#natasha romanoff x adhd!reader

[juiles]

Hiding it

Requested: yes

Summary: you’ve had adhd your whole life and have managed to keep it from your team and 2 year long girlfriends. They start to get snippy with you and when you get an injury and they find out, you snap a little.

Type: angst and fluff

Pairing: Wandanat x reader

Warnings: swearing, anger, blood, gunshot wound, fighting, yelling, argument

Important questions!!!!

Masterlist here!

Request here!

A/N: so this idea was given to me by a very lovely reader and honestly i fell in love with the idea! I have ADHD and honestly it just gave me some outlet which i needed tbh.

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Part 2

It had taken you 18 years to officially get diagnosed with ADHD. Your parents couldn’t have cared less about your well being which is why it took so long. You had been so shamed for the way you were that when you started with the Avengers, you just decided not to tell them. You had your coping skills and your medication. You didn’t need them to think anything less about you. The only person who knew was Cho and that was because she did your prescriptions for you.

You weren’t great at making sure they were refilled and that meant you messed up. Small things that wouldn’t normally set people off however, they were so consistent that people started to notice.

You had been dating Natasha and Wanda for a few years now and had managed to avoid them finding out so far. Perhaps that’s what had gotten you into this predicament. If you had just been honest with them, they wouldn’t have been so mean to you.

——————————————————

“Really y/n?! Again?!” You flinched, hearing Natasha’s voice rise slightly as you two sat in the quinjet while Tony flew you three home. “Why can’t you just pay attention?! God damn it. You could have gotten someone killed!”

You felt like sinking into the seat and disappearing from her line of sight and not saying anything, however that made her more mad. “Really?! You’re going to ignore me?!” She stood up, her hands flying up into the air as she stomped her way into the cockpit leaving you alone to overthink what had just happened.

You had lost track of the snipper that stood on the roof of the building across from you after Tony had mentioned a helicopter near by that you ALSO needed to keep an eye on. You couldn’t keep an eye on both but felt bad so instead of mentioning it to them, you tried to do both and in the attempt, last track of both of them. Luckily, Natasha had gotten the intel quick enough that the three of you were able to get out unscathed. Now it was just having to listen to them both bitch about your mistake.

Once the quinjet landed, you slowly grabbed your things and trudged outside, hoping to have Wanda comfort you but much to your dismay, Natasha had gotten to her first and as soon as the brunette landed her eyes in you, she instantly started berating you for being so careless and “how dare you be so risqué about Nattys life!”. This wasn’t the first time they had yelled at you. Last week, after a mission, the two of them ignored you for 3 days because of an accident you had. This time, instead of taking it, you trudged your way inside and instead of turning left and entering the bedroom the three of you shared, you went up 3 more doors and opened the door on the right to reveal your bedroom.

A room you hadn’t stayed in, in years due to moving into the shared room. You closed the door and threw your duffel on your bed and with a groan, you hauled ass to the bathroom to strip out of your suit and get in the shower. The warm water felt nice against your dirty skin and you relished in it however, the feeling only lasted a moment before you heard a door open and Natasha and Wanda were barging into your room causing you to get out of the shower and change into some spare clothes.

“Seriously y/l/n. That was a really reckless mistake that could have caused a life!” Wanda ranted storming into the room as you opened the bathroom door. “What if Natasha had gotten shot?! Huh?!” The guilt that already gnawed slightly at your stomach intensified as you ducked your head squeezing your eyes shut. “I would have NEVER forgiven you if something had happened to her! Do you understand me?!” You nodded softly before Natasha grabbed the witch’s hand.

“Come on love. Let’s go have a shower hmm?” She said, loud enough for the words to sting you. “I don’t want to see her face right now.” With that the two left, slamming your bedroom door shut, causing you to jump. You stayed in your room for 2 days after that. No one except Pepper cared enough to come and check on you. The woman had been bringing you food, which you barely touched and reminded you to sleep.

On the third day, Fury came knocking and told you that you had a mission and to be in the jet in 15 minutes. You stuffed your duffel bag, threw on your suit and slipped your way to the jet, managing to avoid your angry girlfriends.

The mission, which was supposed to be an easy single person intel recon, turned into a 3 day stakeout where you ended up getting shot in the shoulder at the end right before escaping. Upon your return, you were whisked away to the medbay where Cho, Natasha and Wanda were waiting. The latter two, with angry looking faces. “Come on Y/l/n. Let’s get that stitched up hmm?” Cho said guiding you to sit down as you actively avoided the assassin and the witch standing beside you.

“Where the hell were you?! You didn’t tell anyone you were gone y/n/n! What if you died?!” Wanda said, fear and anger etched into her features.

“It was stupidly reckless y/n.” Natasha said, her face her normal calm facade.

Cho sent the two looks to shut up as she finished stitching you up. “I’m assuming since you were gone for three days that you didn’t take your meds so when you take them tomorrow, remember you’re going to have side effects okay? Also, you need to come and get a refill soon.” Cho said softly to you as she finished up the bandage.

Your eyes widened and your head whipped up to look at her before quickly stealing a glance at the two avengers frozen beside you. “M-medications?! Side effects?!” Natasha stuttered out. “What is she talking about detka?”

Chos eyes widened commically as she looked at you. “I thought they knew! I’m so sorry y/n/n!!” the doctor rushed out. You simply shook your head and muttered an assurance that it was okay before she skittered out the door. You slowly stood with a grunt and brushed past your two girlfriends with the intent to head back to your room to clean up. They followed behind you, scrambling with their words before you quickly stopped and turned on your heel with an angry look on your face.

“Shut up!” You seethed at the two who froze and stared at you wide eyed. “God for once just stop. Not that it’s any of your business but i have ADHD. A pretty severe case and Cho does my meds for me. All those “stupid little reckless mistakes” were caused by something i have NO control over. You two couldn’t have given two shits about me for the past 5 days so why the fuck would you care now?!” You felt all the anger in your body start to boil up. “FUCK!” In a state of anger, you turned around and punched a hole in the wall beside you which caused your knuckles to start bleeding however, it seemed as if you didn’t even notice as you continued to punch the wall with no thought to your safety at all.

The girls were in a state of shock for a moment before Natasha grabbed you by the shoulders and pulled you away from the wall, Wanda using her powers to hold your hands still. “Baby stop! Stop! You’re hurting yourself!” Wanda said walking towards your angry looking figure, your eyes narrowed on her as she reached her hand up and cupped your cheek which seemed to snap you back to reality. “Take a deep breath my love. Just take a moment okay?”

Your eyes filled with tears as you stared into her blue eyes then turned to face Natasha’s green ones. “I-I’m sorry… i’m sorry i’m sorry. I didn’t mean to get so angry. I c-can’t always stop it.” You muttered pulling your hands to your chest. “Without t-the meds I-I don’t have good control of my emotions… they-they feel like they’re trying to rip through my body…” Wanda merely hushed you as Natasha pulled your shaking form into her body, being extra cautious of the now open and bleeding wound on your shoulder.

“No detka. We’re sorry. Were sorry we couldn’t help you and instead just got angry with you…” Natasha murmured into your hair. “Why didn’t you say anything…?”

You merely shook your head and clutched to her shirt with your bleeding hands as your body began to rack with sobs. “Shhhh… you’re okay malyshka. Let’s go to our room hmm?” You nodded softly as the two lead you into your shared bed and settled down, with you curled up between them. You sat and cried for a while before the sobs turned u to sniffles and Wanda pulled away causing you to whimper.

“I’m just getting the first aid kit my love. We need to restitch your shoulder and bandage your hands okay? I’ll be 2 minutes.” With a kiss pressed to your forehead, the witch shot off and was back in less than a minute with a full first aid kit in hand. You were shifted to be leaning into her warm body as Natasha started cleaning you up. The three of you sat in silence as this happened until you were all bandaged up and securely back in their arms.

“I’m a burden…” You whispered softly. Wanda went to say something but got stopped by a look from Natasha. They knew you needed to get it out. “I’m a burden and weak and stupid. That’s what they called me…”

“Who detka…?”

“My parents… kids at school… teachers…. I was never good enough and when i turned 18 and finally got diagnosed with ADHD it made sense to me but i feel this gnawing shame in my stomach. A shame that was shoved in me from birth. That who I am is nothing more than a burden and no one should have to deal with me. The meds help a lot… i appear almost normal. Those times the boys have jokingly told me I’m annoying and it seems like i have a big reaction to it is because it’s my biggest fear. That my family will leave me again, that everyone i live will get bored with having to help me with everyday tasks and leave me alone again… I know i can be a lot sometimes. I know i can be stand off ish. But i’m scared. I can’t handle losing another family…” You squeezed your eyes shut, holding back the tears as you tried to wriggle out of the girls arms before the two pulled you in tighter and squeezed you, the both pressing kisses to your hair and face while whispering assurances to you.

“No baby. You are not a burden. You are not annoying. You are not too much. You are our perfect girl. We are so sorry we messed up but you need to know that you love you with everything in our hearts and we NEVER want you to be alone again or feel like you’re weak because you’re so strong.” You scoffed lightly rolling your eyes at Wanda’s words.

“You are y/n. You are so strong to be holding all of this to yourself and not be able to tell anyone else but never again okay? From now on, Wanda and I will be here for you. To support you and love you and care for you. In the ways people should have when you were little.” Natasha said, with a finality in her tone and a kiss on your head, making you believe she was telling the truth to some extent.

Of course it wasn’t perfect after that but they kept true to their word. Everyday, the would remind you of their love for you in the small things. They would make sure you had taken your pills and eaten more than an energy drink with them. They would leave kisses on your head as you walked past. They set reminders on their phones to remind you that you had a load of laundry in or that you had said you would do the dishes. Small things to remind you that they will fight by your side through it all. While they may have seemed insignificant to the others, you knew how much these small things meant and you cherished them all.

[moonysreid]

ever read a fic and get the sudden urge to comment in all caps about how much you love it?? but you don’t want the writer to think you’re absolutely crazy..

[idkwhatever580]

stop writing autistic it's just weird if you're not personally affected

Umm. I know I’m not autistic. But some people who are autistic might want to be represented. I try my best to study up and I know I’m not always going to be right on the dot, but you don’t have to be rude. And I have pretty severe adhd WHICH I KNOW IS NOT THE SAME THING AS AUTISM, but some of the symptoms do align. Maybe this person wants to be able to relate to this but they don’t write themselves. It’s different. I try to be as inclusive as possible, especially with my neurodivergent friends who dont get as much representation as they might want. And I don’t think I’ve written autistic before. Maybe once or twice but I think they’re all requests if I have.

I’m not trying to offend anyone here, but I’m not the only one that does this, you know? Many people long to feel represented and if I can help with that then I’ll try my best.

I honestly don’t even know why I’m engaging with this. Maybe it’s because I want to say that if you have a problem then block me. It’s easy. But clearly you have other intentions.

Also. If you really wanted to do something you should have written to me without being anon so I could block you, but you keep reading non autistic fics or whatever it is that you read. Whatever floats your boat.

Have a nice day :)))

[natashaslesbian]

The Ice Cream Is Too Hot

Summary: Natasha helps you to unmask and relax after a long day

Word Count: 823

Pairings: (Natasha Romanoff x Autistic!Reader)

Warnings/content: Neurodivergent behaviours and struggles

————

Your eyes were still so tired, you just didn’t want to open them. You sunk further into your pillow and blindly reached for your phone. “No, no, no!” You groaned ‘8:47am’ you started work at 10am, there was no way you would be able to continue your morning routine as normal now. It was all mapped out in your head, and on your phone, perfectly timestamped with each step. It must seem silly to everyone else how important it was to you, but messing up your morning routine was everyone else’s experience of falling face first down 10 flights of stairs.

