#mcu x reader insert

There is no such thing as being popular on this university campus. The only way to be considered ‘well-known’ was to be in the student union. And that was how you became ‘popular’. 

You were the president of the university’s student union. You advocated for academic support, mental and personal support, social belonging, and so forth. 

You had to build yourself for that role. You were an introvert at heart. You would rather shy away from the spotlight and hangout by yourself. But you always believed in advocating for other people’s rights and would put aside your introverted-ness to help those who needed it.

Your social battery was on the brink of dying, you were surrounded by so many people and you just wanted to go home and study for your bioethics midterm. You were walking with them and were focused on your phone, Flash wrapped his arm around your shoulder, “You coming with us for burgers?”

You shrugged his arm off, “No, I’ll pass.”

“Oh come on,” he whined.

“Flash, I’m good. I’m not hungry.” You said.

“Wherever you go I’ll come.” He responded.

“I’m gonna go to the library and study,” you said.

“You’re the president of the student union, why should you even study? You can dispute it.” You shot him a glare.

“It’s true,” he shrugged.

The more Flash spoke, the more you felt the urge of bashing your head into a steel door on campus. “I’m just gonna go to the washroom, I’ll meet you there.” You said, excusing yourself.

You walked into the washroom and held onto the counter and put your head down. You just wanted to be left alone and to study but Flash just wanted to annoy your soul.

You walked out and walked into the library, you noticed him at the tables in the far left corner and decided to snake around the bookstacks to avoid him. You were walking through the stacks before you found the perfect corner. You could tell it was less frequented because dust caked the pulp western books.

You dropped your bag and sat on the floor. Your eyes were starting to burn so you switched out of your contacts into your glasses. You took out the printed sheet of the midterm guide and your iPad and started reading through the lecture notes you took throughout the semester. 

You were so immersed into the lecture on Selective Memory in Aging Populations, until the faint sound of ABBA broke your train of thought. You looked up, “Oh sorry, I didn’t know someone was here,” he shyly said.

“Oh no, I’m sorry, is this your study spot? I’ll move!” You said, grabbing your stuff.

“No you don’t have to move!” He said putting his arms out stopping you.

“It’s okay! This is your spot,” you said, “Wait, aren’t you in my bioethics class? You sit at the front,” you tried searching through your memory for his name, “Peter!”

“You know who I am? You’re the student union president and you know who I am?” He asked, a little shocked.

“Who doesn’t you’re like one of the smartest kids,” you said, “Take your spot, I can go get a table.”

“Wait, are you studying for the midterm, ‘cause if you’re studying for it, maybe we can study together, but you don’t have to if you want,” he babbled.

“I was studying for that midterm,” you smiled, “We can study together.”

You and Peter took a seat back on the floor, he took out his laptop and you two were slowly going through the lectures together.

He took his time explaining the things you were unsure of, which you were eternally grateful for because it saved you from going to office hours. 

You two went through all the lectures that were going to be on the midterm and were even quizzing each other.

The lights flickered in the library which signaled that the library is going to close in 15 minutes. You two stopped talking about school and started finding things you had in common while packing up your stuff. “I always thought I was ancient listening to ABBA,” you joked.

“I love my 70s and 80s music,” he said, zipping up his backpack. 

“You’re a man of taste,” you said, joking.

You and him were walking out of the library, “Are you going to the office?” He asked.

“I went in this morning,” you adjusted your bag strap, “I think I’m gonna go home.”

“Oh,” Peter said.

“Wait, are you hungry? Apparently there’s a hidden gem ramen restaurant near campus, if you would like, we can try it?” you asked.

“You want to go with me?” he asked, a little stunned.

“Yeah, why not?”

“You could choose anyone in the student union or any of your friends-” He started.

“You helped me study for my midterm, I owe you one,” you smiled at him.

“Sure,” he said coyly. 

˖  ݁𖥔.☁︎.𖥔 ݁ ˖

You learned a lot about Peter over ramen, he was really into STEM subjects and would rather be told to do chemical compounds than write an essay, he loves sci-fi and fantasy. On the other hand he learned that you were also into sci-fi and fantasy.

Peter was walking you home and you two were continuing the conversation you had earlier and learning more about each other. “How did you get into the student union?” He asked.

“Honestly I have no idea,” you shrugged, “I was in and somehow I got elected to be president.”

“Do you like it?” He asked, adjusting the backpack on his shoulder.

“Keeps me busy,” you joked.

The two of you stopped in front of your building, “Are you sure I’m not putting you out of your way?” 

“I owe you because you paid for ramen,” he said.

“But you taught me stuff I didn’t understand,” you countered.

“I’ll see you soon Peter?” You asked.

“Yeah!” He smiled at you.

˖  ݁𖥔.☁︎.𖥔 ݁ ˖

Since then, you and Peter always met in the pulp western stacks once a week and studied together. But you two also exchanged contact information so you guys were exchanging memes almost everyday. 

Today, you two finished doing your worksheets for bioethics early and were sitting and exchanging snacks and conversation.

“How did you find this?” You asked.

“I was actually into pulp western for a second and found no one came here, and now I just study here,” he popped a gummy bear into his mouth, “How did you find it?”

“I’m very passionate about pulp westerns,” you joked.

“You constantly surprise me,” he joked.

˖  ݁𖥔.☁︎.𖥔 ݁ ˖

You were walking to your afternoon bioethics lecture when you felt an arm wrapped around your shoulder. Unconsciously you rolled your eyes knowing it was Flash, “Where are you going today?”

“The same class that I have had for an entire semester,” you bluntly stated, shrugging his arm off you again. 

“Skip class, you’re already passing,” He said, “Let’s go do something.”

“Flash, I am not doing that,” you stated flatly.

Flash was in the middle of persuading you to try and leave class and wrapped his arm around you. That was until your eyes landed on Peter standing outside of the lecture hall. 

You immediately pushed Flash off of you and made a beeline to Peter. “Hi Peter!” You exclaimed enthusiastically. 

˖  ݁𖥔.☁︎.𖥔 ݁ ˖

You were leaving the student union office and were walking to the library to meet Peter for your usual meet up. You noticed Peter walking in front of you and was on the phone, and were going to call out but some words caught your attention.

“I don’t know what to do,” Peter said, “I really do like her, and I love these hangouts but Flash is always draping his arms around her and is hanging out with her. I feel like I don’t have a chance.”

You connected the dots, Peter was interested in you.

You felt so much relief hearing those words. You slowly started harbouring feelings for him. He was always so gentle with you, and you guys had so much in common, it was hard not to catch feelings.

But the absolute bane of your existence was somehow still screwing this up for you. Flash was like a speck of glitter you could not get rid of.

You took a little bit of a detour to find Flash before going to meet with Peter.

˖  ݁𖥔.☁︎.𖥔 ݁ ˖

You rushed into the library, your conversation with Flash took a little longer than you anticipated. You did text Peter that you would be a little bit later than you thought, lying and blaming it on a meeting. You picked up his favourite gummy bears as an apology gift from the student centre. 

You made your way to the pulp western section and saw Peter scribbling in his STEM notebook. “I brought gummy bears as a peace offering.”

“I was wondering when you would arrive,” he said, putting down the notebook.

“Got lost on my way,” you joked, sitting down and handing him the gummy bears.

He cleared his throat and looked at you, more seriously this time. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course,” you said.

Peter glanced down at the gummy bears, then back up at you. His voice was a little shaky. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“Why do you hang out with me?” he asked, eyes meeting yours. “You’re... you. You’ve got everything going on, and people are constantly pulling you in a million directions. But somehow, you still make time for this, for me.”

Your heart gave a small, nervous lurch. But instead of pulling away from it, you let yourself smile.

“It does,” you said softly. “It means a lot.”

Peter looked surprised but still unsure. “So… you feel the same?”

You nodded, your smile deepening. “I wouldn’t be hiding in a dusty corner of the library with anyone else, Peter. I like you. I’ve liked you for a while. I just… didn’t know if you felt the same.” 

Peter let out a breath that sounded like relief and laughed quietly. “Flash was around you so often, I was so convinced I didn’t have a chance because of him.”

“I literally duck behind shelves to avoid him,” you joked, “How do you think I ended up here?”

He grinned, and for a moment, the air between you shifted.

“Okay,” he said. “So what now?”

You looked down at the gummy bears between you. “Now we study. And maybe after that we go back to that ramen shop. Not gonna lie, I’ve been thinking about that miso ramen for weeks now.”

You screamed, lurched toward the nearest edge of the mattress, and tumbled chin-first onto the soft rug below.

Someone—whoever the voice and the arm and the chest belonged to, you guessed—snored themselves properly awake. Now there could be no escape. Though you scrambled to get yourself into a kneeling position, you barely managed that much before the sheets above you shifted to reveal a shirtless man sitting in their midst.

"Was it an emergency, then?" he asked around a yawn. "I didn't hear a siren. Are you sure we need to get up this early when we don't absolutely have to?"

No reply occurred to you. Your entire being felt frozen to the spot.

The man cracked open a single green eye to look at you. The arms he'd risen in a luxurious stretch fell to his sides. "[Name], are you all right?"

There in the bed you'd only just vacated sat Loki Laufeyson, a man you knew only as a fictional character in the MCU. And he wasn't just shirtless either. As the silky sheets slid a few more inches down his sides, you saw that the man had no clothing on at all. You squeaked as you clapped your hands over your face—though what for, you didn't know. All signs pointed to you having seen him naked already, although you could find no memory of the event.

When had you last attended a comic convention anyway? And sure, people teased you about your crushes on fictional characters even as you aged into adulthood, but you weren't this pathetic. Even after being out of any long-term relationship for months, you weren't so desperate that you'd stoop to having one-night stands with random cosplayers!

"I should hope not," said the man. "I suspect many of the cosplayers downstairs don't bathe regularly."

Oops. You'd made that last self-depreciating comment out loud. A deep, shuddering breath preceded the removal of your hands from your eyes. Still, you kept your gaze carefully averted from the man's pale torso as you replied: "I didn't mean to offend you. You smell pretty good, as far as I can tell."

