#not to mention on this. clint feels guilty about booting tony out due to the bylaws in west coast

[movedto-mastcrmarksman]

@overclocks posting avengers: solo again and I have feelings bout that whole mini; from everything in that. Clint lying to Steve and Tony, to hiding the whole thing cause how it'd affect Steve, to the conversation he has with Tony reminding him that Tony's done this before, and everything about that.

#// izzy got me thinking about the boys last night so#// i went and dug this up#// there are so many underrated relationships in the avengers#// and you know what tony and clint are one of those#// like this is just one example but#// what about the time clint was losing his eyesight and tony tried to help#// or the fact that tony's the one that built clint's hearing aids#// or how about marvel's avengers#// where clint who had been on a real shit stick of a ride the last few years#// knew tony had too and tried to reach out and be support for him#// clenches fist#// clint and tony matter to me a lot#// tony sponsored clint for avengers membership#// and i just love them

[satansluthouse]

You were my mission (Pt 2) Bucky Barnes x Reader

Hey! Heres part two to the story. I hope you guys enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it! I’m very proud of this part and I can’t wait to write the next part!!

Read Part 1 Here 

Word Count: 4351

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader (over 18 ofc)

Warnings: Language, there’s probably more but I’m blanking right now so put them in the tags if you find anything possibly triggering!

You awoke to the sound of a cryptically loud alarm going off throughout the compound. A simultaneous groan could be heard from every room that had someone in it. Tony had wired it so that the alarm wouldn’t shut off in your room unless you specifically asked FRIDAY to do so. Laying, pushing the soft pillow beneath your head against your ears to try and muffle the sound you let out a groan.

“Friday, will you please turn the alarm off?” You yelled into the air.

“Sure thing Ms. Y/L/N.” Friday chirped in her usual tone.

“Thank you.” 

“No problem!” 

You had never gotten entirely used to the idea of talking and giving commands to an AI seemingly living in the walls, but you had to admit that is was helpful. Kind of like an Alexa but smarter. 

Wanting to lay in your bed for just a few more minutes despite having a mission to prepare for, you opened your eyes when you heard your door swing open and in walked Natasha. She sat next to you on the bed, her red hair a mess and began to shake you lightly.

“Y/N come on you gotta get up.” She said, sleep evident in her voice.

“I don’t wanna.” You groaned.

“I know, me neither. Don’t really feel like getting kicked in the ribs but I have you to protect me.” 

“Oh, so what am I now? Your human shield?” You say to her, propping yourself up on your elbows.

“No, more like badass protector because after all, you are more qualified than me somehow? I think there was a glitch when your file was being printed.”

“It wouldn’t surprise me but I just don’t see how that’s possible? You’ve been doing this a lot longer than I have and trained longer than I was for that matter. Just seems janky if you ask me.” You said, sitting up completely and scooting next to Natasha, resting your head on her shoulder.

Laughing, Natasha agreed. “Yeah, super freakin janky...anyways, babe, we gotta get ready and head out to the jet so get your ass up and don’t take forever? I want you to braid my hair.”  

“Okay, okay I’m getting up but no promises that I’ll be the first one out, you know I have to take my morning walk on the beach, darling.” You responded sarcastically, putting extra stress on the pet name earning an eye roll from her.

“God you will be the death of me Y/N, now get dressed! And brush your teeth.” She said before walking out of your room and shutting the door behind her. 

You and Natasha have been the topic of many discussions due to your use of pet names when speaking to each other. Sam was convinced for a solid month that you two were a couple only to be let down hard after he pulled you aside and announced that he was very happy that you were being yourselves. Apparently, the other guys had a bet on how long he would believe you two were in an actual relationship and Steve won.

Standing up, you walked over to your bathroom and stripped your self of your clothing before stepping into the shower and turning it on, the water cold for a few seconds before it warmed up to a reasonable temperature. You didn’t spend much time in the shower before getting out, drying off, brushing your teeth as Natasha said, and finding your uniform. It was simple, black, with gold here and there, and kind of tight but it wasn’t anything that bothered you. You put it on, finding your belt that holds your weapons, thigh holster, and putting on your boots, lacing them up tightly. You walked out of your room, shutting the door you began to walk down the dimly lit hallway. You weren’t necessarily prepared for this mission mentally. You were exhausted, constantly carrying around the weight of guilt and keeping on a happy face so no one would worry about you. You knew you were here for good, to redeem yourself even but you could never seem to forgive yourself for the damage you caused in the past.