Little did you know, the catastrophic morning you had would only turn into one truly catastrophic day. Work was a sensory nightmare, the constant change between the air con and the steaming hot kitchen was too much, and your hair was pulling and scratching all over your scalp. You started to crash after 3pm, confusing orders on the tickets and asking customers if they wanted their ice cream in a ‘cub or a tone’ rather than a ‘tub or a cone’ by 4pm it was starting to get too much, your skin was crawling, it was like their was someone else inside you trying to break through your skin. Thankfully, there was only one more hour to endure before your girlfriend came to pick you up.

“Hey beautiful” Natasha said as she pecked your cheek “how was work” she asked “it was alright” you lied. Nat suggested you pick up some takeout as a treat for dinner after your long work week, the two of you settled on pizza. After the table was set, the pair of you sat down for a semi-romantic dinner lit with candles and served with a side of wine. You were finally starting to calm down, relaxing after a very draining day, but as you bit into your second slice of pepperoni the gooey sauce spilled out onto your cheek. It was the final straw.

“Eugh! Ew ew ew!” You couldn’t take it anymore, the tears you had held back all day started to fall as your hands began to stim “hey, hey, hey” the redhead said as she made her way around the table, napkin in hand “it’s alright, come here” she said as she wiped the sauce from your cheek “Tasha” you sobbed as you crashed into her arms “bad day?” Natasha asked “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I should’ve said something I-I just wanted it to go away” you continued to cry into your girlfriends arms for a while longer. She just held you, held you with the perfect amount of pressure and allowed you to fiddle with her rings as an alternative to your injurious stimming. She continued to whisper sweet nothings into your hairline until your sobs turned to a quiet muffle of sniffles.

When you pulled away, Natasha offered to clean up dinner and put away the pizza for later. She knew you wouldn’t be up for talking just yet so when she finished, she joined you on the couch and simply asked “do you want to cuddle or just sit?” She politely asked. You reached out your hand and she softly took a hold of it. You squeezed gently and began to fidget with her rings one again, the rings she bought especially for you “when I was waiting for you out front I saw there was a new ice cream, party rings?” You giggled slightly “every time I walk in there there’s a new flavour, last week it was blue marsh mellow, it was really good” at first you knew Natasha was getting you to chat and ramble to help you unmask but after a while you forgot, happily just being yourself “the weirdest one was popcorn flavour, it tasted a little odd. I don’t even know how they make it, come to think of it I don’t know how they make ice cream at all” you shot up to grab your laptop, needing to research this burning question “I probably should know considering I work in an ice cream parlour” Natasha let out a small chuckle.

An hour raced by, the two of you on the couch, Natasha just listening to whatever you wanted to talk about. You came upon distraction after distraction, you were surprised your laptop hadn’t crashed because of all the random tabs you had open “no way!” You exclaimed “what?” Natasha said as she scooted to closer to see your screen “you know when cats do that slow blink thing, apparently it’s them saying that they love you!” The widows smile was so smile “I mean I knew that when they show you their belly it means that they trust you and that when they….what?” You said as you finally realised Natasha staring at you “I love you” she said “I love you too” and you truly did, Natasha was the safest place on earth.

————

Defiantly not an actual overwhelming day I actually experienced at actual work…

-Astara🩷

[wonderingnerd]

Oh gosh. I think “the future forgives the past” may be my new favorite quote.

bikini bottom.

summary | natasha’s only gone & lost your favourite bikini.

tags | hurt/comfort - you’re both such a mess in this, it’s quite funny.

notes | blame @vancityfire13 for this atrocity! @writing-house-of-m & @cuinaminute229, i applaud you for this and thank you for putting up with me complaining during the process ( and the entire discord server lmao.) i’ve definitely lost but it’s ok. i just want this garbage out of my sight.

(natasha x fem!reader)

word count | 1k.

n.r masterlist

“Sometimes I wonder which one will be your last lie.”

“Excuse me?”

Friday evening- the night before your holiday.

Natasha took the day off to organise her packing and relax before boarding a 10-hour flight. You've been together for four years and have only gone on vacation once. It wasn't much of one, given that it was cut short by an alien invasion and Natasha was needed. With the redhead being an Avenger, days off were rare. The world always needed saving, for some reason.

After a heated argument and a few silent treatments from you, Natasha finally decided to cash in some holidays with which she promised to take you on your dream vacation to Italy.

“You know what I mean, Natasha! Stop playing dumb!”

So much for relaxing.

“Sweetheart, I really don’t understand what you’re talk-” You storm away, huffing as you move back to your shared bedroom, where you had been packing since this morning.

With a sigh, Natasha gets off the sofa, following in your direction. She inhales deeply - not knowing what version of her girlfriend she’s going to get behind the door- before steeping tentatively into the room.

Clothes. Everywhere. The floor was almost invisible.

You were somehow sat on the bed, half sunk in a hole created from your weight. Natasha moves in, hastily avoiding the piles. Your clothes rustle beneath her shifting weight as she trips on a random belt.

 When did you have so many clothes?

She finally reaches you, “Baby, what’s the matter?”

While Natasha is used to your ‘sulky attitude’, it usually doesn’t come with this expression of sadness on your face.

You won’t even look at her.

Her brow burrows. She’s afraid she might’ve actually upset you.

She places a cool hand on your shoulder, softly circling the muscle with her thumb.

“You can talk to me, you know?”

You meet her gaze hesitantly. Pools of worried emerald stare back, delicately wandering over your features.

She waits. Patient as always. Despite the woman’s fear of being a terrible partner, you were in the best relationship of your life. All because of her.

With a sigh, “you promised to give my bikini back after Tony’s party and you still haven’t and I need it for-“

“Are you serious?” Natasha stops rubbing your shoulder, voice harsh.

“Yes it’s the one-”

“You threw a hissy fit about a bikini I borrowed a few months ago?” She scoffs, stepping away from you not caring about the strewn clothes under her feet. “I genuinely thought you were upset.”

“I am upset! It’s my favourite one and I need it for Italy!” You argue, rising to your feet.

Natasha rolls her eyes, “I cannot believe you right now.”

It’s so like you to make a big deal out of something and make her feel guilty for what she’s done, when really you’re just-

“What? It’s not like this is a new thing!”

Natasha pauses, confused as to what you’re getting at. She’s only worn this bikini once.

“You always borrow my clothes! Sometimes without even asking and I lose them and can’t find them when I need them!”

Hand extended, you point to the mess you created.

It’s not your fault. You only made this mess because Natasha doesn’t know how to wear her own clothes.

"Normally, it isn't a problem. I find them wherever you put them, but I haven't seen this bikini in months and..." You pause, not knowing what else to say without sounding enraged.

At a stand- still, you both just stare at each other.

The silence is awkward.

Natasha plays back all the times she's worn your clothes and not returned them.

That one time she wore your heels once and then left them in Tony's penthouse. Or the time she wore your earrings and then left them on Wanda's nightstand after a girls' night out.

She physically recoils into herself, guilt and shame working their way through her bones.

You were right.

“Hey, it’s okay,” resolve completely falling away at the sight of your girlfriend fighting with herself, “I don’t mind you wearing my stuff, Tasha. Really.”

Her figure remains unmoving, despite her chest rising and falling with shallow breaths.

You had hurt her.

Your breath catches. You wish you never said anything. Fuck the bikini.

You shift towards her, fast enough to not scare her, hand falling against her cold wrist. You guide her back towards the bed. Pushing a pile of socks onto the floor, you seat her next to you.

“Hey.” A soft whisper leaves your lips, a thumb brushing against her wrist.

Her head tilts, glazed red eyes refusing to meet yours.

There are no tears.

Natasha never cries.

“It’s nothing, baby. I have plenty of others.”

She worries at her lip, eyes flittering around at everything except you.

“Please don’t beat yourself up about it.” You croak, voice failing to swallow the lump in your throat.

“I lost it.” She replies.

 “I don’t know where I put it and if it’s not here then I must’ve lost it.”

You chuckle lightly, tears blurring your sight. “I know. Your reaction told me so.”

She smiles, before inclining her head towards you. You gently move your hand to her back, tracing patterns down along her spine. In silence, warm fingers flee underneath her shirt as they caress the scar tissue of her hip. The nasty scar from a bullet wound on her latest mission.

Natasha gasps at the touch, and falls deeper into your embrace.

Her lips tremble, and tears touch her skin, but she is not sad. She’s content. Something Natasha has strived for since she could remember.

She lifts her head, following forward into parted lips. Her lips brushed against yours, softly and delicately, like butterfly wings, just long enough for her to inhale your breath and feel the warmth of your skin, and the taste of you lingered long after she was gone.

A tender kiss sealed in adoration.

“Will you help me pack?”

