Bruce Banner Appreciation Day!

Unforeseen Events

Pairing: Bruce Banner x Shy!Fem!Autistic!Reader

Warnings/tags: Violence, mention of suicide attempt (no details), angst, autistic reader, spoilers for Avengers, implied head injury, mentions of weapons of mass destruction, mention of the arms race

Summary: Being assigned as Dr Banner’s lab assistant was not what you’d signed up for when you joined SHIELD.

A/N: This is a bit angstier than my usual style, but it will get fluffier later on, I promise!

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

When you were first noticed by SHIELD, you were ecstatic at being one of the select few chosen to be an agent. But you quickly learned that was not how things worked.

Even though you were hoping to work with gadgets, or maybe even go out into the field, once you’d mastered your poker face, SHIELD had other ideas.

So, you're now a lab assistant, working with - well, for - various genius scientists. It can be boring, sure, and the scientists aren’t usually the most sociable or polite, but it's not terrible, really. And you haven't really had to put your life on the line.

Well, until quite recently.

You were working with a guy called Selvig, who was working on something called a Tesseract, a weird glowing blue cube that emitted gamma radiation, which was apparently fished up from an ocean about the same time that they found Captain America.

That last assignment was the first time you'd had a brush with death on the job. The Tesseract had somehow opened some kind of portal, which had let Loki into the lab. He captured Selvig, Agent Barton, and a couple other agents, killed several more, and then escaped. You only just managed to escape before the whole place blew up.

Needless to say, you were pretty shaken up about the whole incident, and you considered quitting, but - well, there weren't really any other jobs that you could do, since you'd pigeonholed yourself so far into intelligence. And you knew it wasn't likely that SHIELD would let you go, anyway.

Your phone buzzes.

Picking it up, you groan when you see who it is, but you accept the call anyway.

"L/N?"

"Agent Hill?"

"We need you on the carrier."

Seriously? I only just escaped being killed once, and now they're recruiting me again? "Yes, Agent." You don't bother asking why. If she'd wanted you to know why right now, she'd have told you.

After you've grabbed your stuff, left a note with instructions on what to do if you don't return, and texted your family with similar instructions (just in case you don't return), you take one last look around your apartment.

Well, I guess this is goodbye - hopefully just for now.

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

You stand, speechless, as you try to take in the information that Agent Hill has just given you.

“We’re assigning you as lab assistant to Dr Bruce Banner.”

The words play over and over in your head, as you try to make sense of them. Dr Banner? The super-genius with like seven PhDs? The guy who turns into the Hulk? You’ve had surprises like this before, but never one like this. How am I supposed to deal with a guy who turns into a giant green rage monster that can’t be reasoned with? How do I not stress him out? How do I…?

Agent Hill seems to notice what you're thinking. “Dr Banner hasn’t had an - incident - in over a year. He’s here purely to help us identify what might be powering the Tesseract - and the Sceptre.”

I don’t really have a choice, do I? If I refuse, they’ll fire me. If I concede, well… The odds don’t look great all round. I might as well agree.

“Where is Dr Banner now?” you ask.

“He’s being shown to his lab by Agent Romanoff.”

Despite having worked for SHIELD for a few years now, you're still not really familiar with this ship. You mostly work on the ground bases, so this is maybe the second time you’d been on this thing.

As a result, it takes you a while to find Dr Banner’s lab.

On the way, you bump into none other than Captain America. Literally.

You never really understood the hype around finding Captain America was still alive. Sure, it's great that a guy who was frozen for seventy years is still alive, but you don’t really hero-worship celebrities like a lot of the other agents seem to, especially Agent Coulson.

“Oh - sorry, sir!” you gasp.

He gives you a funny look. “Uh, it's just Steve.”

“Right, right,” you mutter, adding an extra apology for good measure.

Steve seems unsure whether to be amused or annoyed. “One apology's enough, Ms. L/N.”