Lost in your thoughts you walk slowly tracing your finger against the wall, feeling all of its bumps and ridges. You barely noticed when Bucky walked out of his room but you soon stopped in your tracks as you watched him. He had his back turned to lock his door with a key he had and to be honest, you didn’t know just why he was so keen on keeping his door locked but that just made you even more interested in him and his motives for his actions. Sticking the key in his pocket, he turned around and immediately locked eyes with you. He smiled at you causing your stomach to do backflips and your heart to nearly stop. He was the most beautiful person you’d ever seen, from his soft brown hair, to the way his eyes sparkled no matter what, to his scars, his metal arm that he tried so hard to keep hidden. You thought it was all beautiful. You noticed all of this when he was nothing but a mere mission but you pushed all of those thoughts aside for the longest time. Of course, it would take a conversation about gardening to make all of those feelings and thoughts about him come back and suddenly you didn’t know how to act around him let alone think.

“Mornin’ Doll.” Bucky said, his voice and use of Doll making you blush.

“Goodmorning Bucky! How’d you sleep?” 

“I didn’t really, but how about you? How’d you sleep?” He asked as the two of you began walking down the hallway, footsteps in sync.

“I slept okay, I wish I could have slept longer but duty calls.” You replied, “So why didn’t you sleep?”

“Um, Nightmares mostly... but you wouldn’t believe just how interesting that book was last night.” 

“Oh trust me I know, it is one of my finest reads.” You exclaim to him, both of you laughing. “But the nightmares, do you have them every night?” You ask him, looking into his eyes.

“Pretty much, yes. I can’t remember the last time I slept without having one actually.” He says, his voice growing quieter and the line you often saw appearing between his eyebrows when he had a troubling thought.

“I finally stopped having so many. I barely slept for years but now that I’ve stopped having so many, I would sleep forever if I could.” 

“You have nightmares?”

“Yeah, well, used to. They come and go occasionally but I started doing this really intense therapy program Tony invented crossed with just seeing a regular therapist and picking up new hobbies and they started to just kind of fade away.” You paused,

 “I could see if you can do the program Tony made? I know you guys aren’t on amazing terms but I’m sure I could talk him into it, both he and I know too well how bad things can get in your head.”

Bucky looked at you and smiled that damned smile again.

“Yeah that’d be great, thank you Y/N.” He said as you entered the main living area through the kitchen where all of the others were already settled eating something.

“It’s no problem!” You chirped before joining Natasha and Wanda at the table where food was laid out. You picked up a piece of bacon and took a bite.

“Glad to see you’re not dead!” Natasha said sarcastically. You playfully nudged her shoulder before responding.

“Yes, clearly I’m alive and thriving.” You say, gesturing to your eyebags. 

“Are you two ready for the mission?” Wanda asked giggling.

“Not as much as I’d like but you know I’ll kick ass nevertheless.” You said smiling.

“We’ll kick ass.” Natasha corrects with a nod of her head.

“Ah yes, the inseparable duo that is you and me.” You state, throwing your arms around her. Natasha places her hands on top of yours squeezing them as Tony enters the room asking for everyone’s attention.

“So today is mission day as you all know and I would like to go over one last time the general layout of where you will all be and what we’re up against.” Tony announced, bringing up the map of the general area that you saw last night. “The main threats are these people who call themselves ‘The Masters Of Evil’, pretty cliche if you ask me, anyway, there’s Justine Hammer who refers to herself as Crimson Cowl, Tanya Sealy, Cap you know her she calls herself Black Mamba, then there’s Zemo another friendly face I’m sure with a few HYDRA agents to back him up, and some man that calls himself ‘Machinesmith’ which seem’s like a total rip of of Iron Man by the way. Y/N and Bruce got the main information about them and what they’re about, some of you, of course, have already gone toe to toe with them though. Y/N , Bruce...wherever he is, go over things again, will you? Just as a refresher course before we kick some ass.” 

You stood up and walked over to where Tony had previously been standing, Bruce nowhere to be seen. You pulled up each portfolio you had made on the enemies as you’re still tasked to do the homework on the people you fight, except this time you don’t feel as guilty. Pulling up Justine’s portfolio, you begin to speak.

“So this is Justine Hammer, who most commonly refers to herself as Crimson Cowl and is the assumed leader of the Masters Of Evil. Her motives for consistently attempting to attack Mr.Stark these past few months seem to be that Tony mentioned that her father, frozen and floating around in space would quote-unquote ‘live forever’, she wasn’t happy needless to say. We also have reason to suspect that she is targeting Tony due to the fact that he openly works and operates with Natasha, Clint, and James, enemies since Budapest. Justine’s strengths and abilities include flight, teleportation, and shapeshifting available due to her cloak. She’s highly trained in unarmed combat, she’s a supposed master negotiator and sadistically shrewd business-woman. So the game plan is to take the cloak if you can. Go to whatever lengths you can to get it off of her to get her vulnerable.” You say and turn to Clint, Signing to him asking him if he got all of the information. 

“Yeah, I have my hearing aids in.” He responded, turning his head and showing his ear.

“Okay, I was just making sure. Does anybody need me to go over anything else regarding Justine or can we move on?” You ask, eyes scanning the room.