She nods, and with her hands clasped around yours, she forgives herself, just as the day forgives the night, and the future forgives the past.

~~~

taglist: @inluvvwithfictionalwomen @jestercat28 @lol1556732 @truthindreams @me-uglypretty @karmasgxrl @natashasnoodle @thunderinglava @sayah13 @wonderingnerd @cd-4848

[sapphic-coded]

I Swear That I Don't Have A Gun

You grew up in Ohio with your father, brother, and sister. Your family was small and strange. Because of that, you were picked on relentlessly at school. Until another weird kid showed up. Her family moved in across the street from you. It wasn't long until the two of you became friends. Your friendship became the light in your life. Until it ended suddenly. Rumors followed your friend's disappearance. Russian spies. You didn't see her again until you crossed paths at work.

Series Masterlist

Natasha Romanoff x fem Reader

Warnings: Violence. Reader is a messed up assassin and did not choose her codename. Childhood trauma hanging out in the background. Minors DNI.

Word Count: 5.3k

Author's Note: When writer ADHD hits, it hits. Sorry for the wait friends. Been working on this for a comically long time. Thank you for all the love and support for this series. I love that you love this. Enjoy!

Taglist: @natsxwife @iliketozoneout @newawakening9 @natasha-1million @ilovemcuff @taliiiaasteria @alowint @yerisdumbass @natashasilverfox

Chapter Seven: You Don't Know Me

Mount Vernon, Ohio – 1993

You counted the small rocks in your black gloved hand. Neither one looked the same. All were varying shades of gray. A few were smooth and round while others were rough with sharper edges. It was the best of what you could find around the neighborhood. You looked up when you heard the sound of footsteps crunching in the snow. 

The ends of Nat’s blue hair spilled out of her dark gray knitted hat. Her black puffy jacket swallowed up most of her body. In her white gloved hands was a single stick. It wasn’t very long. Hardly more than four inches. Some pine needles still hung off of it. You watched as she approached while the chill that hung in the air after the first snowfall stabbed at your cheeks. 

“Aren’t we supposed to use a carrot?” you asked as she came to stand next to you. You were also pretty sure that you were supposed to use coal instead of rocks. 

“My mom already cut up the one we have,” Nat replied. 

You certainly didn’t have any carrots lying around at home. Your refrigerator and Nat’s were so different that it was jarring the first time you saw it. You hadn’t realized how much food one refrigerator could hold when you didn’t have to make room for your father’s weekly experiments. 

You looked at the headless snowman in front of you. You had spent the better part of the last two hours alongside Nat and her younger sister building the snowman in front of their house. The snowman’s base was large, round, and a bit lopsided. But it supported the slightly smaller packed ball of snow on top of it. You and Nat had done your best to brush off any dirt or blades of grass that stuck to the snow. Now you waited for Yelena to return with the snowman’s head. 

You heard Nat shift next to you while you stared at the empty spot where the snowman’s head will go. You wondered what kind of person this snowman would be. It was a shame when your brother told you years ago that snowmen don’t actually come to life after they are built. There’s no singing or dancing. It was as your father put it when he overheard your conversation:

“It is a byproduct of man’s lust for godhood.”

But maybe they did come to life. In secret. Perhaps at night. You read about all kinds of supposedly fake creatures coming to life in secret in your sister’s books. If it was possible, would this snowman end up being a good person or a bad one? Would the lack of a carrot make a difference? 

“Are you going somewhere?” Nat asked. 

You looked at her and found her looking across the street. You followed her gaze. Outside on your driveway was your father. The trunk of his station wagon hung open while he shoved a couple large bags into it. His back remained toward you and you hoped it would stay that way. The freshly plowed street put enough distance between him and you that you felt like you could breathe normally without him noticing. 

Your gaze landed back on Nat. “My father is attending a convention. It’s a tradition.” 

“What kind of convention?” she asked. 

You shrugged. “One for people like him.” 

He would come back giddy from talking with his fellow scholars. You knew that when he returned you and your siblings would be forced to spend at least three hours trapped at the kitchen table with nothing to eat but plenty to listen to. If something particularly interesting happened, you would definitely be trapped at the table for five hours. 

“You’re not going with him?” she asked. 

You heard the trunk of your father’s station wagon slam shut. You looked over your shoulder and watched as your father started back up the driveway. You looked at Nat and shook your head. “Kids aren’t allowed.” 

Yelena hurried around the house from the backyard carrying a mostly round snowman sized head. It was pretty impressive when she reached you guys. Since you both were taller, you and Nat carefully took the soon to be snowman head and set it on top of its cold, round body. You pushed one smooth light gray rock into the snowman’s left eye socket and then pushed a square black rock into its right. You let Yelena help you set the rest of the rocks into a wide smile. Nat pushed the stick into the middle of the snowman’s face. Then, all three of you stepped back to admire your work. 

“We should give him a name,” Yelena said. 

You tried to imagine the snowman’s rock eyes blinking. You imagined puffs of white mists slipping from between his rocky lips. You tried to imagine him with a carrot for a nose. “He looks like an Ian.” 

You heard Yelena giggle and when you looked at Nat you saw the beginnings of a smile curling her lips. 

Triskelion, Washington D.C.  – 2012

Being part of a team sucks. There are rules you have to follow. Sure, there were rules back when you were working for your father. But those rules were different. You could bend and shape them into whatever you needed. As long as the job was done, your father was content. Maybe he’d nitpick if the job got messy. But you had the freedom of choice. There were so many ways to kill people. Some days your imagination would run wild with new possibilities. You had yet to surprise a target in their bathroom and drop a toaster into their bathtub while they were bathing. Then there was the old classic you had yet to try. This idea demanded the perfect costume, but tying a target to train tracks and watching a high speed train obliterate their body into nothing more but tiny bloody chunks would be great fun. 

You loved that part of the job almost as much as you loved watching your target’s life drain from their eyes. But now that freedom is gone. You don’t get to decide how you are going to do your job. You are told. Ordered. The worst is when you’re not even allowed to kill your target. You remember the first time you were given that bizarre job. You remember how punchable your target’s face was. You remember how easy it would have been to just push the ridiculous man over the edge. No one would have known. But you couldn’t. You watched that opportunity pass you by and you wanted to scream. 

You did scream. At Rumlow. You cornered him and demanded to know why. Why did they keep fucking with your head? 

He reminded you of your role. The chains that kept you bound to these nonsensical rules. You work for SHIELD. You don’t kill targets unless SHIELD wants you to kill them. You keep to your role and you don’t raise suspicions. You live out the story Rumlow crafted for you. He found you on one of his missions. He saw your potential and peeled you up off the ground like some frozen, sick, dying, abandoned mutt. He molded you into the weapon you are now. A weapon he happily handed to SHIELD. 

You hate that story. You hate it more than the stupid suit he forces you to wear. The black tactical suit covers every inch of your body from your neck down to your feet. It had taken a while to get used to the added weight of the black body armor attached to the suit. You still don’t like it. It makes you feel as if you are a child running around with pillows tied to your chest and a foam sword in your hand. But it’s the mask that feels the most suffocating. Despite being able to hear clearly from within the black helmet, you feel cut off from the world. The black tinted visor that conceals your face is full of fancy technology that often gets in the way when you are just trying to watch your target die. You hate the stupid suit. You hate that you can’t do anything without having to wear it. The only time you can strip the stupid costume off and breathe in lungfuls of air conditioned air is in your bunk buried beneath all the levels of SHIELD and fake SHIELD and real HYDRA. 

But if you could choose, you’d stick with the stupid suit if you could craft a different story. Preferably one that didn’t include anyone molding you into anything. But that freedom is gone, and all you have is a boatload of memories to distract you from how angry you are. That anger burns deep inside you. It fuels your every step as you walk alongside Rumlow down a bright, busy hallway. You ignore all the data that blinks across the inside of your visor screen with every SHIELD agent that hurries by. In the beginning you had been curious, but now all the data was familiar and boring. Mostly low level clearance agents with spotless records because they never did anything but sit at their desks or hurry around places looking busy. 

You walk out into a large hangar and board one of the waiting Quinjets. You spy two empty seats in the cockpit and a black duffel bag resting on one of the seats in the cargo bay. Rumlow hands you a small, black flash drive. You roll your eyes despite knowing that he can’t see your face. If he let you take off the damn helmet you could read the mission briefings perfectly fine. You didn’t need to clog up your visor’s hub with all the unnecessary tidbits of information on your targets. You hate this role. 

“This one is routine,” Rumlow begins as you insert the flash drive into the slot along the backside of your helmet. Almost instantly, information clogs up your interior visor screen. “Your target is Tomek Sikora. He’s an arms dealer that SHIELD has kept an eye on.” The picture of your target fills up your visor. Tall, muscular build. Short, dirty blonde hair. Blue eyes. Mid thirties. “We have good intel that he’s operating out of an abandoned storefront in Bardstown, Kentucky. His main clientele is HYDRA.” 

Your visor floods with images of your target standing with or shaking hands with other important looking men and women. A few of the faces look familiar, but the images scroll too quickly across your visor for you to be certain. 

“Your objective is to shut down Sikora’s operation,” Rumlow says. “SHIELD would prefer Sikora alive, but if you have no choice, do what is necessary.” 

The coded orders hidden behind his words brings a small hint of relief. A nice simple kill. You know that if you read more into the file scrolling across your visor that you could piece together why real HYDRA wants Sikora dead. But you don’t care. All you care about is watching your target die. All you care about at this moment is that you won’t be forced to watch your target walk away breathing. A straightforward mission is exactly what you need. Something easy. Sikora will probably put up some kind of fight. You’ll engage and end it when it feels right. 

You pull the flash drive from the slot at the back of your helmet. Your visor clears. 

“Rollins will accompany you on this mission,” Rumlow says. 

Eh. It could be wors–

“Slight change of plan.”

Both you and Rumlow turn towards the open cargo bay door. You see her clearly through your visor screen. You feel the chains of your boredom lift. That familiar energy that buzzes right beneath your skin awakens. You haven’t seen her since you put a bullet through Erik’s head. Even then, you can’t count that as your official last parting. You were buried beneath your costume. She didn’t know you were there. Because if she did, she wouldn’t have let you go like that. 

The weight of the costume you wear now feels heavier as you watch her ascend up the Quinjet’s ramp. She’s dressed in civilian clothes. You love the black, leather jacket that she wears over her red shirt. Dark denim jeans cover the length of her legs, and a gun sits in a black holster strapped to her right thigh. You’re envious of her clothes. You want to look into her wardrobe. You want to strip out of this stupid suit and wear anything else. 

“Agent Romanoff,” Rumlow greets. 

Nat. Your teeth bite into your lower lip. You know you can’t say anything. The rules of your role have been drilled into your head. You don’t speak. You only act. If anyone asks questions, Rumlow has your pathetic sob story ready to share. You know all this. You know you must comply. But you really want to say something. 

Her olive green eyes settle on you as she steps into the cargo bay. You instantly miss the recognition as she looks at you. Her eyes travel up and down the length of your body, taking in your forced getup. You want her to see right through it. You want her to say your name and rip the damn mask from your face so the chase can resume. 

“What’s the update?” Rumlow asks. 

Her attention shifts to him. “Rollins can’t make it. He’s in medical. I’m filling in.” 

Now you really really want to say something. You watch as she walks over to where the black duffel bag sits. A smile stretches across your face. You had wanted to start slow. A coffee date scheduled on a day that neither one of you needed to even think about work. But if you can’t have that, then you will happily take this. 

“That’s not necessary,” Rumlow replies. 