“Um - yeah, right.” You rub your hands together nervously. “Uh, you don't happen to know where Dr Banner's lab is, please?”

“Might I ask why you're looking for Dr Banner's lab?”

“Oh, um, I'm his lab assistant. Or I'm going to be, anyway…”

“Right. I'll take you there; I was going there myself anyway.”

“Oh, um, thanks,” you mutter, feeling rather awkward.

You're both silent as you head up to the lab. You're not sure if Steve feels as awkward as you, or if he's just a naturally quiet person. You're really hoping it's the latter.

As you near the lab, you hear a yell.

"Ow!"

Steve rushes in with you in tow. "Are you nuts?"

You look around in confusion. There's two guys there, one of which is probably Dr. Banner, although you don't know which.

"You really have got a lid on it, haven't you?" remarks one of the guys. "What's your secret? Mellow jazz, bongo drums, huge bag of-"

"Is everything a joke to you?" demands Steve.

The guy he's addressing doesn't seem bothered. "Funny things are."

"Threatening the safety of everyone on this ship isn't funny. No offence, doctor."

The other guy, presumably Dr Banner, looks up. "It's alright," he says. "I wouldn't have come aboard if I couldn't handle - pointy things."

"You the new lab assistant, kid?" asks the other guy.

You nod rather nervously.

"I'm Tony Stark." He turns back to Dr Banner. "You're tiptoeing, big man. You need to strut."

"And you need to focus on the problem, Mr Stark," snaps Steve.

"You think I'm not?" asks Mr Stark. "Why did Fury call us in? Why now? Why not before? What isn't he telling us?"

"You think Fury's hiding something?"

"He's a spy. Captain, he's the spy. His secrets have secrets." He gestures towards Dr Banner. "It's bugging him, too."

Dr Banner seems reluctant to be brought into the conversation. "Uh… I just want to finish my work here, and…"

But Steve's not convinced. "Doctor?"

Dr Banner sighs. "'A warm light for all mankind'. Loki's jab at the cube."

"I heard it."

He gestures towards Mr Stark. "Well, I think that was meant for you. Even if Barton didn't tell Loki about the tower, it was still all over the news."

"Stark Tower?" asks Steve. "That big, ugly-" Mr Stark gives him a look -"building in New York?"

"It's powered by an arc reactor, a self-sustaining energy source. That building will run itself for what, a year?"

"It's just a prototype," says Mr Stark. "I'm kind of the only name in clean energy right now."

"So why didn't SHIELD bring him in on the Tesseract project?" asks Dr Banner. "I mean, what are they even doing in the energy business in the first place?"

"I should probably look into that, once my decryption program finishes breaking into all of SHIELD's secure files."

"I'm sorry, did you say-" begins Steve.

"JARVIS has been running it since I hit the bridge. In a few hours, I'll know every dirty secret SHIELD has ever tried to hide."

Steve isn't impressed. "I think you're confused about why they didn't want you around."

"An intelligence organisation that fears intelligence? Historically - not awesome."

"I think Loki's trying to wind us up. He means to start a war. We have orders. We should follow them."

"Following them's not really my style."

"And you're all about style, aren't you?"

"Of the people in this room, which one is A. Wearing a spangly outfit, and B. Not of use?"

Steve sighs. "Just find the cube."

After he's stepped out, you look around awkwardly, wondering what you're supposed to do.

"So, we kind of have everything under control here…" says Mr Stark.

There's a long, awkward pause. You're not really sure what you're supposed to do now. You don't want to bother Dr Banner and Mr Stark while they're working, but you know you'll get told off if you're caught 'slacking off' - and even if you did want to slack off, there's nowhere to go, and nothing to do.

Dr Banner looks up. "Uh, actually, could you come over here a sec?"

You step over slightly too quickly, almost tripping over your own feet. "Uh - yeah?"

"Could you note down these numbers, please?"

"Okay." You start scribbling down the numbers, while trying to calm your racing heart.