“So once her cloak comes off, she’s done for?” Sam asked.

“Pretty much, as long as you know for sure you can take her.” You responded. “Okay anyone else?” You waited and nothing.

“Okay moving onto Tanya Sealy, also known as Black Mamba, I couldn’t find much on her but I did find out that she has limited telepathic abilities due to a cranial implant given to her by Roxxon Energy Corp. The full extent of her powers is unknown so whoever takes her on will be walking in blind so watch out for her. Cap, I know you’ve been affiliated with her before do you have any information regarding her powers? I meant to ask last night.” 

“No, I never took her on one on one but she’s up there so we definitely need to keep an eye on her.”  Steve responded.

“Okay great.”

 You slide through her portfolio and onto Zemos. “Now we all know who Zemo is and what he’s capable of, correct?” I asked, a murmur of agreement soon following. Your eyes travel over to where Bucky is sat, a stern look on his face as you can see his fists clench.

“He will most likely have HYDRA agents with him as Tony said so if needed I’m going to need immediate backup on Barnes in case they’re after him by any means necessary. We don’t win this fight unless we all win together. Now for our last guy, we have Machinesmith. Machinesmith like Justine, can shapeshift so stay close and stay personal with whoever you’re with before anything gets out of hand. I would recommend a code word or a signal that only you and that person know so if there is no response on anyone’s end, you’ll know it’s Justine or Machinesmith. And that’s all I have. Does anyone have any questions?” Silence again. 

“Okay great, if anyone needs any of this information, I have it uploading and sending it to each of your communicators so study it if need be.” You finish before walking back over to the table where Natasha and Wanda sat while Tony took back over. This was going to be a long day.

The refresher course had finished and everyone seemed slightly more prepared than before. This was a mission where you truly didn’t know what was in store as the whole group is made up of mortals in suits with guns or super soldiers. It was time to load onto the Quinjets, Tony, Bruce, Clint, Rhodey, and Vision loading up into one and You, Wanda, Natasha, Bucky, Sam, and Steve loading into the other, Natasha taking the pilot seat.

The mission was in Lagos where Justine and her group were confirmed to be hiding out by Maria Hill so that’s where you were headed.

“Hey, do you still want me to braid your hair, Nat?”  You asked standing beside the woman flying the jet.

“Yes please.” She said sweetly, smiling up at you. You stood behind her and began to mess with her hair, combing through the tangles of her soft hair with your fingers before carefully putting it into a neat french braid. When you were finished you tied it off with an elastic you had on your wrist and patted the top of her head. 

“All done!” 

“Thank you hon! You’re the sweetest.” She said, feeling her hair.

“It’s no problem.” You responded before walking and taking an empty seat next to Bucky.

“You okay?” You ask him, your shoulder brushing against his metal one.

“Of course doll.” He says, his brows knit together.

“I know things are going to be hard with HYDRA and everything but if you need to talk about it you can talk to me.” 

“I just-” He started, “I’m afraid what Shuri did didn’t work and that all of that stuff is still in my head and what if they try and use the words against me? I don’t want to hurt any of you and I can’t control what those words do to me.” 

You looked at him, tears evident in his eyes, you slipped your hand into his metal one, lacing your fingers with his. He looked at you just as a tear slipped out of one of his eyes which were home to so much fear but comfort in an odd way. 

“I won’t let them get to you.” You said, wiping the tear rolling down his cheek with your free hand. “I promise.” Smiling at him, his blue eyes soften and he closes them as your hand lay still cupping his face. For all he knew, this was just some friendly gesture but to you, this was expressing your feelings for him in one of the only ways you knew how without directly speaking them into existence.

“You know, people are usually scared of my arm.” He said, a light laugh escaping his lips.

“Really? I think it’s really cool! I love it.” You told him, smiling up at him before examining his arm some more. His eyes stayed on you as you felt up and down on all of the grooves of his arm. He had never met anyone that was so interested in what most people were scared of. It was his weapon. It was the first-way HYDRA had left a definitive mark on him. Although the arm configured by HYDRA was long gone, he still couldn’t help but feel like a monster when he had his on.

“So can you feel things with it? Is that even possible?” 

“Not necessarily. I can’t touch something and feel it but phantom pains pop up from time to time.” 

“Phantom pains?” You questioned.

“Pain in my arm even though my arm isn’t there anymore. It’s weird and there’s no way to prevent them because it’s all a mental thing.” He explained.

“That’s so weird...I can’t even begin to think about what it would be like losing one of my limbs but can you imagine? We’d be like bionic badass’s on the battlefield and in real life.” You had never heard Bucky truly laugh until that moment. Every other time always did make your heart flutter but this time you could tell it was true, you could tell it was genuine, and it wasn’t soft. It was a pure laugh from James Buchanan Barnes. You smiled and laughed with him.

“I must say doll, you would look great with a bionic leg.” 