The following pause extended so long that you dared to allow yourself a glance at his face. His sleepy expression faded as the two of you stared at one another. Somehow, this looked movie-accurate, too. If your heart hadn't been thundering in your chest from sheer terror, you might have asked him for a headshot. Then again, probably not. How could you pin up a photograph of a man you'd slept with for no other reason than that he happened to look uncannily like an attractive movie character?

The Loki lookalike opened his mouth, seemed to think better of saying whatever was on his mind, closed his mouth, then threw his legs over your side of the bed. "Is there any particular reason you're sitting on the floor?" he asked.

Mostly because you weren't confident that your own legs would hold you up if you tried to stand. Your head felt fuzzy and light; the curtains shifting in the breeze from the heater sent sparkles across your vision. You really didn't need to add vomiting on a hot stranger's rug in front of said hot stranger to your list of suffered mortifications that morning.

"I don't remember how I got here," you said weakly.

"Well," he patted the empty space next to him on the bed, smirking, "why don't you come back up here, and we'll jog your memory with a little reenactment?"

You surged to your feet. "No!"

"No?"

"Thank you! No, thank you. I appreciate the offer, but this is really not like me at all. I'm late enough for work as it is."

"I thought you had the day off." Now the cosplayer sounded confused.

"I'm sorry that I lied to you." The apology probably would have meant more had you recalled lying to him about such a thing in the first place, or if you'd put in any effort at all to sound sincere. You were too busy craning your neck every which way to give your tone much thought.

"Are you looking for something?"

"My clothes."

"Have you tried the closet?"

Considering your complete blackout of the night before, you sort of assumed anything you'd been wearing would have been haphazardly strewn around the room. Everything around you looked immaculate—no, not just immaculate. Glistening. Gold and green. Grand. The idea that you'd bedded a man serious enough to keep his bedroom in character made the whole place blur as you swayed and groaned.

"[Name], what's going on? Have you fallen ill?"

You hadn't been drunk enough to experience a hangover since your college days. But whoever this guy was, as worried as he sounded, he didn't need to know that this was your first in quite some time. He'd already taken advantage of the situation from the sound of things. No need to give him more ammunition.

"Please just give me my clothes," you begged him. "I can't go to work like this."

"I don't see why not."

"Look, it was sweet of you to lend me these pajamas. They're actually really comfortable. And I promise that I will still take them home, get them cleaned, and return them to you as quickly as possible."

"That might come across as an insult. I believe Mother intended them to be a gift."

"I've never met your mother!"

Panic swept through your veins in one mighty surge. Goosebumps erupted over your skin as your heart beat faster than ever. Your throat clamped around itself. You couldn't breathe. And just as quickly as the cold tingling began, a swift wave of heat crashed over you from head to toe. You heard rather than saw the man leave the bed to pad barefoot in your direction. Perhaps you'd have to reassess your statement about his scent; a sour, acrid smell that burned the back of your tongue arrived alongside him.

Once he reached you, he crouched so that your eyes were level with his. You couldn't recall collapsing. The lookalike lifted an arm to grasp your shoulder, but the moment he touched you, he hissed and drew back as though your skin burned him.

"Darling, I can't help you when you're doing that."

Doing what? Dying? Because that's what a complete stranger calling you "darling" made you feel like you were doing! By then, the fear had grown so overwhelming that you couldn't speak. Frantically shaking your head would have to do to keep him at this short distance.

"I see," he said. "I'll call the good doctor. At the very least, his little green friend should be able to touch you."

The man disappeared from your narrowed field of vision. You could hear faintly, over the noise of your own ragged breathing, him saying something to someone. His absence gave you a little time to think. Surely you could figure out how you'd found yourself in this situation, right? All you needed to do was think hard about what had happened to you the day before.

You couldn't come up with much. You'd gone to work. It had been a particularly long, boring day in the middle of the week. After clocking out sometime after sunset, you went straight home by yourself. A shooting star streaked across the night sky as you unlocked the door to your apartment, and a wish had swiftly passed through your mind: If only your life could be just a little less lonely.

A granted wish? No! That was insane. Wishes didn't come true. And what did people say about the answer to mysteries? Something about the most logical solution often being the correct one? You'd probably gone out to a bar for some socialization after work, met this guy, had one drink too many, and agreed to follow him home. Which only meant that this panic attack—another first in a long time—was completely stupid. Nothing could be more mundane than making enough bad choices of your own to land yourself in some weird guy's bed.

Someone knocked smartly on the door, which in turn knocked you right out of your trance. You could only imagine how embarrassed you would be when another person saw you like this. Being humiliated wouldn't help your current condition; the alien surroundings weren't doing much for you either. Closing your eyes, you tried to focus on the solid details around you: the soft rug beneath your hands; the familiar noise of New York traffic; the clean, almost herbal scent that filled the room; two voices, clear as day from across the room.

"Really? You had to answer the door naked?" asked a new male voice.

"Why, Doctor, whatever are you talking about? We both can clearly see that I am fully clothed."

"You know that I can smell your illusions, right?"

A pause, followed by a sulky: "I'll put on a robe."

"A real one this time, if you don't mind."

This exchange gave you the opportunity to attempt to control yourself. You still didn't feel a whole lot better. If you put any thought into your present circumstances, your breath began to hitch again—but being marginally less convinced of your own impending death counted as a win. How long such conviction would last, you could not say. The sound of two sets of approaching footsteps caused you to seize up once more.

"[Name]?" the new voice asked kindly. When you didn't reply, the man went on, "Is this why you called me?"

The cosplayer answered, "I am utterly at a loss as to what to do. One minute, we were fast asleep in bed. The next, she's flailing about, saying she has to get to work. And when I mentioned my mother, she just crumpled."

"As many mortals might at the mention of the goddess of love and beauty," the second man said wryly.

You felt your first stab of annoyance at this display. In fact, you managed to feel something other than fear long enough to open your eyes and glare at the Loki lookalike. "It's called a panic attack."

He blinked. "A panic attack? You don't have panic attacks."

Obviously, you did, and how would he know anyway after a single night of lovemaking? Before you could say as much, the newcomer sighed:

"You called me for a panic attack? Loki, for the last time, I am not a practicing medical doctor."

"Yes, right now you are practicing being a pain in my ass instead. All I want is for you to fix my girlfriend. Helen isn't here, so you'll have to do."

You really, really wished you hadn't looked at the second man. So many questions filled your mind as you listened to the conversation—who did this lookalike think he was, referring to you as his girlfriend? And he was so committed to the role that he had his friends call him Loki?—but every single one of them fell away as you spotted the man standing next to the cosplayer—another cosplayer, by the look of things, this one shorter and scruffier, with a mop of graying brown hair and a vibrantly purple shirt.

Moaning, you buried your face into your hands. "This cannot be happening."

Unfortunately, everything pointed to it happening. How? Why? You had no idea. But it really did seem as though you were sitting on the floor and trying not to cry in front of Loki Laufeyson and Bruce Banner, two people that, as far as you knew, didn't really exist! It made no sense at all. Nor would it ever, so long as you couldn't pull yourself together.

The two men murmured back and forth during the time you struggled to calm yourself using every ounce of panic disorder-related advice you'd come across during your several years of therapy. You ignored the conversation, breathed deeply in through your nose and out through your mouth, and concentrated on your slowing heartbeat until, at last, you had the capacity to think clearly again.

"Oh, thank Bor," said Loki as you exhaled a final sigh. Then, before you could do anything to prevent him drawing nearer, he threw himself onto the ground and pulled you into a warm embrace. "Stifling" might have been a better word for it. He didn't stink this time, but you stiffened as his soft arms wound around you nonetheless.

Bruce placed his hands on his thighs and leaned toward you. Loki didn't pay him the slightest bit of attention, choosing to focus instead on nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. If you hadn't been so laser focused on simply staying upright, you probably would have squirmed out of his grip.

"[Name], are you feeling better now?" Bruce asked.

"No thanks to you, Doctor I’m-the-Smartest-Man-on-the-Planet," Loki said, voice muffled by your shoulder.

Bruce rolled his eyes and waited patiently for your answer. You hesitated to give one, "better" being a relative term in this situation. But maybe these two would have some idea of what was going on than you did.

"I'm fine now, thank you," you said before rushing on with: "I don't think I am who you think I am, though."

That got Loki to release you, though he didn't move far. "What do you mean? You're [F Name] [L Name], aren't you?"

"Well, yes. But—"

"Then I know exactly who you are."

"Let her finish, Loki," Bruce admonished him. The doctor’s brow crinkled with concern as he watched you chew on your lip in thought.

This might be more difficult than you'd first anticipated. After all, you couldn't just tell them they didn't really exist. Saying something like that would only get you sent to a loony bin. You'd rather skip that trip, much as you might have belonged there.

"Er," you began awkwardly, eyes flicking between both men's faces. "I, um, don't think I'm the right [F Name] [L Name]? I know that probably sounds crazy, but I really don't remember any of this," you gestured at the room at large," "or either of you," you motioned to them," or anything leading up to being here. This isn't my life. I don't know how I would have ended up in a place like this."

Loki and Bruce stared at you. The longer the silence dragged on, the more you shifted in place. They exchanged a look with one another. Then:

"Ah," said Loki.

Relief flooded through your veins. They knew. They believed you. Soon, you would be back home, or on the way there, and—

"Dr. Cho did warn us that something like this might happen," Bruce said.

And the relief vanished. "W-What?"

Nodding, Loki gripped both your shoulders in his hands. He looked far more serious than he had at any other point during that morning. "There was an...incident during a skirmish yesterday. You got overwhelmed. Helen stabilized you before things got too bad, but she did advise us to keep an eye out for any other possible side effects, such as amnesia."

Amnesia? Could that really be? A sharp tingle like that of an electric shock raced up your back. Although you wanted to come across as firm when you said, "No. I remember what I did yesterday. I wasn't here," you didn't manage to keep the quake out of your voice.

"And what do you think you did yesterday?"

