Summary: No matter how many PhDs Bruce has to his name, he’ll never understand any member of this family.

Rating/Warnings/Tags:T (post-Avengers (2012); Avengers Tower; Tony’s Sister!Reader; Annoying Younger Sister!Reader; Stark!Reader; Science Bros; mild sexual content)

Challenge: “100 Drabbles of Randomness” by Miseria1 on Lunaescence Archives.

Tag List: @imaginesfire

Tease

When Tony first set out to convince Bruce to move into Stark Tower with him, he had focused especially on the building’s laboratory. He talked endlessly over lunch after they saw Loki and Thor off to Asgard. The list of amenities was quite impressive, featuring a lot of open space, enormous glass walls and windows, and equipment that Bruce had never even heard of before, let alone seen. The scientific facilities were not the only reason that Bruce finally gave in, but he had to admit they had been a large draw. 

Thwap! 

Unfortunately, Tony had failed to mention one other important feature of his building and more specifically the labs: his younger sister, [F Name] Stark.

“Ignore her,” Tony crooned in an undertone, as Bruce picked another wad of newspaper off the tabletop.

“That’s the fifth time today she’s thrown something at my head,” Bruce said, “and it’s not even lunchtime.”

“Could be worse. Could be throwing rocks.”

“Don’t give her any ideas.”

“Hello!” you called from behind them. “Do you mind not talking about me as though I’m not here?”

Tony turned to glare at you. “Do you mind annoying someone else for a little while? Maybe Steve would like some company in the gym.”

“If Dr. Banner finds what I’m doing annoying, maybe he should join Cap in the gym.”

Sighing, Tony turned back to his and Bruce’s latest attempt at a new AI. He checked its progress for all of five seconds, then tossed the tool in his hand onto the counter, spun around, and headed for the exit.

“This step should take another hour to complete. Keep an eye on it for me, would you?” he asked Bruce. “I think [Name] is the only person on the planet that can make me long for a long chat with Steve.”

Tony vanished before Bruce could protest. The likelihood of any protest working was slim, but Bruce would have liked to try. Now he was trapped up here unless you decided to leave him alone, something you hadn’t done once whenever you found him in the lab. He dropped his head into his crossed arms resting on the table and hoped that that morning you wouldn’t find him an entertaining target. 

Thwap! 

“[Name], if you want this floor to remain in one piece, you really need to stop throwing things at me,” he said, voice muffled by his sleeves. 

Thwap! 

“[Name]." 

Thwap! 

"I said stop!” Bruce growled as he twisted on his stool to face you.

His shoulders hunched up around his ears, and the breaths heaving from his chest contained a guttural edge. These symptoms alone should have been enough to frighten you, but no. Your bored expression did not flicker. You sat coolly on your stool at the other end of the room with one of the large pile of paper balls beside you clutched in one hand.

“Really?” you asked. “A couple of paper balls to the noggin makes you angry enough to Hulk out?”

“I’m always angry. All it takes is one little push.”

Bruce rubbed at his eyes with his fists. Already that one flare of anger had faded and left him wanting a nap. You were right about one thing, though: A bit of light prodding to the skull was not worth the full exhaustion of becoming the Hulk. He took several deep breaths to get himself under control—only for another paper to bean him in the head. 

Thwap! 

With a groan, Bruce crumpled the paper in his hand. “Why do you hate me so much, [Name]?”

“Why do you think I hate you?”

“Come on. You’ve had it in for me from the day we met. Any time you find me hanging around with Tony, you do whatever it takes for one of us to get sick of you and go away.”

“How do you mean?" 

Thwap! 

"Like that. Seriously, what do you want me to do? Do you want me to just go back to India and leave you and your brother in peace?”

“Of course not!” The mere suggestion seemed to leave you shocked. “Why would I want that?”

“If just seeing me around upsets you so much—" 

Thwap! Thwap! Thwap! Thwap! 

A cascade of papers hit him one after another. He lifted his hands to shield himself from the blows, but they kept coming until you ran out of ammunition.

"I don’t hate you. God! You already figured out the problem, genius. And you’re supposed to have how many PhDs?”

“Seven,” Bruce answered vaguely. Without the continuous assault on his head, he could perhaps set his mind to figuring out what it was he had already figured out. All he could think of was: “You don’t like it when I spend time with Tony?”

“Ding, ding, ding, ding! Got it in one, Doctor.”

“But my moving to India would solve that problem.”

You had nothing else to toss at him. Apparently, this was reason enough for you get up and walk over to him. A few seconds later, you stood in front Bruce with your hands on your hips. “I don't care about spending time with my brother, all right? It’s not like I just got out of boarding school last week. We see plenty of each other. Which would mean…?”

“You…you want to spend more time with me?” Bruce said, once he realized you expected him to supply an answer. It wasn’t in the least logical, but you nodded. “That doesn’t make any sense! Whenever Tony and I are in here together, you torment me.”

As he blathered on, you just kept on nodding. That Bruce noticed. What he didn’t was the arm extending toward his collar—not until you hooked a finger around it and pulled him toward you until your lips nearly touched.

“That’s because I want to get you alone, Doctor, and out of the lab.”

Bruce gulped. “And why would that be?”

You grinned. “The things I want to do to you aren’t things I want Tony or JARVIS watching.”

“Er…I—That is to say—”

“I’m back! Wouldn’t you know it? Listening to Steve go on and on about the good old days is enough to get me to miss my baby sister,” Tony’s voice came up the stairs leading to the lab door.

Bruce felt himself turn bright red at the thought of him catching you and Bruce in such position, but you’d already released him by the time the thought occurred. Tony saw nothing as he entered the room.

“How about you two? Play nice while I was gone?”

“Um—” Bruce began.

“I ran out of paper balls,” you interrupted. “Don’t worry. I’ve recollected them.”

“Excellent. Then I think it’s about time Bruce and I returned to work. How about you, Bruce?”

Bruce’s eyes followed your sauntering course back to your own lab station. You winked at him as you dropped your projectiles back on its surface. Hastily, he spun back to the waiting holographic screen behind him.

“Yes,” he said. “Let’s.”

“Loving the enthusiasm, Big Guy. Now, I was thinking…”

In all honesty, Bruce didn’t really listen to the rest of Tony’s spiel. He had his mind on other matters—like the possibility of taking you up on that offer to spend time with you outside of the lab. This whole project shouldn’t take too much longer. Then, perhaps, he might convince you to go get a coffee with him. 

Thwack! 

…if only so you might stop throwing things at his head.

Summary:  He’s going to have a lot of conflicting feelings about this later, but for now, Matt will take what you’re willing to give him.

Rating/Warnings/Tags:T (sexual references; former nun!reader; reader knows Daredevil’s secret identity; inaccurate Catholicism)

Tag List: @imaginesfire​

Fic Trade Prompt: "Sometimes the ‘Devil of Hell’s Kitchen’ just needed a shoulder to lean on.“

Notes: I only ever saw the first season of Daredevil. Also, I mostly chose to write this particular fic trade response because I wanted an excuse to write something that, for me, was a shoutout to His Dark Materials, a book series I’m enormously fond of. 

I don’t actually know anything about Catholicism, however, and as a Christian myself, I realize His Dark Materials is not exactly a reliable source for learning about the topic of religion. If you are Catholic and something in here is incorrect, I implore you to inform me so that I can fix the problem. If it’s so horrendously awful that a mere edit won’t work, I’m even willing to rewrite it. 

In more specific-to-the-fic information, this is one of my few fic trade responses where I tried my hardest to stay within the word count restrictions. Alas, I still went over…and trying so hard means that this really isn’t near as sensory-overload-descriptive as I would want something from Matt’s perspective to be.

A Matter of Sanity

Matt woke up that morning to a barrage of sensory assault: warm sunlight splayed across his skin; humidity from the bathroom down the hall dampened the short hairs on his face; the smell of strange perfume sticking to the semi-cooled sheets beside him and his familiar shampoo drifting through the air. Toast had been made–and nearly burned–in the kitchen sometime that morning. He could hear the medicine cabinet closing, then bare feet padding toward him. Through all these floating, fuzzy feelings sliced his injuries from the night before: cuts, bruises, blisters, maybe a sprained wrist.

“Morning, Mattie.” 

Andthere was the reason he had not meditated after the fight, the reason his wounds felt as fresh as though he’d got them minutes before. 

Said reason lighted on the edge of his bed and slipped soft fingers into his sleep-mussed hair. “Did you sleep well last night?”

In answer, Matt let out an incomprehensible moan. As far as he could remember, not much sleeping had taken place in the apartment the night before. Still, he wasn’t one to quibble over what he’d been doing instead. Seconds later, he sat up, forcing you to stop playing with his hair so that he could wrap his arms around your waist and put his cheek against your moist, bare shoulder. 

“Are you sure you’ve never done that before?” he mumbled. 

You laughed, a sound that always caused a pleasant unfurling sensation to spread through Matt’s stomach. “Sorry. A girl has to have some secrets, even from her all-knowing, all-seeing blind lawyer friend.”

“Is that what we are? Friends?” Matt chuckled himself and tightened his grip as he pressed a kiss to your skin. “You are the worst nun I have ever met.”

Another laugh, then you gently patted his cheek with your shower-warmed hand. “Well, maybe that’s why I decided not to be one anymore. What do you want for lunch?”

The weight on his mattress vanished at the same time your body did. 

“Lunch? What time is it?” 

Frowning, Matt turned in the direction he heard you moving–toward where you had left the majority of your clothes the night before. Whether he had pulled them off or you had, he couldn’t quite remember. Then a more important question popped out of his mouth:

“Did you say you quit being a nun?”

You only bothered to answer his first two questions: “It’s nearly eleven o’ clock. Figured if you wanted to go somewhere, we’d better head that way, and frankly, Matt, there’s nothing in this apartment but beer.”

“Eleven? It’s Thursday. I can’t go to lunch. I’m already late for work–what was that about stopping nun-ing?”

“I called in for you. Foggy whined about you skipping over a woman as usual, but–”

“[Name],” said Matt. “The thing about your job?”

You heaved a dramatic sigh. “I quit, okay? I was going to tell you when I came over last night, but after all that, I kind of figured I didn’t have to anymore.”

“Some clarification might have been nice.” Matt hadn’t felt an overabundance of guilt at sleeping with you. It took two to tango, after all, and you’d been just as willing as he had. Now some dread began to creep in. “Why’d you quit?”

A huff sounded from behind the fabric of the shirt over your face. “I met a tall, dark, handsome stranger beating the tar out of a Russian slave trader in an alley, and he made me rethink my life choices.”

“That’s a cliché.”

“So’s a blind ninja fighting slave traders in New York.”

“Not exactly.” Pressing his lips together, Matt slid out of his silk sheets. He knew his shirt was not far away, but he hadn’t started pulling it on yet when he went on, “I didn’t mean to have you quit.”

“Matt!” you groaned.

“You can’t come with me. I didn’t mean to make you to feel useless.”

“I’m a grown woman, and I make my own choices. Youdidn’tmake me feel or do anything–and I know I can’t go with you to punch Russians. I just wanted to do a little good for Hell’s Kitchen.”

“Youwere doing good for Hell’s Kitchen. With the Church.”

“Have to disagree with you there. And I’m not going back. You can’t make me. I want to experience the world. I want to helpyou.”

“I already said, you are not–“

“Iknow,” you interrupted. “There’s more to do than break people’s bodies, you know.”

Matt stared at you, or stared roughly in the direction he knew you continued to pull on various articles of clothing. Another sigh issued from there.

“When I got here last night to give you the news, you were bleeding and shaking from head to foot. There’s nothing to eat here but booze and bread. You can take care of yourself, but you’re not very good at looking afteryourself.”

He had never really thought about it that way. His work as Daredevil was vital; eating, less so. Matt already healed faster than most when he wasn’t busy deflowering ex-nuns, and what didn’t heal after that, he could plow through just fine. On the other hand…

“Are you inviting yourself to move in?” he asked.

There was an obvious smile in your voice when you answered, “Well, you are the reason I’m presently homeless and unemployed. If you hadn’t seduced me away from a life of worship and piety, I’d still be doing my holy work, Matt Murdock.”

“And you’re absolutely sure you’re done with being a nun.”

“I think what we did last night pretty much sealed the deal.”

“And there’d be more of that.”

“I’m leaning toward yes.”

“And you really want to live here. With me. With the giant blazing billboard right outside the window.”

He got a pillow to the face for his trouble, or would have, had he not caught it before it smacked him in the nose. 

“Does it sound like I can afford to be picky about where I’m staying? I’m sure  about all of the above. I can always move out once I find something else, if you decide you hate having me here.”

Your tone turned just a little uncertain at the end of that sentence. Matt stood and stepped carefully (in case of more pillows) over the smooth floor toward you. 

“I won’t hate having you here,” he said. “Now that you mention it, it might be nice having someone here when I get home bleeding at two in the morning. To fuss over me and put me in place. When can you start?”

“Immediately.” You shoved something soft-ish into his chest. Pants, he realized as felt the hard button. “Now get dressed. It’s getting toward noon now and all that sex makes a girl hungry.”

“Right,” Matt said, and quickly started to pull on the pants.

Definitely the putting him in his place part, then. But maybe you were right. Maybe sometimes, the “Devil of Hell’s Kitchen” just needed a shoulder to lean on. He’d have to see, but he was leaning toward yes, too.

Summary: He’s dealt with worse problems in his lifetime.

Rating/Warnings:All (This is almost certainly not how sleepwalking works.)