“Oh really? Which leg? I was thinking my right one would be a nice look.” You told him, sticking out your right leg to examine it. Bucky squeezed your hand tighter, making you blush. 

“That’s what I was thinking.” He said.

“Great minds think alike, Sargent Barnes.” You exclaim to him.

“If you two lovebirds could stop flirting in public space, that would be great!” Natasha called out from the front of the jet, causing you and Bucky to blush like crazy.

“Nat, how about you pay attention to the sky instead of our conversations you creep.”

“Well, that’s no fun.” 

“Well, that’s too bad. Now be quiet!” You tell her before she playfully flips you the bird making you roll your eyes. You turn back to Bucky and smile. 

“You know how I said something about code words? In the case of shapeshifting?” You asked him, receiving a head nod in return. “Okay, so what if our code word was Bionic leg? It could even work for the whole team.”  Bucky chuckled and began to respond.

“Yeah that would work.”

“Yay!” You said, “So bionic leg it is. Hey Nat? Wanda? Steve?” 

“Yeah, babe what's up?” You heard Nat say,

“Yeah?” Wanda, Sam, and Steve said in unison.

“For the code word we’re gonna use ‘Bionic Leg’ is that okay?” You asked them, agreement coursing through the jet.

“Shouldn’t we have a response of some sort? You know, for confirmation?” Wanda asked.

“Oh yeah! How about ‘It feels fine, thank you very much.’ “ You said, looking around for confirmation, hearing Nat snort and mock you.

“Natasha, shut up! This is for our safety, now let the other guys know please.” You told her.

“Aye Aye Y/N.”

You rolled your eyes once again and tilted your head, resting it on Bucky’s shoulder. You were exhausted and had no idea how much longer you’d be stuck in the air so resisting the urge to close your eyes was useless. You had been hoping for so long to become closer with Bucky and you feel like it’s finally happening, but it was all happening so fast. Your feelings were out of your control and quite frankly, there was no where else in the world you’d rather be than right there next to him. You quickly dozed off into a deep sleep for the first time in what felt like a million years, the amount of comfort you felt was unreal. Bucky looked at you as you were passed out and couldn’t help but smile. He looked up and he met eyes with Steve. 

“I can’t believe you still haven’t told her.” Steve said in a hushed tone.

“Well, I’ve never exactly gotten the chance.” Bucky exchanged back in a whisper, careful not to wake you up.

“How about last night when you were up sharing gardening secrets with each other?” Natasha retorted, earning a snort from Wanda.

“Gardening Secrets? Really dude?” Sam responded, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Shut up.” Bucky replied to Sam.

“Either need to tell her or else I’m gonna make a move on her, I’m sure she’d love the excellency that is the Falcon.” 

“Ha! You wish. You literally thought she was a lesbian a few months ago or did we all collectively agree to forget that?” Wanda added to the conversation.

“Well it is my motto to never pass up the opportunity for a hot date-” Sam began to speak before Steve cut him off, 

“She has called you Big Bird on multiple occasions, Sam.”

“And lucky for her, pet names are my thing.” 

Bucky glared at him. “I’m going to talk to her! I just need time. And plus there’s no definitive chance she’ll feel the same way.” 

“There’s no way in hell that girl who has her head on your shoulder, sleeping while holding your hand might I add, does not feel the same way!” Natasha insisted from the front of the jet. 

Bucky sighed and looked at you. Ever since you showed up in his life, you’re all he could think about. He didn’t want to infatuate with your recovery or life by attempting to pursue a relationship with you, but deep down that’s all he wanted. He would always try and find ways to talk to you without stumbling over his words, his brain suddenly going blank every time he tried to speak with you, half of each interaction ending with him calling you ‘Doll’. He was taken aback by the sheer amount of conversation you two had partaken in over the past 24-hours and his head was a mess. Everytime you looked at him, he felt things he had never felt before. Sure, in the 40’s, he would go on countless dates with countless girls, but now he can’t remember any of their faces and when he tries, he only sees you.

“Can we have this conversation at a different time and place?” Bucky insinuated.

“You have three days Barnes.” Sam declared, “Three days to tell her and if you don’t? That’s where I come in.”

“Whatever, big bird.” Bucky sneered, Sam glaring at him.

Rolling her eyes at the conversation, Natsha spoke up. “Hey you guys we’re here to fight bad guys, not eachother so shut up maybe?” 

About an hour or so had passed and you were still asleep, except you had moved from leaning your head on Bucky’s shoulder, to laying your head in his lap. His fingers mindlessly played with your hair, Bucky lost in his thoughts. Your eyes slowly peeled open and the sight above you made you smile. Bucky had his eyes closed, his head leaning back onto the wall of the jet. He was so beautiful and he didn’t even know it. You pushed yourself up into a sitting position and yawned.

“We’re almost there I think.” Bucky announced to you, a small smile on his face.