"I went to work, and then I went straight home."

"Exactly!" Loki grinned. "See, you do remember. You're just a little confused on the details. I'm sure with a little help from yours truly, you'll be back to normal in no time."

Could that somehow be true? Could the life you recalled up until now be entirely made up? Could you have dreamed up a backstory to explain why you already knew Loki and Bruce despite knowing nothing about yourself? You didn't think so—but the all-too-familiar fatigue following your recent panic attack had started to sink into your bones. Thinking about anything that life-changing that deeply would have to wait until you recovered.

You climbed to your feet. If you could just lay down for a minute or two, perhaps then you could figure things out. Neither Bruce nor Loki attempted to stop your drowsy line in the direction of the bed. Just as you reached to peel the sheets back to slip under them, however, your stomach gave a tremendous gurgle.

Loki's laugh shattered the uncomfortable quiet. "Hungry, are we? Well, that we can fix right away."

He wrapped a hand around your wrist and whisked you out of the room without offering you a chance to protest.

******

Sometime later—your current state made it difficult to pinpoint an exact amount—you found yourself sitting at a huge black table located in front of a massive wall of windows. Outside unfolded a dizzying view of early morning traffic weaving through the streets all those stories below. Inside's view didn't inspire much more confidence; it only served to remind you that this wasn't your kitchen. Your kitchen had clutter, a single skylight, and the occasional dirty dish waiting in the sink gifted to you by your lazy past self. This kitchen looked as though it had never seen a dirty dish in its entire life—even though you had to assume seven or so people used it regularly.

But you couldn't really make that assumption, could you? In your reality (or your memories, if Loki and Bruce were to be believed), Bruce Banner and Loki did not live together, nor did they trade subtly friendly barbs back and forth with one another. Who knew what other differences existed that you hadn't noticed yet?

"And voilà! A breakfast fit for a queen."

Loki placed a plate in front of you with an exaggerated flourish. On that plate sat a slice of toast with butter, scrambled eggs, and a piece of bacon. "Fit for a queen," though? The toast was charred, the eggs runny, and even if you weren't too full of anxiety to eat, you couldn't imagine daring to put that bacon in your mouth. But he looked so pleased with himself that you voiced none of your thoughts; you simply smiled back tremulously.

His own grin softened. "You're very welcome," he said before leaning down to brush his lips against your nearest temple. This oasis of sweetness in a desert of confusion lasted all of a second before he startled you with a light smack on your back.

"Well, then, I'll be off!"

"Off? You're leaving?" you asked.

"Right, you'll have forgotten. Thor has insisted that we visit our parents today. Normally, I'd be begging you to come along, of course, to spare me a portion of the tedium. But I'd hardly be any sort of gentleman if I subjected you to Odin while you're in such a condition. So be a good girl, and I should be back this evening, provided traffic is light on the Bifrost.

"Look after my beloved for me, would you, Doctor?"

With that parting, Loki dashed from the room. Bruce hadn't even replied. He had to still be nearby, however. You could practically feel his concerned gaze boring into the back of your head. Most likely he just wanted to make sure you ate—but if he'd seen the fruits of Loki's labor, he'd know that waiting for that was a lost cause. It took what little energy you had leftover to keep yourself from shoving the food clear to the other end of the table.

Bruce did not say anything as the time stretched on. Neither did you. Just as the thought of asking to be returned to Loki's bedroom dawned on you (at least you knew it would be empty), someone else strutted into the dining room.

"Good morning, Toxic Avenger, Mr. Incredible!"

Whoever this new person was, their level of cheer made your head throb painfully. You turned your head in the direction of the entrance—and felt your jaw drop at the sight that awaited you. There in the room stood none other than Tony Stark—Iron Man—the beating heart of the MCU.

He flinched as your eyes met. "What happened to you? Didn't Dr. Cho tell your boy toy no mead for the foreseeable future? He knows that doesn't treat blunt force trauma, right?"

All you could do in answer was open and shut your mouth repeatedly. Logically, if Bruce and Loki were real, Tony would be, too. But given the complete lack of logic in the entire affair, you thought you could forgive yourself for short-circuiting like that.

Tony's expression grew more worried. "[Name]?"

"She experienced a panic attack this morning," Bruce supplied helpfully from somewhere just out of your line of vision.

"Yeah, yesterday was pretty rough, wasn't it?" Tony approached to pat you sympathetically on the shoulder, then grimaced as he spotted your plate. "And that looks even worse than you do. Let me guess: Prince Charming decided to cheer you up with a little force-fed poison."

You heard Bruce stifle a chuckle.

"And you let him! You know he knows that he's not supposed to waste my food on his disgusting attempts at gaining a culinary education!”

"I offered to help him. He declined."

"Of course he did. Not to worry, [Name]. Real breakfast is on the way."

Your plate of painstakingly- (if not well-)crafted food disappeared. Tony marched it over to a trash can and unceremoniously scraped its contents into the bin. As he went to place your unused utensils in the sink, he said:

"JARVIS, tell the team to meet up in the kitchen. Bruce and I are making waffles."

"I take it that you mean Bruce is making waffles while Tony gets in the way," Bruce remarked, but he didn't look upset. He simply rolled up his sleeves and walked over to the counter. Tony smirked at him while he pulled ingredients out of the fridge and cabinets.

"Hey, did I hear JARVIS right? Breakfast?"

This eager voice belonged to Clint Barton. Tony waved him into room.

"We're gonna have a 'We Survived' party following yesterday. Midgardians only."

Clint clapped his hand together before sauntering inside. "Excellent! Tasha's just finishing up her morning training session. She said she'll be here soon." He, too, joined the commotion in the kitchen. A few seconds later, you heard him call: "Do you want coffee or OJ, [Name]?"

Your tongue remained glued to the roof of your mouth. One after one, fantastical visions you had only seen on the screen entered your life and spoke as though they knew you—as though they cared about you. How could you even begin to respond?

Thankfully, you were spared having to do so by the arrival of Steve Rogers. He'd barely poked his head through the open doorway when Tony said, "Hit it, JARVIS!" and the Star-Spangled Banner erupted from what sounded like speakers hidden in every surface. Wearing a comically serious expression, Tony placed a hand over his heart. Clint saluted. Even Bruce got into things, albeit merely by hiding another smile behind his whisk and a bowl of waffle batter.

"Do you have to do that every morning?" Steve sighed.

"Learning real humor will do you some good, Cap. Think of it as your payment for the otherwise free room and board."

"I'm really starting to miss Brooklyn."

Steve caught your eye as he passed and offered you a nod. Thank goodness he stopped there. Any further attention from Captain America might have stopped your heart completely. You couldn't even manage to squeak in greeting. Then he had moved on to the group busy with food preparation:

"How about I make us some eggs, Dr. Banner."

"I'd appreciate some help from someone who actually understands that setting the stove on the highest dial doesn't simply produce the food faster," Bruce said.

Clint spluttered something about growing up on a diet of circus peanuts and popcorn; how was he supposed to know the finer details of making burgers?

"Thanks, Steve," Bruce added over this added noise of indignation.

Once the national anthem came to a close, JARVIS switched the music. Hard rock played next. At least he kept the volume low. The men continued to bicker and work in alternating bursts, and soon the smell of baking waffles, frying bacon, and percolating coffee filled the air. The thick scents made your stomach turn. You tried to grip your knees to keep yourself in the moment, but no matter how hard your knuckles tightened, you couldn't stop thinking.

Odds were you were just crazy. Now that you thought about it, the real crazy idea was that you'd somehow got sucked into an alternate universe where all your favorite characters were flesh and blood. No. You'd been in an accident, and it wouldn't be much longer before you woke up in a hospital bed. Acquaintances would no doubt react with raucous laughter when you described your coma dream to them.

Most people already thought your passion for certain fictional worlds was strange and oftentimes too intense. This was proof of your very own. Could there be a bigger loser than someone whose subconscious put them straight in the middle of a bad self-insert fan fiction?

"Good morning boys and girl." The chair across from you scraped against the tile floor as someone pulled it back. Into that chair plopped Natasha Romanoff. She took one look at you, then placed her elbow on the table and her cheek on her fist to shoot you a catlike grin. "Jeez, you look like you got hit by a truck—or maybe an Asgardian with a penchant for horned helmets. I think you looked better yesterday."

You couldn't do it. Natasha was the last straw. No one seemed to have noticed you hadn't said a single word since Tony had come in anyway. With nothing more than a vague mutter about needing the bathroom, you shot out of your chair and into the hall. You heard Natasha make a confused noise. No time to answer her. Your pace would not slow until you fully escaped this bizarre nightmare.

******

Night had started to fall when you staggered out of your apartment building on shaking legs. You collapsed onto the empty steps out front, too dazed to so much as hyperventilate. Above you stretched a matte, starless sky with red along the visible edges. All around you swarmed patches of light: warm windows, haloed streetlamps, blinding headlights. How often had you sat in this exact spot at this exact time to wait for taxis? These surroundings ought to have been something you knew. But you didn't know any of it, not anymore.

Your bare feet stung and your back ached from your day of running around Manhattan. Maybe fleeing from breakfast without trying to find proper supplies—like shoes or actual clothing—had not been your smartest plan. You had just been so scared of being stopped and so convinced that you'd soon regain consciousness that figuring out how to get back to the room you'd woken up in felt like a waste of time. Now you had to face the truth wearing someone else's pajamas, alone, with no money, no phone, and no food.

And what was the truth you had to face? That you didn't live here. Oh, no. Worse. You didn't just not live there anymore. You’d never lived there at all. A single chat with the building manager proved that. He refused to let you into your former home. Bursting into tears in reaction only got you so far as an allowance to accompany the manager to knock on the door. Someone did answer, and that someone didn't know you, and you didn't know them.

Probably the only reason either the resident or the manager had been polite enough to let you leave of your own volition was that you were recognizable. A day of wandering the streets had not changed your appearance enough to avoid stares, murmurs, and the occasional request for an autograph.

