girl beside him, asking questions about her latest round of outreach programmes, his piece having been said.

“Nat?”

I turned to the next person vying for my attention, and Steve winced guiltily as my eyes found his. “I screwed up. I… I realised today. It shouldn’t have taken that long.” I cocked my head curiously, and his gaze flicked to the still-healing scars across my exposed wrists. “I should never have left you alone. If I hadn’t, maybe…”

I shook my head firmly, raising a hand to stop him. I’d almost forgotten where I got that knife. “Steve… If it wasn’t from you, it would have been from someone else. I took advantage of the situation, and that is not your fault, okay?” He nodded morosely, and I smirked. “Besides – if it’s punishment you were after, I think that’s already been issued by the things you were subjected to last night.”

He laughed softly, rolling his eyes. “I’d far rather be traumatised like that on a daily basis than ever be hit with the horrified realisation I got this afternoon.” He gestured at the wide bowl in the centre of the table, aromatic meatballs nestled amongst the thin spaghetti strands. “It wasn’t until I was cooking that I…”

I met his gaze as I finished my burger, reaching out to serve myself a decent portion of his dish. “Well, let’s hope your horror was in pursuit of something worthwhile, huh?”

“Oh, it is,” Nick mumbled around his fork. “I’ve had the Cap’s spaghetti and meatballs only a couple of times before, but it was still motivation enough for me to get my ass to New York as soon as I heard it was on the agenda.”

I laughed, spearing an errant meatball and waving it at the director. “Nothing to do with me then, huh?”

He met me gaze steadily, unruffled. “Nope. Just the pasta.”

I snorted as he smiled infinitesimally. “You’re really selling it, Nick.” I bit into the ball, turning to the War Hero with a grin. It was delectably seasoned, pepper and thyme perfectly balanced, eliciting a groan. “Okay, I get it. I’d make a trip for this – and, as we all know, I don’t eat.”

Tony spluttered into his drink, Stephen’s hand instinctively finding the space between his shoulder blades without looking up.

Clint carried me back to the apartment that night, and I began to cry on the way. Panicked, he held me closer, and I buried my face into his collarbone.

“Everything hurts.”

“I bet, little one. Your body isn’t used to eating… Well, anything, really.”

Alongside the burger and Cap’s pasta, there was a small amount of Thor’s venison stew (accompanied by tales of Asgardian hunting and celebratory feasts), and goulash. Clint’s goulash, unmistakably – an echo of a mission in Hungary when extraction was taking days, and the archer’s double shoulder dislocation had left him curled up in an abandoned factory, too stoic to complain despite his evident pain. I’d left him with a kiss to the forehead and a promise of a prompt return, and came back with a small, hot pot of the Hungarian stew, gently tipping it down his throat for him until we were finally collected, ignoring the waves of nausea at my own hunger. Ever since then, it had been his comfort food, and though he preferred mine to his own, I held the opposite stance. God only knows when he had time to cook. I’d consumed a full bowl of it, already full before I started but determined not to miss out, meeting his eyes over the steaming portion with a fond smile.

My stomach now protruded between my hipbones, strained and uncomfortable, but the memory still made me smile weakly. “Worth it, though,” I sniffed, wiping my eyes stubbornly. For your goulash. For you.

Do it for him.

He nudged the door open and closed with only his hip, reluctant to release his grip on me for even a moment. I found myself placed on the bed, my overworked body shivering, and he slid in behind me, fingertips tracing my tender abdomen lightly. I flinched instinctively before taking a deep breath, leaning into the contact, letting the physical comfort win out over the psychological recoil, his touch easing my pain slowly.

“I love you, Clint.”

“I love you too, my Little Spider. I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you.”

I purred, tipping my head back until his forehead touched my hair, one arm reaching back to hold his neck gently. “Here’s hoping it’s a long one.”

You and him against the world, huh?

I smiled to myself, eyes closing of their own volition. No. Us and him… And our family, I added, a catalogue of the concerned expressions of my teammates. The one we never sought out and have frequently pushed away, but they’re our family anyway.

[braveclementine]

Chapter 20

Warnings: 18+readers only, pet names

Copyright: I do not own any Marvel characters or locations. However, I do own my OCs: Elizabeth Silvertongue and Clementine Greenleaf. I also own Clementines' brother Donavan. The following OCs are owned by other Wattpad writers as this is a collaboration project. Their OCs are on the face claim page. I do not condone any copying of this.

"Elizabeth!" 

"Go away." I called over my shoulder, striding towards my Biology class. 

"No, c'mon, Elizabeth!" Donavan dodged through students, trying to get to my side. "I just want to talk-" 

I turned down a hallway to hopefully lose him as the students streamed past us. But Donavan managed to catch a break in the flow, quickly catching up to my side. 

"Leave me alone Donavan." I grouched. 

"Elizabeth, please, it's not about me." Donavan said, sounding desperate. He reached for my arm and I jerked away, before coming to a stop. He paused, looking thankful. 

"What?" I asked harshly. 

"My mom wants to know if you are joining Clem on coming home for Thanksgiving." He said in a rushed breath. 

It took me a second to digest his words and then asked, "Clementine is going home for Thanksgiving break?" 

"Yes." Donavan answered, seeming pleased that we were having a civil conversation. "I thought she would talk to you about it, but then mom called and said that she hadn't heard if you were coming and asked me to ask you or Clem if you were coming. I haven't seen Clem all day so when I saw you-" 

"I don't think so. I had only planned on coming home for Christmas." I answered. 