“Okay.” You sighed. “How long was I out?” 

“A little over an hour give or take. How do you feel?” He questioned, his hands no longer occupied in your hair but resting on his lap.

You exhaled heavily through your nose. “I feel better than before, I could still sleep though.”

“Y/N? Are you awake?” Natasha asked, turning her head to look at you.

Standing up and stretching, you walk towards Natasha and stop yourself on her left side. “No, I’m just really good at sleepwalking. What’s up?” 

“We’re about to land, can you and Wanda make sure the supplies are together?”

“Yeah of course!” 

Smiling Natasha continued, “Thank you, dear! Boys can you come up here for a minute?

You walk to the back of the jet and join Wanda in going through the checklist of supplies which range from food and water, to changes of clothes if need be, to ammunition.

“So, you and Bucky hm?” Wanda teased in a hushed tone, nudging your arm with her own.

“What about me and Bucky?” 

Going through, checking the ammunition Wanda went on. “You two seem to have gotten pretty close.” 

“Really? We just started really talking last night.” You recounted, “Dunno why we had never really talked before but he’s so nice to talk to.” Looking back at him, you see him being stared down by Sam who had always seemed to have a problem with him claiming he ‘stole his steering wheel out of his car’. Although Nat and Steve corroborated that claim, you found it silly.

“Nat everything’s here!” Wanda called out.

Turning away from the conversation up front, she responded. “Thank you guys!”

Putting everything back in its place, you begin to load your belt up with weapons and ammunition, placing a large knife in your thigh holster. Sometimes you envied Wanda deeply as most of her battles were fought through her powers and not hand to hand combat. You would love to experience powers like hers for a day. The jet began to shake lightly as it neared the ground, the other Quinjet already visible on the ground below.  You walk over to Bucky and he smiles upon looking at you. 

“You ready doll?” He asks, securing his ammo in his belt. 

Adjusting your thigh holster to assure it won’t fall off you respond giddily. “Ready as I’ll ever be. How about you Sargent?” 

He shrugs. “Feel like I may have fought worse.” The jet hits the ground just as he finishes his sentence.

Chuckling, you nod your head in agreement and begin to answer but you were cut off by a voice in your earpiece.

“Uh guys are you there?” You all simultaneously hear Tony’s voice.

“Yes we’re here Tony, is everything all right?” Steve asked, his finger up to his ear.

“Yeah we kind of have a problem. Be ready when you step out, the fights already here.”

Part 3 is coming really soon!! Feedback is welcomed 100%

[cake-writes]

In Your Atmosphere (Part Four)

Pairings: Steve x Reader & platonic Bucky x Reader (mostly)

Warnings: PTSD / Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, Anxiety Disorder, Panic Attacks, Mental Health Issues, Survivor Guilt, Eventual Smut 18+

Summary: The first time you met Steve Rogers, he kissed the hell out of you. It wasn’t the first time he met you.

Part Three / Master List

—

You didn’t wake until the early afternoon.

It felt like you’d been hit by a truck. Your head was throbbing, your body was aching, and you were nauseous, not to mention the embarrassing fact that you'd very likely made a fool of yourself after drinking so much. Of course, you should have expected all of the above after somehow polishing off nearly two entire bottles of wine. How Natasha was able to hold her liquor the way she did, you weren’t sure, but you liked to think she wasn’t human. In some ways, she wasn’t.

Your showers normally took about ten minutes, but today it took half an hour. You moved in slow motion as you washed up, brushed your teeth, and got dressed into something more presentable than your rumpled clothing from the night before. You were sorely tempted to just go back to bed, both to sleep and to avoid the embarrassment of running into Steve in the hallway, but your sleep schedule was screwed up enough already as it was and you didn’t want to make it worse. There was at least a small comfort in knowing that that he was likely still out on his mission with Natasha.

The trek downstairs to the kitchen was uneventful. You pulled a glass from the cupboard and filled it with water: your breakfast, for the very thought of food make you want to puke. Then you popped a couple ibuprofen into your mouth and swallowed them down, before you flopped down onto the sofa you’d used last night and turned on the TV.

There was something on the news about a bombing in the Middle East. That was nothing new. The loss of lives was certainly devastating, but it no longer had the same impact on you as it used to when you were younger. Once upon a time, you’d gone on missions to prevent those kind of tragedies, and for the most part you'd been successful. Then, on one particular occasion, you had failed and the loss of young lives was so significant that you hadn’t been in the field since. Instead, you went to therapy.

The coffee table was clean. It seemed that Steve had made good on his promise to clean up after you and Natasha, despite needing to rest before his mission. That made you feel guilty. You drank far too much and wound up not being able to clean up after yourself, let alone make it back to your room on your own. For some reason, probably because of the alcohol, you felt like you could trust him, and in the end you completely let your guard down. It was strange and a little unsettling, the effect he had on you: you wanted to trust him, as stupid and naive as it was. Even though he'd since apologized, the fact remained that he hadn't had your consent when he kissed you.