The same held true outside as well. People walking by came to a complete stop when they spotted you. More than a few phone cameras flashed in your direction. You heard more voices the longer you sat there: "Isn't that Cinnabar?" "What's an Avenger doing here?" "Do you think there's some emergency?"

Great. As if you didn't find your own terror difficult enough to deal with, your mere presence had passersby scared, too. Your disheveled appearance wouldn't help matters. If only you could have opened your mouth and reassured them—not that you had any idea what comfort you might offer someone else just then.

Slowly, you forced yourself to wobble to your feet. It had been December last you knew. The visible puffs of air raising from your lips indicated that that remained true. Without money or a coat, you needed to get moving if you wanted to find somewhere indoors to stay warm overnight. You wouldn't be able to make it back to Avengers Tower before being outside became dangerous, and truth be told, you weren't so sure you wanted to return.

You'd gathered a small crowd of onlookers during your vigil. They backed up to give you space as you made it to the sidewalk. Their mumbling grew so soft that you could no longer eavesdrop. Better for you to focus on taking one step after another. You could do that. One step after—

A tremendous flash of light lit up the sky. Thunder roared so loudly that the ground shook. Your head snapped upward as you pitched forward. Though your knees screamed in protest as they hit the cement, you could only find the room in your mind for one thought:

Hadn't the sky been clear only moments ago?

"Brother, I have found her!" a voice boomed nearly as loud as the thunder itself. Then you were swept up into a pair of huge, unyielding arms. You squirmed fruitlessly in their grasp, anxiety mounting. Your captor only laughed, a sound you could feel reverberating in their chest.

"Thor, release [Name] at once. You're clearly suffocating her."

"Apologies."

The arms withdrew, and you stumbled backwards as you gasped for air. A face above the limbs swan into view: Thor Odinson, grinning broadly down at you.

"We returned to find you missing. We were worried for you," he said.

"Quite," Loki agreed. "But come. Let us move to a more private area before you send the mortals to a hospital."

You allowed him to gently pull you up the street. A quick glance backward showed you the throng from earlier watching your trio leave. Several of them swayed on their feet; one or two held hands up to their heads. Now that you thought about it, Loki and Thor's arrival had brought with it another scent. This one was different from before. Minty, perhaps?

"Lucky for us, Asgardians are immune to this variety of your toxic fumes!" Thor said.

Heat filled your cheeks. Of course it would be that your first discussion with two of your fictional heroes would involve them casually chatting about your gas. Did that mean the stench from the morning had belonged to you as well? But Loki had not been able to touch you then, and as soon as he'd marched you to an empty street corner that evening, he gave you a brief hug. He cupped your face between his palms the moment he drew away.

"What in all the Ten Realms are you doing out here?" he asked.

The sudden softness of his expression made it impossible for you to lie. You opened your mouth, but no words exited it. "I just...needed to know for sure," you said after a moment of struggle.

"And you couldn't have waited for me to join you? Or, Heven forbid I encourage such behavior, but one of the many do-gooders we reside with?"

Tears filled your eyes at the suggestion. Normally you weren't such an easy crier, but it had been a long day, one of the longest in your memory. Refusing to ask for help from a group of people who didn't appear to mean you any harm felt incredibly stupid in retrospect. If these were the real Avengers—and you had mounting evidence that they were—obviously they would have assisted you. Maybe they would not have believed you, but they probably would have agreed to take you to your old apartment.

Loki's thumb caught one of the tears that spilled over your bottom eyelids. After that, he grazed his hands down your neck to your shoulders. "There, there. We'll simply blame your ordeal on Dr. Banner's horrendous babysitting. I swear, once that woman—"

Thor loudly cleared his throat. Loki paused, rolled his eyes, and went on:

"—Natasha enters a room, all his supposedly genius mind can think about is her ass—"

"Ah-hem."

Loki hesitated a little longer this time before continuing, "—her assets." He glared at his brother, who merely beamed in return and gave him two thumbs-up. "Still, one would believe he could remain focused on you for a few hours, given your condition."

"Loki tells me that you are suffering memory loss after yesterday's battle," Thor said.

You were too tired to argue the point any longer. More importantly, you were too tired to run. Thor and Loki would only catch you again in short order. Where you could run off to anyway, you didn't know. So you simply nodded and said, "It looks like it," in a small voice.

One of Loki's hands tightened around the shoulder it rested upon; he pulled you to his side as he took a step forward. "And as you are ill, I refuse to let you wander the streets like this a second longer. Let us retire to the tower, where I will draw you a hot bath and see to it that you are well taken care of until this has passed."

You cringed despite your bone-deep exhaustion. To your surprise, Loki noticed, moved a little away from you, and let you go.

"Or," he said slowly," you can clean yourself up however you see fit and get some rest. I can sleep on the floor."

Another peal of boisterous laughter shocked you awake; you'd almost forgotten that Thor was there. No longer could you ignore his presence when he slung one of his arms around you and then Loki in rapid succession. "Truly proof of the depths of my brother's love for you, [Name]! Never in all my years have I heard him offer to sleep anywhere but on the choicest of beds available."

"Yes, well..."

Were you actually going crazy, or did Thor's observation have Loki blushing? The bad lighting made it difficult to tell for sure. Before you could give the idea much space inside your head, Thor squeezed you tightly against himself.

"Then let us be home!" he cried, releasing Loki to spin his hammer in front of himself.

"Wait! Thor! No! There is a perfectly good subway system just a—"

"Better hold on tight, Loki, or [Name] and I shall make it to the tower long before you will!"

Missed You

The harsh winds of the indigo night carried over the depressive showers, and while the booming sounds of thunder made the Asgardian grimace, the falling precipitation that accompanied it offered him a soft comfort that came from the innermost part of his heart.

Unwillingly, the gentleness enveloped him, momentarily silencing the madness that festered in his mind, and in that moment a soft smile graced him.

However, the tranquility he felt was disrupted by the sound of an obnoxious boom, the echoing roar bringing him back to his reality,

“What’s the matter, scared of a lil’ lightning?” Steve spoke, his words holding equal parts of interest and mockery as he gazed down at the captured male, his keen blue eyes having caught the jump that the man executed.

“....I’m not overly fond of what follows,” Loki responded while he looked up at the ceiling, knowing that very soon, they’d have a visitor.

He momentarily closed his eyes while a low breath left him, knowing that the unkind rocking of the flying vehicle wasn’t entirely due to the heavy weather,

"At any moment..." he started, his voice low and airy as he counted down the seconds.

He could then hear Stark fall, a low grunt leaving him as he was attacked, and by then Loki was expectant of a less than welcoming grasp to fall upon him, until, a voice he found all too precious spoke,

“Where is my prince?” The arriving (h/c) haired woman spoke firmly, standing both tall and proud as her eyes roamed the sight of the vehicle’s interior, quickly finding the regal male sitting, restrained and defeated, the very sight knotting her stomach.

As his image graced her, her heart then defrosted, the expression of frigid ice that set her face into seriousness melted, showing her inner musings and relief,

“Loki,” She breathed, sounding utterly mystified and entranced.

‘Loki… it’s really you…’ She thought to herself, almost on the verge of tears with the joy she felt.

'You're alive,'

All the while the dark-haired male looked at her with wide-eyed surprise that soon melted, his expression going soft and boyish,

“Darling…” He muttered, cooing out the word lovingly while on his lap his bound hands itched to reach her.

‘To think you’d come…’ He thought to himself, a small smile gracing him, and during then his eyes twinkled with delight.

However, another loud boom was let loose, and soon after the flying vehicle shook, signaling the arrival of another person, and at that, Loki's eyes snapped to the other Asgardian that landed into the vehicle, his entrance being less graceful, being a complete contrast to the woman that now stood watching.

For a split second, Loki’s face morphed into startled fright before the expression was replaced by a harsh grimace as Odinson reached out to him.

Thor had stormed in, slapping a vicious hand onto the younger prince’s shoulder, and at that (f/n) snapped out of her daze,

“ Thor...Gentler!" She advised in a harsh whisper, giving the larger male a warning he disregarded as he gripped the younger’s throat, pulling him back before he used Mjolnir to escape, abruptly leaving without a say.

‘Of course, Thor,'  She inwardly sulked, quickly worrying over the two males, knowing that Thor was in no shape to act rationally, the pain and anger he felt at his brother’s betrayal still festered within him.

‘And My god of mischief…’ She thought while her heart ached, understanding the thunder god’s scorn, because she’d cried heavily over the younger’s presumed death, and the range of emotions she’d experienced since she found out the truth were far too many to properly process all at once.

‘..I missed you.’ she mused while her eyes misted with a light sheet of moisture that blurred her sight, momentarily having forgotten that she was left within what was possibly enemy territory.

Regaining his composure Stark stood before her, his palm facing her as a nearly blinding light illuminated from it,

“ I’m going to count to thr-”

Cutting him off she closed her (e/c) eyes, her arms stretched out at her sides as she let the weight of her body pull her back, and by doing so diving into the mercy of the powerful winds.

Within that instant, her body morphed into a soft mist that melted with the precipitation.

Cute Color

“That’s a cute color,” he said softly, eyes trained on the glowing color spread over her face.

Absentmindedly her fingers weaved through her hair, the newly colored strands in her line of sight, "My hair?" She said softly before flickering her (e/c) orbs back at him.

She heard a small sound draw from him, an amused breath that made her insides stir with giddiness,

“No,” he said lowly, the back of his fingers gently running down her heated cheek, 

His body swayed as he trudged forward, a bottle of strong whiskey in hand whilst his other dragged along the walls, supporting himself so he could keep his body staggering upwards. Had the structure not existed, he would have toppled over by now, and probably passed out then and there, lying the rest of the night on the sidewalk.

Forgotten, and left to join the scattered trash of the city...

He had dropped his phone a long time ago, but even so, he wouldn't care enough to go back and find it. Besides, It wasn't like he expected a call, not any time soon at least...

Because who actually gave a damn to check up on him? Who really cared about him that much?

Moreover, why would he go back for the thing? He could just buy another one.