This is definitely not what you signed up for.

When you were little, you pictured espionage as being a cool secret agent, wielding lots of crazy gadgets, killing villains, and generally having daring escapades like what you’d read in books. Sort of like James Bond, or Sherlock Holmes, or something.

But even as you grew out of that phase, you still held onto the dream of one day becoming a spy - not in the field, of course; your poker face couldn’t fool a child, but a gadget-master. You had it all planned out in your head; you’d be like Smithers from Alex Rider, sitting in your office, working on your latest invention, and thinking up cool gadgets in your spare time.

But even if this isn't what you signed up for, it's not terrible. Be a genius’s personal assistant, put up with their moods, listen (well, look like you’re listening) to massive infodumps on niche topics you'll never understand, all for a sum that only just pays the bills? Not bad, really.

"Hey, I never caught your name, kid," says Mr Stark suddenly.

You jump at the sound of his voice. "Oh - er - it's L/N."

"You got a first name?"

"It's Y/N. But everybody goes by last names here."

"So, how'd you wind up here?"

You blush. "It's stupid."

Dr Banner looks up. "It's alright. You don't have to tell us if you don't want to."

You nod, and turn back to the numbers, but your mind's elsewhere as you write them down.

Dr Banner seems surprisingly chill for a guy who can turn into the Hulk. Or maybe he just has really, really good self-control. Either way, it's nice to be working for someone who's actually civil for once. You've never been assistant to anyone super nice in the past; some of the other scientists haven't been the most polite in the past.

The worst you had happen to you was when some particularly volatile scientist lost his temper at you for not paying attention to something about some weird niche branch of quantitative chemistry, and threw a conical flask in your direction. (To be fair, he apologised profusely afterward, and was actually alright for the rest of his stay.)

"Y/N?" says Dr Banner.

You look up. "Yeah?"

"I think we're good here."

"O-kay…" Is he trying to get rid of me?

Taking a deep breath, you say, "Well - I don't really have anywhere else to go."

"What do you mean?"

"Well - I - I'm literally just a lab assistant. This is the only job I have here. And even if you give me your express permission to do whatever, if I get caught, it'll cost me my job. I don't have a safety net; my family don't live in New York, and I'm already behind on rent, so if I lose my job…"

Dr Banner looks almost horrified. "Oh, no, no, I don't want you to risk losing your job. I just thought you might want to - you know, not have to stand around? I - I used to be a lab assistant, so I know it gets kind of - boring."

"We're both pretty much done here anyway," adds Mr Stark. "All we have to do is wait for my decryption program to finish breaking into SHIELD's secure files."

You nod. "Yeah, I heard."

"So what do you think, kid? Do you think Fury's hiding something?"

Your heart jumps, but you try not to look too nervous. "Uh… probably? I - never really thought to try and find out…" You're not feeling very comfortable with Mr Stark breaking into SHIELD's secure files, but that small, rebellious, powerful part of you really, really wants to see those files now. And you also don't want to get on his bad side, since your job is more or less in his hands. "Captain America doesn't seem too bothered."

You almost facepalm at your stupid, stupid blunder. Oh, you idiot!

But Mr Stark doesn't seem bothered. "He's a soldier, kid. He's trained to follow orders. Wondering if they shouldn't have kept him on ice?"

That's a bit mean, even if he is a bit too perfect.

"He's not wrong about Loki," says Dr Banner. "He does have the jump on us."

Mr Stark snorts. "What he's got is an ACME dynamite kit. It's gonna blow up in his face. And I'm gonna be there when it does."

Dr Banner smiles. "I'll read all about it."

"Or you'll be suiting up, like the rest of us."

"See, I don't get a suit of armour. I'm exposed, like a nerve. It's a nightmare."

You can't help feeling a pang of - something. Is it pity? Sympathy?

Or is it because you get what he means?