Challenge: “100 Drabbles of Randomness” by Miseria1 on Lunaescence Archives.

Tag List: @imaginesfire

Sleepwalk

When Bruce woke up, he found someone in his bed. This wasn’t an altogether strange occurrence, but he was quite certain he had gone to bed alone four hours ago. Trying not to feel too concerned, he wiggled halfway out of the sheets before peeling those beside him back. He was surprised to find youcurled up in a ball halfway down the mattress.

Bruce frowned. Had he gone to bed alone the night before? Yes, he was sure he had. He’d been up with Tony until one working on some new clean-energy plans and had had no chance to call and see if you had made it home all right after dinner.

“Um, [Name]?” He nudged you softly with his hand.

The tiny ball simply shuddered slightly at his touch.

Bruce tried again. “[Name]?”

Your eyelids fluttered and a small groan worked its way free of your throat as you stretched yourself out of your fetal position.

“Five more minutes,” you mumbled as you flipped over.

Bruce shook your shoulder. “Is there any particular reason you’re asleep in my bed?“

You opened your eyes completely at that. They darted across the unfamiliar walls and ceiling. Then you looked at him, cheeks already much darker than normal.

“Oh, no,” you said.

“Is everything okay?”

“Fine!” You sat up and shuffled your feet across the carpet underneath the bed. “Oh, god. I’m so sorry, Bruce.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?” You certainly weren’t acting like it. “Are you sick?”

“No! No, I’m not. I’m sorry for waking you up.”

“But why are you here?”

You looked at him. Bruce looked back. At last, you took a deep breath and answered:

“I…have a problem.” His eyebrows rose at that, so you continued, “It’s not a big deal. I just…sleepwalk…sometimes. I guess I was thinking about you so much that my legs took me here without me making them.”

“Ah,” Bruce said, as if that explained things.

The color in your cheeks deepened still further as you stood up. "I’m so sorry. I’ll go home now.“

But you didn’t get far before he took your wrist. "Look, you’re already here. I missed you, too. Besides, it’s dangerous to be wandering around at five in the morning in your pajamas. Why don’t you just stay the night–or day, as the case may be?”

You paused before turning your head slightly to look at him. Your cheeks were beginning to fade back to their original color. “You sure?”

“Positive.”

Bruce shifted to his side to allow you space to crawl back underneath the blanket. As you snuggled back into the sheet, he chuckled and shifted you so he could tuck you into his chest. Before you fell back to sleep, he planted a kiss behind your ear and whispered:

“And maybe if this is going to be a frequent problem, you should just move in.”

Summary: Sometimes love is like quicksand: You take one wrong step and it sucks you straight in.

Rating/Warnings:All (hate to love; Post-Avengers (2012))

Challenge: “100 Drabbles of Randomness” by Miseria1 on Lunaescence Archives.

Tag List: @imaginesfire

Quicksand

When you first met Dr. Bruce Banner, you’d hated his guts. Physicist work was your work at Stark Industries, and you didn’t appreciate his coming along to usurp your position–not that Tony noticed your obvious disdain when he shoved the other man into your workspace.

“Look, [Name]! I brought you a souvenir: a new partner!” Tony said.

You would have preferred a “My boss saved the world and all I got was this lousy t-shirt” t-shirt. Surely that was apparent in the way your lips curled as you shook Dr. Banner’s hand. Still, Tony just grinned, slapped the two of you on the backs, and left with a jaunty:

“You two kids play nice now!”

Needles to say, you did not play nice. You glowered and sulked and pouted and glared. Dr. Banner didn’t try to stop you. He just did his work in silence and only deigned to speak up when he needed help finding a tool.

Several weeks passed in the same manner before something strange happened, and it was something you never could quite figure out. Things between the two of you just seemed to…shift.

“What do you say we take a break and go get lunch?” Dr. Banner interrupted the quiet to ask.

You looked up from your holo-screen to scowl at him. “Why are you asking me?“

"Because you don’t do anything other than work. You seem lonely.”

Your eyes widened. Dr. Banner gazed at you calmly in return. Then you slammed your palms onto the table and left the room.

It bothered you that he noticed something so easily that you thought you had been hiding so well. You didn’t go back to work after your lunch break that day, but instead spent the rest of the afternoon grouching at home, ranting to your goldfish about how exactly much you hated Dr. Banner.

Time passed. Your rage faded slowly to embarrassment. You realized that you had been taking out your feelings of inadequacy on a man that had been nothing but polite to you.

“About that lunch,” you said the next day.

Dr. Banner looked away from his notes.

“I–I’m sorry I snapped at you. Maybe we could go today?”

He smiled. “I’d like that.

Summary:When you got married, people warned you that you wouldn’t just be marrying your husband, you’d be marrying into his family. Too bad no one ever warned you you’d be marrying into his friendships, too.

Rating/Warnings: All (Post-Captain America: Civil War;Captain America: Civil War Compliant; Hurt!James “Rhodey” Rhodes; Married!James “Rhodey” Rhodes; Vitriolic Best Buds; Mild Swearing; Avengers Compound)

Challenge:“100 Little Drabbles” by Wingu on Lunaescence Archives

Prompt:Break

Tag List: @imaginesfire​

Notes: This is my first go at writing Rhodey outside of his occasional appearances in longer Tony-centric works. It’s long overdue, and I might have gone a little overboard with Tony just because I feel bad that I always focus on his friendship with Bruce instead.

Part of the Package Deal

Gravel crunched beneath your feet as you stepped of your sensibly-sized and -colored rental car onto the Avengers Compound’s sweeping grounds. Several huge buildings rose up around you high enough to block out the sun crawling westward toward the horizon. You pulled your sunglasses off to get a better look at your surroundings. So this was where Jim had been spending so much time for the past year. And how could you blame him? This place blew your modest home in Malibu out of the water.

No, no, no! Pinching the bridge of your nose, you shook your head back and forth until it cleared of the usual Stark razzle-dazzle. You refused to let anything here impress you. Tony thought modern architecture and flashy tech were enough to make up for the fact you never heard about your husband unless he’d been involved in an accident? Well, not anymore.

With one sharp exhale, you squared your shoulders and snapped your attention to the nearby doors. According to the map you’d printed off the internet, these led into the living quarters for the Avengers. You took one handle and yanked to no avail. Locked. Yes, you decided as you took a step back to look for any obtrusive security cameras, you were definitely in the right place.

“Tony!” You banged on the glass. “Tony, let me in!”

Peering inside revealed nothing but an empty room filled with exercise equipment. You knocked again.

“Tony, I did not fly all the way here from California for you to ignore me!”

“Mr. Stark is currently tied up in other matters. May I have your name, please?”

The cool, Irish-accented voice of a woman seemed to come from nowhere. You jumped about a foot away from the door. A minute or two of pulse-pounding shock later, you realized this must be yet another of Tony’s AIs. What had happened to JARVIS, you wondered. He never had to ask for your name.

“Your [Name], please,” the new AI insisted.

“[F Name] Rhodes,” you answered as you stepped back to the door.

“I have no such name on the approved visitor list for today. Please contact our publicity office to arrange for an appointment at a later date. Goodbye.”

“Hold it!”

No reply came forth. For all the good it would do, you smashed your fist against the door once more. Then you held your breath. Still nothing moved behind the glass. Had Tony’s artificial bouncer really just left you here alone?

“Ma'am, I’m afraid that if you do not vacate the facility premises in the next ten minutes, I will be forced to call in the authorities.”

Apparently not.

“Listen,” you said, still unsure of exactly where to look to get your point across. “You tell Tony that [F Name] Rhodes is here. If he still won’t let me in, I’ll gladly talk to whatever authorities you’re required to summon. If he wants the extra publicity, I don’t mind giving it to him.”

The woman didn’t answer. You wondered again what had become of JARVIS. JARVIS knew you. He would never have left you standing outside, listening for the sound of approaching sirens or Iron Man drones. Heck, he’d probably have opened the door without waiting to get permission from his precious boss.

Movement flashed somewhere in the back of the room a quarter of an inch away from you. A figure made its rapid way in your direction. Soon it was close enough for you to identify: Tony Stark had made an appearance at last. He looked uncharacteristically pale as he unlocked the door and pushed it open to allow you inside.

“Where’s Jim?” you asked after you dumped your purse on a nearby plastic chair—the only flat surface you could fine that wasn’t tile floor.

“Hello to you, too, [Name],” Tony said. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Don’t play dumb with me..”

“You’re a long way from California. It never occurred to you to callfirst?”

“The line was busy.” You folded your arms across your chest and asked again calmly, “Where’s Jim?”

Tony pushed his hair from his forehead with a sigh. You noticed he was having trouble meeting your eyes. “Resting.”

“Restingwhere?”

“Can we not do this right now? Let me show you to a room. We’ve got plenty available. When Rhodey’s ready, we’ll all have dinner together. I might even be able to dig Vision up from wherever he got to. We can talk then.”

Asthough Tony could weasel out of a conversation you wanted to have with him. You’d known him far too long for any of his usual stalling tactics to work.

“Tony, I’ll tell you this one time before I start pulling this place apart with my bare hands: Give me. My husband.”

Your eyes locked with his. A long pause ensued. You could practically see the gears (or suitably high-tech equivalent) turning inside Tony’s skull as he struggled to come with some comeback witty enough to distract you. Too late. Before he could utter another word, you turned on your heel to follow the dim hallway leading from the room.

“Wait!” he called after you.

You stopped and look at him over your shoulder.

“I…I can’t.”

“Why not?” You could barely keep the anger from your voice.

“Because he isn’t ready yet.”

“He isn’t ready for what?”

“Ready for you to see him!”

Gritting your teeth in a silent snarl, you marched right back up to Tony and jabbed a finger into his chest where his arc reactor used to sit. “You have no right to keep me from him.”

“I know.” He took the hand still prodding him, but instead of shoving it away, he wrapped his own hand around yours. “[Name], I promise, as soon as he’s okay, I’ll take you right to him.”

“‘Okay’? ’Okay’? Why is he not okay? Did something else happen to him?”

“No, not exactly.”

“What is he doing here anyway? He should be at the VA!”

“Trust me. This the best place for him. I’ve got one of the best neurosurgeons in the country on speed dial. Admittedly not the best, because he wouldn’t take my calls—but this one is excellent, too, and she’s keeping a good eye on him! I’m doing the best with what I’ve got, all right?”

He probably thought you’d drop the point of your husband being kept at Avengers HQ instead of a medical facility. After all, Tony was the man that built the greatest technical innovation the world had seen in decades while being kept prisoner in a cave with a box of scraps. But this wasn’t the fate of Tony’s reputation or his company at stake here. It was the man you loved’s life.

“Not good enough,” you said.

Tony pulled you back as you attempted a second break for the hall. “[Name], would you listen to me? Rhodey is as physically and emotionally fine as he can be. All I’m asking for is a little more time.”

Something about that request broke the dam inside you. Every horrible feeling you had experienced over the last few days crashed over you—the fear, the anger, the stress, the worry, all of it. Despite your best efforts to keep yourself upright and strong, tears filled your eyes. You ripped your arm free of Tony’s grip so that you could wipe your face dry with your sleeve and level a dry glare at him.

“I have given you time, Tony. It’s been days. I should have heard it from you, not from CNN.”

“I admit, when you put it that way, I could probably have handled the reveal a bit better.”

“How do you think I feel, knowing Jim is out there putting his life on the line for you, only to hear he’s been seriously injured while I’m listening to the news over dinner?”

“Things have just been a little hectic around here since Steve decided to play Dirty Harry, okay? I swear, I was going to call you just as soon as—”

“As soon as what? I am his wife, Tony! I deserve—”

“[Name]?”

Both you and Tony looked toward the hall to see a familiar man creeping up it, his hands pressed against the white wall to help him stand.

“Jim!” you gasped at the exact same time that Tony said, “Rhodey?”

For one shining moment, you remained so stunned to see your husband again that you failed to notice anything different about him. All you could do was stare at him in happy wonder—until he reached the end of the wall and nearly tumbled to the floor without further support. He would have fallen, had Tony not been quick enough to see what was happening and leap to fill the place the wall once had.

“Thanks,” Jim said.

“Don’t mention it. What are you doing out of bed?”

The two of them made their slow, staggering way across the room. You watched with one hand over your mouth. Could this really be the same man that had stood at the end of the aisle at your wedding? He looked the same and sounded the same, but, oh, Jim. Thankfully, you noticed where the men were headed before you gave yourself over to more tears. Your purse was unceremoniously dumped to the floor just as Jim collapsed into it. A few seconds went by as he caught his breath.

“I thought I heard the two of you arguing,” he answered Tony at last.

“We weren't—” But the cutting look you shot Tony prevented him finishing his protest.

“Sure,” Jim said, then he looked at you. “When did you get here?”

“About fifteen minutes ago,” you replied.

“Well, it’s good to see you. I was beginning to wonder when Tony would allow me to have visitors.”

“He didn’t.”

Jim frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I’m only here because I found out what happened on the news. Tony has nothing to do with it.”

“Oh.Oh. I’m sorry, [Name]. I should have called you. Between the media blitz and all the physical therapy, it never even crossed my mind.”

You put your hand gingerly on his shoulder and were relieved that he didn’t collapse under the added weight. “It’s okay, Jim. I don’t blame you for my finding out this way.”

“It isn’t Tony’s fault.”

You snorted, causing Jim’s faint eyebrows to lift.

“It’s not.”

“Jim.” Now your hand moved to cup his cheek. “This happened because you were cleaning up one of Tony’s messes again.”