"Miss Silvertongue?" Professor Banner's voice said. I turned to see the biology Professor standing there, holding a textbook under his arm. "You're going to be late for class if you don't hurry up." 

"Of course, Professor." I said quickly, looking at Donavan once more. "No, I'm not. Tell your mom I said sorry." 

I turned and walked away, heading into the classroom to sit down. I was fuming with Clementine. Why would she keep putting herself in such a position to get hurt? Why go back home for Thanksgiving- without telling me- where she would just be around her brother more? 

I hesitated before pulling out my phone. 

: Can we talk? 

Clementine texted back fairly quickly. 

: When? Sort've busy

I stared at the text message. Clementine had never been to busy to talk to me. I felt my stomach turn uncomfortably just as Professor Banner came into the room. He glanced at me, but didn't say or do anything. I wondered if he had texted Bucky or Steve to let them know Donavan was around or if he had minded his own business. 

I didn't answer Clementine, putting my phone away as we started on chapter twelve: Diversity of Life. 

Dr. Banner pulled up a picture of a bee on a flower and started to speak, "This bee and the Echinacea flower could no look more different, yet they are related, as are all living organisms on Earth and the planets beyond. All life on Earth evolved from a common ancestor. Other planets, while we don't have the exact specifics, are most likely the same, though we may learn differently in time." 

He went onto the next slide, which showed a diagram of some sort with three main categories: Bacteria, Archaea, and Eukarya in different colours. Words and lines connected the three of them together in many different ways. 

"Notice that from a single point, the three domains of Archaea, Bacteria, and Eukarya diverge and then branch repeatedly." He pointed along the diagram. "The small branch that plants and animals occupy in this diagram shows how recently these groups had their origin compared with other groups." 

I felt my phone buzz in my pocket, reminding me of how I hadn't turned my phone off before class. Dr. Banner had continued onto the next slide so I pulled my phone out, seeing that it was from an unknown number. 

: When is it bad luck to see a black cat? 

I turned the phone off, figuring it was a wrong number, looking up at the screen. Goosebumps broke out on my arms for no apparent reason, other than at the moment, a black cat was on the slideshow. But, as Dr. Banner went onto the next slide, I assumed it to be a coincidence. 

"There are several kingdoms, six to be exact. Anyone tell me what some of them are?" 

I raised my hand. "Class, Order, Family, and Species." 

"Nicely done. And the last two anyone?" 

"Phylum and genus!" One of the girls at the front called out. 

"Great." Dr. Banner smiled shyly as he always did. "Now, for example, we take a look at this chart." 

It was looked like a step pyramid, with each new step adding another animal. 

"So we start with the subspecies, the Canis lupus familiaris also known as the common, domestic dog." Dr. Banner said, pointing to the top of the pyramid. "And at the next level we have the Species: Canus lupus which can add the wolf in. At each sublevel in the taxonomic classification system, organisms become more similar. Dogs and wolves are the same species because they can breed and produce viable offspring, but they are different enough to be classified as different subspecies." 

He pointed to the last level. "As we can see, dogs and plants don't have anything in common until the Domain: Eukarya." 

He then proceeded to put on a PBS video about taxonomy on, which I sort've glazed through, my mind occupied with the strange text I had gotten. It wasn't until the lights were coming back on that I snapped back to reality to hear Dr. Banner already discussing the homework. 

"Using the textbook, you will be creating your own phylogenetic tree diagram. You can start with any species, plant or animal, though obviously you may not use the one from the example, nor can you use any of the animals from the example. It must be original. Also, you need to finish reading Chapter twelve since we didn't get through the entire chapter. I will see all of you after Thanksgiving break." 

Students left with many 'Happy Thanksgivings'. I was planning on being one of them until Dr. Banner said, "I reckon I'll see you on Thanksgiving, Miss Silvertongue." 

"Oh?" I questioned, feeling startled. "Why?" 

"Well, perhaps I'm being presumptuous." He was immediately flustered, cheeks red. "My apologies." 

I left, feeling more startled than before, turning my phone back on. I got two buzzes. I checked on Clementines' first, despite my interest in the second, anonymous text. 

: Where u want 2 meet? 

To which I quickly texted back 

: I mean, we have the same class in thirty minutes or so. . . vending machines? 

: Ight, I'll b there in 10

I started making my way towards the Psychology classroom, while also opening the other text. 

: When you're a mouse

Another text popped up immediately after opening the first. 

: Run, prey, run

The adrenaline that spiked through my was incredible. I checked my surroundings for familiar faces first. Finding none, I scanned for unsettling or people that gave me a bad feeling. Finding none, I hurried towards the vending machines. 

Hurrying turned into running before I even realized I was moving that quickly. I raced down the hallway, weaving in and out of students without care, hearing them mutter darkly behind me. 

Clementine was not at the vending machines, but I hadn't quite expected her to, knowing that it hadn't even been two minutes since we said we were going to meet. 

I called her right then and there, looking around as the phone dial droned in my ear. 

"Yeah?" Clementine's voice said in my ear. 

"Clem, don't come to the vending machines." I rushed out, looking down one of the hallways. Students flowed through it like cockroaches, which was good if I needed a crowd to escape into. "Get to Sam. Don't let anyone stop you until you get to Sam, do you understand me?" 

"What happened? What's wrong?" 

I saw them. "Go." was all I whispered before hanging up on her, dialing Bucky without thinking, before turning tail and running away from them. 