Your smile drops away, and you turn your head to give Rumlow the most threatening glare he will never see. He ignores you as Nat zips up her duffel bag and looks over at him. 

“I’ll get one of the other guys to fill in for Rollins,” Rumlow continues. “It’s a routine operation, and you’re needed for more Avenger missions.” 

You wonder what would happen if you punched Rumlow in the face. If you swing hard enough, there is a good chance you could knock him out. That would give you a couple seconds to say something to Nat before all hell breaks loose. You’d definitely apologize for the stupid thing you said before. And if Rumlow didn’t go down in one punch, you could always follow it up with a solid kick. 

“Fury disagrees,” Nat replies. 

The name sparks two recent memories of the Director of SHIELD. Both memories consisted of you standing in this stupid suit and staring at the bald man with an eyepatch while he interrogated Rumlow about you. You played the part of a lost puppy well enough despite wanting to smash your head into the closest wall. 

“Besides,” Nat looks first at you and then back to Rumlow, “I’ve been dying to meet your new sidekick.” 

Oh god. That one hurt. 

“They’re not much of a talker,” Rumlow says. 

You have so much to say. 

“We’ll figure it out,” Nat replies. 

Rumlow shakes his head, but finally relents. He looks at you. “Stay focused. I expect results.” 

You watch as he steps out of the cargo bay and descends down the jet’s ramp. For a moment, you can’t believe your luck. You thought that Rumlow would have done just about anything to rip you away from Nat. He had made sure to keep you as far away from her as possible. But the reality of your amazing luck settles when Nat comes to stand next to you. 

“Has he taught you how to fly one of these?” she asks. 

You shake your head. 

“Okay,” she says. “I’ll fly. You fill me in on the mission.” 

This is the greatest day of your life. 

The Quinjet, Kentucky Sky – A Short Time Later

You pull the flash drive free from the tablet’s port. The tablet’s screen goes blank while the hub screen built into your interior helmet visor lights up with a selection of unnecessary data about the tablet. Battery at 68%. No security update needed. Software version 3.8.27. You don’t understand why you are forced to tolerate the random extra tech. Rumlow told you it was to make your story more realistic. You still didn’t understand how something only you see makes others believe you more. 

You look up from the tablet, and the extra data clears. Bright sunlight floods the cockpit. The sky outside is so blue that it is almost painful to look at. You are sitting in the co-pilot seat. The various buttons and screens stretched across the dashboard mean nothing to you. Nat has been doing all the flying. All you’ve done is find a SHIELD issued tablet and plugged in the flash drive so Nat could review the details of your mission. So far she’s asked you easy questions about the mission. Your answers are simple nods or a shake of your head. You want to say more. You need to say more. But you stay quiet. You comply with your role. 

But there is sweet happiness in your forced silence. You look over to the empty pilot seat next to you. Nat left a few minutes ago to change after switching on the autopilot. You are tempted to lift up your helmet and sniff the pilot seat. You want to know what she smells like. You want to peel your black gloves off and touch the cushions of the seat. Feel the warmth left behind by her touch. A couple different scenarios float through your head and each one is far more entertaining than sitting in silence. But at least you get to be near her. You don’t have to hurry off and leave her. Despite all these stupid rules, you’ve discovered a piece of freedom that kept eluding you before. 

You turn your gaze forward when you hear Nat emerge from the tiny bathroom directly behind the cockpit. She settles back into the pilot’s seat. Her casual clothes are gone. You miss the leather jacket, but the black catsuit is a warm familiar memory. You tuck the flash drive into one of your suit’s many pockets. 

“Shouldn’t be long now,” she comments as her green eyes dart across the various screens and lit buttons. “About fifteen minutes out.” 

There’s a moment when you taste that bitterness of disappointment. You don’t want this to end. The two of you up in the sky without anyone else to distract you. But that moment ends when you remember what’s to come. For the first time you won’t be on opposing sides. Sort of. Not exactly. But it sends a thrill through you. 

“So,” she looks over at you, “Silent Type.” 

You frown at the stupid codename. You know she can’t see your face, but she sees something because she starts to smile. The tablet’s screen comes back to life as you navigate to the application you need. A virtual keyboard pops up along the lower half of the tablet. Your gloved fingers are quick as you type your message. You turn the tablet around so she can read it. 

Rumlow’s idea. Not mine. 

Your answer seems to amuse her more as she nods. 

“That does sound like a name he would come up with,” she says. 

You turn the tablet to face you again and delete what you wrote. Your fingers are quick to tap out another message. 

Did you choose your codename? 

Her smile falls a bit as she reads your question. “What did Rumlow tell you about me?” 

It doesn’t take you long to delete your question and type out your reply. 

Avenger. 

“That’s it?” she asks. 

You lower the tablet and nod. It’s not entirely a lie. Rumlow had spent most of his time preparing you for this stupid role. That meant filling your head with a bunch of random bullshit about fake SHIELD and real HYDRA. He trained you to remember your story. He did his best to polish off the grime of freelance and make you seem more refined. He rarely brought up Nat. And when he did, he never let you think about her for long. 

“I guess we’ll need to get to know each other better after this mission,” she says. 

More time with Nat? This day just gets better and better. Your fingers tap against the tablet’s digital keyboard again. When you lift up the tablet, you are very interested in her answer. 

What did Rumlow say about me?

“You’re his pet project,” she says as her smile returns. 

You frown. You want to somehow clarify that you are nobody’s pet project, but one of the buttons on the dash lights up and steals Nat’s attention. You watch as she turns off the autopilot and takes control of the Quinjet. 

“We’re approaching our target,” she reaches up and flips a switch. “I’ll set us down somewhere close. With our stealth systems engaged, they shouldn’t be able to spot us.” 

You turn your head and look out at the bright blue sky. While you love the quality time with Nat, you also need to come up with a plan for this mission. Rumlow’s coded orders had been clear. Kill Sikora. If Rollins had joined you on this mission, you wouldn’t have needed to do much thinking beyond when to kill your target. But Nat’s fantastic presence complicated things. You doubt that she’s part of fake SHIELD. Which meant putting a bullet in Sikora’s head outright wouldn’t go over well. Especially if your target decides to surrender. 

Your plan starts to take shape within your mind as Nat guides the concealed Quinjet towards the ground. It’s a simple plan. Draw your target away from Nat and kill him where it is just you and him. It would ruin the foreplay. You probably wouldn’t have much time and would need to kill Sikora quickly. But you’d get to talk to Nat later which seemed like a generous trade. 

The bright onslaught on sunlight fades as Nat sets the Quinjet down in a clearing surrounded by eastern white pine trees. Based on the data you had skimmed earlier, the abandoned storefront your target is operating out of is just north of your location. When the Quinjet’s engines fall quiet, you stand. You leave the tablet on your seat as you head for the cargo bay. You approach a metallic box bolted onto one of the walls. Your gloved fingers type in a code on the keypad fixed to the front of the box. The front panel unlocks and opens to reveal a small armory. 

Smaller than usual. No fancy explosives. Your usual selection of guns has been paired down to one: a single black Glock. You suspect your limited selection is thanks to Rumlow. You figure this has something to do with your training, but you don’t really care. You’re more disappointed in how the gun feels in your hand. You miss your Beretta. You don’t feel the same without it. 

You slide the Glock into the empty holster at your right hip and turn when you hear Nat enter the cargo bay. She holds the tablet you left behind. Her finger slides across the tablet’s screen, and you watch the way her head tilts slightly as she reviews the mission data. You imagine that she looked exactly like that whenever information on you ended up in her hands. Your smile starts to return as you grab the tactical knife left in the armory and slide it into place on your belt. 

She turns off the tablet and sets it down next to her black duffel bag. She lifts her hand and speaks into her wrist. “Comms check.”

You hear her voice flood your helmet and you don’t want it to stop. When she looks over at you, you nod. Her smile threatens to break you. You want so desperately to say something. You want her to look at you like she knows you. Like she did before whenever she appeared on one of your jobs. But your mouth stays shut. You comply. 

It’s quiet when you both exit the Quinjet. As you make your way through the cluster of trees, you can’t help but think back to your last freelance job in the middle of nowhere. The sound of gunshots ripping apart tree bark. The smell of sweat and blood on your target’s body. The feeling of her hand around your wrist. 

You stop when you reach the treeline. Roughly fifty yards ahead of you is the bland backside of the abandoned storefront. The back door is unguarded. You don’t see any cameras either. It’s no wonder why HYDRA wants Sikora gone. The lack of security is almost offensive. It’s as if your target is inviting you inside. 

“We’ll split up and sweep the area,” her voice is low and when you look at her, you nod. 

Perfect. As long as you find Sikora first, this mission should be easy. 

“I’ll take the upper floor while you secure the lower,” she says. 

As you nod, you hope that you’ll find Sikora in the storefront’s basement. If you don’t, you don’t know exactly how you’ll get your target far enough away from Nat. 

You both step out of the treeline and make your way towards the storefront’s back entrance. By the time you reach the back door and press your back against the wall, you notice that both you and Nat have drawn your guns. You bite your tongue to hold back a laugh at the thought that instantly springs to life within your mind. This must be the first time you both have a gun in your hand and you’re not pointing them at each other. Now would be a great time to take your helmet off. 

Nat reaches for the door handle, and it’s unlocked. You decide that it’s your target’s inflated ego that left the door unlocked and not stupidity. Or a trap. You try not to let that last thought get you too excited as you follow Nat through the backdoor. 

You enter a narrow hallway. Directly ahead of you is a wide open doorway that reveals a large empty room. Remains of what was clearly a counter mark the worn looking floorboards. Dark colored wallpaper peels from the walls. The room itself is lit only by the light that spills out from the hallway. Large, thin boards are nailed across the windows. Littered about the floorboards is trash, random dark wet spots, and the occasional clothing hanger. 

To your right is a set of stairs leading to the upper floor. To your left is the remains of another door. You see the hinges, but the door that clearly once occupied the space is gone. Beyond it is another set of stairs leading down towards the basement. You turn to your left and start to descend the stairs. You hear Nat ascending the stairs behind you. You force yourself not to look back as you lift your gun and keep going. 

Your footsteps are quiet on the stairs. When you reach the bottom, you find yourself alone in an empty room. The lights are on. Boxes and crates are stacked against one of the walls. On the other side of the room is another doorway, but this one still has a door attached to it. As you walk further into the room, you hear a loud thud shake the low ceiling. You feel a tiny spike of jealousy that Nat found her targets while you are alone in a basement. Another loud thud shakes the ceiling again. That lingering spike of jealousy flees when the door on the other side of the room opens. 

You pull the trigger the second you see someone fill up the space in the doorway. You see the person drop and no one else comes out. You move towards the open door. One quick look down at the man dying on the basement floor at your feet confirms that they are not your target. You step over the dying man and into the room. It’s a small break room with a fold out plastic table that eats up most of the space. Sitting on the table, directly in the middle, is a small, square television. It’s on and playing an old western. 

When you return to the dying man laying in the doorway, you find him dead. The man’s lifeless eyes stare up at you. His mouth is slightly parted. His hair looks greasy. He looks about as old as any average college student. The sounds of the western playing on the television fills up the quiet as you stare down at the dead man. The sounds of shouting pulls you out of your odd stupor. 

You step over the dead man and hurry back towards the stairs. You quickly climb back up into the narrow hallway and start towards the stairs that would take you up to the upper floor when you see it. You are standing at the base of the stairs when you see a body falling. You see their arms first as they come up, and you see how their legs trip over each other. You notice a mop of dirty blonde hair right before it smashes into the first uppermost step. The body falls hard down the stairs with a series of sickening crunches. You take a few steps back when you notice the body picking up some speed. When the body finally reaches the bottom of the stairs, it rolls over once and stops. 