Admittedly, you didn’t have all the details lined up just yet. One never could trust the news to tell the whole or entire truth about something, but this fiasco smelled strongly of one of Tony’s harebrained world-protection schemes. His role in keeping Jim away from for months at a time was a well-worn subject of argument between you and your husband; bringing it up now when Jim was so weak wasn’t exactly fair. But you couldn’t stand seeing him like this, and the knowledge that Tony had something to do with his injuries again only aggravated you further.

“I swear, you got hurt less often back when you only worked for the Air Force,” you said throatily.

Jim pressed one of his hands over the one you had on his face, then waited to speak until you could control yourself enough to look him in the eye:

“[Name], you know I make my own decisions.”

“And those decisions change if you think Tony’s going to get himself killed,” you grumbled.

“And you know I’m willing to call Tony out when I think he’s being an idiot.”

“Which doesn’t matter when he doesn’t listen.”

“And you knew that when you and I got married, Tony was part of that package deal.”

Another glare in Tony’s direction met with an odd expression on his part. Before it had felt like he couldn’t look straight at you. Now it felt like he’d forgotten you were even there, so focused was he on Jim. Could that be guilt you read on Tony’s face? Surely not. You turned back to your husband with a sharp breath.

“At the time, I didn’t realize the deal would involve so much of you two flying around in metal suits.”

Jim let out a soft, low chuckle. His eyelids slid shut. When he dropped his arm to his side, you reluctantly pulled your hand away from him. Tony knelt beside him to put his hand on the shoulder you had so recently held.

“You had a rough morning. You should be in bed,” he said.

“I’m fine, I’m fine.” Jim tried to wave him off, but Tony stayed put.

“I mean it. You want to backslide? All that progress we made this morning? Gone, because your stubborn ass has to come running whenever I get in a fight.”

“You’re not in any condition to go toe to toe with [Name] right now.”

“When am I ever?”

The two of them grinned at each other in that infuriating way that only a couple of guys making a private joke could. Seeing as you were the butt of that private joke, you did not crack a smile. You allowed them to continue smiling, though, until their little “bromance” moment stretched on a little too long. Both men started when you cleared throat. Maybe they had forgotten you were still standing there with your arms crossed over your chest.

“And what, exactly, about this morning was so rough?” you asked frostily.

The look Jim and Tony exchanged that time was different—more raised eyebrows and frowning—but equally infuriating.

“What aren’t you telling me?” This question you directed at your husband. “I came out all this way to find out what’s been going on, so one of you had better spit it out.”

“Or what?” asked Tony.

“Tony, I think she’s serious,” Jim said.

“So am I. Is not knowing really grounds for a divorce? I’m just weighing our options here.”

With an aggrieved sigh, Jim shoved Tony out of his immediate personal bubble. Tony must not have wanted to keep their shared secret too badly, because he did nothing to prevent Jim from taking a deep breath and saying:

“Tony’s got me doing some…experimental physical therapy.”

Well,that wasn’t a comforting explanation. “So you’re a physical therapist now?” you asked.

“Among other things,” Tony said.

“Look.”

You could not ignore Jim’s soft request. Instead of firing back at Tony as you so badly wanted to, you returned your attention to your husband. He tapped at a glowing blue circle about halfway down his thigh. From that light sprouted a complicated system of pulleys and joints and even more lights that sprawled across Jim’s legs and hips. So eager had you been to see him alive and moving that you hadn’t even noticed this addition to his body.

“Tony made these for me,” he said. “Without them, I wouldn’t be able to walk at all.”

Your mouth opened. Your mouth closed. Again. Again. Again. Still unable to think of any way to express your thoughts on the matter, you raised your head to look at Tony. You were surprised to find his brown eyes shining when they met your gaze.

“We’re still working out the kinks. Rhodey is—” Tony coughed a few times, then went on, “Rhodey is amazing. He’s doing great. Really great. I’m just trying to get the braces up to his speed.”

“We’re both getting there. Together.”

Tony shook his head, unwilling to accept Jim’s encouragement. His eyes and yours were trained on each other like magnets. “You weren’t supposed to show up until he was perfect. That’s why I didn’t call. I wanted to give him back to you good as new.”

“Tony…” Jim began, but once more Tony waved him off.

“I owe you both at least that much.”

Neither you nor Tony seemed able to figure out what to say to each other after that. At least you finally managed to break eye contact. He looked back at Jim, tried to smile, failed, and awkwardly stuck his hands in the front pockets of his pants. You turned your head to blink rapidly at the wall, cleared your throat again, and tried not to cry. After struggling to find words to say to Tony for another minute or so, you gave up and went back to Jim instead.

“You really think this is what you need? Not rehab at an actual hospital?” you asked.

He didn’t miss a beat. “I trust Tony. This is what I want to do.”

Normally, Tony would have taken this compliment and rubbed it in your face until it ground to dust. That day he didn’t react at all. Didn’t blink. Didn’t grin. Didn’t so much as offer a single quip. He seemed to be waiting for you to make the next move. His behavior threw you off, and the more you thought about it, the more you realized just how little Tony was acting like himself at all. The whole catastrophe with Steve—and Jim’s injury—must have really rattled him.

Then it hit you: Jim wasn’t just staying here for his own sake; he could never be that selfish. Tony needed Jim just then just as badly as Jim needed Tony. You couldn’t tear him away.

“Fine,” you said.

“Fine?” Tony echoed.

“What’s fine?” Jim asked.

“You can stay. I won’t drag you off to the nearest VA like I was planning to.”

“You won’t?” A hopeful note crept into Tony’s voice.

“Really?” said Jim.

“Really,” you answered.

They both cheered. If you’d given them the time, you suspected they might have actually embraced. You did not give them the time, however. Tony could change his mind just as quickly as you, so you needed to get things arranged as soon as possible. Neither he nor Jim noticed you taking a step away from them, but they couldn’t fail to hear you say:

“Just let me go get my bags out of the car.”

You made a beeline for the door you’d come through before either of them could register what you said. Such ringing silence could not last. No sooner had you placed your hand on the door handle than did Tony shake off the lingering shock.

“Wait. No one said anything about you staying,” he said as he came after you. “No, no. This is a secure facility! I’m sure we can find you a nice hotel nearby if you really feel you need to—”

“Tony,” said Jim.

“She’s not an Avenger!”

“Yeah, and neither are we much these days.”

Then Jim tried to get to his feet. It looked more to you like he was having a seizure. His feet scuffed against the floor while his fingers grasped the edge of the chair he sat on. Very slowly and very arduously, he finally managed to stand. You held everything you had inside you very, very still to prevent yourself from running over to him and helping him over to Tony’s side. He got there all on his own several agonizing minutes later. There he clapped Tony on the shoulder and shot him a tired smile.

“Besides, you knew when [Name] and I got married, she’d always be part of the package deal,” he said.

Tony’s lips pursed together at that. They squirmed for a long time. At last, without bothering to so much as look in your direction, he said, “Fine. She can stay.”

“Thanks, Tony.”

“But you have to say in the wing where we house the orphaned SHIELD agents!” Tony’s call followed you out of the compound and back onto the lot where your rental car sat waiting.

“Tony—” Jim began in a warning tone.

The door shutting behind you prevented you from hearing the quarrel that surely followed. Those two were always like that, especially when it came to you. As you hefted your two suitcases from the car’s trunk, though, you found you didn’t care. You didn’t care about having to listen to Jim and Tony argue until they were blue in the faces or drunk. You didn’t care about the fights you and Tony would get into when he inevitably got bored and started picking on you. You didn’t even care that it looked as though you and your husband would not be returning to your home in California soon or ever at all.

No, all you felt in that moment was grateful. Tony Stark might have put a lot of stock into the work of his own hands, modern architecture, and flashy tech—but he put more stock into his friendship with you and with Jim.

Summary:Natasha tends gets her way, if not always in the way that she expects.

Rating/Warnings: All (song lyrics as dialogue; Song Challenge; Post-Avengers (2012); SHIELD Agent!Reader; Avenger!Reade; Some Crack; Pre-Iron Man 3; Avengers Tower; absent!Thor)

Requester:@flintt

Request:  “Can I […] ask for a Bruce Banner fanfic? I was also wondering if y/n could just be a shield agent doing a singing challenge with co-workers and end up doing Banner (I like to think it’s overwhembled /the Ryan Mack Remix/) and he’s all smitten and in love. Pretty much fluff. Thanks. […] y/n is a really good singer and suggests them and their co-workers play a game, which y/n will summarize the avengers personality/love life/ whatever with a song.”

Tag List: @imaginesfire​

Notes: Credit is given for the music within the work. Also, I must give a shout-out to my best friend IRL for coming up with the ending to this one shot back when I first mentioned what I was working on to her.

Silent No More

Silence had a funny way of turning the most mundane of tasks into an arduous affair. It could do so in more than one way, too. You could endure the thin, anxious silence waiting for the signal to begin acting out a mission. You could handle the heavy, poignant silence at the other end of a phone line when you called a family to inform them a fellow agent had died in the line of duty. But by far the hardest silence to sit through was standing alone in an elevator with your boss while he studiously typed out messages to someone else all the way down.

When the silver doors finally slid open to reveal Avengers Towers common area, you sucked in an enormous breath. Unstifled air at last! But you could not enjoy it for long. Director Fury stepped out onto the tile alongside you with his black coat billowing at his ankles. You struggled to match his long strides as you both headed in the direction of the second lift at the other end of the wide room. Whatever he and Maria were talking about must have been important; he still hadn’t said a single word since you left the interview. Had you screwed things up? Should you bring the question up yourself, or wait for him to start the lecture?

“[Name]!”

A familiar voice forced you to turn before either you or Director Fury reached the elevator to the main lobby. There at the kitchen table sat your close friend, Natasha Romanoff, and fellow SHIELD agent Clint Barton. Behind them in the kitchen itself stood another familiar figure: Bruce Banner, who seemed determined to pretend no one else was anywhere nearby.

Natasha caught your eye and waved you over. You shot Director Fury a questioning look. He was still, for all intents and purposes, your boss, as well as your ride home for the evening. Without even looking up from his communicator, he nodded.

“So, how did it go?” she asked upon your approach.

“Fine,” you answered.

“Meaning?”

“Meaning I got the job.”

She and Clint clapped enthusiastically. Maybe it was lingering anxiety from being trapped in a room for an hour while Director Fury, Steve Rogers, and Tony Stark shot questions at you, but their celebratory gesture only made your face grow warm. Then Natasha made things worse by kicking the chair across from her out from under the table and pointing imperiously at the empty seat.

“Sit,” she said.

So used to following her orders were you that you sat without a second thought. From that angle, you had a good view of Bruce’s wide shoulders straining a little against the fabric of his purple shirt. The scent of hot milk and spices rose from whatever he had on the stove; you wondered if he was making tea.

Natasha cleared her throat. Starting, you returned your attention to her—but that didn’t convince her it had always been there. Her green eyes slid knowingly in Bruce’s direction and back to your face. Her smile grew as she pushed an upside-down baseball cap across the table to you. It rustled strangely as it moved, and the reason soon became clear: A number of folded paper slips sat inside.

“Welcome to the team,” she said. “I hope you didn’t think this would get you out of our little game.”

Horrified, you gazed down at the hat. All of the papers inside seemed to writhe around like venomous snakes. Though Clint had not spoken a single word since your arrival, you could see him smirking over the lip of his coffee mug. You knew exactly what he found so amusing, too: The vague warmth against the back of your head told you that Director Fury had followed you to the table—and he was probably still busy talking to Maria. That wouldn’t mean he wasn’t keeping track of your conversation, though; the World Security Council did not pay him to be unobservant.

Did Natasha, your so-called “friend,” have any sympathy for your plight? Of course she didn’t. She just jostled that hat by its brim and reminded you, “This whole thing was youridea.”

“I know,” you moaned.

“So what’s the hold up?”

“That was before.”

“Before what?”

You couldn’t help stealing another glance at the back of Bruce’s dark curly head. Was he listening in? How could he not? Nothing else was going on in the common area, and making tea didn’t cause a lot of noise.

“Before I joined the Avengers,” you answered in an undertone.

“Oh, but I have to play? I’ve been an Avenger from the beginning.”

“Then let’s call the whole thing off. I’ll just see you guys tomorrow, shall—”

As you stood to beat a hasty retreat, Clint grabbed your elbow and pulled you back into your chair. “Nice try, [Name].”

“You aren’t chickening out of this now,” said Natasha. “Not after I’ve already completed one round.”

“What? Who did you get?” you demanded.

Clint raised the hand that gripped you into the air.

“That’s not fair. How did you draw your best friend right off the bat? Did she even really sing to you?” you asked Clint.

“Of course she did. Why would I lie about a thing like that?” he asked you in return.

“Because, as previously stated, you’re her best friend.”

“I am shocked and appalled you think I’m capable of such outright dishonesty with such meager motivation.”

“Prove it then. What song did she sing to you?”

Clint opened his mouth, but Natasha put a hand on his shoulder. He grinned, drained the last of whatever was in his cup, and set it down on the table with an exaggerated smack of his lips.

“Sorry, [Name].” He didn’t sound it. “My lips are sealed. Natasha swore me to secrecy, and you know how thatgoes.”

You sure did, and knowing made you all the more suspicious. Clint and Natasha often acted as a unit. What she wanted, she usually got. If she needed help from her partner in crime, you hadn’t come across a situation yet where he refused to help her. Huffing, you threw yourself back against your chair and crossed your arms over your chest.

“I don’t believe either of you.”