They looked like students, but too casual. The kind of students that were students in a movie, not real life. The kind of students that were the main characters so they were wearing smart sweaters and downturned collars and dress pants. Like they were portraying a college scene without ever having stepped foot on a college campus. 

Bucky's phone wasn't answered- not a surprise; he was in class and rarely checked his phone during this time. Steve was next, who also did not pick up. I alternated between calling the two of them as I ran, feeling more and more desperate each time they didn't pick up. 

The hallway was empty now. Most of the classes had started, except for a few that started in fifteen minutes- like my Psychology class. I wondered if I could survive long enough to make it to my next class and learn about conformity and obedience. 

"Hey!" A voice called out. It was light, accented, friendly sounding. I looked long enough to see an extremely tall, very handsome and thin man standing there, holding papers. He was wearing a black button up shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His tie was green, though slightly loose, the shirt tucked into black jeans. His hair was gelled back and he had brilliant blue eyes. If I wasn't so in love with Steve and Bucky, I might have given him a second look. 

Instead, not knowing who he was- though at a guess he might've been a teacher- I wheeled away from him, darting down the next hallway. I called Bucky again. 

I heard feet pounding behind me, making me sprint faster, but clearly not fast enough, for even as I turned the corner, strong arms wrapped around me, pulling me into a small, dark room. 

"Elizabeth?" Bucky's voice finally answered the phone, worry evident in in his voice. A hand clamped down on mine, which I struggled against as the other hand plucked the phone out of mine. 

"She's with me Barnes." The voice was now Lokis', and I turned my head to see the God of Mischief there. He lowered his hand from my mouth, putting a finger to his lips to tell me to stay quiet. 

"Why?" Bucky demanded. 

"Because she was sprinting through the school like a mad woman and I figured if she was in trouble, I might as well intervene." Loki hissed back. 

We both stiffened suddenly as we heard voices outside of the door, "Go that way, she can't have gone far. Start checking the rooms!" 

Loki immediately let out a green mist which highlighted the back of the door. It shuddered in its frame as someone tried the handle, but held. 

"Someone is looking for her." Loki whispered. "Do you want me to get her to Sams'?" 

"What do you mean someone is looking for her? Where? Who?" Bucky demanded angrily. 

"This door won't give way!" One of the men shouted. 

"In the school." Loki hissed through his teeth. "They are outside this door right now so I need to know if you want me to fight through or get her to Sams'." 

"Get her to Sams, now." Bucky ordered. 

Loki didn't even bother saying anything else, hanging up on Buck, and wrapping both arms around me. I closed my eyes as the banging increased, Loki doing what I thought could accurately be described as a 'poofing' motion, and suddenly we were standing in the kitchen of Sams' house. 

We apparently were not the only ones there, for Dr. Banner and Professor Stark were in the kitchen. Neither of them had noticed us, probably because they were lip locked over the counter. 

Loki cleared his throat, making the men jump, jerking away from each other. 

"What mischief?" Tony asked, exasperated, while Dr. Banner quickly turned to the stove where the grilled cheese was cooking. 

"Oh just bad guys in the school, nothing more." Loki rolled his eyes. He teleported away in a puff of green. I wondered  slightly how Dr. Banner had gotten here so quickly when the house was so far from the school. 

I felt my phone ding and hesitated before pulling it out. 

: You got lucky this time. Watch your back little mouse, the cat is always out to play 

The door slammed open and I jumped. Tony and Bruce whirled around, the Iron man suit coming out around Tony while Dr. Banner surprisingly grabbed the knife he'd been cutting the bread with. 

But it was just Bucky, who made a beeline straight for me, pulling me into his arms without even looking at the others. "Stephen portaled me here. Are you alright? Are you hurt? Did you-" 

"I'm fine." I said softly. Despite my previous panic, it was obvious that he was even more panicked, the fear painfully obvious in his eyes. "Are you? Where's Steve?" 

"He's hunting them down in the school with Nat and Clint." Bucky responded. "Loki will probably help them out." 

He led me over to the couch and soon after, a cup of hot chocolate was put in my hands by Dr. Banner. 

It took them an hour, before Steve came through the door. He wasn't wearing his Captain America uniform, although he had a circular shaped bag that had his shield in it, which he put down by the side of the couch as he came over. 

"Are you alright?" He asked, cupping my face, tilting my head up. He had that same worried, panicked look Bucky had had at first, when he'd come through the door. 

"Yes, I'm fine." I whispered, touching his hand gently. "I'm alright Steve, I promise." 

"Who were they?" He immediately turned on Tony, looking at the man like he should have all of the answers. 

"I don't know Rogers. Bruce and I flew up here immediately after the bell rang." Tony sighed. "F.R.I.D.A.Y. didn't tell me there were any intruders either." 

"Well what good is an AI if it can't keep the students safe from danger?" Bucky snarled. 

"Watch it tinman." Tony glared right back at him, an angry edge in his voice. 

"Okay, whoa, hold on." I quickly stood up, putting a hand against Bucky's chest, which was heaving up and down heavily. He was furious, but I didn't think it was fair to be angry with Tony. "First off, I am fine. Okay? F-I-N-E fine. Secondly, it is not Tonys' fault if the AI couldn't pick up these bad guys. AI is not perfect, even one created by Tony Stark. And, thirdly, can we not get angry at each other? You guys are like family, right?" 

The room was silent for a second, with Steve conceding first as he sat back down on the couch with a heavy sigh, muttering a 'sorry' to the room. Bucky on the other hand, continued his staring contest with Tony until I pushed against his chest a little, giving him a warning look. Bucky sat down with a huff and nothing more. 