In fact, he could buy anything he wanted...

"Just about everything, " He grumbled, knowing it wasn't entirely true. Because there were just certain things out there that were out-of-bounds and priceless.

Priceless like all the things which had been taken from him,

The echoing sound of joy, more specifically stifled laughter rang in his ears, momentarily stunning him. And though the sound was melodically playing, sounding on a tortuously endless loop, he knew well enough that if he turned to search for her, she'd be nowhere in sight.

Instead, he'd find nothing but darkness all around him which lay in wait.

Besides, he was certain she was somewhere else, somewhere out of his hold and reach and gradually drawing away from him further.

Just the thought alone made him tighten his hand around the bottle's neck, hoping to crush it to pieces, wanting to feel something besides the numbing feeling that had settled over his body.

Knocking on the door a fifth time, he was greeted with the sight of another man rather than the lovely (light/dark) eyed beauty he had been in search of.

And they stared at each other, both with looks of surprise settled over them as the unexpected visit occurred.

The tall blonde standing opposite of him had his blue eyes opened wide in startle as he had seen who had so furiously knocked on the apartment's entry door. As for Stark, the look of shock was very short-lived and had only lasted a fourth of a minute onto his tired face before a look of annoyance crossed over him instead.

"Of course," he muttered with an abrupt and foul stench-ridden belch.

'Of course, I'd find him here...' he thought with bitterness.

It was practically the cherry on top...

"Move aside pretty boy," he said gruffly, trying to shove the blonde, but failing miserably.

Before him the first avenger refused to move, blocking the drunken man access to the inside of her home, going as far as to put out his arm to hold the doorway, the limb serving as a security rope.

"I'm going to need you to calm down first," Steve said with concern, his voice low as he quickly took notice of the agitated state the other man was in.

"I said move," Stark said with tightly clenched teeth, glaring right into the blonde's brightly colored eyes with his bloodshot ones, meeting nothing but opposition.

"I'm not going to let you see her like that," Steve responded back with a harsh whisper,

"Oh ...really?" stark said with a forced grin, "Fine then," he said through tightened teeth, "(F/N)! " He exclaimed, "(F/N)!" He cried out with distress because if he couldn't get to her, she'd make him come to him.

He just needed to see her...he needed to know the truth.

He didn't come to see Steve Rogers, he had already had enough of him. He came to see (f/n) and wouldn't leave until he was able to get a word in with her.

(f/n) sped walked out from the hall leading to her room, having just washed her hands before she exited the restroom, wiping her hands onto her sweatpants.

" Steve what's goi- Tony..?" she said with surprise, her pace quickening even more as she went towards her home's entrance to meet the visiting man. She ducked beneath Steve's arm, immediately touching Stark's face with still moist, yet anxious hands.

"Good god, what have you done to yourself?" she asked him, her brows creased with worry, not knowing what was worse, the fact that he was ass drunk, the odd stench of earth, sweat, and alcohol, or the filthy appearance he was currently in.

"And you!" she said whipping around to look at Steve, fire in her eyes as she spoke, " What are you doing? He needs to come inside!" she told him, to which the blond placed his left hand at his temple, closing his eyes with a sigh.

"(f/n), I was going to let him in, but I didn't want him causing a scene inside... I was just worried about you," he told her. " And then he started yelling," he added with an apologetic, tightened smile.

A soft smile melted over her, her tensed shoulders falling as she gazed at the tall blonde, "Oh Steve..." she said softly, shaking her head. "You shouldn't worry about me, " she added airily.

A snicker then drew her eyes back to Tony, and before she could ask him just what lead to him ending up in his state and right at her doorway, he cut her off from the first breath,

" You know, you used to look at me like that," he said out loud, his voice rising a smidge above his normal volume, afterward swallowing down the bitter spit that was laced with harsh liquor. He felt his eyes sting as he admitted that the jovial twinkle in her eyes wasn't reserved for him anymore.

It hadn't been his for what felt like a long time now... And what was worse, it changed ownership and now belonged to a complete stranger, one that came unannounced and violently shook their lives.

In the end, it had become possessed by a man not meant to live in the same time they were, and Stark couldn't help but think it was a cruel play from above.

It seemed that a powerful force beyond their existence was moving pieces to play merciless tricks on him, wanting to watch him slowly crumble.

And like brittle autumn leaves, he began to break apart,

"You used to laugh at every one of my jokes and pretend I was a bigshot," he added with a dry chuckle, missing how easily she became amused with him. Moreover, how lively his home became when she visited him regularly.

Sometimes she dropped in unannounced, something he showed annoyance in, but truly loved and would do anything to get back again. In fact, a single appearance from her would have sufficed, because anything was better than the empty space he was left to occupy.

He was left alone, unable to cope with all the surrounding darkness.

Two weeks prior, the other women in his life had sat him down, her lovely brown eyes dimming, the lovely glow in them trailing away from him as she told him how much she loved him.

She reminded him of how deep her sentiment for him was, rising out from him as she reminded him of both of their past mistakes because she too hadn't been at her best at times.

But it was something he disagreed with,

Virginia Potts was perfection in his eyes...

She held his hands in hers, touching her forehead to his, repeating once again how much she loved him before drawing back, with his hands refusing to let go.

" We need to take a break, Tony," she told him, and he could tell it didn't just hurt him, but that it pained her as well. "It's just for now," she told him, her bags set right at the side of the door.

And he could do nothing more than to agree with her because he wasn't worth it.

He couldn't beg her to stay with him when he knew that the only times she'd come close to danger was because she was at his side.

"Call me when you get there," he told her as he watched her walk away.

Her body seemed to stiffen as she stopped abruptly.

He could hear the sound of her strong inhale, which was just as shaky as her hands had been when she had touched him.

Her shoulders squared and he could tell she was doing her damnedest to hold herself together, to not only make it as painless as possible for herself but for his own sake as well.

"A text ?" he said afterward, a dried breath of false amusement making it past his lips.

"Yeah..." she said softly, "I...I'll call you..." she added looking back at him one last time, a painfully strained smile tightening over her face.

But of course, she didn't...

They had compromised her trip would serve as the perfect time for her to sit down and think, but from her lack of response, he understood well what her decision was and where they stood.

And on that same day, (f/n) practically blew him off. He'd notice her distancing herself from him, gradually becoming more of a stranger than he would have ever liked.

'Just as she started spending time with him...' Tony noted, still agitated, glaring darkly at the other man.

" ...and then Mr. perfect here showed up, and you forget about me, " he said pointing at the quiet blonde, staring at him with wavering eyes as he ranted.

'You said you loved me... that I mattered to you, that I was everything you needed,' He thought bitterly.

"You don't know him like you know me... he doesn't know you like I do either... so why (f/n)?" Tony said sniveling, tightly holding onto the doorway. " Why have you ditched me to hang out with him? Him of all people!" He asked, feeling a budding resentment as he remembered just how much his father talked on and on about the man.

He talked all about the untouchable perfection the man supposedly had been...

Howard Stark constantly stayed in remembrance of the great super-soldier, overlooking the son he had at his side.

The same son that was trying his hardest for a speck of attention... just a single word of acknowledgment meant just for him. Admittedly, he would have given it all to hear his father praise him just half as much as he did the 'oh so glorious' Steve Rogers.

But that part of his life was long gone, and now he had her left, and he wouldn't give his fight for her.

"...Am I not funny anymore?" He started, cracking a faint smile, one full of sorrow, once again remembering that there hadn't been uncontrollable laughter echoing in his now empty home for months, only dry silence.

"...Or is it that I annoy you now?" He said suddenly, not waiting for her reply regarding his previous question, but waiting with a stilled breath to hear her answer his second assumption.

He was afraid to know she couldn't stand him any longer and that he was nothing more than a burden to her, an annoying wart that wouldn't go away no matter how much she tried to ignore it.

swallowing hard he waited, giving her a moment to reply back, needing to hear the sound of her voice.

Was it his ego?

Was it his stupid pride?

Was he, himself a horrible friend to her? Was that it?

Had he pushed her away for being too damn selfish? Too inconsiderate?

"Tell me, please..." he begged, watching the way Steve came closer to her, subtly drawing her away from him, his hand brushing with hers. With narrowed eyes at the small movement, Tony clamped his teeth together, "....What has he told you to make you despise me so much?" he continued, letting his hold on the half-empty bottle slip.

It crashed down and shattered instantly, letting it's contents spill, splashing over his clothes as well as hers, small specks growing visible in the material.

He took a step forward, pushing himself from the doorway to come closer to her. Crunches beneath his feet sounded as his weight shattered larger pieces down to smaller shards, creating more of a mess.

The staggering man stepped forward, towards the shocked young woman, and shamefully she looked down at her feet, taking in everything he had just said, no longer able to stand the sight of him.

And at her sides, her hands shook, fisting into tightly wound balls.

Her shoulders also shook, trembling as she sucked in a heavy breath, shuttering as though a cold wind had gone through her.

A hand landed on her shoulder, making her glance to the side, where right behind her where the other man had stood, quietly observing everything, wanting to interject, but holding himself back.

"(f/n)..." he said, beginning to say her name, all before she shook him off, slowly shaking her head in denial.

' I really didn't know...' She thought, looking towards the sniffling brunette, her heart almost breaking in two.

She wasn't aware of how much she'd hurt the man.

If anything she believed her distancing was needed. Being around him all the time, much more with his girlfriend there... she was a third wheel and a hindrance to their relationship. She knew boundaries and understood that she couldn't always latch onto the man...it just wasn't right, especially when he would have to build his own life...

His own family...

She also figured that if she wasn't there, then she wouldn't have to worry about him too much either, trusting the other woman could handle her partner well enough on her own. But now she had him at her doorstep, and a complete mess.

His eyes were red and bloodshot, and his clothes were a wrinkled mess. The knees of his sweatpants were stained with green, and she knew he had fallen somewhere on his way to her home, probably more than once.

The man was as stubborn as a mule, and more than likely willed himself to make it to her.