These words bothered Natasha not at all. With a flourish, she pulled her cell phone out, shaking it a little so that its glassy screen caught the lights above your heads. “That’s okay. I’ve got video proof. Oh, I don’t think so,” she added when you made a futile grab for the phone. “You can see the recording after you wrap up yourassignment.”

Unconvinced, you looked again at Clint. He might have been willing to do just about anything for Natasha, but lying was not one of those things. Not in circumstances where no one’s life was in danger, at least.

“Itwas a pretty spectacular show,” he said.

You threw your hands into the air. “Ugh! Fine! Give me the hat.”

She held it out again. You plunged your hand into the waiting pool of slips before you could change your mind. Maybe you’d get lucky. Maybe you’d pick some guy assigned to Helicarrier duty for the next three months. Maybe you'd—

“Oh, that’s perfect!” Natasha said.

The paper unfolded read “Bruce Banner.”

“Yourigged this.” You leveled your deadliest glare at her, the one that occasionally caused hardened terrorists to drop their weapons without firing at your team. “I don’t know how you rigged this, but this is all your doing.”

“Don’t be a spoil sport, [Name]. Director, why don’t you go ahead and draw your assignment now?”

She thrust the hat up toward your heretofore wordless boss. When you twisted in your seat, you saw him stop rattling away on his communicator just long enough to look from the hat to Natasha’s face.

“Don’t make me fire you, Agent Romanoff,” he said.

“That’s all right.” She cheerfully sat the hat down at her elbow. “I’ll use that sleight of hand [Name] has accused me of to make sure no one gets to Tony’s slip before you.”

“Hey. What are you guys up to?” asked a new voice.

All four of you slowly moved your heads to see Bruce standing nearby. He had one hand in his pocket; the other held a steaming mug.

“Nothing,” Natasha said with a radiant smile.

“Nothing you’d be interested in,” Clint added.

“Nothing you need to be involved in, Dr. Banner,” said Director Fury. “With the only person capable of wrestling the Hulk into submission still in Asgard, I’d prefer you to keep your stress levels at a minimum.”

A brief pause followed this suggestion. Bruce licked his lips. You watched a faint line on his forehead deepen for a moment. Then the line vanished to be replaced by a thin smile.

“Okay,” he said. “I’ll just go see if Tony wants any help in the lab today. Congratulations on making the team, [Name]. Or maybe I should offer you my condolences?”

With that, he took his tea and shuffled off to the elevator you and Director Fury had vacated. Only after he disappeared behind the metal doors did the rest of your group relax.

“That was close,” said Clint.

“Very,” Fury agreed.

The rapid key tapping resumed. Natasha got up from the table to do something in the kitchen. Clint slurped at the nothing that remained in his cup. You, on the other hand, stared wordlessly at the paper clenched between your hands. Keeping Bruce in the dark was part of the game. He couldn’t know what was going on until you revealed it all to him. Had it been your imagination that he looked hurt over being told to stay out of it? Director Fury, at least, sounded awfully sincere about wanting Bruce to avoid all stress.

******

The first steps you took into your new home later that week hardly gave you the opportunity to get a good look at your surroundings. All you could tell was that they were big. As far a cry from D.C. as Manhattan was to begin with, your floor on Avengers Tower could not have been more different than the studio apartment you’d left behind.

Figures filled and moved throughout the area, providing even more distraction. As you and Natasha strode through the lobby of your home, arms laden with moving boxes, a platoon of Iron Man suits kept busy moving, adjusting, unpacking, disposing. And at the center of all this stood Tony Stark himself.

“How much more you got left, [Name]?” he asked as you neared his station in the living room. “Not that these guys need lunch, but I sure could use a break.”

“Why don’t you come downstairs and take a look yourself? We’d get it done faster if one of us wasn’t hanging out up here doing nothing,” Natasha said.

Tony looked affronted. “Nothing? Nothing? If I leave my post, who’s going to supervise this lot? You guys don’t have the control chip installed.”

“They could alsohelp unload the truck.”

“Nope. Sorry. No can do. These boys need to be kept on the D.L. until I’ve got all the kinks worked out.”

“Kinks?” you asked. “What kinks?”

“Nothing you need to worry about. All I’m saying is, I bring them outside just in time for the delivery kid to show up, and bam! One YouTube video later, the whole world knows what I'm—Hey! Mk. XXIV! Don’t you dare drop that! Don’t you—What did I justsay?”

A tremendous crashing sound caused the floor to shake.

“No kinks to worry about?” Natasha asked.

“Hold that thought,” Tony said as he stepped around you both and headed back the way you’d come. “Do you want to join DUM-E in the basement? So help me God, I’ll put you on mopping duty if that’s what you’re after!”

“Please tell me that wasn’t my grandmother’s china cabinet,” you said.

Natasha looked over her shoulder at the mess for you. “Doesn’t look like it. Looks like it might have been the coffee table Tony already put up here.”

“Thank God. I don’t have enough furniture to fill this place up as it is.”

“Lucky for you it comes pre-furnished.” Something behind you made a horrible, sharp squealing noise. Tony’s frustrated shouting resumed. “So long as Tony gets his Iron Legion under control.”

“Maybe we should take my dinnerware to a safer location.”

“Good idea.”

The sounds of groaning and crunching faded as you and Natasha slipped into your floor’s private kitchen. None of the drones had come that far back yet. In your hands you carried the first box of cookware. You slid it onto the waiting bar counter, tore it open, and began to pull out drinking glasses before any Iron Legion members could come in and break these as well.

“So,” Natasha said, setting down her own box next to yours. You liked her tone not at all.

“So what?”

“How’s the Song Challenge coming along? Have you picked something for Bruce yet?”

Of course that would be what was on her mind. Ever since she’d read the name on the slip you drew, Natasha had inundated you with texts, voicemails, and video calls about your plan. She seemed to think this was your big chance to show Bruce how you felt about him instead of what it really was: Your big chance to embarrass him and yourself in front of all his coworkers, irrevocably ruining any kind thoughts he had toward you.

“I don’t know if you missed the memo, Nat,” you had to stand on your tiptoes to reach the shelf you wanted, “but I’ve been a little busy this week packing my entire life into numerous boxes.”

“Exactly my point. Plenty of time for you to think. I’ve already wrapped up assignment number two.”

“What? Who did you get for that one?”

More importantly, when did she find the time? Apocalypse-level threats to Earth did not arise every single day, but surely the Avengers kept themselves busy. Why else hire on a seventh member?

Someone from over by the doorway cleared their throat. At first they appeared to be a tower of cardboard boxes on two thick legs. Then the someone stepped into the room and carefully dropped the boxes onto the empty kitchen table. Steve looked a little embarrassed, and it didn’t take long for you to figure out why.

“Speak of the Devil,” Natasha said with a grin.

You glared at her. “Seriously? Steve? You got Steve, and you’ve already sung to him.”

“I’ll have everyone else taken care of, too, at the rate you’re going. Don’t spend long on your break, Steve. And don’t tell her anything.”

With this final warning ringing in the air, she slid around Steve and out into the hall. You tore open the box containing your cutlery. What else could you do? Having worked occasionally with the Avengers as a SHIELD agent didn’t mean you had any clue how to act alone around Captain America.

“If it helps,” he said into the awkward silence, “she isn’t lying.”

“I don’t suppose you’ve got any proof of that.”

Steve shook his head. “You heard her. I don’t want to wake up tomorrow and find out my social security number doesn’t exist anymore. I can’t imagine you want that either.”

“I guess not,” you admitted grudgingly. Steve, at least, could probably get his identity back. Seeing as you didn’t so much as have a code name yet, Natasha could wreak much more havoc on your life if she chose to do so.

“But [Name].”

You looked at him.

“I always tell the truth.”

It would have been impossible to disbelieve him anyway when he furrowed his brows and filled his blue eyes with sincerity like that. Even if hugely muscled, all-American soldiers weren’t your type, Steve looked so handsome and earnest just then that you couldn’t even muster up an eye roll. All you could do was say:

“Right.”

Natashahad told him to not be take much time talking to you; she wouldn’t wait long before she came back to double-check he wasn’t spilling the beans about her song routine. You expected him to leave once you turned your back to fill an open drawer with silverware. Instead, when you went to retrieve a handful of spoons, you found him a few feet away loading plates into a cabinet.

“So, you’re having trouble coming up with something for Dr. Banner?” he asked.

“Er…yeah.” So surprised were you that Steve could speak to you like a normal human being that it took a second or two of staring before you remembered you were supposed to be unpacking. “I know he’ll probably hate the attention either way, but I want to pick something he’ll like—or at least something that won’t embarrass him too badly.”

“Want some help?”

“No thanks. I’ll think of something. I’m not sure that anything from the 1930s would be appropriate for Bruce.”

Steve did not deny listening exclusively to music from his own time period unless Tony forced him to do otherwise. “Well, if you change your mind?”

“I’ll let you know.”

“You’ll think of something good. I think it will be good for Dr. Banner to get a little positive attention.”

“No pressure, right?”

“I didn’t say that to pressure you. For what it’s worth—”

Cardboard scraping against cardboard cut through whatever he intended to say. Speak of the Devil was right! Behind the new boxes stood Bruce of all people. His dark eyes moved between your and Steve’s faces. He, Bruce, seemed to realize he had walked in the middle of something, because he licked his lips and forced a smile, an expression of his you were rapidly growing accustom to.

“Sorry,” he said. “I only managed to carry a couple of boxes up.”

“Every little bit helps,” Steve assured him, but Bruce continued to fidget with his hands.

“The Hulk could probably get the whole truck up here in one go, but—”

“He’d wind up smashing everything to pieces. Better not risk it.”

Color crept into Bruce’s cheeks. “That’s what I was getting at.”

Poor Bruce. He looked so uncomfortable. If only you could say something to crack the sudden tension that filled the kitchen. But what could you say? You got only as far as opening your mouth when he turned, shoulders hunched, to leave the room.

“I’d best get back down there and grab a few more things,” he said. “Can’t have puny Banner failing to pull his own weight, right?”

“Dr. Banner,” Steve began, but Bruce did not pause in his retreat. “Dr. Banner!”

“Bruce? What’s up?” you heard Tony ask from the other room. If Bruce gave him an answer, you didn’t hear it.

Steve let out a sharp sigh.

“I should go apologize. That was out of line. Natasha’s probably looking for me anyway. You good in here alone?”

You nodded as you tore into one of the boxes Bruce brought up. The only current threat nearby was to your material possessions, not to your physical well-being. Nothing more needed to be said after Steve ducked out. If you’d tried to speak, you’d probably have told Captain America that he ought to apologize, and you couldn’t say that to your new boss. Actually, Bruce probably deserved an apology from you as well, assuming he’d heard any part of your conversation with Steve. Maybe you should head down to the lobby, too…

Crash! Bang! Screech!

“Are you kidding me?” Tony cried.

On second thought, your things might be safer if you stayed right where you were.

******

Tonydid eventually get his drones to do the jobs he wanted them to do. Unpacking your things became significantly easier after that. In fact, he even got them to put several items of furniture that they had broken back together. Your bookshelves almost looked as good as new—not that you had time to look for obvious cracks when Steve assigned you to training with different team members every day of the remaining week. With so few actual missions on the schedule, it was no wonder Natasha could spend all that time shuttling back and forth between Avengers Tower and SHIELD HQ for the Song Challenge! Meanwhile, the rest of the team kept you so busy you hardly had five minutes to yourself to think of anything for your onechallenge.

Friday afternoon provided you the first free hour of time since you’d settled in. Showered and aching, you headed down to the common floor with the hope of overhearing something about Natasha’s efforts. The hope was slim; she had everyone terrified into silence. You stepped into the room to find her, Clint, and Steve crowded around Tony on the sofa. Tony was holding up his cell phone, and from its speakers blared music and the unmistakable sound of Natasha’s singing voice.

The very second the lift doors closed behind you, all four of them looked up. Tony turn off his phone and slipped into his pocket right away. You scowled as you stalked over to collapse on the armchair near them.

“Don’t let me stop you from having a good time,” you said.

“You’re not,” said Tony.

“You’re giving Natasha an excuse to snap our necks,” said Clint.

The woman in question gave Clint a playful smack on the back of his head. He smiled at her.

“Get a room,” you muttered, sliding further into your chair.

“Aw, what’s the matter? Still having trouble with your Song Challenge?” Natasha hopped up from her seat only to come perch on one of your chair arms. The withering look you sent her again had no effect on her.

“Mine is going fine, thank you for asking.”

“Hey, there’s no shame in admitting defeat,” Clint said.

“You don’t know Bruce as well as we do,” Tony put in. “Maybe you should call it quits and see if Romanoff will give you someone else. Someone…simpler?”

“You’re the simplest person around here to understand,” Steve said.

“I only keep things simple for you Cap. We all realize your primitive mind can’t grasp our modern-day nuances.”

“If this is a simpleness competition, I think [Name] wins,” said Clint. “She can’t even think of one song and dance routine to perform for Bruce, and Natasha’s already finished four.”

“Makes you wonder if she’s cut out for the Avengers,” Natasha agreed.

“Oh, shut up.” You knew you sounded sour, but did she have to rub it in? “Anyway, Barton, I don’t know where you get off nagging me. Your deadline is up tomorrow.”

He flicked his hand dismissively. “I took care of Maria on Tuesday.”

This news caused you to bury your face in your hands in frustration. “Is everyone going to beat me to the punch? This whole thing was myidea!”