"Right." I said, looking at the rest of them. "So what do we do now?" 

"You, are staying here." Bucky answered immediately, straightening up, his hand on my leg. 

"Is that alright with Sam?" I asked with a slight frown. 

"It's fine." Sam said, walking through the door. Clementine was with him thankfully, along with another tall black man that I had never seen before. He had braces around each of his legs, with small red glowy lights on them. "Although Heimdall is supposed to be coming home tonight." 

"Good, maybe he'll have some insight." Bucky said stressfully. 

Loki materialized back in the living room, his head tilted to the side, "Heimdall's coming?" 

"Only with us." Sam said with a smirk which made Loki frown. 

"How uncouth." Loki retorted. 

Steve sighed, pulling me into his lap to hug me, startling me as I had been observing the rest of the Professors behavior. "You okay Princess? I'm sure you had a scare." 

"It was." I admitted quietly as the others started to chat quite loudly. Whoever this Heimdall person was, he seemed to be quite popular amongst the others. "I didn't know what to do. If it was safe to call you or where to run. I didn't know if our house was safe or if I should try to just drive or something. . . what?" I asked as I saw his eyes brighten. 

"Sorry." Steve cleared his throat. "It's just. . . you called it 'our' house." 

I stared at him for a second before turning pink. "Oh, I'm sorry-" 

"No!" Steve said quickly. "No I. . . I liked hearing you say that." He murmured the last part so softly I strained to hear it. 

I blushed, saying nothing more, simply snuggling into him. Bucky just smiled and looked out the window. 

Suddenly, there was a flash of brilliant light that made me flinch, shielding my face with my hands. Steve's hands were tight on my body and comforting as the light finally died away. 

"He's here!" The man who I hadn't been introduced to yet said, his chocolate brown eyes lighting up. 

"No shit Rhodes." Tony rolled his eyes. "I think I just went blind." 

Rhodes- as Tony called him- flipped Tony the bird. 

Another African American man stepped inside the house, smiling gently at Sam and 'Rhodes'. The first thing I noticed was that his eyes were amber gold, and that they were glowing. They were. . . actually sort of beautiful. I then took in his rugged appearance, his unattended dreadlocks and beard. He also looked like he was wearing old traveling garments. He also, had a large sword strapped to his back. 

Heimdall smiled at the others, but turned to face me instead, or well, more Steve. "Change in plans I see. Miss Silvertongue will have to move into the Avengers tower." 

"Whoa hold on-" Tony started. 

"It is not up for discussion." Heimdall said gravely. "It is a matter, of life, or death."

[scrumptious-finicky-illusion]

How did I never see this one??! Doctor Banner is really good at pretending to be that kind of doctor, no matter what he says.

[thesuperheroesnetwork]

Texts From Superheroes

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[erinwantstowrite]

Happy Birthday Peter!!

this is a day late but better late than never! I wanted to draw Peter's 14th birthday because I've mentioned it before in LoF (especially with how that's the day Peter wanted to tell Ned about Spider-Man).

Characters (left to right): Steve, Nat, Thor, Tony, Rhodey, Peter, Ned, Pepper, Wanda, Bucky, Sam, and Dr. Banner

second image: Peter's birthday cards over the years :) left to right:

"Happy B-Day, Webs. Stick around for me, I promise not to mess it up." (this is from Tony)

"Happy Birthday, Peter. I'm very honored to know you. -Pepper"

"Happy Birthday, Peter. You are my brave boy. It will get better. -May"

"I love you, Peter. You Dad would be proud of you, just like I am. I promise to always have your back. -Uncle Ben"

"Happy 4th, Peter! Mommy loves you so much. Stop getting so big! I might blink and miss you growing up! -Mommy"

"It's your 1st Birthday, my Robin. How are you already so big? Dad loves you forever, Peter. :)"

[kykyonthemoon]

Comfort Sweets

Unable to contact you for hours, Zayne decides to bring a box of macarons to your place.

ಇ. Zayne x Reader|MC

ಇ. Tags: fluff, soft fluff, sweets, comforting, emotional hurt & comfort, new established relationship

ಇ. Word count: over 1k

ಇ. Requested by Oreo.

ಇ. Masterlist ♡ Request a fic

Zayne stood outside your house one day. A few beads of rain remained on his shoulders and hair, but the box of macarons he cradled in his hands was completely dry. On the way here, he had stopped by the bakery and deliberately chose for you the lovely macarons in this box. He wondered if it would be too sudden if he came to visit you.

Zayne had only reconnected with you not too long ago. Over the time spent together, he could say that he had become closer to you. However, he did not dare to dream too much. You vanished unexpectedly the same day. You did not come to the hospital to see him as usual. You had not seen the messages he had sent you in the last several hours. Worried that something was wrong with you, he decided to come to your apartment to check on you.

After a time, the door opened. He sighed with relief as he saw you standing inside. Yet, you appeared exhausted with unkempt hair and a pale complexion. You were taken aback to see him here; perhaps it was not the best time to invite guests to your home. However, you kindly welcomed him inside. 

Zayne set the macaron box on the tea table in the living room. He noted your sluggish demeanor and how you avoided looking at him directly. He spoke up:

“I brought you some sweets. Perhaps it will help you feel better.”

"I'm okay." You dismissed it. You acted as if Zayne could not see your red and swollen eyes, which told him you had been crying a lot.

“You say you're fine, but you're still not in the mood for sweets?” 