"Say something, (f/n)," Tony said hiccuping, wanting to hear her voice again, wanting her to say something, and he'd settle for just about anything by that point.

Shaking her head she approached him, taking a hold of his shoulders and bringing him in for a crushing hold, making his wheeze.

With the hold he melted down onto her, bringing his arms to wrap around her with desperation, burying his face into (long/ short) strands, smelling once again the light berry scent of her (dark/ light) hair now tickling at his nose. His hands scrunched up her top, fisting them in shaky hands, overwhelmed by the thought that it wasn't some sort of mirage or dream.

She was actually there with him, caring for him once again, making him feel existent.

The warmth of a body pressed to his felt comforting, and there was a recharge gradually supplying him with more life, "(f/n)..." he started, cut off by her.

Slapping him upside the head she growled, pushing herself off from him and giving him teary eyes.

"You're so stupid!" she said holding him out at arm's length.

"You...You fucking idiot!" She added hearing her voice crack."You stupid idiot... I...I can't even..." she repeated again huffing, " Don't go showing up on my doorstep like this again!" she cried." You know I hate seeing you like this! Seeing you a stupid mess !" She exclaimed, her fingers digging into his shoulders as her grip became stronger.

Both her hands then released him, flying over to her forehead, pressing over the sides of her forehead with them, partially obscuring part of her face as she did so.

It wasn't the first time he'd gotten drunk and showed up at her doorstep, because as incredibly amazing as the man's life was to the outside world, behind the scenes Tony Stark was just another person.

And he was vulnerable, finding confinement in so few people, treasuring them in high pedestals, knowing it was all he truly had.

Something that only made it harder when they fell off.

Her words became mute to him as she continued to lecture him, arms flailing up in a show of her livid exaggeration. He could even see an angry vain begin to pop up and he couldn't help but smile.

Slowly the corners of his mouth began to lift up watching her as she continued to lecture him, breathing hard with exhaust as she ranted on.

"Are you even paying attention to me?!" she questioned him with a glare. Nodding furiously he continued to smile. With a strong heave, she huffed out in annoyance.

"Of course you're not!" she said shaking her head before her eyes bulged, "Oh fuck," she breathed, grabbing his hand and running with him to the sink.

"I seriously hate you!" she grumbled, rubbing circled onto his back nonetheless. With a sigh she helped him stand still as he emptied his stomach onto her poor sink, luckily getting him to not make a mess around the perimeter.

It was a few moments of uncomfortable sounds before she rubbed her wet hand over his mouth while the faucet ran, cleaning him up of the nasty remains.

"You stay here," she told him, pointing to her living room chair while she grabbed a water bottle with her other hand. "Got it?" she added, and obediently he nodded, wiping mouth dry before holding the container.

She then seemed to deflate, her shoulders sinking as she turned, " I'll go run him a bath...he's filthy," she said with a half-hearted smile, silently apologizing for the blue-eyed man, too embarrassed to even begin with an apology.

Nodding towards her, he offered her his own smile, not bothered at all. The worry she had written all over her face bothered him the most, that was his only concern anyways.

She went to her room first, hoping to find him something to wear as well as a spare towel for him. "Probably a blanket too," she muttered to herself, nodding, knowing that he'd probably stay the night.

She was angry with him, but wouldn't dream of kicking him out.

Back at the living room, the two men sat alone in complete silence, none knowing where to begin. With thick tension, the two men stayed quiet, until the blonde spoke, sounding somewhat uncertain as he spoke,

" Tony...I don't know what your thinking-"

" She really likes you," Stark said, cutting him off, sounding just a bit steadier than when he'd been rambling, slowly sobering up, much of it being the fact that he retched out most of what he consumed.

"What are you talking about?" Steve said with raised brows, watching the other man give him a side glance, halfheartedly glaring at him.

"You have to be stupid to not know," He said below his breath, shaking his head.

Another pregnant silence was born, cut off by the brunette as he released a small breath of amusement,

"You know...I'm the only other person that's been here," he replied, scanning his eyes over the living space, knowing every corner of the room, almost like a second home.

" She doesn't like having people in her living space." he started, " She says it makes her feel vulnerable." He added softly, stopping his eyes at a small framed picture placed over the surface of her desk.

At the moment his heart stopped for a second as he glared at it, and before he knew it he stood, slowly inching his way to it. Walking towards it with slow steps, he kept his eyes trained on the picture, picking it up with a trembling hand.

' She really kept this...' he thought with a tight smile.

It had been a few days before her birthday when she burst through his lab's doors, not giving him a second to react before she latched onto him. Her tears stained his shirt, marking them with little dark spots mixed with salted water and smudged liner.

That day he dropped everything, instantly focusing on her.

And he stayed up all night with her, just like she had with him before...

They went through an arrangement of movies, things he wouldn't have ever wanted to touch in his life, but he knew she needed him, and there wasn't any way he could say no to her.

So without refusal, he sat with her till dawn, watching on his largest screen, an entire bucket of ice cream shared between them.

By morning time there was a mess of wrappers, salted, and sweet junk that would give a nutritionist a heart attack. He would do anything and everything to get her to feel better, and when she let out that first smile, he felt his tightened heart grow lighter.

And she never pointed a finger towards him, instead swearing she forgives him, even if he wasn't the one who broke her heart to begin with.

She excluded him from any fault, but he never forgave himself...

" You know... A while ago I introduced her to this guy." He started. " He actually seemed perfect for her...at the time at least. He was Good looking, smart, good family.

She gave him everything...even what she couldn't give, willing to do just about anything to keep him, all while the bastard played with her.

He lead her on for a whole year, and it was my fault. I played matchmaker and ended up being the reason she was heartbroken." Stark said suddenly. " He was cheating on her left and right, using her, and during then, being the idiot I was, I unknowingly covered for him," he admitted.

Attentive, Steve nodded,"Yeah?" he said softly.

" It was an entire mess, and she doesn't know this," He said beginning to smile, " But I told him I'd kick his ass, and that I was going to bury him and everything he was into the dirt if he ever came close to her gain," he added.

"I'm guessing that was the end of it?" Steve asked, somewhat amused.

"Well, when you're cornered and have a man in a full-bodied armored suit pointing a missile at you point-blank...it's pretty hard to say no," he said blankly, making Steve shake his head with a held back chuckle while stark laughed wholeheartedly.

"You like her too right, right capsule?" He then asked suddenly, eyeing the other man with intense coffee-colored eyes.

The laughter ceased right then and there,

And at first, there was nothing but silence, three full minutes full of nothing but quiet staring until Steve gave a small, dry chuckle, breaking first,"I guess you could say." he admitted, giving Tony a rather awkward smile, one that was lopsided.

Crossing his arms Stark leaned back, giving the first Avenger a look that spoke for itself.

'Really now?' it questioned him.

At the rise of his dark brow, Steve dropped his head down, this time with a genuine sound of laughter leaving him, "What am I saying?" Steve said to himself.

He took a deep breath, sitting himself right back up with a pin-straight back, a look of complete assurance washing over him.

" Alright, look, I'll just say it... I do like her. I like her more than a friend, alright? But right now, well, we're still just getting to know each other." He specified. "But if we're being completely honest here, I'm waiting for the right moment to make the right move." He added.

"So you've got a crush on her ?" Tony asked flatly.

" Crush makes it sound juvenile, but I suppose, " Steve huffed. "Yeah," He said with a nod.

"well...You wouldn't be the worst thing that happened to her," Tony said quietly. "I think she could do a lot worse," he said arrogantly.

Rolling his eyes, Steve smirked, " That's a compliment right?" He asked, making the wealthy man slap a hand onto his shoulder.

"That's as close to one that you'll get from me," he said smiling faintly.

"Then I guess I'll take it," Steve answered back.

"Look, I just... I just don't want to lose her, alright?" The brunette confessed, sounding just as hurt as he truly felt. " I don't really have family left, at least what I can count on. To put it simply, she's been there from thick to thin, and I can't say too many people have done that for me." He said lowly. "I'll fight tooth and nail for that woman, " he admitted, hunching over to place his arms on his knees leisurely. "And that means I'll go through you too," he added, giving the blonde man a look of sincerity, laying it all out bare.

"Anyone and everyone," he said with a weary chuckle. "That's just how it is," he added.

With a faint smile of his own, Steve nodded, " I know," he said softly. " I can tell you really care about her. " he said nodding, "And I can respect that.".

Shaking his head, the other man spoke," You got it wrong there big man, " Tony corrected him.

"I don't know if you've ever felt that way about anyone." he started, " It's not like you've got the same blood coursing through you, but even so, It's Like They're your twin in a way.

You smile with them...

You laugh, you cry...

You just feel like a world without them feels empty.

You know, I can't look at her without thinking about how much better my life would have been if I'd have had her there from the beginning." He went on, "I think that if I would have had here there as my little snotty faced little sibling, I don't...I just think that, well, maybe I wouldn't have sunken as low as I did back then.

I love her, and like I said, I'd do anything to see her happy, and I'm willing to fight anyone else that threatens that joy." He said with certainty.

"I wouldn't dream of hurting her," Steve told the other man, " What'd much more, I'd never try and come between the two of you because you mean the world to her." He informed Stark, "In fact, she's told me something similar to what you just said, and I can guarantee you she's willing to do just as much as you are, all for you're own sake." he said with certainty.

Tony's hand landed on Steve's shoulder before he stood up with a sure nod, " Do me a favor, and take care of her," he said giving him a smile, truly meaning the expression as he felt himself trusting the man.

With one in return, Steve nodded, " I don't have any other intention," He said sincerely.

(F/n) leaned towards the arch separating her living room from her room, her head leaning to the side.

Again she felt her eyes grow wet, but this time the aching in her heart was bursting with everything but sorrow. Wiping away the little strays of drops, she stepped forward, giving the wall a tight tap, making both men turn towards her.

"Hey..." she started. " I've set the bath for you, and I've got some blankets, and clothes for you too, " she said softly, "Please stay the night Tony," she urged him.