Sikora lays at your feet. His neck is bent at a terrible angle. His blue eyes are wide open. You see a piece of bone poking out from his forearm. Your gun lowers at the sight of your target’s still body. You feel numb at the sight of it. No satisfaction. No sense of pride. Not even relief. You don’t know how to feel when you step over your target’s body and ascend the stairs. That strange feeling persists as you find Nat standing near a table. Littered across the floor are six bodies. You can’t tell if some are alive or not, but you feel the corners of your lips curl into a smile. Nat doesn’t have a scratch on her. None of the bodies scattered across the room were a challenge for her and you just want to run up to her and kiss her and hug her tight because it makes sense. One piece of your life hasn’t changed. She’s still your friend even if you can’t act like hers. 

As you walk further into the room, carefully stepping over fallen bodies, Nat closes up a black laptop that is sitting on the table. Her smile melts away any lingering numbness hanging on from seeing your target’s body. 

“Good work,” she says. “SHIELD will be here in ten to clean up.” 

You savor her praise before looking at the laptop again. 

“Just a little side project,” she says after following your gaze. She picks up the black laptop and moves towards you. “You ever have bourbon from here?”   

You shake your head. 

“Then we’re making a quick pit stop before we head back,” she says. 

You follow her, and you can’t help feeling like you are back in Ohio. It’s as if school is finally letting out and you two have the rest of the day ahead of you. You want this day to last forever. You’d rather her know it’s you, but if this is all you can have, then you’ll take it.

[chloe-skywalker]

Party Worries - Natasha Romanoff & Wanda Maximoff

Nat x fem!reader (mentor/friend)

Wanda x fem!reader (mentor/friend)

Warnings: emotions

Word count: 615

Requested: Can You do a Natasha Romanoff and or Wanda Maximoff x adhd ! Y/n kid reader - @Anon

Authors Note: thank you for requesting

Masterlist

Avengers Masterlist

******************************************************************

“Tony’s having a party tonight. You coming?” Wanda asked Natasha as she looked through her closet to see if she had anything to wear that night.

“I am.” the red headed assassin nodded.

“What about y/n/n?” Wnada asked, looking back to Nat who sat on her bed.

“I don’t know.” Nat sighed

“New meds not helping?” Wanda knew that Nat had taken Y/n to the doctor to adjust her meds for her ADHD. But the doctor didn’t just adjust her meds he changed them all together.

“No, there helping. She says she feels better but at the same time her body and mind are adjusting.” She explained. The last week hadn’t been easy on the young girl that Wanda and Nat had taken under their wing.

“Is she nervous?” Wanda wondered, hopping they could help the young Y/h/c-ed girl.

“She doesn’t want to make a scene.” Nat sighed telling the redheaded witch what y/n  had inwardly told her that morning of why she didn’t want to go to the party.

Wanda scoffed at that reason. “She wouldn’t.”

Natasha nodded in agreement. “We know that but she feels differently.”

Wanda picked a dress and hung it on the closet door before she turned around to face the Black Widow. “We gotta change her mind.”

“Agreed”

And with that the two came up with a plan. Before heading to Y/n’s room in the tower. After they had taken her under their wing she spent so much time with them at the tower, Tony gave her her own room. They had practically adopted Y/n and everyone was okay with it. Her family didn’t have much and her parents were always gon and pretended she didn’t exist. So Y/n was very much grateful and enjoyed benign apart of their family of hero’s.

“Do I have to?” Y/n whined softly not wanting to go to Tony’s party.

“Yes!” Natasha and Wanda stated at the same time.

“But-”

“You’ll be fine.” Wanda smiled encouragingly.

“And if you want to leave at anytime you can.” Nat added as they tried to change Y/n’s mind.

“But you have to give it a chance.” Wanda cut in quickly. They wanted her to at least experience the party before she decided to leave if she wanted to.

Nat could see Y/n start to fidget and knew exactly what she was thinking. So Nat sat down next to her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “Your stronger than you think.”

“Okay.” Y/n nodded relucatnly

So with her agreement to go to the party Wanda and Nat got to getting her ready. They did her makeup and found one of their dresses to fit her and look fantastic.

Finally when the party rolled around Y/n had to admit it wasn’t as bad as she thought it was gonna be. She could feel herself lose focus at points but it wasn’t lasting long, the party seemed to keep her focused.

“You having fun?” Wanda asked as the young girl was approached by Wanda and Nat.

“You can’t lie to us.” Nat Joker as the two older woman each stood on a side of Y/n. “We saw you smiling.”

“Okay I am having some fun.” Y/n admitted cracking a pretty big smile across her lips. The party was a lot of fun and she seemed to be worried for nothing. But she’d never live it down if she told them that.

“We can go anytime you want.” Wanda told her and Natasha nodded in agreement. The 3 stayed for a while longer before leaving and having a girls night in Wanda’s room.

Taglist: @gruffle1 @padawancat97 @starkleila

[miscfandomwrites]

A/N: Don’t know how this college will show up on tumblr, so let’s see. This is an old, old idea that I got one day after I drew all over my arm in eyeliner when I was in class. It was actually really pretty, and thus the idea for this was born. Due to my ADHD it’s hard to focus in class, and because of that I need some sort of stimulation to make my brain think. This was written with an attention disorder in mind for the reader.

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x F! Reader

Location: Marvel > Natasha Romanoff > Oneshots

Warnings: None, just a small drabble with fluff

Words: 900ish

Tagging: @tyler-t0t

~~

“We need to move in from this direction instead and then we can carry them out.” Bucky voiced from his place against the wall. 

I didn’t bother to follow the conversation, as this was the fourth time that they’ve been over editing the plan even when the first plan was perfect. 

I inwardly groaned and leaned my head back, moving my arms and stretching. Enjoying the feel of my back popping. The debate about how we were to get in was still going, and I ended up digging through my jacket pockets. Damn, I had a fidget in here this morning…

Still tuning everyone out, I found an eyeliner pen. Wait, wasn’t I looking for that yesterday?

You have got to be kidding me. I was. My habit, or rather, unconscious habit of losing things wasn’t fun. I misplaced things often enough to where I kept trackers on several items I used daily. Everyone idolizes having an attention disorder until you realize just how fucking shitty it is.

Seriously, I can’t get through the day without misplacing something. Or caffeine. Both. 

I ran a hand through my hair, tucking it behind my ears as I pulled the cap off the pen. It was one of the oil-based ones, which meant it was easy to clean off of skin. Laying my hand on the table I started sketching some bones on my fingers, then moved to my hand. Keeping tabs on the conversation, I finished my hand and moved to my arm. Instead of bones I just drew swirls, some small stars, and honestly whatever came to mind. I did the same with my other hand, albeit a bit messier because it wasn’t my dominant hand that was doing the drawing.

“We’re done with this for now. Let’s go over this tomorrow.” Steve said as he clapped his hands together, and shut off the screen. I glanced up only to meet Natasha’s eyes. As soon as she caught my gaze she smiled. I smiled back at her.

Everyone in the tower knew I had an attention disorder, and if just given my fidgets I would be fine. It turns out both of the scientists and I share that in common, and more often than not we were inventing some sort of new fidget toy. Of course, after the lighter-knife-spinner combination, we were a bit limited on our creations. Still, we got along great.

Everyone slowly got up and headed out to wherever they would be going, and I pulled out my phone and earbuds. Donning my jacket and tugging my phone in a pocket, I started my music and headed out, headless of Natasha calling after me.

I got to my floor and immediately shoved my shoes and socks off, along with my jacket and pants. I was bored enough that the thought of doodling over my legs sounded entertaining enough that I discarded my pants as well, kicking them over the back of the couch and flopping down onto it. I grabbed the remote and started from where I left off of (Favorite show) and went back to work. Eventually my feet were covered, and I moved up to my calves, then my knees, and soon enough my entire legs were covered. I drew up my arms as best I could, and fixed my hands. 

“So, this was the result?” Natasha’s voice scared the shit out of me, causing a huge streak of eyeliner to mess up my doodles on my arms. I turned towards her, mouth open in shock. She huffed a laugh and went around the couch, sitting down next to me.

She held out her hand. “May I?” She asked. I handed her the pencil and she gently took my arm, and continued my drawing up my arm and onto my shoulder, before lightly drawing them on my neck, and eventually my cheek. 

“These are really pretty...have you considered getting these tattooed?” She asked me as she switched sides and started working on my other arm. 

“I have, but I also realized that I’d want them different as soon as I saw them.” I replied. 

“That makes sense. You typically don’t like things to be permanent, they always need to be changing.” 

“Yeah, some permanent things. Such as tattoos, furniture, clothes. I change those often. But people however...they’re always changing.” 

“Ah, so in relationships you wouldn’t be deterred if someone wanted something permanent with you?” She questioned, tracing the pencil up my neck and onto my cheek, leaning closer to me. 

“No, I wouldn’t. I prefer that type of stability in my life.” I whispered as she leaned closer to me. 

“Do you want something permanent?” 

“I do.” I leaned closer and closed the gap between us.

[hauntingmesostunningly]

marvel headcanons

weirdly specific headcanons for my favorite characters,

some traits may not align with canon or popular fan opinions. these are just my opinions, to each their own !!

!! TW: s/h , ptsd , disability , neurodivergence , anxiety , depression , alcohol

Gwen Stacy :

lesbian + non-binary

she/they

has a secret spider-girlfriend

obsessed with pop-tarts and tries them in every universe

spends her free time at the animal shelter petting dogs, the workers from many universes know her since they come by so often, and they always welcome her.

won’t admit it but secretly wants to be an english teacher when she grows up

Peter Parker :

trans ftm + bisexual

he/him

his parents are rich lawyers who travel a lot, so he’s always lived with his Aunt, May. doesn’t have contact with his birth parents

has social anxiety and a severe anxiety disorder

has a soft spot for dalmations

in the process of filing for a psychiatric service dog for his panic attacks

has adhd

Wanda Maximoff :

bisexual with a female preference

has a wife !!!

massive swiftie

has two twins and an adopted daughter

disability mom, billy has angelman syndrome and tommy has autism and epilepsy

in therapy to work on her trauma trigger responses ie. controllingness

has suffered with severe depression

loves loves loves dogs (has two goldendoodles, snowflake and rocky)

Yelena Belova :

queer woman

convert jew, found herself in the religion and found a community through a support group for, and run by, woman in her synagogue.

absolutely in love with Kate Bishop

very protective over kate and shows her off to everyone

has a ptsd service dog named sasha, who helps with her flashbacks

has struggled with s/h, but is in therapy and getting better

has a very sexual relationship with kate and everyone in the compound steers clear of the hallway where kate and yelena’s rooms are

Kate Bishop :

pansexual + demigirl

madly in love with Yelena Belova

super innocent but would do unholy things for her girlfriend

hates all dogs. except her dog, pizza-dog-lucky. lucky is different.

slight mommy issues

bottom asf , and a massive brat

super snarky but easily gets her feelings hurt

was homeschooled her whole life, and she never lost that childish energy

thinks her girlfriend’s protectiveness is cute, but loves to push against it to see yelena get all hot and bothered

always spends the holiday season with clint’s family (partially bec she loves them and partially to save on heating bills in the colder months)

spam posts every detail of her life on insta stories + makes mini-vlog reels 24/7

Natasha Romanoff :

demiromantic + unlabeled

hates labels, she likes who she likes end of story.

has a massive soft spot for cats, and has 3 of her own, Tumeric, Spots, and Dart.

has a massive unrequited crush on wanda

she’s labeled as the “bed-hopper” by her friends for her string of serial hookups after she left the redroom, but she wants nothing more than to settle down with a wife and even more cats.

top

big mommy issues and that usually comes across in her relationships, as she seeks out (sometimes older) people with nurturing qualities.

battled alcoholism during the dark days in the blip from losing her sister, but she has an amazing therapist and is now sober

Kamala Khan :

bisexual

she/they

really into tarot

best friends with America Chaves and has a small gay crush on her

constantly gets in trouble with teachers for being too loud and talking in class

has inattentive adhd and always forgets to take her meds