Frowning, you changed the channel, trying to distract yourself from your thoughts.

While you couldn’t really remember the specifics, you could definitely recall how secure his muscular arms felt around you when he’d lifted you into them. You could still feel the lull of your head against his strong shoulder as he carried you up the stairs, the clean, spicy scent of his cologne – or laundry detergent, or deodorant, even, you weren’t exactly sure – wafting through your nose. He’d been so gentle, so careful in setting you down upon your bed that you didn’t even know you’d made it there until you woke up again.

Your face heated up. Whether it was due to the fuzzy memory of him taking care of you or the realization that you were an idiot, you weren't entirely sure.

Wanda took a seat beside you on the sofa, then, but you lacked the energy to even startle. Instead, you regarded her with a single weary nod. In the muted sunlight streaming into the room, you noticed that her makeup was flawless, a stark contrast to your bare face and dark circles and you felt a pang of envy. She was gorgeous.

“How are you settling in?” she asked you kindly.

“It’s better than I could have hoped for. Everyone’s been so welcoming.” Especially Steve, and you couldn’t figure out why. “Thanks for letting me stay here.”

She shook her head. “After everything you’ve done, you deserve a reprieve.”

Your service history wasn’t exactly a secret, but it still surprised you that Wanda knew about it. Although it certainly made sense - anyone who came to the compound would have been vetted prior to their arrival. You were no stranger to Tony Stark, but he still would have done his homework.

Of course, you didn’t feel like you’d done much during your tenure with SHIELD: rescue missions, mostly, with the occasional infiltration and every now and then a snatch and grab. It was on one of the former when the school was blown to hell, and only by sheer luck did you survive. Twenty-eight students and teachers, along with your partner, had not. You still received phone calls every now and then from the two little girls you did manage to save, but those only served to trigger memories that you’d rather forget.

Just like Wanda had done now. Despite that, you gave her a half-smile in thanks so as not to be rude.

She seemed to sense that it wasn’t exactly a topic you liked to discuss, and turned her attention to the TV. You appreciated how perceptive she was. The silence that fell over you both wasn’t exactly comfortable, but it wasn’t awkward or tense. You know that she, just like you, had gone through some terrible things and in some way Tony had saved her once, too.

He was the reason why, one and a half years after the worst day of your life, you were still here, still working in the intelligence community. For that, you’d forever be grateful.

---

The rest of the day seemed to drag, until, well, it didn’t. Because your sleep schedule was a mess, you were still awake at half past one in the morning when you heard it. The soft sound of the Quinjet's landing didn’t draw your attention nearly as much as the shouting, just barely audible through the small gap in your bedroom window. You’d only cracked it a little as you started to settle in for the night, wanting to feel the cool evening breeze as you slept, and thankfully, it offered the perfect amount of leeway to hear the commotion on the landing strip.

You peered out the window and saw six people, all clothed in black, in the midst of a heated argument as they exited the plane. One of them was on a stretcher, writhing in pain, shouting louder than the rest.

There was no medical team to greet them.

The adrenaline instantly seemed to dull your soreness and nausea as you sprang into action, snatching up your first aid kit, a small red duffel bag that you’d always kept for emergencies. Perhaps it was overkill to have it here at the Avengers Facility, but you were still in the process of unpacking and you hadn’t yet decided what to do with it.

The trip downstairs seemed to take just seconds before you were outside, the chunky heels of your boots ripping into the soft grass as you ran to their location.

Natasha was the first to spot you sprinting across the field in the darkness. Their communications array had been damaged during the mission, and they hadn’t been able to call ahead for medical. Clint had sustained a deep wound to his thigh, a gunshot, and of course someone hadn’t replenished the Quinjet’s first aid kit. While his injury wasn’t a matter of life or death, it was severe enough that the tensions had been high amidst the team’s return to the compound. Add that to the fact that the mission had been a complete and utter failure, and everyone was at each other’s throats. Even Steve hadn’t been able to keep the peace.

As Natasha pushed the stretcher toward the building, her voice rang clear over the argument as she called over to you, “Gunshot wound, right thigh.”

You slammed your bag down at the bottom of the stretcher and then hopped atop it in one fluid motion, settling yourself above Clint’s lower legs. This allowed your friend and one other person you didn’t recognize to continue pushing the stretcher along. In the heat of the moment, you’d spotted Steve among the team but you were too focused on Clint’s injury to care. Your apologies and embarrassment from last night would have to wait.

“For fuck’s sake,” you snapped, ripping into the first aid kit for supplies, “Quit waving your dicks around, and—” you nodded at another guy you didn’t recognize, “put some pressure on it, would you?”

He quickly did as you asked, pressing his gloved hand against Clint’s wound to stop the bleeding.