Zayne sat down on the sofa, placing one hand on the empty mattress next to him and softly patting it. He waited for you to get down before opening the treat box. 

“There are chocolate, oranges, almonds, strawberries, blueberries, green tea too…” 

Zayne went through each macaron with different colors. Just looking at them would make a gloomy day brighter. You chose the one with your favorite taste but had yet to eat it. Zayne saw you clutching it in your hands and asked:

"What's wrong? Don't want to eat it?"

“Thank you, Doctor Zayne…” You replied, your voice still wavering slightly. “I'm just a little tired…”

He put a hand on your forehead. “Your temperature is a bit high, but it's not a fever.” 

You gave a soft smile, took his hand and held it. “I'm fine.”

“Is there anything you want to tell me then?” Zayne inquired, knowing you had something in your mind.

You glanced at him for a time and then said nothing. You ate the macaron in your palm and remained silent for a long time thereafter. 

Zayne stopped staring at you. He got up and went to the kitchen to get water for both of you. Even though he had only been here a few times, he could remember the correct places where you put your stuff in your apartment. He noticed some new decorations in the kitchen.

While fetching water, he kept an eye on you in the living room. The usually cheerful girl, who always appeared mighty and could talk for hours to his ear, had become curiously withdrawn. He wondered whether something had happened to put you in such a bad mood. Or did he inadvertently make you upset with his dry conversations, or did his hectic schedule keep him from being with you much?

Zayne was terrified that he might unknowingly push you away. He had never dated anybody before, and he had never poured so much love into one person like this. So he would be furious with himself if he said or did something that upset you by mistake.

Zayne returned to your side once you had finished eating the first macaron. Your expression had improved a little, but the silence was still like a knife slashing into his heart. He wanted to hold you in his arms so much. Did you need his comfort? Or did you just want to be alone, and his being here made you even more uncomfortable?

Zayne was ready to say something, but you were the one who broke the silence:

Thank you, Zayne. Thank you so much for coming here... Otherwise, I'm not sure how long I'd have been sitting here sobbing..."

You decided to share with him, at last. Zayne listened patiently as you expressed all of your inner emotions. You had just had an argument with a long-time friend, who went behind your back and did something terrible. Such treachery left you heartbroken. But when you told Zayne, it seemed like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders. Emotions flowed out with words so naturally.

“The person who betrayed your trust is no longer worthy of your tears.” Zayne said, his hand reaching out to touch the corner of your teary eye. 

“Yes. I know... But I... I feel so sad and resentful..."

Zayne glanced at the open box of macarons on the table. “How about having one more? I know a girl whose mood would be brightened right away with just a little sweets, no matter how gloomy her day is."

You covered your face with both hands and grinned faintly. "That girl is so easy to coax!" But, in the meantime, perhaps a macaron isn't enough."

Zayne looked at you, unsure of what you were implying. Then you got closer, wrapping your arms around his waist. You rested your head on his chest. 

“She might need something even sweeter.” 

He heard your whisper. The corners of his mouth curled up as he patted your head. "That girl is quite difficult to coax. She wants sweets and cuddles all at once."

Zayne felt your arms tightening around him even more. You stated:

“The only person who can comfort her is Doctor Zayne!”

He smiled, tenderly like the way he was caressing your hair. He leaned down and placed a kiss on the top of your head. The talented Hunter did have weak times like these, which made him beyond pleased to be your supporter. He continued:

“Then every time you encounter something unpleasant, let me know.Doctor Zayne will always be available to listen and comfort you.”

[motocrunch]

[kindrehd]

they’re just teasing him

[elvenshimmer]

Dr. Banner is such an absolute sweetheart oh gods

[velaazuretail]

𖠿    ‣    ⧉  ﹙𝒜+𝑅﹚  𓂃 artists : one & two :

𓏴⠀⠀⠀༝༝⠀𓌔𓌔 MEGA PACK (sorta)

𓏴⠀⠀⠀𓊆ྀི⠀RB + LIKE⠀ 𓊇ྀི

𓏴⠀⠀ ۫ ◟  ͜ ᳝᳜᳝　ᶜᵒ⠀𓂂⠀to USE.

𐔌　　𓏏𓏏　　˙　　Daily　🇵🇸 　Clicks

Note: Hii! I’m taking commissions now on discord ! I only take nitro - so if you want a Rentry to be made or a discord banner, dm me! @ yu_celine52 (please read my pinned post before DM!)

[worstloki]

thank you bruce banner for acknowledging that thanos was the one who sent loki. much to think about.

[braveclementine]

Chapter 16

Warnings: 18+readers only, torture, angst

Copyright: I do not own any Marvel characters or locations. However, I do own my OCs: Elizabeth Silvertongue and Clementine Greenleaf. I also own Clementines' brother Donavan. The following OCs are owned by other Wattpad writers as this is a collaboration project. Their OCs are on the face claim page. I do not condone any copying of this.

I wasn't sure what hurt the most. The first stab, the second, the third, or the last one. Ribs, arm, leg, and side. Each one seemed to hurt more in the beginning, but as time passed, some of them seemed to dull out and flair up. I had long learned not to move, because that would cause the pain to flair dramatically, especially in my hip and rib. 

I was drifting heavily in and out of consciousness. I was hoping that someone would tend to the wounds after some time, but the man seemed content with letting me die of blood loss before he took care of me. 

I couldn't imagine that Steve and Bucky were the same people as Captain America and the Winter Soldier. They seemed so different somehow. . . but I had to remind myself that I didn't even know the superheroes in the first place. 