“Not to put too fine a point on it, but your work on this is not going to reflect well upon you in your next employee review,” Tony said, then added when you lifted your face to glower at him, “We’re teasing you, [Name]. You’re one of us now. You’d better get used to it.”

A quiet whoosh announced yet another addition to the group. Out of the elevator slouched Bruce. He took one look at you all gathered there without him, most everyone smiling, and then quickly looked away. You noticed that Tony’s eyes followed Bruce’s circuitous route around the sitting room into the kitchen just as yours did. There Bruce opened the refrigerator and stuck his head inside it without so much as greeting anyone sitting there a few feet away.

When you looked again at Tony, he smirked. That you found odd—or did, until he called:

“Hey, Bruce. Why don’t you quit hiding in the fridge over there and join us?”

He pulled his head free only far enough that he could see you all. “Huh?”

“There’s room on the couch.” Tony waved Bruce over. “Or [Name]’s other chair arm is free. You could get to know her, since you’ve been avoiding all your training exercises with her.”

That explained why you still hadn’t had gone any rounds with Bruce in the gym upstairs. Why would he avoid you? You tried to surreptitiously give him a good once-over, as though you could glean why he had such an aversion to spending time with you specifically with just a glance. He caught your eye as you did and hastily twisted around so he could hold out his hands, fingers spread wide in front of him.

“That’s okay. You guys look cozy. I’ll just make some tea and be on my way,” he said.

“You could make tea on your own floor if you wanted to be antisocial. Come on. Sit.”

“Ireally don’t think that’s at all advisable.”

“Sit! Sit! Sit!” Clint started to chant.

“Sit! Sit! Sit!” Natasha joined in.

It didn’t take long for Tony to take up the words himself. Only you and Steve remained silent, and the latter not for long as you watched Bruce try and fail several time to interrupt their chorus, Steve lifted his own hands to his shoulders. His glare succeed in shutting every single one of them, even Tony.

“There’s no need to heckle Dr. Banner,” Steve said. “If he doesn’t want to be around us, he doesn’t have to be.”

“I didn’t say I didn’t want to be around you guys,” Bruce mumbled.

“You don’t have to explain yourself to us. Trust me, I know how stressful talking to Tony for any length of time can be.”

“Hey! I resemble that remark,” said Tony.

Steve shot him another withering look, then returned his attention to Bruce. “If you ever feel like we get to be too much, leave the room. No one will think any less of you. It’s safer for all of us if you don’t have the temptation to turn.”

“Cap,” Tony began, but his warning tone went nowhere. Bruce broke in by snapping the refrigerator shut behind.

“Yeah, I think I get the gist,” he said.

After that, Bruce tried to make back to the lift. He didn’t notice you standing so abruptly that you nearly knocked Natasha off her perch. He didn’t see you running to intercept him. But he did see you once you stood blocking his path, and he immediately came to a halt.

“[Name]?” he asked, brown eyes wide.

You could feel everyone else’s wide eyes riveted on you as well. Part of you thought things might go smoother for your integration into the team if you did nothing more than apologize to Bruce for making him uncomfortable and sit back down. If you did that, however, you’d never hear the end of it. Tony probably would bring your failure to complete your own challenge up on your employee review just for kicks. Besides, you got the feeling that if you let Bruce vanish on you now, you’d never get another opportunity to show him what you’d thought up.

“Are you all right?” Bruce prompted you, after a good half a minute passed without you saying anything.

To answer his question, you took a deep breath. He looked as though he was going to ask again, so you cut him off by starting to sing:

“I get overwhelmed so easily. My anxiety creeps inside of me, makes it so hard to breathe.”

No, your voice was too quiet. Could the man in front of you hear you? All he was doing was frowning at you still. You continued on with the song, growing a little louder with each line until you reached the first verse at full volume:

“But these doubts are haunting me. Oh, why’s it always right before I fall asleep that—”

“JAR?” Tony said. “Play Overwhelmed by Ryan Mack through the speakers. And rip out the voice track!”

“Of course, sir.”

You dove into the chorus as the music swelled around you. Bruce’s frown slowly faded away. Now he looked incredulous. Probably he could not believe he’d entered a universe in which his new coworker would just belt out a song to him in front of all his friends and other coworkers. Would you let that deter you? Not now. In fact, the musical accompaniment gave you the courage to dance along. Your moves were nothing compared to what you figured Natasha’s were, but at least you weren’t just standing there doing nothing anymore.

“I get over…well, well, well, would you look at that? Another person telling me to just ‘relax.’ ‘Calm down and take it easy. Everything will be okay.’ Yeah, sure.”

The astonishment on Bruce’s face twisted into an enormous grin, and he didn’t stop smiling for the rest of your song. All the while, the rest of the Avengers clapped along to the beat piping in from the ceiling.

“I get overwhelmed!”

A brief pause followed this conclusion. Then the group in the living room burst into applause. You couldn’t have cared less about their reaction either way. The only person’s you did care about was Bruce’s. He still hadn’t stopped smiling.

“Isthis what Natasha’s been doing all week that everyone’s being so secretive about?” he asked.

“Yes,” you said, then hastened to explain, “It was my idea. We’re all supposed to draw someone’s name out of a hat and pick a song to sing to them that summarizes them.”

“And you just had to go and draw my name.”

“No! I wanted you. Natasha probably made sure I did. I—I think you’re really sweet, Bruce. I realize this might not be the best way to tell you that, though.”

“No, it was. I loved it.”

You gaped at him. “You did?”

“Yeah. It was perfect. Maybe after training sometime, you and I could—”

All the lights on the floor went out.

“Very funny, Tony,” Bruce said.

“It’s not me,” Tony replied. “JARVIS? Lights, please!”

JARVIS did not respond. The only light came now from the button glowing beside the lift down to the tower’s lower floors. Bruce took your hands in his, presumably to shove you behind him if it came down to a fight. You held your breath until the elevator doors slid open to reveal a shadowed figure that stepped out onto the floor.

“Hey, buddy. Bad call breaking into this place,” Clint said.

A spotlight cut through the darkness. You could not make out who the person was at this distance, only that their clothing sparkled. Ominous music began to fill the room.

“You think you came up with piping in your own background music?” Tony said. “Come back when you’ve got something more original.”

The figure said nothing as it drew closer and closer to the Avengers. Multicolored lights swarmed suddenly across everyone’s faces. Whoever it was struck a pose only a few feet from the couch, and it hit you: It was Director Fury, wearing the same outfit he normally did but with glitter covering his trench coat and eye patch. He launched into his own song:

“Make his fight on the hill in the early day, constant chill deep inside.”

“What the hell?” you heard several of those gathered say. Their confusion did not prevent Director Fury from dancing his way right up to a stunned Tony Stark.

“For whom the bell tolls, time marches on. Sing it!”

Slack jawed, Tony did not blink at all between that moment and the end of Director Fury’s performance. No, it was more than that: Tony didn’t move. No one did. By the time the last notes of Metallica’s For Whom the Bell Tolls faded into nothingness and all the lights flicked back on, your hands had grown warm and moist inside of Bruce’s. Everyone one sat staring like that for what felt ages before Tony made a sudden grab for his phone.

Director Fury snatched Tony’s arm and held it in place. “No one will ever believe you.”

Without uttering another word, Director Fury turned, twinkling, to stride back to the elevator doors through which he’d come. You all remained too stunned to speak for several minutes after he vanished behind them.

“Well,” Natasha said at last, “I think we can all agree on who won [Name]’s Song Challenge.”

A murmur of assent rose from the group.

One by one, each member of the team seem to thaw. Bruce squeezed your hands before releasing you at last. Sure, you might have lost out on the overall win, but you’d won his heart. That was something that even Director Fury wouldn’t be stealing away from you any time soon.

Summary: For nine years, you raised the little sister your parents would never see grow. For nine years, you put blood and sweat and tears—sometimes your own, sometimes that of others—into your gruesome work. For nine years, you promised your little family a better life. Then, on the eve of happily ever after, all that is snatched away in the name of revenge. There’s only one group of people capable of rescuing your sister from those who murdered your parents. The thing is, they might not be so willing to help once they discover who (or what) you are…or maybe, just maybe, they might love you in spite of it.

Ratings/Warnings: T (sexual references, mild foul language, canon divergence Post-Avengers (2012), violence, slow burn, France depicted by a non-French writer, no Laura Barton)

Pairings:Clint Barton/Female!Reader; Natasha Romanoff/Bruce Banner; Tony Stark/Pepper Potts

Tag List: @imaginesfire​

Master List

Chapter 2: Thanks for the Warning

Your father told you once many years ago that one day you would return to New York City. You’d been seven at the time, eager and excited to be somewhere so starkly different from your home in Arizona—and to see your father at work. All the glitter, all the lights, so many people! You couldn’t wait to come back with your parents someday soon, someday when it was safe, someday when there wasn’t a job to do.

As you watched the dark shapes of the many skyscrapers covered in squares of brilliant whites and blues slide past your taxi window, you couldn’t muster up the enthusiasm of your childhood. Your father probably hadn’t imagined that everything would be different the next time you saw the city, except for the city itself. No family, no safety, only work to look forward to. You wouldn’t even be in the country long enough to enjoy the sights if all went according to plan.

“So, how long are you in town for?” the cabbie asked. The brown eyes set underneath his thick, dark eyebrows flashed at you in the rearview mirror. You appreciated his breaking into your thoughts; answering him prevented you from dwelling on what could not be changed.

“I leave first thing tomorrow.” You slipped easily back into the American Midwestern accent you’d adopted since arriving in the city. “I’ve got business to take care of out of the country.”

“And you only got in this evening?”

“I had a layover. Why waste it?”

“That’s some turnaround just to see Central Park!”

“I couldn’t resist looking at the ice-skating rink. My dad took me there once when I was a little girl.”

“Oh, yeah? Where’s he now?”

“Dead. Like the rest of my family.”

Your driver made a strange spluttering sound. Lucky for him, a spot along 5th Avenue opened up, allowing him to pull in without inflicting any further awkward conversations upon either of you. You hopped out, paid him his fare—plus a tip—and then headed for the information kiosk ahead on Terrace while he waited for someone new to flag him down.

Early March after sunset was not as popular time for the Central Park skating rink as earlier months might have been. It could not be helped. You had left Paris as soon and as surreptitiously as you could without attracting suspicion. A few slow laps around the ice were enough for you to find a crowd of young adults to follow back out of the park. Their chattered faded when you parted from them to turn right on 5th, but by then you could gauge your speed by walking with the other pedestrians. No one gave the woman carrying a pair of ice skates and a heavy backpack a second look.

And there was your destination in front of you, lit up like a beacon piercing the glowing sky above. Avengers Tower shone brighter than all the buildings around it; you could not have missed it if you tried. Nothing major must have been going on that night either. More people than you’d seen in Central Park spilled across the tower’s steps. Many of those people were in costume; enough weren’t that you blended in with the numerous fans and protesters as you climbed up to the glass doors.

You expected the empty lobby at nine o'clock in the evening. Nothing stirred the shadows less than an inch from your nose. Not a light blinked. Tony Stark would have the best security system in the world installed, though, probably one he’d built himself. That you could count on. One wrong move, and all your careful work just to get this far would come crashing down around your ears.

“I wouldn’t stand there too long if I were you.”

Turning at the sound of a male voice, you found only one person close enough to speak to you. A few feet away stood a man painted head-to-toe in metallic gold and red. He rotated his entire body to meet your eyes, and it hit you: He was a street performer decked out to match his location.

“I mean it.” His fingers mechanically motioned you closer. “Too many fans attempting to breach the lobby after hours lately. They’ve updated their security. I saw a girl get blasted down to the sidewalk last night. Unless you’re looking for that sort of thrill…”

You quickly stepped away from the danger zone and over to your new friend. An upturned hat filled with coins and dollar bills sat at the base of the pedestal he stood atop. Well, preventing you from getting caught before you got started had to be worth something.

“Thanks for the warning,” you said, and pulled out a dollar from your wallet to drop in the hat.

Through the throng of Iron Mans, Black Widows, Thors, and Captain Americas you traipsed. Occasionally, you stopped to take a selfie with one that stood at a strategic point along your path. The photos, however, told you nothing other than that Tony Stark didn’t keep a security guard stationed in his building’s lobby at night. And why would he? They had a Hulk, and you wouldn’t doubt the team would utilize that the second they caught wind of anyone trying to force their way through the front doors.

Fortunately, you’d only ever planned to use the front door as a last resort.

******

Nine o'clock. The stage was set. All the lamps in Tony’s living quarters were dimmed. Most of the glasses next to each person’s seat were drained of liquor. A mound of cash sat in the center of the table. Only two players remained. Tony and Steve eyed one another warily. No one else moved. Everyone held their breaths, waiting for the big reveal.

“Four of a kind,” Steve announced as he slapped four aces and a ten of spades on the table.

Whatever Tony had, he didn’t bother saying. He scattered his cards across the table and dropped his head into his arms with a theatrical groan. Even from this angle, Clint could tell Tony’s hand hadn’t had a hope of beating Steve’s. Natasha and Bruce cheered.

“That’s the third time tonight, Rogers.” Tony lifted his head high enough to glare at the man across from him. “You’re cheating. There’s no other explanation for it!”

“If he is, you haven’t managed to prove it yet,” Natasha said.

“That’s because you’re all aiding and abetting him. You want me to lose.”

“Hey,I was rooting for you,” Bruce put in.

Tony glowered at him, too. “You’re sleeping with the enemy now, Big Guy. I can’t trust you. Who knows what she can convince you to do once she’s got you between the sheets?”