has a very popular carol danvers x fem reader fanfic on A03 that she hides from her parents but she always neglects her homework to make sure she updates regularly for her readers

loves tacos

has sensory issues and gets sensory overload breakdowns due to sound and this can trigger her powers to go haywire while she’s overstimulated

her family puts a lot of pressure on marriage but she just wants to live in a house with america and spend the rest of their lives together reading fanfic and rewatching avengers movies

she kissed america once and they never talked about it again, though they both have hinted at wanting to do it again.

[yelenasdiary]

!!Vote for Tomorrow's Fic!!

Tomorrow is Monday!!! That means, new fic!! (& me being back to posting them!). I won't do this every week but I thought why not do one tonight so I know what to post when 5PM AEDT comes tomorrow!

Eventually all of these will be posted!

[thescarletwitchsapprentice]

Imagine: You get up in the middle of the night to make a snack and accidentally wake up Nat because you didn't stop the microwave’s obnoxious beeping in time. (Natasha Romanoff x ADHD!reader)

*Not my GIF

You can’t sleep.

Not for the life of you.

You’d been so absorbed in your projects that day that you’d barely eaten a thing, and now you’re paying the price for it. Lying in bed, tossing and turning as your stomach growls and roars like a hungry lion. You tried melatonin, lavender, classical music, the works. But nothing’s gonna get you to sleep except for food.

Groaning you get up and check the time; 2:45 am. Grabbing a flashlight, you switch it on and groggily flop over to the compound kitchen. A peanut butter and jelly sandwich should do the trick.

You look in the bread drawer, but it’s all gone. That’s when you remember; Tony has yet to go grocery shopping, so all you have is frozen bread. Looks like you’re gonna have to use the microwave.

You can barely keep your eyes open and you even wince as the freezer light hits them. You pry apart two slices and place them in the microwave. Setting the timer to….God-knows-how-long, you find yourself blacking out for what’s supposed to be a hot second only to be alerted to a loud beeping sound.

Well, alerted’s actually an overstatement. More like bring awareness to. Because you’re not even flinching.

“What the hell are you doing up so late, (y/n)?”

You hear a faint, familiar voice along with the microwave beeping. The footsteps get closer and soon you feel a hand on your shoulder. Still too tired to function, you look behind you to see your girlfriend Nat in her PJs.

“…..I was hungry,” you groan.

“ADHD again?” she sighs.

You nod.

“It’s like my body wants me to be sleep-deprived.”

You open up the microwave and take out the bread, but Nat stops you.

“I’ve got this,” she assures you. “Go back to your room.”

Confused you do. But you’re confused no longer when Nat brings in some blankets and pillows along with your sandwich and a glass of water, turning on the light. She places the sandwich and glass on the nightstand. In your sleepy state, you grab the sandwich and nom on it.

“Don’t forget to drink some water,” she tells you. “I don’t want you to choke on anything.”

You know that when Natasha Romanoff tells you to drink water, then you drink water. And so you drink water. Once you’re finished, Nat’s about to take the plate and glass back.

“Wait.” You stop her. “Can….can you cuddle with me tonight? Pwetty pwease?”

You give her your best puppy dog eyes.

“You don’t need to be more adorable than you already are,” Nat tells you with a smile. “Why do you think I brought in the blankets and pillows?”

You feel your cheeks heating up a bit. She chuckles and leaves to put the dishes away. A few minutes later, she returns and tucks herself into bed on the other side. You cuddle up close to her and she smiles.

“God, you’re adorable,” she chuckles as she strokes your cheek with her thumb.

She’s the last thing you see before you drift off into a lovestruck slumber.

[anotherfuckingmarvelfanaccount]

I Lost My Phone! (Avengers x Reader)

So due to all of the birthday posts celebrating Steve, I realized that on my school-induced Tumblr hiatus, I missed a shit-ton of birthdays between Bucky’s and Steve’s. So there’s gonna be a ton of birthday posts coming for the MCU characters that I can find birthdays for. In the meantime, enjoy this fic that’s taken me months to write and find inspiration for.

Warnings: slight Sam x Reader, my taste in music (that deserves its own warning any day), reader being called just about every nickname I could think of, swearing.

Word Count: 3950

Summary: Reader’s ADHD causes her to lose her phone a lot, when the Avengers find out she has specialized ringtones for all of them, they’re obsessed with finding out what they all are.

For an Avenger, you were actually pretty young. You were older than Peter, but still younger than Wanda and Pietro. You were close with all three of them, and you all loved to make references that confused the fuck out of everyone else. You also had ADHD, which meant lots of things. For you, it meant that something specific, like a bobby pin from 3 years ago, was fresh in your mind. Your top left desk drawer, underneath the colouring books, to be exact. But, you were always fidgeting with something; your ring, a pen, tapping your fingers, and literally anything you could get your hands on. You spaced out a lot, so you would fidget with a pen during meetings so you could actually pay attention. Also, you had this terrible habit of losing everything that wasn’t specific; your phone, wallet, keys were left everywhere around the compound.

You were sitting in the lab one day, fidgeting with a brain puzzle Tony had left on his lab bench while he was upgrading something into your suit. “Kiddo?” He asked, “Peter just texted me that he texted you hours ago and you still haven’t responded. He wants to know if you’re mad at him, and if you’re still on for that late lunch picnic.”

“Oh, would you let him know that I’m not mad at him and that I’ll get all the stuff for the picnic if he’s willing to swing us to where we’re going?” You responded.

“Sure, I can do that,” Tony replied, drafting his response to Peter. “Why haven’t you responded to him?”

You laughed. “I have no idea where my phone is, Mr. Stark. I haven’t seen it in hours, and I have no clue where I left it.”

Tony laughed too, having done the same thing many times over the years, though you did it far more often than he ever did. “I’ll just call you then, it’ll help. Unless your phone’s on vibrate?”

“No, it’s not on vibr- wait, don’t call me!” You exclaimed, but it was too late. Who’s Your Daddy by Toby Keith started playing from upstairs, and you ran up to the kitchen where you found your phone ringing on the counter.

Clint and Natasha were sitting at the counter, drinking yet another coffee. “Why is that your ringtone for Tony?” She asked.

“I, uh- it’s- I-” You stumbled over your words, turning your phone off, blushing as Tony came up the stairs behind you.

“Why is that your ringtone for me, kiddo?” He asked, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. You could easily escape if you wanted to, but it was his way of letting you know that he actually wanted an answer.

“My dad was shitty, my parents sold me into HYDRA as soon as my powers manifested, and when you guys got me out.. I just kinda.. y’know.” You said, hiding your head in your hands.

Clint rubbed your arm softly, “Hey, don’t forget about that picnic with Peter.”

“Oh, shit! He’ll be here any minute! I have to pack the food!” You scrambled around the kitchen, your gravitational powers making everything around you float as you did, and you didn’t even notice Tony slip your phone into your back pocket, just so you wouldn’t forget it again.

There was a knock in the kitchen doorway, and you turned to see Peter. “Y/N/N!”

“Peter!” You ran over to wrap him in a hug.

“You didn’t have your phone, did you?”

“Had no idea where it was. Mr. Stark had to call me.” You said, nuzzling into his chest.

Peter chuckled, “So I guess they know what your ringtone is now?” You blushed and pressed yourself further into his chest, wanting to disappear. “Do they know what it is for me?” He asked. You shook your head and tried to stop him from pulling his phone out, but he called you anyways. 

You grabbed his hand and started leaving with the food as the Spiderman theme song started playing in your pocket. You turned it off and called behind you. “Goodbye Mr. Barton, Ms. Romanoff, Mr. Dad!”

“What did she just say?” You heard Tony ask as the doors shut behind the both of you.

“What did I do?” You asked while Peter was swinging you to a spot you had deemed as the ‘Kids Room’. Only Peter, Wanda, Pietro, and you were allowed in, and it was just a treehouse that Tony had built in the woods that surrounded the Compound. But it was fun not letting any of the other Avengers in. 

“You called Mr. Stark something you probably didn’t mean to.”

“Peter, what did I say?”

“You called him ‘Mr. Dad.’” Peter explained, you groaned, hiding your face in his neck.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next time you couldn’t find your phone was actually the next day in the gym. Tony had designed you special wireless headphones that would work up to a mile away from your actual phone. Meaning that your phone could be anywhere in the Compound, and while listening to your music, you would have no idea. You had come back last night from your outing with Peter, and got him to swing you directly up to your bedroom so you didn’t have to run into anyone else, before kissing his cheek and telling him good night. You didn’t have feelings for him, it was just something you two always did.

“Captain Rogers!” You called from your place on top of the gymnastics bars, “Have you seen my phone anywhere? I can’t remember where I left it.”

Steve shook his head in response, “I’m sorry, kiddo, I haven’t. Do you want me to call it for you?” He asked, pulling his phone out already.

“Yeah, that might be a good idea- wait.” You dropped off the bars as soon as you heard the first bar of Ice Ice Baby. “Shit!” You exclaimed, running towards the noise.

“Language!” Steve called, following you. His super-soldier hearing was sure to hear what his ringtone was. 

You pulled open the cabinet with the mugs, where you had left your phone this morning after pouring your coffee, and declined the call. “Thanks, Captain.” You muttered, walking off to take your post-training shower.

“I’m starting to think she does this on purpose,” Clint said, poking his head out of the vents.

“What do you mean?” Steve asked in response.

“Just yesterday Y/N forgot where her phone was while Peter was trying to get a hold of her, and Tony had to call her phone. It was sitting on the counter. At least she has a good sense of humour. I wonder what her ringtone is for me..” He wondered thoughtfully.

“What was her ringtone for Tony?” Steve always had more questions.

“Some country song called Who’s Your Daddy. Y/N evidently sees Stark as a father figure, she even called him Mr. Dad by accident yesterday as she was leaving for her picnic with Peter.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was only a few hours later when you couldn’t find your phone yet again. “I’m starting to wonder if someone’s just moving it when I’m not paying attention.” You said, patting your pockets as you walked into the kitchen where Clint was pouring yet another cup of coffee.

“What’s wrong, kiddo?” He asked.

“I can’t find my phone, again!” You exclaimed. “It’s the second time today that it hasn’t been exactly where I thought it was!”

Clint chuckled, “Where did you think you left it this time?”

“My pocket.” You deadpanned, subtly looking behind him to see if he had hidden it from you so he could find out what his ringtone was.

“Should I call you?”

“I wouldn’t. I’ll find it in a few minutes, don’t worry about it.” It was at that moment that you heard Men in Tights from Robin Hood coming from in between the couch cushions. 

You dove towards the couch, but Clint, being taller and stronger, beat you there. “Really? This is my ringtone?”

“Robin Hood’s an archer!” You defended yourself, reaching across him for your phone to turn it off.

Nat walked in at that moment, and started chuckling at the position the two of you were in. “So, sexual tension with people other than your wife, Barton?”

“Nat, he took my phone.” You whined, unable to reach it without physically climbing him. 

“Clint, give Y/N her phone back. Y/N, stop getting mad that people are finding out what your ringtones for them are. You have an excellent sense of humor, and nobody has been mad about their ringtone yet.”

“You guys are keeping a list, aren’t you?” You grimaced. 

Clint and Natasha both laughed, “And keeping track of who laughs at which one.” He added.

“Ouch.” You said softly, putting your phone back in your pocket and heading back into the kitchen. “What’s for dinner?”

“Nobody’s really sure yet. What do you want?” Nat replied.

“If there’s one thing I learned from my missions with HYDRA, it was how to make a mean mac n’ cheese.” You said, pulling the ingredients out of the cupboards. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When you woke up the next morning, it was to someone banging on your door. “Y/N! Training! You’re late!”

You groaned, rolling towards the noise and off the edge of your bed. “Fuck!” You exclaimed, having hit your head on the nightstand.

Bucky rushed in, “Y/N, are you alright, doll?” He helped you sit up while you were holding the back of your head.

“I-” You hissed softly, “hit my head. It hurts, Sarge.”

“Yeah, you’ve got a pretty good gash there, kid. Why weren’t you already up?”

“I don’t know where my phone is, it never went off with my alarm. I always leave it plugged in right there.” You explained, pointing to your laptop, which was currently plugged in. “Huh, charged the laptop last night instead?”

“Let me call you, doll. And then we’ll get you down to Helen in the medbay to get you all fixed up, you’re bleeding.”