I supposed when I saw them, I would really see it then. And when they spoke, I knew I would recognize their voices. There was just no way I couldn't. 

I knew that the fifth hour had drawn near as John came into the room, holding his fifth knife. It took time for me to focus on the knife, seeing that it was different from the other blades. 

The others had been thin, sleek daggers. Smooth going in and almost no pain until I realized I'd been stabbed. But this one, this was clearly designed to hurt. There were teeth, sharp and jagged along the blade, the handle smooth and plastic like a kitchen knife. I knew it was going to hurt more than the others and tried to brace myself, causing pain to flare up through my entire body. 

On the positive side, my headache was gone. 

"I really thought they'd be here sooner." John whispered, dangling the fifth knife in front of my face. "But then again, I suppose they would've been here sooner if they hadn't come in with any uh. . . plane difficulties." 

Plane difficulties? What could that possibly mean? 

I hated the anticipation that came with the man standing here. One time, he had been here for only a few seconds before he stabbed me. Another time, he had waited an entire half hour where I was tense the whole time, just waiting. I knew we were closer to the hour mark this time, but I wasn't sure by how much. 

I closed my eyes, deciding I would focus on the other things. Like the cold metal encircling my wrists, which hung weakly by my sides. The sounds of dripping water, each one making an excessive splat sound as they hit the stone of the floor. 

I heard the man rustle, standing up, coming over to me and kneeling down. "I want your eyes open for this one." He whispered, one hand grabbing my jaw. He dangled the knife right above my right one as he jerked my chin up. 

"Let her go." The voice sent jolts up my spine, recognizing immediately as not only the authority of Captain America, but also that of my Professor. I couldn't see him, but I just knew it was him and I knew that John Garrett had been right. 

"Twenty seconds to spare Captain." John chuckled, standing up, twirling the knife in his hands. Now that he had released my chin, I could see the both of them standing there. They had complied with the order, neither of them wearing their masks. 

If their identities were leaked, it was my fault. They'd never be able to teach again. It would kill Steve. 

"What did I say?" John chuckled, throwing his arms wide. 

"Stay with us doll." Bucky warned as my eyes fluttered shut again. I knew I shouldn't sleep, but I felt so damn tired. 

"Hmm, that's probably my fault." John shrugged. "It's good to see you again Captain. The last time I saw you, I was just a little boy and you murdered my father in front of me." 

A muscle was going in Steve's cheek as he looked at John. "Well, he murdered a lot of good agents." 

"You said we could go with her." Bucky said. His gun was up, aimed at Johns' head, not wavering. He looked so different with the short hair and the different arm. 

"I did, you're right, go ahead." John stepped to the side, moving across the room. Bucky didn't move, keeping his gun on his head while Steve rushed to my side, breaking my chains with his shield. 

"Princess?" He whispered. The terror in his eyes was most prominent, his large warm hands cupping my face. "Look at me." 

I did my best to focus on him, but I was tired. "Steve. . ." 

"Shh, I got you." Steve murmured, quickly taking note of where I'd been stabbed. "I'm sorry Princess but these have to stay in a little longer. You've lost to much blood." He gently picked me up, making me bite my tongue to stifle my whine of pain. 

"Your faces will be leaked to the world." John said with a smile. "Everyone will know who lies behind those masks. You think what I did to her was cruel? Wait till everyone knows she's with you. You'll never be able to sleep." 

Steve walked out of the cell and murmured, "Hide your face sweetheart. It's not pretty out here." 

I knew that he was trying to make sure I didn't see all the men he had killed to get to me, but I couldn't help but peek. 

There wasn't a single body intact, as though they had gone through here with a chainsaw. Blood coated the floor so thickly I could hear it as he walked, could see the trail of bloody footprints he left behind. 

"Here." I heard an unfamiliar voice say as we made it outside. "Lay her down here." 

"We should've brought Banner." Steve said as he gently laid me down on something soft. "I need to go back for B-" 

"We're here." Bucky grunted and I glanced around Steve to see Bucky standing with another dark haired man I immediately recognized as Loki, the God of Mischief. The plane door closed, the other man I hadn't seen yet getting into the cockpit, taking off. 

"Okay." Loki murmured, stepping up. He put a hand against my cheek and I felt a coldness sweep through me, making me shudder. I closed my eyes, feeling a warmth shoot through me now, jolted into dreams and memories of being with Steve and Bucky. 

When I came around again, I was in a warm, white walled room. There wasn't much space for the white walls though as metal racks were placed up against them, messily covered with what looked like junk to me. I could hear the quiet beeping of machines and the sound of someone breathing heavily. I could feel something particularly warm on my leg. 

I groaned softly, rolling my head back and forth, hearing things crack and loosen. I looked down to see Steve was fast asleep with his head on his arms, his hand being the warm thing on my leg. Bucky was nearby, arguing with Tony Stark and Professor Banner in quiet undertones, looking passionate about something while Professor Romanoff and Loki seemed to be backing him up. 

I wasn't surprised about Tony Stark. There had been rumors that he was part of the Avengers for years, because of how well funded they were and because he seemed to be one of the only people who could make an Iron Man suit. He'd never admitted it, but he'd never tried very hard to deny it either. 

Bucky glanced over and was by my side in seconds, "Doll? How are you feeling?" 

Dr. Banner was there too, though he was slower and a lot less frantic. "How are you feeling Miss Silvertongue?" 