As if to prove Tony’s point for him, Natasha entwined her fingers with the hand Bruce had resting on the table, then leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. Bruce turned pink but shot her a shy smile. Clint rolled his eyes away from this nauseating sight.

“See?” Tony said. “She probably told you to drop out as soon as you could to make sure I’d be trapped in a game alone with Le Chiffre here!”

“That’s putting an awful lot of stock in Bruce’s poker skill that I haven’t seen yet,” Clint remarked.

“This coming from the first guy to fold.”

“It’s not my fault you guys play for such high stakes. Some of us aren’t made of money, you know? I’m practically homeless.”

“Please. You live rent free in the most exclusive place in town. I think you can afford to put a little something in the pot.”

“Says the billionaire,” Clint grumbled. What little money he earned from a paycheck severely cut by superheroics he preferred to keep to himself, not that Tony cared. But Clint supposed he wouldn’t care much if he raked in the kind of cash Tony had for his entire life.

“Anyway, that’s not the point!” Leaping to his feet, Tony pointed dramatically at Steve. “My point is, how did someone whose entire shtick is embodying truth, justice, and the American way get so good at poker?”

Steve eyes flitted around the table, perhaps looking for an out. No one offered him one. “When I couldn’t keep a job, I had to find some way to help Bucky pay the rent. I’ve had a lot of practice playing people a lot tougher than you.”

“So you admit it! You arecheating.”

“Well, if you’re so sure, I can think of one way for you to prove it.”

“What’s that?”

Steve smiled. “Play another round. And this time, pay real close attention.”

The same tension as before filled the room. Bruce and Natasha’s gaze remained riveted on Tony. Clint idly wondered if he could slip away unseen while everyone waited for Tony to make a decision. Then, before Clint could push out his chair and make a run for it, Tony sat back down.

“Deal me in,” he said.

“I’m game,” Natasha agreed.

“I can go one more,” said Bruce.

“Sir?” JARVIS’s voice cut smoothly though the renewed trash talk. He didn’t wait for anyone to acknowledge him before continuing, “My sensors indicate someone is attempting to scale the building.”

That brought an end to the dealing at once.

“What?”

“Again?”

“Now?”

“I guess this puts an end to our game,” Steve said ruefully. “I was going to go for Tony’s Spyder next.”

“In your dreams, Rogers. I’ve got your number. I was just about to win everything back.”

“If you’re so sure about that, why not wager the car?”

“This hardly addresses the problem at hand, boys,” Natasha interrupted. “The game can go on, but first we need to decide who has to go retrieve the intruder, preferably before they find anything to put up on eBay.”

“It’s probably just another one of Tony’s ex-girlfriend,” said Bruce.

“So that’s me out of the running,” Tony said.

“Why does that make it not your job?” Steve asked.

“Because if I go, who knows what she’ll do? I break her heart, she grabs the nearest potted plant and breaks my face.”

“A real tragedy.”

“Maybe a plant to the face would improve your looks, Rogers, but some of us don’t need an adjustment.”

“I’ll go.”

Natasha and Bruce exchanged a look. Tony and Steve went as far as pausing in their bickering to stare at the man now standing next to his chair.

“Clint? You sure?” Bruce asked.

Clint had already made it to the door. He waved Bruce’s concern away. “This game’s too rich for my blood anyway. You guys go ahead.”

“Hey, better you than me, Legolas,” said Tony.

“You might not feel that way here in a few minutes,” Steve said.

“Mark my words, Rogers, in a few minutes, you’re gonna be the one wishing he went on peel-the-fangirl-off -the-wall duty.”

“That’s right. Keep your eyes on each other. No one consider how badly I might like a new car,” Natasha said.

As the argument over who would win this round of Texas Hold'em resumed, Clint moved rapidly away from Tony’s sitting room. The floor containing the more common areas, such as the bar and Bruce’s laboratory, was only a few floors away. Clint shoved the door to the stairwell open with his shoulder and dashed up the stairs, relieved to be away from the rest of the group. Hanging around Bruce and Natasha was sickening enough; throw in Steve and Tony’s near-inability to pay attention to anyone but each other (especially whenever Pepper flew back to Malibu for work), and Clint felt like the fifth wheel on a very ungainly bicycle.

He made a beeline for the weapons cache the second he reached the correct floor. From there, he pulled out the waiting bow and a quiver of trick arrows—then grabbed a few real arrows just in case. There’d been an influx in attempts to break in to the various Avengers’ living quarters since Tony displayed the whole place in a Home and Gardens magazine, but they couldn’t assume every intruder would be someone relatively harmless and in search of nothing more than celebrity underwear to sell for a quick buck.

“Which way are they coming up, JARVIS?” Clint asked the ceiling, once he was prepared.

JARVIS answered promptly: “The unidentified climber is making their way up the northeast side of the building. Their current whereabouts are near floor 83.”

“How about that? A new record.”

Whoever they were, they didn’t have far to go. Clint picked up the pace. As he reached the building’s back wall of windows, he snapped his bow into shape and nocked one of the trick arrows. Hopefully he wouldn’t have to fire anything more dangerous than a rope should the stranger slip upon seeing him.

“I have unlocked the panel directly in front of you,” JARVIS announced.

“Thanks, pal.”

Wind blasted into the room the moment Clint pushed the window open it. Nearby objects rattled and papers skittered across the floor. No noise issued from outside except for the faint and steady honking from the traffic one fatal drop below. He stuck his body out only enough to aim his bow and arrow downward.

“You know, we’ve got an awfully nice public lobby about 85 floors from your current position. Maybe you could try visiting that sometime, preferably during daylight hours. Someone there might even agree to sign something for you, provided it’s legally purchased.”

Silence. Clint slowly lowered his bow and squinted into the darkness below. The alley, though not as well-lit as the front of the tower, caught enough of the blue glow from the giant “A” for him to confirm his immediate suspicion: No one clung there to respond to his quip. He waited there for another half a minute, though, as if expecting someone to poke their head out from a lower level once they thought he’d left.

“JARVIS?” he said as he ducked back inside. “You sure they were on the northeast side of the building?”

“Yes, sir,” the AI replied.

“Do you sense anyone there anymore? ‘Cause I didn’t see anybody just now, and we both know my sight’s about the only thing I contribute around here.”

“I sense no one actively touching the building outside at all. How odd. It’s as though they simply vanished.”

“Let’s hope it’s some hocus-pocus like that. The alternatives are a hell of a lot worse.”

Maybe it was his many years as a SHIELD operative. Maybe it was his time as Loki’s unwilling puppet. Whatever the reason, Clint didn’t let go of his bow or remove his arrow from the string. His eyes scanned every window he passed on his way back to the rest of the group. This time, he took the elevator, ears straining every second for the sound of shattering glass or an uninvited passenger coming along for the ride. Nothing like that happened, and he returned to the room without incident.

“That was quick,” Tony remarked at Clint’s appearance. “You holding out some latent teleportation powers on us, Barton?”

“Do you need help restraining them?” Steve asked, eyeing Clint’s still-readied weapon.

Clint shook his head. “There was nobody there.”

“Were you doing any experiments with JARVIS earlier?” Bruce asked Tony.

“No.” Tony sat his cards facedown on the table and sat up a little straighter. “JARVIS? Is there something going on with your programming?”

“Not that I can tell, sir. One minute, my security systems detected a human biosignal moving up the northeast side of the tower. The next, they did not,” JARVIS replied.

“Run a self diagnostic.”

“I’ve already begun. Nothing seems amiss. I can find no signs of a break-in either.”

Bruce tossed his hand to the table without further discussion. “I’ll go to the ground floor and see if I can find anyone. I wasn’t going to last much longer anyway.”

“Might want to grab a spatula on the way out!” Tony called as Bruce disappeared into the hall.

“Very funny,” Steve said stonily.

“You know, I imagine Pepper’s going to say the exact same thing when I tell her she has to file a claim with our insurance. Same tone and everything. Amazing.”

“That really shouldn’t be our primary concern right now.”

“What should be?” Natasha asked with a cheeky smile. “You really have a one track mind if you’re still focused on the game.”

“I—”

“I am detecting multiple human biosignals now, sir.”

“Outside?” Clint asked, already headed back the way he’d come from.

“No. Inside the building. One is in the bar. One is Miss Potts’ private office. I have third reading in the lobby, a fourth in Captain Roger’s bedroom, and another in the records room.”

Natasha, Steve, and Tony joined Clint on their feet. Everyone gazed expectantly at Steve for orders. He looked at each of them in turn as he rattled them off:

“Tony, you check Pepper’s office. I’ll get the one in my quarters. JARVIS, tell Dr. Banner to check the lobby since he’s the closest.”

“I’ll hit the records room,” Clint volunteered.

“Oh, sure, the one that’s probably a false alarm?” Tony smirked. “No one’s getting anything out of there with JARVIS on the job. Why don’t you join Natasha at the bar? At least I’ve got some unprotected valuables there.”

“Hey, might as well send the least capable person to the least likely spot, right?” Clint said.

Natasha took off like a shot in the direction of the stairs without waiting to see what the outcome of Clint and Tony’s spat would be. Steve, Tony, and Clint all followed. The former two stopped at the door to the stairs through which she had disappeared.

“Remind me why you’re on the payroll again, Barton?” Tony asked.

“Someone’s got to be the pretty one.”

Clint sped off for the lift again. The records room was quite a bit further down than either Steve or Tony’s destination, and the stairwell would be too crowded for Clint to maneuver if they ran into trouble there. Bruce must have already made it all the way down to the first floor, because the elevator arrived quickly and with no one inside.

This second trip took longer than Clint would have liked. He returned his trick arrow to his quiver and replaced it with a real one. As confident as Tony seemed in JARVIS’s ability to throw off a hacker, Clint himself didn’t feel so sure. If someone had gotten into the tower that night, they’d already managed to fool a supposedly foolproof AI once. The last thing he needed would be to find himself with his pants down and an actual supervillain ready to jump him the moment the lift doors opened.

But the floor that housed all the Avengers’ records—paper and electronic files both—seemed empty when he stepped out into it. He saw and heard nothing out of the ordinary, yet something prevented him from turning right back around and joining Natasha at the bar. Clint held his breath, listening hard for any unusual noises. The thought of asking JARVIS to check if he still registered an unknown human nearby occurred to Clint before he realized that would let any intruder know someone was on to them.

Down the hall he crept, silent as could be. His breath burned in his lungs. Just a few feet more. The door to the records room hung open. He could see the first few inches of tile floor. The moment he reached the opening, Clint pressed his back against the wall and pulled his bow string taught. Then he carefully inched his head closer and closer to the doorframe until he could peer around it.

At once he could tell just how wrong Tony had been, not just about JARVIS, but about everything else that night, too. There in the records room, surrounded by open boxes and neatly stacked manila folders, crouched a woman with [color] hair—and the moment Clint spotted her was the same moment she spotted him as well.

Summary: Maybe this is your fault. All you had to do was flip a coin.

Rating/Warnings:All (Dumb!Thor; Avengers Friendship; Avengers & reader friendship)

Challenge: “100 Drabbles of Randomness” by Miseria1 on Lunaescence Archives.

Tag List: @imaginesfire

Last Chance

It had taken hours (although it felt more like days), constant reiteration of the rules, and so many practice rounds it would make a normal person’s head spin. But after all this time and effort, you knew Thor could do it.

“Ready?” you asked as you held out your fist.

Though he didn’t look as confident as usual, he reached out his own. “Ready.“

"Rock-Paper-Scissors-Lizard-Spock,” you chanted. At the end, you triumphantly thrust out a lizard.

Thor, however, continued to leave his fist in the air as he stared at your hand.

“Uh. Thor? You gonna stick with that rock there?”

“That depends,” he said slowly. “What does rock do?”

The rest of the group around you groaned. Even Natasha fell back onto the couch with her head in her hands.

“Really?” Bruce mumbled. “Really?”

“I am sorry,” Thor said, and had the grace to look sheepish. “I do not understand this strange Midgardian custom of choosing things.”

Steve heaved a sigh.

“Okay, you know what?” Tony got to his feet. “We’re done. You and Blondie here should have settled this hours ago. We’re just going to watch–”

“No one wants to watch another documentary about you, Stark,” Steve said into his hands.

The rest of the group made noises of agreement. Tony, apparently thinking that this was somehow your fault, glowered at you and gestured at Thor.

“By all means, spend the rest of our lives trying to teach an immortal dog new tricks.”

You glowered at him in response. Thor had to wave his free hand in front of your eye to bring your focus back to him.

“[Name]?”

This time, it was you that sighed. “Scissor cuts paper; paper covers rock; rock crushes lizard; lizard poisons Spock; Spock smashes scissors; scissors decapitate lizard; lizard eats paper; paper disproves Spock; Spock vaporizes rock, and rock crushes scissors.” You made a cutting motion with two fingers in the air. “Got it?”

He beamed. “I understand completely. Thank you, [Name].”

“No problem.” You sat up straight once more. “Let’s just get this over with before I have to listen to another eight hours about the Stark Expo. Ready?”

“Hey, I’m just saying,” Tony called. “This is your last chance. You guys don’t decide this round, we’re doing whatI want to do. My tower, my rules.”

“Ready?” you asked again without even showing any sign that you had heard him. Thor nodded.

“I am prepared!”

“Rock-Paper-Scissors-Lizard-Spock!”

You held up Spock. Thor continued to hold up rock. The only difference this round was that he looked delighted.

“I win!” he cried joyously.

“What?” You looked from your hand to his. “No, you don’t. Spock vaporizes rock.”