“Okay, that’s a good plan.” You started to say, “Wait, my ringt-” But it was too late, Rasputin was playing from somewhere under your bed. 

Bucky laid down on his stomach to get it for you. “Nice choice, kid.” He said, passing your phone back to you before he picked you up bridal style. “Let’s get you to Helen.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You were able to keep track of your phone for the next three days, but while reading on the couch you realized it had been hours since you had last seen it. “Ms. Romanoff?” You called, knowing she was sitting in the kitchen. “I haven’t seen my phone in hours, have you seen it anywhere?”

“Sorry, sweetie, I haven’t. I can call you?” She pulled her phone out, and as she did you remembered what your ringtone is for her.

“I wouldn’t do-” You started to say until you heard Black Widow by Iggy Azalea playing from the fridge. You stood up and walked over to it, opening the door. “What the fuck is my phone doing in there?”

“You must’ve traded your phone for a YOP drink.” Natasha said, ending the call from her end of the phone. “Hm, Barnes was right, you do have good taste in music.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

With Bruce you were always pretty good at keeping your phone handy, which was good, because you didn’t actually have a special ringtone for him, which you guessed made him special in his own right. You just could never think of a song that fit him well enough to be special enough for his ringtone. You spent a little extra time with Bruce to make up for it, plus you figured that whenever you moved your phone, he would make sure that he knew where it was so you wouldn’t lose it. You had a sneaking suspicion that Hulk liked you too, if the way you were able to calm him down was any indication.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was about a week after Natasha had helped you find your phone that you had lost it again. Thor and Loki were back, and while Loki often stayed on Asgard, since Thor insisted he was actually the better king, you enjoyed getting to spend time with both of them. They did both have phones now, since Tony had forced it upon them both last time they were on Earth, so you all would have a means of getting a hold of them, other than praying Heimdall would hear you. They both immediately came to you for help on understanding the Midgardian device. Similar to what Steve and Bucky did with their first phones too, actually.

You had been searching for the last 20 minutes, all over the Compound, and you couldn’t find your phone anywhere. It wasn’t anywhere in your room, your bathroom, you checked all the kitchen cupboards and the fridge, twice; and you had even checked all the furniture in the main living room where you and Loki had been quietly reading that morning after training. Nothing. Your phone was nowhere to be found. You had even poked your head into the lab while Tony and Bruce were gone to see if Peter had seen it. Still no. Your phone was gone. You were just going to have to get a new one and transfer over all of the data. You groaned, flopping down on the couch, data transfers take for-fucking-ever.

“Little angel?” Loki asked. “Is something wrong?”

“I can’t find my phone, as per usual. I’m just gonna go get a new one and do a data transfer, which takes for-fucking-ever to load and it’s annoying as shit.” You flopped your head to look over at him on the other couch, pouting.

“Why don’t you just get someone to call your phone?” He asked. “I can do it if you’d like.”

You sighed, resigned to have left it somewhere stupid yet again. “I guess you’re my last option, Mischief.” Loki pulled his phone out of his pocket and tapped on your contact, calling you. bad guy by Billie Eilish started playing from down the hall, in the training room. You ran towards the noise, picking your phone up once you got there. “Now I remember! I didn’t have pockets in my workout clothes this morning, so I left my phone on the bench. I haven’t needed it, so I didn’t think twice about not having it.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You also didn’t have a ringtone for Rhodey, but he was almost never around, and he never called you anyways. You only had his number in case of emergency, mostly for when Tony was stupidly drunk or if he was fighting with Steve and nobody could get them off of each other.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The morning after Loki had helped you find your phone, you couldn’t find it again. “Nope, I’m not gonna bother, it’ll show up in a few minutes.. or hours..” You mumbled, curling up on the couch with your book. 

Three hours later, after finishing your book, going to training, taking a shower, making everyone lunch, and running some errands, you still hadn’t seen your phone anywhere. You retraced your steps throughout the day, pausing momentarily to ask Bruce if you had had it when you stopped in the lab this morning to ask Tony about an upgrade to your suit. Apparently not.

“Lady Y/N?” Thor asked, coming up behind you. “Are you feeling alright? You’ve been running back and forth across the compound looking like a- what’s the saying?”

“A chicken with my head cut off?” You asked, sighing.

“Yes, that’s it!” Thor exclaimed. “Is something wrong?”

“I can’t find my phone, Thor. That’s all. I’m sure it’ll turn up somewhere.”

Thor picked you up and put you on his shoulders. “If I called you, milady, would it help?”

“I suppose..” You told him, using your gravitational powers to float safely back to the ground. Thor pulled his phone out and you heard Thunder by Imagine Dragons playing from the lab downstairs. “But.. I didn’t have it when I was down here this morning? I guess I could’ve left it down here last night and since it’s the weekend none of my alarms would’ve gone off.”

“Oh, crap, Y/N, I am so sorry.” Bruce said, looking up from his computer. “I was cleaning up the lab this morning and I must’ve put some things on top of your phone and then Tony moved them, and-”

“Bruce, if I had really needed it, I would’ve gotten someone to call it for me sooner. My only missed call is from Thor. Trust me, it’s alright.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When you couldn’t find your phone again right after dinner, you were starting to worry about yourself. I can’t possibly misplace it this often, you thought to yourself. Somebody has to be moving it when I’m not paying attention so they can find out all my ringtones. Or maybe I really am this forgetful. Should I ask Dr. Cho about upping my meds? Should I go off my meds and see what happens? Should I-

“Y/N/N? You alright, sweetie?” Sam asked, interrupting your train of thought. 

You jumped, not having heard his knock on your door. “Oh, Sammy! You scared me! I didn’t hear you come in.”

“It’s alright. You were really lost in thought, huh?”

“Yeah, I was.” You ducked your head, blushing. “Did you need something?”

“I was just coming to check on you. FRIDAY said you were in here pacing.” 

“Oh, yeah, I do that when I’m stressed. Sorry.”

“It doesn’t bother me, honey. Why are you stressed?” He asked, sitting on your bed and patting the spot next to him. 

“I just feel like somebody has to be taking my phone and hiding it. I can’t possibly misplace it this often, right? I was thinking that I should talk to Dr. Cho about my med dosage since I feel like I’m more disorganized on them than I am off. It’s not even just my phone, other than the bobby pin under the colouring books in my top left desk drawer, I never know where anything is anymore.”

“Okay, so we’ll find your phone and go talk to Helen about your meds. Problem solved.” Sam wrapped an arm around you and pulled out his phone to call you. 

You nuzzled into his side and mumbled, “What if I don’t want you to find out what my ringtone for you is?”

He kissed the top of your head. “We’ve all loved your ringtones for us, honey. Do you trust me?”

“Of course I do.” As you said this, Sam clicked the ‘call’ button on your contact and Fly Like A Bird by Nelly Furtado started playing from the hallway. You opened the door and found your phone on the little table next to your door. “Fuck.” You said under your breath. 

“Hey,” Sam said, wrapping you in a hug and resting his chin on your head. “That’s hilarious, sweetie. I love it.”

You turned around in his arms and wrapped your own around him, “You’re not mad?”

“Of course not. Now what’s this I hear about Barnes having his hands on my girl last week while I was on a mission?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After fixing your meds up with Sam and Dr. Cho, you were able to keep track of your phone for about 5 days. Sam helped. But, now, you had just finished training with Wanda and Pietro and you had no idea where your phone was. This was especially making you think you were crazy since these workout clothes have pockets. Both front and back. “Sammy! Have you seen my phone?” You asked, poking your head into his apartment.

“Sorry, sweetheart.” He called from under the bathroom sink. “Have you asked Wanda and Pietro? I know you were just training with them.”

“Nope, I came here on my way to them. I’ll see you tonight?”

“Of course you will, it’s movie night.”

“Right, yeah. I forgot. Okay, I’m gonna go find Wanda and Piet, but I’ll see you later.” You said, kissing his forehead and shutting the door behind you. The next thing you knew, you heard Red by Taylor Swift playing from somewhere above you. That was your ringtone for Wanda, she was calling you?

“Up here, sora!” You heard Wanda call from the balcony. Looking up, you saw her waving your phone and you quickly used your gravity powers to float it down to you. “Oh, Y/N/N, you did such a great job controlling your powers!” Wanda shouted, running down the stairs to wrap you in a hug.

Pietro was right behind her, and all of a sudden you were in the middle of a group hug with the twins. “Well, princessa, now that we know what your ringtone for Wanda is, we have to find out what it is for me.” 

“Speed, I am speed.” came blaring through your phone speakers in the voice of Owen Wilson, who played Lightning McQueen in the movie Cars. You sighed, dropping your head onto Wanda’s shoulder as you declined Pietro’s call.

“That is the best thing in the world, princessa.” Pietro said, speeding you back to your apartment. “We’ll see you at movie night tonight?”

You nodded, leaning in the doorway. “Of course you will, Speedy. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next morning, just when you thought you were done with everybody calling you to find out their ringtone, King T’Challa and Princess Shuri showed up. 

“Y/N?” Shuri asked, knocking on your door, “Are you awake yet, love?”

You flung your door open, “Yes, I am, but I was looking for my phone before I came out for breakfast.”

“Oh, let me just call you.” Shuri pulled out her phone and called you, and Get Lucky by Daft Punk and Pharrell Williams started playing from down the hallway, in the kitchen.

You walked down the hall, into the kitchen, where everybody was eating breakfast, blushing. “Couldn’t find your phone again, honey?” Sam asked. You nodded, grabbing it out from under your favourite mug.

“How did it even get out here? I had it last night in bed.”

“No you didn’t, you were in here making popcorn and brought your phone with you. You never brought it back, so I just assumed you grabbed it on our way to bed last night.”

“I must not have.” You said, finally remembering to hang up the call to make the song stop.

Natasha wrote something down on her phone, you assumed she was continuing to add to the list of ringtones she was keeping. “Hey, T’Challa, you’re the only one that we don’t know Y/N’s ringtone for, would you mind calling her for us?” Tony asked.

“Of course I can,” T’Challa said, pulling his phone out.

You quickly tapped on your phone, changing T’Challa’s ringtone while you still had a chance. Unfortunately, you weren’t fast enough because The Pink Panther started playing as your phone lit up with a call from the Wakandan King. “Crap.” You mumbled, declining the call.

“Oh, honey.” Sam said, walking over to you and wrapping you in a hug. “Your sense of humour is absolutely the light of our lives. Has anybody disliked what Y/N/N’s ringtone for them was?” Everybody shook their heads.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

All in all, losing your phone so often because of your ADHD didn’t end up being so bad. But Clint got his ass kicked when Peter found your phone left in the vents one day. Turns out, when Clint isn’t hiding your phone, you actually don’t lose it all that often.

I hope you enjoyed! Once again, I have no idea how to end fics, so you get that piece of shit as a last paragraph.

[idkwhatever580]

Sleepy Doug

*y/n walks to their room and finds Natasha almost asleep.*

“Sleepy doug”

*this alerts Natasha*

“What are you saying?”

*shrugs*

“I dunno. It’s a vocal stim. Also kind of a right of passage. You’re sleepy. Therefore. Sleepy Doug.”

*nat rolls her eyes and holds open the covers*

“Get in you weirdo”

*y/n giggles and jumps in. They cuddle and right before falling asleep y/n mumbles*

“Sleepy Dougs”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Masterlist

Taglist <comment on any post to be added :)

@ilovesnat @ihartnat @marvelnatasha12346

[kj-1130]

Can you write something where the reader is an avenger who has adhd? ❤️

Being an Avenger with ADHD Includes..

Steve has to continually remind you to finish up mission reports

Because you’d get distracted and end up doodling anything that came to mind

Or you’d end up baking cookies, whatever tickles your pickle

Wanda tries to help you keep your room clean and organized

Key word: tries

She’ll help you clean it and it’ll stay that way for a day--if that.

All she knows is that the next time she walks into your room, it’s as if a tornado flew through it.

“There’s order to the mess Wanda, I know where everything is.”-you

“But I just cleaned it??”-Wanda