I stared at him for a second before blinking and murmuring, "Um, kind've. . . empty. Is that normal? Achy?" 

"We've been feeding you nutrients through the vein, but you definitely need to eat and drink something." Dr. Banner continued while Professor Romanoff brought over a glass of water. "You'll need something rich in iron, so I hope you don't have an aversion to red meat?' 

"Uh, no, no, I love steak." I mumbled, taking the glass from Professor Romanoff, "Thank you." 

"Sure." Professor Romanoff said softly. 

I looked around and then asked, "Where's Clementine?" 

"Professor Wilson has been keeping her preoccupied for the past couple of days. We told her you got hit by a car and had to recover." Dr. Banner said, blushing sheepishly. "However, I understand that you two are very close and if you want to tell her the truth later, that is amiable." 

Tony Stark seemed very tense, fingers digging into his skin. 

"I'll probably tell her about the kidnapping." I said softly. "But I won't reveal your identities." 

"Thank you." Natasha said softly. "Admittedly, we've been wondering if we should give you something to forget. But the soldiers are not very comfortable with messing with memories." 

Bucky scowled. From what little I knew of the Winter soldier, I knew he had had his memories messed with. "Don't blame them." I whispered. 

It was so strange. He hadn't replaced his arm, but he'd taken the wig off, giving him a very. . . well hot look. 

"Um, wait, days? How many days?" 

"Just two." Natasha answered. 

I laid back in the bed again, snuggling into the blankets. The motion woke Steve up, who jolted when he saw my eyes are open. "Hey princess." He murmured, standing up. "Are you alright?" 

"Sort've." I mumbled. "I have a headache again." 

"We have painkillers." Dr. Banner offered. 

I shook my head and then winced, "No thanks, I don't do pharma-" I paused and then started to panic, "How many drugs are in my body right now?" 

"Elizabeth-" Steve said, quickly placing his hands on my shoulders. 

"No, no wait." I muttered, reaching for the IV and Steve pinned my hands. 

"You can't take it out." Steve ordered. 

"But-" 

"Miss Silvertongue, none of these will hurt you." Dr. Banner said firmly. "Almost all of the ingredients are natural. Chamomile, Peace Lily, those help you sleep. Feverfew for pain, a few other things. Nothing that will affect you long term, I promise." 

I supposed I had no choice but to accept that. Steve slowly released my wrists. 

"Here." Loki walked in with a small plate which had the steak along with another small covered dish. He put it down gently on the side table. He winked at me as he set it down. 

"Alright, we'll leave you alone." Natasha said gently, pulling Dr. Banner and Stark from the room. Loki turned on his heel, disappearing into nothingness, leaving me with the two Professors who had settled into chairs next to each other. 

The room was filled with an awkward silence until I finally asked slowly. "So. . . were your identities leaked?" 

"No. Stark blocked transmission. Loki shut the cameras down. Barton wiped them." 

"I'm so sorry." I whispered. 

"Don't apologize doll." Bucky murmured. "It's all our fault." 

"We put you in danger." Steve sighed. The two of them shared a look, "It won't happen again." 

"It's okay." I said with a soft smile. 

"Here." Bucky said softly, picking up a box from underneath my bed, placing it gently in my lap. "We thought you would need this." 

I opened it slowly and a smile spread across my face as I lifted my grandfathers' old handgun out of the box. "You had it?" And then as I looked at them, their words hit me. "Wait. . . where. . . what do you mean?" 

"I didn't realize we have been caught onto." Steve said in a whispering tone. "Otherwise we would never have put you in such danger as being with us." 

"Until the threat has passed, until we know for certain that we're safe-" 

"We're breaking up?" I finished in a hard tone. I shut every wall down that I had, biting back tears, refusing to let them come to my eyes. My hands tightened variably around the gun, which I carefully and slowly placed in my lap. 

"Yes." Steve answered. 

No one talked for a while. I knew that if I did, I would break. I needed time to compose myself. Bucky was looking down at the floor, flesh fingers twisting in his metal ones. Steve however, seemed stone cold about it, his own barriers set in place. 

I reached out, picking up my tray which of steak and mac and cheese. "I understand where you're coming from. I will see you in class later, Professors." 

My dismissal was clear and though both of them flinched a little, they stood. "See you in class Miss Silvertongue." Steve said softly, while Bucky just nodded once, the two of them leaving the room together. 

I closed my eyes once and then ate the steak with a heavy heart, feeling sick. Once the food was finished, I put the tray to the side and looked around. I was alone and I felt physically fine. I reached over, undoing the needles that were stuck in my arm, putting small bandages over them and then stood up. 

I realized I didn't even have shoes, so I just walked out of the hospital wing, looking left and right. 

"Breaking out?" 

I jumped slightly, wincing in pain as the God materialized right in front of me. He smirked, but simply held out a hand. "I can take you home if you'd like. Unless you're looking for someone?" 

"No, please, take me home." I murmured, not hesitating to take his hand. I closed my eyes before feeling fresh air on my face. I opened my eyes to see that I was standing on the porch of what seemed to be a resort. 

"Where-" 

"Don't be alarmed, this is Professor Wilsons' house." Loki said calmly. 

I raised an eyebrow, "House?" 

Loki's lips twitched. "He rents it out during the summer as a vacation house. Perks of working under Tony Stark, he loves to give his family houses." 

"Family huh?" I mumbled, looking out at the beautiful scenery. This didn't seem anywhere close to the city, how did Professor Wilson always make it to work on time? 