"But Spock is an alien not of Asgard.“

You nodded.

"And a rock is of Midgard.”

"Um…so?“

"The only things that can defeat those of Midgard are those of Asgard! Thus, the victory is mine.”

You stared. And stared. And stared some more. Finally, without taking his eyes off the still-blank television screen, Bruce spoke up:

“He still doesn’t get it.”

Looks like you’d all get to spend your night learning about Stark Industries again after all.

Summary: How these guys saved the world when they can’t handle the simplest of tasks is beyond you.

Rating/Warnings:T (reference to alcohol/a drinking contest; not Agents of SHIELD compliant; not MCU compliant; set post-Avengers (2012))

Challenge: “100 Drabbles of Randomness” by Miseria1 on Lunaescence Archives.

Tag List: @imaginesfire

I Don’t Want to Know

Today was just not your day, not your day at all. Despite your having been there for nearly three hours, Avengers Tower was a complete mess.

The banner you had so painstakingly painted the night before? Ripped slightly and hanging from only one part of the ceiling; the other part of the ceiling had nothing but a huge dent from Thor’s hammer. Apparently Thor hadn’t stopped there with his decorating, either.

Natasha and Tony? Nowhere to be seen. But there was a large amount of alcohol missing, and they’d been talking about a drinking contest for weeks. You’d seen them briefly earlier, Tony practically asleep and Natasha complaining of a headache.

The cake? Currently nothing but a smeared blast across the remains of one wall. The rest of the kitchen area had all the other telltale signs of a Hulk attack.

Clint? Still unconscious. One of his explosive arrows could be found near where Bruce had been carefully icing said cake that morning. The rest of his arrows were littered across the cabinets, walls, ceiling, and counters.

And poor Steve? He was still trying to understand the situation.

All you had wanted was a surprise party set up. That wasn’t such a big request, was it? They all liked Phil. You’d thought they would want to help celebrate his getting out of the hospital. Instead, all that was left was wreckage and some unsalvageable dessert.

The aggravation wasn’t even worth it. When Phil arrived when your note had directed him to, all he did was take one look around at the carnage and shake his head.

You opened your mouth to explain, but Phil held up a hand.

“I don’t even want to know,” he said.

Summary: For nine years, you raised the little sister your parents would never see grow. For nine years, you put blood and sweat and tears—sometimes your own, sometimes that of others—into your gruesome work. For nine years, you promised your little family a better life. Then, on the eve of happily ever after, all that is snatched away in the name of revenge. There’s only one group of people capable of rescuing your sister from those who murdered your parents. The thing is, they might not be so willing to help once they discover who (or what) you are…or maybe, just maybe, they might love you in spite of it.

Ratings/Warnings: T (sexual references, mild foul language, canon divergence Post-Avengers (2012), violence, slow burn, France depicted by a non-French writer, no Laura Barton)

Pairings:Clint Barton/Female!Reader; Natasha Romanoff/Bruce Banner; Tony Stark/Pepper Potts

Posting Status: In-Progress

Notes:Now that I am feeling better, I want to write again (especially since I didn’t get any requests). Honestly, though? My old stories are…old. I’m not abandoning them. It’s just that I really wanted to write something new that reflects where I am as a writer now. This plot bunny has been gnawing at my brain since I wrote the “Factory” one shot for my “One Small Step” collection. Clint Barton isn’t the most popular Avenger, I realize, but I hope someone out there will enjoy this story. I thought about swapping Clint out for Steve or Bucky. That’s just not the story I wanted to tell.

One more Important note: I’m not French. I’ve never been to France. The only person I know who speaks French is my friend from Canada. I’ve done a lot of research for this, but that doesn’t mean I’ve got it all right. Please shoot me a note if you find any discrepancies that need addressed! I will be happy to correct them.

Chapter 1: A Beautiful Job

Chapter 2: Thanks for the Warning

Looking at the Past

Summary: Loki gets captured by the TVA and gets to see his past were he finds out that he had a lover; you.

• A/N: so I watched the first episode of Loki and it inspired me to get out of my writers block and write a story about Loki looking back at his past and sees someone that loved him. So trigger warning VERY EMOTIONAL AND LOKI EPISODE 1 SPOILERS

Loki had never felt so far away from the concept of control until now. He never felt so lost, so helpless and so purposeless until he stepped foot in the TVA. He hated the feeling, he hated feeling this way, he hated the Avengers but most of all, Loki hated himself.

At first, he thought it was a joke. That this place was all a front, that he was a God and a God was the most powerful being. However, after visiting Casey and finding the multitude of infinity stones used as paper weight, he realised that the TVA was no joke. The TVA was in fact the keepers of time and all the choices his made were choices that was already written.

Except him running away of course.

Loki looked at the projector that was playing before, paused on all the Avengers. A thought had slowly crept into his brain. The thought of looking at his whole life. He shuddered at the thought. He was scared. Mobius had told him his life purpose was to create pain and suffering for others so that they can achieve the best version of themselves. Had that been true? Was his whole life just pain and suffering? Had his life been a meaningless void filled to aid others to the betterment of themselves while he crumbled to nothingness?

Loki let out a sigh, thinking to himself how he might as well see how horrible his life was. He sat down on the metal chair, letting out a breath. His shaky hand went to the player, fast forwarding it to his mother’s death. The death that he had caused.

A single tear rolled down his cheek as he realised that his mother’s death was on him. He never thought Mobius was telling truth, that he was lying to manipulate Loki. But the infinity stones in Casey’s drawers had reminded him about the awful fact that he did indeed kill his mother. He was the reason why his mother had died. In an effort to gain control of his life, he lost the one thing that mattered to him the most; his mother.

He fast forwarded it but paused when he saw an familiar face, your familiar face. He was confused, you were the one who fought against him with the Avengers, why did you show up again? Did he come back to Earth?

“Loki, you are not responsible for your mother’s death,” you spoke, walking around to face him. He could see the skyline behind you, realising it was the Avenger’s Tower. Apparently he had returned to Earth after his mother’s demise.

“I led them to her!” He heard himself yell, chucking a glass. But you didn’t flinch. “I led them to her! I killed her!”

He watched as you walked closer to him, grabbing his hand. “You were in your lowest state, vulnerable to your weakest intuition. Your father had imprisoned you. Even though someone had been torturing you to do the things you had to do to New York.”

Loki flinched at that. Were you guys that close that he told you his deepest darkest secret? About how Thanos had tortured him and imprisoned him to get the other infinity stones?

“How did you know about that?” Loki yelled at you.

Apparently not.

“Because I can tell when someone has been tortured and manipulated by monsters,” you replied back in a calm voice, your eyes tearing up. “I know Loki. I know how it feels to helpless, to feel lost and unwanted and-“

Loki stopped it, his breath trembling. He fast forwarded it, not wanting to hear anything else as more tears fell down his face. He paused again, seeing a provocative image fill the screen and his veins filled with curiosity.

“Loki,” he heard your voice moan. He watched on as he saw himself not fucking you, but making love to you. He watched himself, his eyes filled with love and adoration at yourself.

He watched as your bodies molded together so perfectly, how you were both moving in synchrony. He watched as none of you broke eye contact, as both of you moaned in pure bliss.

“I love you,” he heard himself tell you. Something he never realised he would ever tell anyone. And by the vulnerability in his eyes, he knew future him had a hard time even saying it. He looked at you as if he was scared he had frightened you, as if those words had pushed you away.

But it didn’t. It had made your bright and beautiful smile broaden even more.

“I love you too.”

He let out a breath, not stopping himself from crying this time. Had he finally found someone who loved him for himself? Had he really been that lucky? He paused it again, looking at you. How your eyes looked at his. How calming and serene you two looked together.

He fast forwarded.

“How could you do that!” He heard himself screaming at you. Your face was in tears, looking back at him. “How could you be so idiotic, I told you to go back!”

“Why are you so mad, I’m still alive aren’t I?” You yelled back, clutching your stomach.

“Barely! God you humans are so daft!” He yelled back at you, his hands brushing his hair back. “Humans are so fucking daft and fucking pathetic!”

“Oh I’m sorry God Almighty, forgot you were immortal!” You yelled back, letting out a groan as your stomach was fighting against your screaming. “I’ll take the thank you later.”

“Thank you? Thank you!” Loki yelled back at you. “That weapon would’ve barely scratched me! You didn’t need to risk your life to stop it! You didn’t need to almost die just so you get to play hero and-“

“Don’t you understand that I can’t lose you!” He heard you scream louder than ever before, making him go silent. You let out a sob, shaking your head. “You’re the only- only good thing that has ever happened to me. And and- fuck, it scares me how much I love you. I love you Loki Laufeyson. I love you so much that I’d go through hell and back just to make you smile even if it meant I wasn’t alive to see it!”

Loki paused the video, letting out a sob before shaking his head. He couldn’t even fathom it. He thought he was an unlovable monster. Yet it seemed that you were blind to all of it.

He fast forward.

“I bought you a house,” Loki heard himself again.

You two were lying on bed, looking like you were in a private room on a spaceship. Both of you cuddling under the the sheets, Loki’s fingers drawing shapes on your skin.

You laughed at him, not taking him serious. But his face didn’t change, stopping your laugh. “Wait, you’re serious?”

“Mhmm,” Loki replied back kissing your knuckles. You giggled at him, and Loki’s smile widened at your laugh. Even the Loki who watched on felt himself smiling at the sound of your voice giggling.

“And how did you get the money?”

“A god doesn’t pay.” Loki replied, laughing as you slapped him in the arm.

“Where’s the house? On Asgard?” You replied back jokingly. “How convenient for you, it’s in ashes now.”

“Earth.” Loki pushed your hair back. You looked at him in disbelief.

“Earth?” You questioned him, your face in bewilderment. “I thought you hated Earth, which is why we decided to visit Asgard instead.”

“But you love it,” Loki replied back, kissing your forehead. “And if you love it, then that’s enough for me.”

Loki fast forwarded it, unable to handle it watching it anymore. He needed to see how this played out. So he went to the end.

The hairs in his forearm rose as he stood up from his seat at the site of Thanos. He felt a cold shiver run down his spine, your bloodied face in the back.

“Please,” he heard you wheeze out, tears uncontrollably running down your face. You tried crawling over to Thanos, trying to find mercy within the Titan. “Please.”

“I am feeling generous today,” The Titan said with a smile before picking up Loki by the neck.

“No!” He heard you scream. It was as if all the energy in your body came out all at once as you got up to run, only to be locked down by pieces of metal from one of the children of Thanos. “No! Let him go please!”

“So I’ll only kill you, and I’ll spare your brother and the girl,” Thanos said, before snapping his neck.

Loki let out a deep breath, his whole body shaking. He heard you scream in agony, a shriek that can only be described as a mother losing a child to war. He watched as you flung your body on him, trying to protect him from the explosion of the ship. He watched as Thor begged you to leave, but you yelling that you weren’t going to leave him alone, that he was not dying alone. And then he watched on as the words ‘End of File’ were etched on the screen.

Loki shook his head, before he started laughing. Laughing at himself. Laughing at his life. Laughing at how just as life was getting better for himself, just as he started making amends, he died.

“What’s so funny?” He heard a voice say behind him. Loki smirked, turning around. The women looked at him weirdly, his face all tear stricken.

“Glorious purpose.”

•

“Loki?” Mobius called out to Loki who was sitting down, his hands on his face with the tesseract next to him. “Nowhere left to run.”

“I can’t go back, can I? Back to my timeline?” Loki asked, feeling helpless. Feeling sad. Sad because he will never have a story with you, a life with you. “I don’t enjoy hurting people. I- I don’t enjoy it. I do it because I have to, because I’ve had to.”

Mobius slowly walked over to Loki, feeling a bit more motivated now that Loki was opening up to him more. “Okay, explain that to me.”

“Because it’s part of the illusion,” Loki explained, letting out a sigh. “It’s the cruel, elaborate trick conjured by the weak to inspire fear.”

“A desperate play for control,” Mobius finished for him, a smile tugging on the corner of his lips. “You do know yourself.”

“A villain,” Loki scoffed. Mobius shook his head.

“That’s not how I see it.” He then looked at the tesseract that was near Loki. “You try to use that?”

“Oh, several times,” Loki laughed, looking at the tesseract with now lost interest. Men and women have died for this. Have started wars for this. Yet compared to the sacred timeline, these stones were toys. “Even an Infinity Stone is useless here. The TVA is formidable.”

“That’s been my experience.” Mobius peeked an eye on Loki, feeling sympathetic. He let out a sigh. “Listen, I can’t offer you salvation, but maybe I can offer you something better. A fugitive Variant’s been killing our Minutemen.”

“And you need the God of Mischief to help you stop him?” Loki had asked him.

“That’s right.”

“Why me?” Loki asked confusedly, arching an eyebrow.

“Because the Variant we’re hunting,” he paused, looking Loki in the eye.

“Is Y/N”



•

You let out a breath, watching the minute men as they walked out of the portal. You hid back in the darkness, looking as the scene played out in front of you.

“I think some jackass found himself a time machine, came back here to get rich,” one of them spoke. You let out a small laugh, shaking your head at their laziness. The TVA might be powerful, but god their workers were indolent.

“Should we fan out and look for him, sir?” A smarter minute man asked.

“Nah. It’s not worth the paperwork.” The minute man turned around, looking at the other worker. “Just prune it. Let’s bail. Set a charge.”

The minuteman was about to set the charge but before he did, he made eye contact with you. You raised a hand up, purple light seeping through your fingers. “Wait. Someone’s out there.”