“Sorry, kid,” Clint winced but his tone was playful, “I’m a little busy here.”

It had been probably six months since you’d last seen him, and he looked like hell – not that being shot helped any. You weren’t as close to him as Natasha, but the two of you had a good working relationship and you’d always trusted him to have your back. Tonight, you had his.

You grinned down at him and popped the cap to some sterile solution. “Come on, Barton, don’t tell me you’re getting too old for this.”

He let out a soft snort at your attitude. "Of course not."

Then he hissed as you squirted the solution into his wound.

Tearing open a packet of gauze with your teeth, you glanced over at Steve. “I take it things didn’t go too well.”

Steve was walking alongside the stretcher as the last man in the group radioed in about the incident, finally having enough reception now that they were on the ground. He met your eyes for a moment, and then he looked away, staring straight ahead. A muscle ticked in his jaw before he tersely answered your question, “Sure didn’t."

He blamed himself for this. If he'd done his job properly, it never would have happened. Still, seeing you there, seeing your determined face, made him feel like everything was going to be alright. Your very presence was a balm, and watching you sass Barton and the rest of his team reminded him of the many situations the two of you had once survived together.

You easily noticed Steve's tense demeanour but forced yourself to file it away for later. There were more pressing matters to address, so you brought the gauze to Clint’s wound and eyeballed the guy who was putting pressure on it for a moment. He immediately lifted his hand just long enough for you to slide it under, before he replaced his hand and added a bit more pressure when you made a small gesture to indicate as much. Then you did the same with another couple of pieces, ensuring the wound was fully packed.

Steve very much liked the fact that you were able to command respect with a single look. It wasn’t often, but when the shit hit the fan, it was clear that you knew what you were doing. He’d seen it before, the way people gravitated toward you and put their trust in you to take care of a bad situation. This was one of those times, and he found himself doing the same.

“Stay with me, Barton,” you barked, snapping your fingers in front of his face. It looked like he was starting to go into shock, if his pale skin and unfocused eyes were any indication. “Listen to me. Come on.”

Clint grunted, but he didn’t respond any more than that. You were in the building, now, being wheeled toward what you assumed was the medical wing. The lighting here was much brighter, and you could immediately tell that his pupils were dilated. That wasn’t a good sign. You leaned over more to gently palpate his scalp, feeling for any sign that he may have hit his head. Sure enough, you found a large bump and took in a sharp breath, doing your best to keep him conscious.

When you lifted your eyes to peer ahead, you saw that the medical team was finally starting to arrive, and you sat back on your heels to address them.

“GSW, upper right thigh. Single entry point, no exit. Bullet’s still in there.” Then you added grimly, “Possible TBI.”

Natasha’s eyes immediately shot to you. She wasn't a doctor, but even she knew the lingo. Clint had been just fine on the way back to the compound, but you'd just said that he might have a brain injury.

“Got it,” the doctor, a small Asian woman, told you and you hopped down from the stretcher, slinging your half-zipped duffel back over your shoulder. “We’ll keep you posted.”

You nodded as she and her team wheeled Clint to the operating room. Then you released the long, unsteady breath you didn’t realize you were holding. The rest of the group had taken a step back, and a couple of them started to take seats nearby, in order to wait it out – but not Natasha or Steve. No, they stood with you.

“How serious is it?” Natasha asked you quietly, staring down the hallway where Clint had been taken. You knew that she wanted the truth, not fluff.

“Not good. He must have hit his head pretty hard.” When she started to chew her lip anxiously, taking in the information you provided, you placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “He’ll survive, Nat. He’ll make it through.”

Steve’s voice drew your attention away from her. “How did you know?”

"About what?"

“His head,” he clarified. “He was talking to us just fine. He seemed fine until we got here. How did you know?”

“His pupils. And the huge knot back here.” You gestured to the back of your head, and then crossed your arms to address the root of the issue. “The hell were you guys even up to? Why wasn’t his wound dressed? Where was medical?”

Steve didn’t look too pleased with your observations. ��Comms were shot out. We couldn’t call ahead.”

“Don’t forget about the bastard who didn’t replenish the first aid kit,” Natasha spat angrily. “If I ever find out who it was, they’re dead.”

You didn’t blame her, but part of the blame fell on them, too. Someone should have double checked that it had been stocked prior to the mission, along with the rest of their supplies - but it would be crass to mention that right now. Instead, you silently waited with them until Clint was out of surgery.

---

The sun was just starting to rise when you finally heard some news: Clint had made it through, just like you all were hoping for. While the doctors were concerned about his head injury, from what they could tell it was relatively minor but they unfortunately wouldn’t know for sure until he woke up. He would still be out for the next few hours, and no visitors would be permitted until then – so you, Steve, and Natasha slowly made your way back to the main building where you prepared a simple breakfast of scrambled eggs and toast.