Shaking his head, he grinned. " Nah, let me call Happy ..." he said looking between the two, reaching his pant pocket for his phone, but found it empty.

" Ah, I forgot..." he muttered.

Shaking her head, she walked over to him, handing him her cell. "I figured you lost it," she commented. He reached for the phone, giving it a quick swipe to open it finding their picture saved as her wallpaper.

It was an unflattering one of the both of them and in the past, he would have never figured out why in the world she didn't trash it. However, after a few second of gazing at it, truly looking onto the shot of them both, he found the beauty of it, the lovely silliness of their relationship captured by a single image,

'I guess I have to get used to sharing you,' He mused, seeing that he was right to assume there was something between the two people.

 Wanting compromise

“ Steve,” (f/n) said firmly, staring at the said man straight on, her (dark/bright) eyes filled with determination, unwilling to back down, being just as stubborn as he had taught her to be.

Fiercely glaring with stern (e/c) orbs, she held her chin up as she spoke to him, attempting to push down everything else that wasn’t reasonable understanding, stepping over her own sentiment to meet him halfway and go just beyond that point if it was necessary.

‘I’m willing to do anything...anything to stop this,’ She thought to herself.

She was more than willing to come to a comprise, hoping he’d do the same, desiring nothing more than to have him return the same effort.

" You need to stop this...Stop before it escalates any further...before it gets any worse," she said soberly.

‘If that’s even possible…’ she thought to herself, adding onto her words, but keeping the snide thought silent.

‘No...I’m not here to play the blame game...’ She rationalized with herself, knowing that it would only invite more resentment to surface if she stayed on those cracking grounds.

" You don't want to do this…" she continued on lowly, cautioning him for what was to come.

‘I know if I can get through to him, then it won’t come to it... We won’t have to fight,’ She reasoned, knowing that the only other way to stop him would be with force.

But she detested the thought, just thinking of raising her hand at him made her insides bubble. However, she willed herself, knowing that there were only two roads she could take....

‘Whatever it takes, I can’t be the one to back down,’ she thought with a harsh swallow.

If it wasn't possible to reason, she wanted to show him she wasn’t afraid to stand in his way, that she wasn’t willing to let him just trample over her and everything they had built.

Because It wasn’t just about her...

It wasn’t just about Bucky either...

There was just too much on the line, so much to lose to simply let him walk away.

‘Not like this,’ she thought stubbornly, knowing every action in which he had taken had only caused a greater rift between every member of the once united Team.

And it would only get worse if she didn’t take action,

‘We were once a team...And there's still plenty to salvage,’ she thought with hope, accompanied by a nod of assurance.

‘we won’t come to it...To the fall of the Avengers, ‘

It hadn’t ever crossed her to believe they’d ever be on opposing sides, almost as though they'd never been friends... partners… and perhaps something more.

‘ No No No No No, ‘ she chanted, ‘I’m here as just a friend,’ She reminded herself, because any other way would complicate things.

Any other way would bring the rotten bitterness she’d been trying to swallow down right back up.

"You know that I’ve always had your back,” She told him, “I always have… and will continue to,” she added, speaking earnestly. “ I'm always at your side... so please, don't treat me like the enemy," she pleaded him, her eyes softening, her mask of hard ice melting for a moment to give him sight of her true inner turmoil, exposing it for him.

“I don’t want to fight you,” she said quietly, the words not reaching him, but with his focus on her, he could read her lips as they moved with each uttered word.

“I wouldn’t ever want to hurt you,” she added, forcing up a smile, her hand going out to him.

“So Please,” she said to him, her eyes glittering with hope, “Please take my hand,” and stilly, he stared at her open palm.

He stared at her gloved hand, his fingers twitching as they responded to the action that had been repeated so many times in the past.

He had become used to taking it, after training, after sparring, after battle...

But this time all he did was stare on, motionlessly.

She took a hard swallow after clearing her throat of the knotted ball formed within it, " Steve, “ She started, her voice reaching him once more, sounding sturdier. “I've known Tony for the longest,” she continued on, her ties with the other man being just as strong as the ones she believed to have with the blonde.

“He sees you as a friend. And I know at times he can be hard-headed,” she mused, “ But let’s face it… you are too,” she added with a soft chuckle being forced out from within her chest.

The two of the most important men in her life were hard-headed mules, which in itself was a struggle. And it was even more troublesome when the two often clashed, causing her to be pinned in between.

She was often stuck choosing between the man who was, and had been her best friend for years, and the man who she not only had formed a solid bond with, but also coincidentally admired and loved.

“But regardless of that, I just know he'd do whatever it takes to help you out,” she told him, nodding, believing it to be true. “ I just know he will...because he’s your friend.” She assured him. “And I’m your friend too,” she reminded him.

“So is Nat, “ she added with a secure nod. “And we’ve all been through too much together to let this cause us a rift.”

“ Right now, you have to understand that things aren’t looking good for Bucky.“ She explained to him, hoping he’d turn over. “And I know you love him. I know how much you've struggled to get him back. We understand. We really do...but you have to come to reason as well.” She said to him. “ That if anything, it’s better to stay together. Because that way, we can get through this. Trust me,” she urged him, stepping forward a step, still holding her hand out for him to take.

“ We can do this...together,” she assured him.

Hearing her out, his jaw tightened, something she caught sight of and with a shuttered breath, she took a step back, her hand coming to her chest.

She retreated shaking her head at him as her eyes rounded, being stunned by that one simple twitch.

She then strayed her gaze away from him, growing disillusionment notable in her (e/c) eyes, because he had already made his mind.

He had already known what he’d have to do and was willing to push forward...

He had found it easier to face her, all the while she’d simply wasted her breath, strummed on false hope, naive enough to think she could break through to him.

The decision which would have torn her apart was one he had already made, taking the path to no return.

“ I see, ” she said softly, drawing more space between them.

“You know...You're standing in front of me, holding your shield so tightly within your hand. Your muscles are all tensed... Steve, I can see it…” she informed him, “ And if you could only see the way you look at me right now... you’d understand why it hurts…” she told him. “After all, it’s the same way you look at your enemies…” she said with a dry chuckle rousing out from her to mask the hurt residing within her chest.

“ I would know... Because I've stared at you enough times to know. I’ve been at your side enough times to have memorized it,” she said sadly. Looking around, she let (e/c) colored her eyes gazed over to see their friends fighting among themselves, the entire airport a battleground, ensuring more destruction than what had already let loose.

“ This is tearing us apart, but I guess you already know that, huh?” she told him, a seldom smile slowly growing over her face as she lived through their final moments of peace together.

“ And as much as it pains me,” she shuttered, her body running cold with what she was going to say, “ I’ll have to stand in your way, " she warned him, lifting her hands from her sides, her feet elevating from the ground, levitating her body off the concrete by only a foot, ready to confront him straight forth.

“ Because I have no choice if you don't back down,” She informed him.

His stubbornness, though at times annoying, was a trait she had admired. She had always found respect in his steadfastness, his devotion in what he believed to be right, something she wished she had more of, something she’d striven to be like.

What made him a hero wasn’t the power he had gained from the enhancing serum, it had been his determination, and much more that only Steve Rogers had. His will was just as powerful as his fists, able to go against greater powers than his own in order to protect, that was his strength.

‘Damn it...’ She thought to herself, because even then, all while she was ready to go against him, she found herself admiring his drive, stunned by his love for his longtime friend as well.

Far from within, she began to question whether or not she was on the right side,

‘ I’d wreak havoc for you,’ She thought to herself, understanding him, uncertain if she was doing the right thing by opposing him because she too would go against the world to save him.

But then she remembered Stark, she remembered his words, his own reasons.

His own pain...

“Just answer me this...” she breathed, “Why?” She questioned him. “ Do you not trust him?” she asked. “Does his word mean nothing?”

“Steve...Are we not friends?” She asked him.

‘What did we do wrong?’ She wondered. ‘Just say anything... something,’ She pleaded, having received nothing but silence from him all along.

“ I won't let anything happen to Bucky, “ He informed her, making those his chosen words.

“ I won’t take the risk,” he added, “And even if I have the whole world going against me, I have to do what’s right,” he informed her. “ Because even if someone is telling me that something wrong is right...even if the world is telling me to move... ” he continued on, drifting off towards the end, securing a direct lining to connect his blue eyes to hers as he continued on, “ No...I won't move,” he said with assertiveness.

“I won’t be the one to move aside,” he told her. “I’m sorry (f/n),” he told her, his lips pressing together tightly afterward.

She had her answer, but shaking her head rapidly, she still couldn't accept it,

“There’s another way!” she persisted.”You know there is!” she said out loud. “we can come to an agreement!’ she argued frantically, nodding her head furiously.

“Don't you get it? There is nothing to compromise!” he fought back, “ I can't trust anyone else to do this. I can’t trust him, and I can't trust -” he stopped himself mid-sentence and bit his tongue, holding back his words.

His fists tightened at his sides, his face whipping itself towards another direction, anywhere else but her way.

He hadn’t wanted to say that last bit, and yet, it slipped past him.

And then it dawned on to her…

‘of course...’ Of course, it all made sense.

Her chest tightened in pain, making her breath hitch.

She immediately tightened her own jaw, teeth clamping tightly together, grinding against each other harshly to the point it became painful. “ Finish what you were going to say... go ahead…” she rasped, feeling her blood boil, bubbling like scathing water.

She urged him to continue, but instead, he stayed silent, not willing to repeat his words, nor continue on where he stopped.

“ You don't trust him...and you don't trust me either, “ she said finishing for him, her hands balling. "Is that it?" She asked him, her voice rising with viciousness.

It stung, striking her right at the center of her chest when he revealed that he had no trust in them. It pained her to know he hasn't been filled with the same sentiment she had been, because she had been certain they had grown to be true family, one where they all fit together.

She HAD been convinced of that.

“You don’t trust me…” she repeated, feeling a stabbing pain within her chest. “I’ve taken so many bullets for you,” she reminded him, “ I was so sure you’d do the same for me,” she admitted.

“ But no...of course not, " she murmured to herself.