“Who are you!” The minute men spoke, pointing their weapon at you. You know walked towards them, a little coy smile on your lips.

“I’ll make this easy for you guys.” You pointed at the device. “I want that. Give it to me, and I’ll spare you.”

“No you can’t just walk in here and-“

“Fine,” you sighed, rolling your eyes. Your finger lit up an even brighter purple spark, before pointing it towards the oil and lighting it up in flames.

You watched as the minute men burned into flames, slight twinge of guilt seeping through your veins. The Avengers would be so disappointed in you. But that thought disappeared as soon as it came to your head. You wanted Loki back, no matter what the cost.

You would walk to hell and back just to see him smile.

So you walked over to the device, picking it up before transforming back into your true form. The form you took after the final battle against Thanos. The form you took after you snapped your fingers, after taking the gauntlet. You didn’t care if you died when you wore the infinity gauntlet, you already lost Loki. But you didn’t died. Instead…

You became the Infinity Witch.

Knight (Dark! Moon Knight x Reader)

hey this is part 2 to “Pawn”, this series is going to be a dark fic so BE WARNED THIS IS DARK AS SHIT AND ANGSTY AS FUCK!

the series will be known as Knights and Pawns.

MINORS DNI, NOT FOR YOU SHOO!

COMPLETE MASTERLIST / FANDOM LIST / LINKS TO MY OTHER ACCOUNTS!

You roused to the smell of wet earth and the radio crackling faintly. An overall mellow song filled your room, you reached to the other size of the bed instinctively, however you were only met with the faintest sense of warmth as your eyes trace their indent on your bed. You bury your face in their pillow, the smell of their shampoo filled your senses and a small smile graced your features. 

You groaned as you stretched and got out of the bed, by far the softest bed you’ve slept in. You actually couldn’t for a while, but now, it was comforting. You grabbed your pale blue housecoat and tied it loosely around your waist as you made your way to the window, watching the rain gently stream down your window pane. 

It was hard to believe it’s been three years since you’ve started this life, away from everything you once held so dear to you. 

You can’t help but miss him sometimes. 

Marc had been your friend since you could remember, when life got tough you were each other’s cornerstone. He was also your first love, he held your hand and kissed your forehead. Then Steven and Jake came along and you couldn’t help but love them as well. 

Marc was your friend before he became this. 

You missed Layla too, her smiles and the way during the nights when Marc didn’t come home until late, you both would have movie nights. Popcorn, candy, and trash movies that Marc hated watching. By the middle of the movie the tv would be turned down and it just turned into a chatting session. You regret not telling her goodbye, you wouldn’t blame her if she was pissed off. 

You worried occasionally, that this piece of happiness you worked so hard to have and hold would be ripped away from you from the one person who put a smile on your face everyday. 

Steven and Jake kept their word, they’ve held Marc back. You smiled thinking about them. 

Your boys. 

You were brought out of your thoughts by a pair of lips against your temple, the familiar scent of fresh cut grass and brown sugar relaxes your body. 

“Good morning lovely,” He whispered against your temple as he placed your cup of iced coffee in your hands. You get sick when you drink hot coffee, so you smile as you notice he remembers such a small detail every morning. 

“Good morning to you too, handsome,” You said as you looked into his amber eyes. You met about a year after you initially left Marc, it started off as a few dates, then a few dates turned into this. 

“What were you thinking about?”

“Just morning thoughts Alec,” you assured before you kissed his lips, he tasted of chocolate and just something uniquely him. 

“Do these thoughts have something to do with the ring on your left finger,” he asked gently, “we can push the date back if you’re having doubts, love.” 

“Not a chance,” you said, “like it or not in a few days you’re shackled with me the rest of your life.” you gently kissed him again. 

“Shouldn’t I be saying that to you?” You laughed and kissed again. Leaning your head against his for a moment, enjoying this. 

“What time is it?” you asked. 

“About time we start the typical 9 to 5.” he said before kissing you one last time before slipping away. You always did love to watch him walk away in some sort of cheap appreciation. 

You sighed as you drank bits of your coffee here and there while you got ready for your job as an analyst at SWORD. After hearing of your departure from Moon Knight, they offered you a job straight away. You requested not to be put in the field directly if they could help it, wanting to put the life of violence away for the rest of your days. 

You typically wore dress pants, however, you felt in the mood to dress up a bit so a knee length pencil skirt was with a green button down blouse. You placed light makeup on, earrings, and your hair in a semi stylish ponytail. You looked well put together, felt like it too, it was a goddamn trip. You never thought you would get here, a normal life, a typical nine to five job, a home, the beginnings of a family. 

You grabbed your trench coat and kissed your fiance goodbye. You don’t know why but you felt particularly grateful for the life you have today. 

—

It was break time already, and typically when your break started is when night shift started coming in to start theirs. You were pretty close to some of them so you decided to grab a few coffee’s while out and about for an hour for them. 

You knew a cool, hole in the wall, cafe’s where they made pretty decent coffee at a decent price. 

Seriously with inflation the way it is, cafe’s like this were life savers. 

After you ordered four coffee’s and a sandwich for you, you glanced around, people watching. 

This place was typically for couples or meet ups. There were about two couples here and one person alone, hidden behind the screen of a laptop. The couples seemed happy, if not a little awkward. However, what weirded you out a little was the person whose face was obscured, you couldn’t get a vibe off of him. A blank slate and that puts you off. You were brought out of your hyper focused state by the person behind you with your order. You thanked her and even gave her a small tip. 

You made your way out of the shop and back onto the streets of the city. For some reason your senses were sharper now, your pulse was racing, and you were seventy percent sure that someone was following you. You waited for about a block before you decided yeah, there was someone following you in broad daylight. You looked for a thick and full crowd and luckily, the afternoon lunch rush was coming in. You took advantage of the obnoxiously large and dense crowd to disappear, despite the cold you took your trench coat off and took your hair out of the ponytail. It wasn’t much but you knew from experience that even a slight change of appearance, especially in a crowd would be to your advantage. 

You breathed a sigh of relief as the stress in your body released ever so slightly. Feeling the ominous presence fade. When you reached SWORD and gave everyone their coffee you were nearly convinced you had just made the situation up, PTSD playing tricks on your mind. 

That was until there was a ding on your phone. 

“Darcy’s Bar after work”

At first you think it was a wrong number. 

“Don’t be late (Y/n)”

Shit. 

—

You could barely focus on your work the rest of the day, the pit in your stomach was as heavy as lead and your leg refused to stay still. Your mind raced, someone followed you in broad daylight and knew your number. You raked your brain for people who would have the gall or motive to do this to you. 

You knew the answer. 

You just didn’t want to admit it. 

You gathered your stuff once your shift was over, called Alec to let him know you would be home a little later than usual today and called over a taxi to take you to the bar. Once there you immediately wanted to turn and run, but you knew if you did he would find you. You can only assume he knew where you lived since he knew your number, and by now your schedule. You were sure of it. 

With a deep breath in you walked through the doors of the bars, it was classy, not anything too terribly fancy, but classy nonetheless. You walked over to the bar, You could easily see your reflection in the gloss of the wood. 

“What will you be having?”

“Just water.” 

“C’mon now don’t tell me you stopped drinking too.” 

Your blood froze, all of your muscle became stone and your bones turned to sand. Time may have passed, but that was still his voice. The Chicago accent tinged his Tenor voice lightly, endearingly. The smell of sand and old books filled your lungs. You didn’t even need to look at him to know who was beside you. 

“Marc.” 

“Long time no see Starlight.” 

“How did you find me?” You asked, still not looking at him, the bartender sets your class of water and a shot beside it. He muttered a ‘on the house’ before returning to his other duties. 

“Let’s go sit somewhere else,” Marc said, “somewhere you can’t look away.” It wasn’t a suggestion, you knew it wasn’t. You downed the shot beside your water before going to the booth in the corner. You didn’t speak a word to him the entire time, it wasn’t until he slid in on the other side of the booth that you saw him properly. His eyes were still the midnight color, matching his hair, only now there was a light peppering happening. Skin tanned and practically glowing underneath the ambient lighting of the bar. He was dressed in a simple black button up and black slacks. Yet he looked like a million bucks. You could even catch the glint of the golden star of David on his neck. 

“How did you find me?”

“Nice to see you too Starlight.” 

“Stop calling me that,” you bit back. You could see his thick brows furrowing and his eyes sharpening, forming a very dangerous and frustrated look. 

“Would you prefer me call you Lovely like he does,” Marc asked in a sharp and underlying threatening tone, “if that’s the case you can just call me handsome, like you do him” A chill ran through you, he knew a lot apparently, because this is what this was. A demonstration of power and knowledge on his part. 

“What do you want?”

“I want you to come home.” He said with his eyes pleading, he reached out for your hand but you took it away, “come home Starlight please.” 

“I have a home,” you said, “and it’s not with you.” 

He was about to say something when you cut him off. 

“Why would I even come back to you, so you can use me as a meat shield repeatedly again, will you not be satisfied until I literally give my life for you and your moon sized ego.” Your head tilted to the side, eyes narrowing on his figure, “I have a life now Marc, I have a home, a job, and someone to look forward to seeing every morning.” 

“I heard,” he said, “Mazel Tov on your engagement to that asshole by the way.” 

“No,” You said, “no you are the asshole Marc. You were my best friend, and after everything we’ve gone through together. Ammit, your mother, and Randall. After all of that you just tossed me aside-”

“I didn’-”

“Yes Marc Spector,” You said, “You left me to die. You left me to die five times when I NEVER would’ve done that to you. Even if it cost me my life I would never have left you for dead.” You didn’t care what he would do to you anymore, “so tell me Spector, why should I come back to a person who betrayed me loyalty and trust?”

“Because if you don’t” He started, leaning towards you, “I’ll kill him.” 

You didn’t care what he did to you. 

But to Alec. 

You cared very much. 

“When did you come to hate me so much?” You asked, tears pricking your eyes. You feel his calloused hands envelop yours and it took all of you not to push him away. 

“I’ve never hated you.” 

“Why won’t you let me be happy,” You asked desperately, “for the first time in such a long time I have a home. I’m about to have a family-”

“You’ve always had a family,” Marc said, cutting you off, “me, I’m your family.” 

“No Marc,” You said, “you’re my keeper. You’re also a hypocrite. You can’t say this whole ‘I’m your family,’ and come here threatening to kill the love of my life when you already found Layla.” 

“Layla and I divorced.” 

“So,” You said, “so you what, want me back as a replacement? That’s sick Marc, it’s cruel, it’s something Konshu would do.” 

“No!” Marc raised his voice before lowering it and regaining his composure, “I’m nothing like him.” 

“Could’ve fooled me.” Marc sighed, rubbing his hands over his face before taking a deep breath in. 

“I owed a debt,” Marc started, “I didn’t tell you everything about how I became Moon Knight. The job was simple but my partner got greedy, I tried getting the hostages out but… I couldn’t save them. All of them died and I couldn’t save them. I was going to die too, but then Konshu came and the rest you know.”

“I don’t see how this is connected with you owing a debt.” 

“I would’ve died had it not been for Abdallah El Faouly,” he revealed, “he took the shot that was for me.”

It took then for it to click, Layla, Marc being protective over her. 

“You married her out of guilt,” You said in disbelief, “Layla loved you and you married her out of guilt,” You go to get up but are brought back down. 

“You’re not listening-”

“I’m listening just fine,” You said, “But answer me something, Spector, if you owed a debt to Layla, why not give her the man responsible for her fathers death. An eye for an eye.”

“My partner harmed the travelers of the night,” Marc said, “he was the first on Konshu’s list that night”  

“So we’re back at, you married her out of guilt.” 

He was getting frustrated, you could tell. 

“You’re still not listening”

“I’m pretty sure I’m listening and understanding things very clearly.” 

“No you’re not,” He said, his eyes unwavering against yours, “If it was not for the debt I owed I would have married you.” You sat there, unmoving, you don’t think you could move if you tried, “I’ve loved you everyday of my life but it was never the right time. I was dealing with my mother, then the military, then konshu, then Layla. It just was never the right time for us, then you left. Steven and Jake would take over the moment I made some progress on finding you. It took me three years, and in those three years Layla realized my feelings for you and divorced me from the debt I owed and from the marriage. In those three years you’ve had the life you’ve always wanted, what you’ve always deserved. Something I could never give you.” 

“Then why do you want to rip it away from me?” You asked, “If you love me so much why betray me, you don’t betray the ones you love Marc.” 

“I’ve decided something,” He said, “I’ve given my life for others. Even letting others feed off of it, like parasites. Steven, Jake, Konshu. I punish those who harm others, I’ve saved countless others. I deserve to be selfish, just this once, I deserve to have the person I want most in this world.” 

“Marc that doesn’t make any sense,” You said head spinning, “You left me, you deserted me without backup not caring if I lived or died.”

“That’s not true,” he said, “Did you seriously believe that all those times you came back alive it was because you were lucky? I sent Konshu to make sure you stayed alive, however he is a fickle fucking bird and didn’t do it as well as he should have.” 

You got up and were about to leave, Marc sat there as you were about to leave, his voice rang out. 

“You have 24 hours to say goodbye to Alec, your friends at SWORD. If you try to run, I will kill each and everyone one of them, one by one. So I suggest you don’t run Starlight.” 

And with that you left, heels clicking against the pavement, the lights of the city illuminating the tears strewn on your face, and the weight in your stomach worsened. 

This was going to be the hardest thing you’ve ever had to do. 

And you had to do it within twenty four hours.