“Oh! Well you see I was looking for one of my tsum tsum things to give to you as a thank you. But I can’t find them.”

She can never stay mad at you long

And even if she does you distract her with rants about giraffes (bc i have an unhealthy obsession with giraffes)

You end up convincing her to show you her wiggly woos somehow

And then the two of you will watch movies and hang out until you get bored and do something else

Natasha has beat you multiple times in sparring

Not because she’s better than you (as you say, Nat says otherwise) but because you get distracted so easily.

You’ll catch a glimpse of a butterfly flying outside and all of a sudden you’re being knocked on the floor

“And to think I was gonna share my gigantic double chocolate chip cookie with you later today.”

She always laughs at you when you say something like that because she (and you) know that you’ll end up sharing it anyway

Tony enjoys your rants

He’ll be in his lab doing whatever he does when you practically strut in, plop down on one of the benches, and start talking about whatever your heart desires

It gives him a chance to relax honestly

He prefers the sound of your voice to the sound of the music he plays sometimes but he’ll never tell you that

Sam and you will go back and forth, sharing dad jokes

It's definitely one of your favorite past times

In addition to that, the two of you also mess with Bucky together

Sam will be bickering with him while you stick hello kitty magnets all over his arm

To be honest, Bucky doesn’t mind it much

Team bonding (something that Steve forced you all to do) is a wild ride

One second you’ll be talking about the different types of butterflies and next thing they know, you’re going on about knives (no bc ive literally made this segue before??)

But they love you for it and wouldn’t have it any other way

-_-_-_-

Taglist

@stillmanicc @annestine @ymzki-haruki @jesuswasnotawhiteman @moonslattes @yomama010101 @sebastian-vettels @mylove4life @blueposthings @idek-5 @sirsell @augustvandyne @uselessgay101 @emiliaisdead @evilcr0ne @simpforhotch @bunnyweasley23 @atlas-nex

[levelsevenlaserlotus]

Do y’all mind bullying me into writing part 6 of holy ground plsss??? Idk like verbally abuse me in the comments plsss. I have part 6 kinda plotted out but I’m feeling lazy and don’t want to write but also want to write.

[peachyteabuck]

bitter to the taste

summary: after a long mission, natasha and steve return to find you’ve broken their number one rule. 

pairing: natasha romanoff x steve rogers x reader

words: 2,045

trigger warnings: brat taming, degradation, punishment (spanking), dirty talk, fingering, orgasm control

notes: this is my birthday present to @domromanoff! not only a wonderful writer, they’re a fantastic friend and the owner to a simply adorable kitten. enjoy!

ask box / masterlist / commission info / ko-fi

You cling to Steve’s pants leg, expertly manicured nails gripping into the fabric as you tuck your face behind his calf. The man sighs as he feels you sniffle against the expensive fabric, doing your best to hide from the wrath of the woman standing just in front of the sitting man.

“You know how I feel about rule-breaking, Steve,” Natasha sighs, looking between her husband and your trembling form below him. “If we don’t punish her, she’s just going to break more rules.”

Steve tsks, leaning down so he can pet at your hair. “Oh, baby, our little girl wouldn’t do such a thing,” he turns to you, sticking his bottom lip out to mimic your pout. “No, you love following directions from Daddy, don’t you baby girl?”

You grin up at him, playing with the hem of his pants in an attempt to look extra cute. “Yes, Daddy!”

Natasha scowls, shaking her head. “That’s bullshit and we fucking know it, Steve. You saw how wet her panties were when we came home. It’s obvious she touched herself without permission!”

The man just rolls his eyes, continuing to rub his thumb into your temple. “Babe, when we set that rule at least one of us always been there whenever her desperate little cunt needed us. Even if she broke it, we’ve been gone so often we can’t really blame her, can we?”

Your core heats at his words – speaking about you as if you weren’t digging your perfectly manicured nails into his muscular calf and could hear everything they were both saying. You love it when he does that, when he gives you no choice in whatever he chooses to do, when he makes you feel all small and dumb as his cock fucks in and out of you without mercy.

Natasha rolls her eyes, heeled foot still tapping against the hardwood floor at a tempo that makes your head spin and your whole body clutch at Steve’s leg even harder than before. You’re not sure why becoming something akin to a needy koala would protect you from the wrath of the redhead, but it’s still your only hope for avoiding your ass spanked raw – even if its chance of working is slim to none.

“Steve, we absolutely can,” she bites back – stomping closer towards you as you bury your face into Steve’s calf. At the least second she crouches down, her body awash with a faux caring demeanor. “Do you want me to be mean baby?” she coos, pouting her bottom lip. “You want me to tie you down so you can’t move, can’t squirm or writhe when it gets too much? Is that it? Do you want me to edge you all night, edge you until it hurts and then ruin every single orgasm I let you have until you cry so pretty for me?”

You shake your head, tentatively moving so that you can look at her with your own large, round eyes that silently plead for mercy. For a moment you have hope that it’ll work, that she’ll go easy on you or even give you what you want. But it’s only a second later that you realize you were wrong – very wrong.

Steve exhales deeply as Natasha reaches out to grab you by the hair – his actions relaxed as you yelp in reaction to the sharp pain spreading from your scalp to the base of your spine. She drags you through the large house, ignoring your whines as Steve follows close behind. His stride is casual, almost bored – he’s witnessed this back and forth before, seen the fire in Natasha’s eyes and fat, watery tears from fall from yours as they beg Steve for mercy, pity, anything. It’s unwavering – the look you give him – even as Natasha sits on the edge of their shared king-sized bed with her feet flat on the floor, bending you over her knee as she pins both your hands behind your back with one hand wrapped around where she’s crossed them on top of each other.

Steve sits next to his wife so that your head is resting in his lap, gazing down at you an unfortunate, disgraceful painting his face. There’s nothing there for you to pull at, nothing you can manipulate to get you out of the compromising position you’ve found yourself in, even as Natasha begins one of her famous punishments.

She doesn’t both undressing you before she begins, flipping your white tennis skirt up over your ass and tucking it under your hands before pulling your matching cotton panties as far as they’ll go to reveal your bare ass. Her spanks are hard and succinct, never stopping to coo over your tears or rub at the heated parts of your ass. You keep position, though, keep your arms behind your back as your wide, tear-filled eyes beg Steve for intervention, for praise, for something. At this point you’d even accept him degrading you – a job normally left to Natasha.

Unfortunately, it’s become obvious that tonight is different than the others – Natasha and Steve particularly stressed from the bullshit Tony handed down to them since the billionaire is unable to manage is own emotions weaning their capacities for your bullshit down to near nothingness. You consider sending the man a strongly worded email as the spanks enter the double digits, the pain causing you to weep openly into the fabric of the pants you once clutched for support. You count to twenty-four before she’s rubbing a rough hand into the heated skin and commanding you to thank her.

When it comes out more mumbled, more hushes than she would like, Natasha immediately grabs your hair to yank your head straight back.

“Say it again,” she hisses through grit teeth, ignoring your cries of pain as her other hand comes down to leave a quick smack! to your face. “I don’t care if it hurts - I want to hear you.”

Your voice is high-pitched and desperate “Thank you, Mommy!”

“Aw, so our little slut can follow directions,” Natasha coos, her voice tinged with laughter that should make you feel much more ashamed than it does horny. “Too bad she has to be beaten into it.”

She punctuates her words with a final harsh SLAP! against your dripping pussy, eliciting another high-pitched scream that only dies when Steve begins to pet over your face and hair to calm you down.

“Nat, do you always have to be so harsh?” he sighs, wiping a few tears that stain your cheeks.

The woman in question just grins, ghosting her fingers over your abused skin and nearly laughing as you twitch under touch. “Is there any other way to be?”

Steve rolls his eyes at his wife’s dramatics, but still manhandles you into his lap at her direction – pressing your back to his chest as your breasts rise and fall with your heavy breaths. He knows what Natasha wants, positioning his legs over yours to keep them open while one of his hands holds your skirt up so reveal your now-soaked panties, the cool air hitting nearly-transparent fabric and sending a feeling down your spine that makes you moan.

Natasha’s eyes zero in on your trembling cunt, smirking as she looks up to see your face heating up while you try to hide behind your hands. “You’re so needy, aren’t you? And all it took was some discipline and now you’re a little crying mess, all small and obedient for Daddy and Mommy…”

She gives Steve a small nod, giving him the cue to push your panties to the side, her grin getting impossibly wider as you melt against him.

“You’re our pretty little toy, aren’t you?” Natasha murmurs, watching as his fingers rub circles around your clit. “Our cute little toy with cute little whines and whimpers…”

Steve grins as well as your wanton moans fill the bedroom, leaving kisses on your temple as your pussy tightens around Natasha’s fingers. His voice is sweet, filled with love – and it makes his words all that much filthier. “Such a pathetic little toy for us, aren’t you baby? Just our dumb little toy…” Your fervent nodding, your mindless agreement with his degradation of you – it makes his cock strain even harder in his pants. “Don’t need to think at all…just be soft and pretty and do what we say, don’t you baby?”

You cry out as Natasha begins fucking her fingers in and out of you even harder – your face scrunching up as your legs twitch where they’re held in place. “Y-yes Daddy! I’m your dumb little baby!”

Your cries get even more pathetic, though, when Natasha pulls her fingers out of you to use that hand to slap you once more – leaving a trail of your own slick against your cheek. “Don’t speak unless I tell you to,” she snaps, ignoring your cries as her fingers slip back inside of you. “It’s a shame you’re stupid…at least you’re pretty.”

Her words shouldn’t make your head swim like it does – shouldn’t make heat pool between your legs as she fits one more finger inside of you, working in tandem with Steve to illicit humiliating wet sounds from your cunt.

“You want me to fill this wet little pussy don’t you?” Natasha murmurs, more speaking to herself than to you. “You want Steve and I to fill your filthy little cunt? Want to feel both of us inside of your tight little hole?”

Your eyes are wide and pleading, desperate for something – anything.

But then Natasha sighs, and that’s always a bad sign. “It’s too bad you’re a bad little slut.”

Yup. There it is.

“You’re going to come on my fingers,” you immediately moan in anticipation but it’s almost immediately cut off with a yelp as another SLAP is landed on your pussy with Natasha’s free hand. “And then you’re on no-touch for a week. You’ll be Daddy and I’s adorable little fleshlight until we say otherwise.”

You gasp and shoot forward, the reality of your future crashing down on you at once. “N-no Mommy! Please! Please I’ll do anything please don’t put me on no touch Mom-!”

You’re cut off by one of Steve’s large hands covering your mouth, pulling you against his chest and holding you in place.

Natasha smiles up at him, eyes knowing as you get tighter and tighter around her fingers. “Now, that wasn’t so hard, was it babe?”

Steve just rolls his eyes as she speaks down to you, her sweet voice an incredibly hot juxtaposition to her words “It’s so easy to make you beg, isn’t it? So easy to make you into a desperate little whore? All you little brats are all the same, you act out and do whatever you want and the second someone threatens a modicum of structure or punishment and you fall apart…”

Her words trail off as she realizes how close you are, as she sees each muscle in your body tense while your hands tangle in the sheets and your jaw goes slack and your brow furrows and

“Do it,” she leans forward to whisper into your temple, your head tucked under Steve’s chin as your eyes roll to the back of your head. “C’mon, baby girl, c’mon – you can do it, you can come on from Mommy and Daddy’s fingers all over your pretty little pussy…”

You finally – finally reach your peak with a moan that sounds more animal than human, Steve holding your trembling body as you shake near-violently, your cunt gushing onto the sheets below as your already soaked panties and the seat of your skirt become drenched with your slick and sweat. It’s disgusting but so hot, and makes you pant even harder as your lungs claw at your throat for air.

Steve moves his legs so that you can curl into his lap, whole body folding into itself as Natasha moves closer to hold your face with both of her soaked hands. “Go to sleep baby,” she murmurs between kisses. “We’ll discuss your full punishment tomorrow.”

As unconsciousness overwhelms your senses, a sense of relief floods your veins as the pleasure subsides. Natasha only negotiates when she knows she’s lost…especially when it comes to you and Steve.