‘You’re such an idiot... a complete moron,’ she berated herself. ‘He never had...’

"....But you trust her right?" She asked through clenched teeth, venom spitting out from her mouth. She couldn't help but show the bit of green that had festered within her. She tried to press it down the entire time, but his sudden revelation made the thought of HER rise...

“You trust her enough to have her sneak all your gear out for you, right? “ she asked darkly. “You trust her enough to talk to her, don't you?” she continued on. “ You trust her enough to meet up with her, and conspire," she spoke with envy, her fists tightening to the point they shook.

He looked at her with surprise, and he asked himself what Sharon had to do with anything, what role she played in the woman's agitation.

"I ask you one final time Steve," she said with a long breath, her heart gearing up, it's pace fastening as she already knew his reply.

His blue eyes shut tightly seeing her so visually hurt, but even then he couldn't back down. He rolled his shoulders, steadying his stance, and it was a wordless signal showing his final decision, one he hadn’t been considering to change since the start.

One she hadn’t been able to accept...

Her vision blurred slightly and with a frustrated grunt, she quickly swiped her arm over her eyes.

"I hate you...I hate you so much," she rasped, rising up higher before shooting towards him like a quick bullet, her right arm clenched back.

From her mouth words she'd never dream of uttering to him with wholeheartedness had escaped. However, as she claimed to hate him, it wasn't the case.

The female avenger spoke out of heartbreak, out of betrayal.

She had spoken as a wounded woman...one who felt betrayed and scorned.

No…She didn't hate him, she had just become disenchanted with him, the pedestal she had placed him on breaking down as though the foundation had been nothing but cheap wood.

Had their friendship been nothing more than a cheap mess?

Had she been stupid enough to think there was anything more there as well?

And of course, there was the question that haunted her, ever so present in the bitter moment,

‘Why Sharon...Why her?

Why not me?’

As her right fist struck him, he fell back, rolling into a safe land, his own right hand taking hold of the ground to stop himself.

His blue eyes glared right at her, sternly looking towards her with confusion, absolutely stunned.

Without hesitation she went towards him again, her other fist colliding at the star center of his shield as he raised it up before him.

His right leg was placed further in front of his body while his left stayed behind him being dragged back as a result, digging into the cement ground as she pushed forward.

A cry of frustration left her as he pushed his body forward, adding a jut to the vibranium made guard in his possession, successfully pushing her back.

Falling back herself, she dragged along the hard floor before wordlessly lifting herself from it, her rage-filled face unaffected by the aftermath of his opposing strike.

With a mocking grin, she cackled out with laughter, her head inclining back as she displayed dark amusement. She felt her eyes sting as little pricks jabbed and prodded at her already wounded heart,

“Don't hold back now!” she cried out, running straight towards him.

The damage had been done, by that point it was an insult to pull punches, and she saw it nothing more as cruel mocking.

‘If you see me as an enemy then fight me as one,’

" I always trusted you! " She said angrily, her eyes beginning to glow, going from their normal (e/c) glimmer to a glowing white brilliance.

Beneath his mask he showed obvious concern, his eyebrows creased with worry as he looked on at her,

‘Somethings not right,’ He thought to himself, knowing it wasn't normal for her eyes to change.

It wasn’t normal for her to have such physical force either, something he’d noticed from the start.

" I Looked up to you! " She continued on, pushing him back with a straight kick, snarling as he once again blocked it with his shield, pushing her back as he had before.

Stumbling, she fell back, both her tightened fists slamming onto the concrete ground, cracking the floor with two craters.

And yet again, he was left stunned...

Stepping back, he eyed the formed hallows with caution.

She choked up, hating the wetness that fell from her two eyes, and with another harsh wipe to them, she forced herself up. She stood up with stiffened muscles, breath coming out from her parted lips in harsh pants.

With quick steps she went towards him, her left arm sweeping over to him, and with that a blue, cylinder container came from behind her, shooting towards him with incredible speed.

Whipping his own arm right he sent the object hurling another direction as it bounced off the metal shield in his hold.

Immediately afterward, knowing he’d parry the attack with his guard, her right arm whipped aside, picking up the large metal piece once again, and aimed it back at him.

Mercilessly hitting its target, it struck him right at his midsection, a huff leaving him as it knocked the breath from him.

" I thought you cared, " She seethed, watching him be hit, both her arms raised high above her, a strained heave sounding out from her. He could hear her struggling, pushing herself until she tore herself from within,

“ Are you alright? “ he asked her, placing a hand at her upper back, kneeling down with her. Nodding enthusiastically, she beamed up at him, giving him a dismissive wave, “ It’s nothing,” she assured him, not convincing him in the least bit, and he was about to argue back, but another voice cut him off.

“It’s not ‘ nothing ‘,” Tony interjected, the metal armor he wore giving away his approaching figure before he had even spoken.

He then offered her a hand, his brows creased with concern as he lifted her up, forcing her to stand on wobbly legs. Leaning onto him she gave a deep sigh, (f/n) looked over at Steve, watching as he raised himself from his crouching position as well.

“Ok, so it’s not just ‘nothing,’” she admitted sheepishly.

“Meaning?” Steve said with a question filled tone.

“Meaning,” Tony started, “ She’s not able to go on all day like you can,” he informed the first avenger. “ She can overexert herself if she’s doing too much,” he continued on, making (f/n) grimace.

“I know it’s stupid,” (f/n) admitted, smiling tiredly, “ Don’t get me wrong,” she said strengthening her back, “I can pull my own weight, “ she assured him, “But i have my limits,” she admitted.

“I’m just as human as anyone else, “ she reminded them, “Just with a special talent,” she added.

“One that I have to control... or it could very well kill me,” she murmured with a dry chuckle, the last bit meant for herself, something true and grave, but amusing to her.

" Dammit! I loved you!" she said out loud, her voice ringing clear as day as she said it.

And at her final words, his eyes widened, growing as large as they could as even she seemed surprised at her confession.

It had been caused by the slip up she had made in her frustrated state, something she hadn’t wanted him to know, especially not then when she begged him to stay.

She hadn’t wanted him to know, not when he clearly showed he hadn’t felt the same either.

She felt pathetic, even moreso as she caught sight of the look he gave her.

He stared at her like she was a kicked dog like he felt bad for her.

But it made sense to him now...

All the missing pieces fit snuggly and he began to understand many things.

“(f/n)...” he started, stopped by her frustrated cry.

With a snarl, she shook off the look she wore, erasing the traces of heartache worn over her. Instead, she dashed towards him again, her face shifted to anger, the only feeling powerful enough to hide everything else.

But as she advanced, she was stopped by a barely visible wall created by red magic, causing her to be frozen just a couple of feet from the blonde man.

Staring dead on she swallowed hard, seeing him gazing right at her, his eyes hardly blinking.

Her (e/c) eyes then moved to find the Chestnut haired enhanced female, glaring at her as she felt her red magic begin to shell over her body, coaxing over her. Wanda's fingers moved against each other, her face filled with focus, teeth pressed together as she encased the other woman in her red aura.

Resisting, (f/n) put her own power into use, gaining function in her movements in a manner of seconds. "Little red.. you're a long way from being able to take me on," she warned her friend.

She had always used the loving nickname given to the other female as a show of care, but in her agitated state, she spat out the words with vice, making it seem like it held a disgusting flavor in her mouth.

Wanda Maximoff was undoubtedly a hell to be reckoned with, and (f/n) was sure she'd rank the strongest of the Avengers... but that was only with more years to go, only with more time. unfortunately, the teen had yet to fully manipulate her powers, and the elder could see by the pained expression formed over her that she was exerting far too much energy at attempting to stop the (h/c) haired, more experienced telepath.

(F/n) had years of practice in hand, born with the talent, so it was only natural.

“You can’t possibly believe you can, Right Red?” (f/n) said lowly.

"I know," Wanda replied back, half-heartedly smiling as she looked on towards the other woman with sympathy, because all in all, they were friends. Not only could she see the visible pain within her (e/c) eyes, she could feel it.

There was a ridged darkness to her typically kind face, one that made her seem like a completely different person.

But there was no mistaking her...

Wanda was certain it was the same (f/n), simply muddied by darkness, too hurt to see with anything but hazy eyes dimmed with spite.

"... I'm only drawing time," Wanda revealed.

With a short gasp (f/n) looked back towards the first Avenger as he threw his shield at her, striking her right at her chest, and with its force as well as Wanda's own she was sent back.

Sighing and wiping off the sweat formed over her forehead, Wanda trained her eyes on the First Avenger as he held up his hand, waiting to grab his shield.

" You hesitated too long," she complained.

"I know," Steve replied back with a heave, worriedly looking back to where the woman had crashed.

Enveloped by cold metal the (h/c) young woman wheezed, partially wedged through a parked plane’s outer wall. Tears bubbled from her eyes, the pain induced wetness seeping into her parted mouth, the taste-making her huff.

“I...I have to...” she groaned, using both her strength and power to free herself, ungracefully falling to the cement ground in a filthy heap. she continued to weep as she lay there, her eyes glued to the man that stared back her.

From afar, Rogers stared over to the woman, clenching his teeth as he saw her lay still.

“You said to not hold back,” Wanda told him, “ Take your own advice,” she offered him, making him nod, pressing his lips together with a tightened smile,

“ Yeah your right,” he replied, tearing his sight from (f/n).

It was hard to do so, and it pained him, but he did.

"come on," he said afterward, beginning to run off, "we have to leave," he told her and as Maximoff watched him pick up speed, she trailed behind him.

Meanwhile, (f/n)’s hands balled tightly over the cement ground, shaking as she tried to force herself up.

Her legs wobbled as she walked forward, her eyes glued to the fleeing man, and only him. Her left hand then went to clutch her aching heart, right at where he struck her, knowing she’d hold the pain far into her future.

Her vision was hazy, unable to see fully well, but even then she trudged forward, her (e/c) colored eyes glued to the blue blur.

“It hurts...It all hurts...” she said to herself, slowly moving, her hand still resting at her heart.