Loki surprised me by squeezing my shoulder gently. "The soldiers are doing only what they know: protecting those they love. It is not the most reasonable path to me, I feel that I can only protect those I love by keeping them closer. But the soldiers close themselves off, isolate themselves. It is very bizarre and yet, I recognize it as self-sacrificing." 

"It's alright." I sighed. "I understand where they are coming from." I paused and then added, "And besides, we all knew that it wouldn't last, it was only for fun." 

Loki tilted his head. "It was, was it?" 

I sighed. "I already had feelings so I thought 'fuck it' and went with it. But they already have a civil union. I couldn't marry them, they can't marry me-" 

"Under Midgardian law." Loki snorted. "You should simply come to Svartalfheim, they have the ability to bind poly relationships." 

"I'm Christian." I mumbled. 

"And yet you're talking to a Norse God. I really shall never understand Midgardians." Loki muttered. 

I flushed darkly. 

"Anyways," Loki said, turning and knocking on the door. "Give them time. They will know very soon they made a mistake. They'll come running back. Rogers in particular is like a Labrador. Loyal." 

"Maybe." I mumbled. 

"Let me tell you a story." Loki sighed. "How do Midgardians do it. . . ah yes. 'Once upon a time'. Well, Once upon a time, every Midgardian on Earth knew the identities of the Avengers. They knew the face of every single one, had fan pages and such things and of course, they still exist, but not the same as they do now. And then the blip happened and Midgardians know it happened, but they don't know it was because of Thanos, because they forgot Thanos too." 

"How could we forget?" I asked as Loki knocked again in annoyance. 

"It was an accident. Stark loves to experiment. When Banner snapped his fingers to bring those from the blip back, some of the experiments exploded. Midgardian stupidity I suppose. And everyone forgot who the Avengers were, because the Avengers were inside the building. It was good for us, in the end. Some of us were able to start over, myself included. H.Y.D.R.A. agents no longer knew who we were, but knew who they were." 

"Rumlow?" I asked in realization. "That's why they kept acting like he was so dangerous." 

"Yes." Loki said softly. "I'd stay away from him if I were you." 

"So I'm one of the few people who know their identity?" I asked. 

"Yes, which is why Stark wants an eye kept on you." Loki said as I finally heard footsteps coming from inside the house. "But I wouldn't have let you go home anyways. I wouldn't have let my. . . er girl? Girlfriend?" The God was going pink. "Woman I'm courting!" 

I giggled. Loki huffed at me as Sam opened the door. 

"Loki? Miss Silvertongue." Sam greeted me with a smile. "How are you feeling?" 

I turned to thank Loki but he was already gone, green mist wisping away into the trees. "Um, I'm okay. Sorry." 

"No, come on in. Clementine has been waiting for you." 

I stepped inside, looking around. Everything was immaculately furnished with good taste.  The living room had a high ceiling with wide support beams and a gorgeous chandelier. The furniture reminded me a bit of a hotel back home called Great Wolf Lodge. It had the same feel. 

"How are you feeling Elizabeth?" Sam asked, gently, leading me through the house. Everywhere I looked, it was decorated like something in a movie. It was beautiful and some parts of it felt almost ancient. 

"I'm okay." I whispered, looking at the stairs of the front entrance that would lead me upstairs. They were double sided, with a carved tree growing up to the second floor. I smiled a little, once again reminded of the hotel back home. 

A feminine figure appeared at the top of the stairs and I braced myself as Clementine came rushing down them, nearly tripping, as she came to me. Sam quickly intervened, catching her before she could barrel into me and knock me over. 

"Elizabeth!" She sobbed, tears streaming down her face. 

"I'm okay." I murmured as Sam gently released her, pulling her into a hug, wincing a little at the pain. "I'm fine." 

Clementine nodded, wiping under her eyes. "God I was so worried. I thought it would be Rumlow-" 

"What?" I asked softly. 

Sam looked sheepish. "I told her the truth. I couldn't lie to her." 

I wasn't sure what the meant. Had he also told her about his identity? I figured I would just still play dumb on that one. 

"Come on." Clementine said, sniffing, wiping underneath her eyes. "I can show you your room." 

"I'll get dinner." Sam offered with a smile and went back through the hall we had just come from. 

Clementine helped me up the stairs slowly, before leading me down a hall. There were plenty of rooms, eight at least down the hall we were at, on each side. It definitely felt like we were in a hotel. 

Clementine opened one of them, leading me into a small, but nicely furnished bedroom. The bed in particular looked very comfortable and I wanted to collapse onto it immediately. I also seemed to have a balcony. 

I also realized that I had no clothes nor belongings so I just crawled up on the bed, letting Clementine sit down next to me. The pain meds or whatever Dr. Banner had put me on was wearing off and I could feel individual spots of pain. 

"Did they get the information that they wanted?" Clementine asked softly. 

I closed my eyes. "Maybe, I don't really remember much. I just know that it was Captain America, the Winter Soldier, and Loki that saved me. And then a doctor patched me up but I was sort've in and out of it. And then Loki teleported with me here." 

"Have you seen Steve and Bucky?" Clementine asked. 

"Yeah." I muttered. "I don't want to talk about them Clem, please?" 

"Sure." Clementine said softly. She leaned over, kissing my forehead. "Get some sleep." 

"Yeah, I will." I promised, sliding under the covers. The comforter was nice, heavy, and warm, the sheets soft and silky. 

Clementine turned out the light, turned back one more time to gaze at me, before leaving the room, closing the door behind her.