For the most part, it had gone uneaten. None of you had an appetite. Instead, the three of you were sitting around the kitchen table in complete and utter silence.

Natasha had perched herself at the edge of her seat, elbows resting on the table with her hands clasped in front of her worried face. Steve, on the other hand, was leaning back against the backrest of the chair, arms crossed, jaw set.

It hadn’t been a good day.

The fabric of your shirt stuck unpleasantly to your skin as you slowly peeled back your bloodied sleeves. What's worse was that you’d already washed your hands three times and Clint’s blood still remained under your fingernails. This wasn’t a memory that you’d forget anytime soon. You’d been certified as a field medic a couple of years ago, and only a handful of times had it actually bothered you to use your training like this.

Steve watched as you anxiously picked at your nails, your lips pressed into a grim line. His voice was gravelly when he said, “Thank you.”

You met his eyes briefly, and then you looked away, back at your hands. “You don't need to thank me. I’m just sorry I wasn’t there when it happened.”

“That’s not on you,” Natasha said quietly, barely above a whisper. She knew your history, your struggles - why you hadn’t been back in the field for over a year. You'd made a choice, and she didn’t blame you for it. Not after what you’d experienced.

“Yeah, it is,” you argued. “I should have been there.”

This time, the silence that befell the three of you was uncomfortably tense.

You were making the same basic mistake as last time, after the very incident that took you out of the field to begin with. You were stuck on the what-ifs. You blamed yourself for not being able to do more, and it was especially stupid now because you hadn’t even been on the mission. There was nothing you could have done. Instead, you were making this entire situation about yourself and that made you feel even worse.

Maybe it was a bit presumptuous of you to assume that you’d even be able to keep up with them in the field. They were Avengers, after all, although that didn’t change the fact that Clint had been wounded and left without a lick of medical assistance until the team arrived back at the compound. It was only by chance that you just happened to overhear their arrival.

“Come with us next time.”

Your head immediately shot up and you looked over at Steve, feeling a mix of emotions as you processed what he said. He wanted you to come along on their next mission. Captain America wanted you to join him.

You bit down on the inside of your cheek as you considered his offer, at least until you realized the path you were going down. Then you couldn’t even believe that you were even considering it at all. Not after what you’d been through. No, you couldn’t do this to yourself again.

“I can’t.”

“Why?”

It was a simple question, but you bristled at it. He knew why. He must have. If Wanda had known your history, there was no doubt in your mind that he did, too - and when Natasha shot him a look of warning that plainly said not to press the issue, it only confirmed your suspicions.

You winced, then, and glanced back down at your fingers to find that you’d just ripped at a hangnail. If you kept this up, your fingertips would be raw and bleeding by the end of the night. It wasn’t worth your mental health to do this again. You stopped picking and instead crossed your arms around yourself, both to prevent yourself from doing it again and to protect yourself from this conversation.

“The last time I was out in the field, a lot of people died. Children.” A lump formed in your throat at the memory, and you couldn’t bring yourself to even mention your partner. Instead, your tone became more heated, irate as you rounded on him, “But you knew that already, didn’t you, Steve? Why would you even ask me that?”

In that moment, Steve knew that you couldn’t see the good you had done, not really. The facts were there – you’d kept two children safe, and saved countless more by rendering aid to whatever survivors you could find – but you refused to see that. All you could focus on were the lives that had been lost. What stood out to him the most was how you didn’t even acknowledge that yours had nearly been one of them.

His voice was soft, not accusatory, when he followed your question with one of his own. “Why did you come here?”

“To bring down Hydra,” you replied automatically. That had been your mission since Tony had pulled you and those two little girls from the debris on that fateful day, and you wouldn’t stop until you succeeded. You had come here, to the Avengers compound, because he’d offered you a place to stay in exchange for your assistance in finishing Hydra off for good.

“I didn’t ask for your assignment, Agent,” Steve said sharply, and your back immediately straightened in reflex to the authority in his voice. “I want to know why you’re here.”

As you stared into his striking blue eyes, you felt a bit unsettled and anxiously brought your hands back atop the table. Your clammy skin stuck unpleasantly to the wood. It sounded like he was asking the same question in two different ways, but your answer clearly wasn’t the one he was seeking. He wanted to know something else, something you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

Then it hit you.

Even after everything that had happened, you still couldn’t seem to run away. You’d seen too much death, too many horrors throughout your career and despite it all, you continued to fight. Even if it was from behind a desk, you continued to find yourself in the thick of it, just in a different way.

Just like tonight. Tonight you had, without hesitation, gone back out in the field.

A literal field.

It was that sudden realization that made you start picking at your nails again, but Natasha gently placed her hand atop yours and you turned your eyes to her. Her kind, reassuring smile was what helped you reach a decision. It was time.

“I want to help,” you answered finally, looking back at Steve with fierce determination. “Put me to work, Captain.”

---

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Part Five