Mr Stark's suddenly serious. "You know, I've got a cluster of shrapnel trying to make its way to my heart. This-" he tapped his light circle -"stops it. This little circle of light is a part of me now. It's a terrible privilege."

"But you can control it."

"Because I learned how."

Dr Banner shakes his head. "It's different."

He tries to get back to his work, but Mr Stark stops him. "Hey, I read all about your accident. That much gamma exposure should've killed you."

"So you're saying the Hulk-" He pauses. Even the mention of the Hulk seems to put him on edge. "You're saying that the other guy saved my life? That's a nice sentiment. Saved it for - what?"

Again, you feel that weird pang. Is this empathy? you wonder. How could I be able to empathise with a guy who's had such a different life than mine? I have no idea what turning into the Hulk is like, but I'm somehow able to understand? How?

"I guess we'll find out," says Mr Stark, after an awkward pause.

"You might not like that," says Dr Banner.

"You just might."

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

It's the next morning when Director Fury bursts into the lab, every inch of him living up to his name.

"What are you doing, Mr Stark?" he demands.

Oh, no. You know immediately what's happened. SHIELD must have found out that Mr Stark's trying to hack into their computers.

"Kind of been wondering the same about you," remarks Mr Stark.

"You're supposed to be locating the Tesseract."

"We are," says Dr Banner. "The model's locked, and we're sweeping for the signature now. As soon as we get a hit, we'll have the location within half a mile."

"And you'll get your cube back, no muss, no fuss," adds Mr Stark, just as a load of secure files suddenly pop up on the lab computer screen. "What is Phase 2?"

Steve bursts in, slamming a weapon onto one of the benches. "Phase 2 is when SHIELD uses the cube to make weapons. Sorry, the computer was running a little slow for me."

Weapons?

"Rogers, we gathered everything related to the Tesseract. This does not mean that we're-"

Mr Stark interrupts. "I'm sorry, Nick. What - were you lying?"

You stare in shock at the computer screen. Weapon plans. This is what the world is coming to?

"I was wrong, director," says Steve. "The world hasn't changed a bit."

Couldn't agree more. Seriously - did we learn nothing from the last arms race?

Then two other people rush in. One's a medieval giant of a man, and the other's probably an agent.

"Did you know about this?" demands Dr Banner of them.

"You wanna think about removing yourself from this environment, doctor?" demands the agent.

You hastily step back. Sure, Dr Banner seems to have a pretty tight lid on the Hulk, but from the way the agent's looking at him, you've got a nasty feeling that the lid might be loosening.

Dr Banner just laughs. "I was in Calcutta. I was pretty well removed."

The agent isn't amused. "Loki's manipulating you."

"And you've been doing what, exactly?"

They're manipulating people, too? You're not sure why that would shock you so much, but for some reason, it does.

"You didn't come here because I bat my eyelashes at you."

"Yes, and I'm not leaving just because you get a little twitchy," retorts Dr Banner. "I'd like to know why SHIELD is using the Tesseract to make weapons of mass destruction."

The director points to the medieval giant. "Because of him."

"Me?"

"Last year, Earth had a visitor from another planet that flattened a small town, and we learned that we are hopelessly, hilariously, outgunned."

Okay, that makes sense, but it still doesn't excuse you keeping us all in the dark about this.

"My people want nothing but peace with your planet," says the medieval man.

"But you're not the only people out there, are you? The world's filling up with people who can't be matched or controlled."

"Like you controlled the cube?" demands Steve.

"Your work with the Tesseract is what drew Loki to it," says the medieval man. "It is the signal to all the realms that Earth is ready for a higher form of war."

"You forced our hand," protests the director. "We had to come up with something?"

"A nuclear deterrent," remarks Mr Stark, his tone dripping sarcasm. "Because that always calms everything right down."

"Remind me how you made your fortune, Stark?"

You back away to the edge of the lab. You're irrelevant here, and you don't want any part in this argument. Besides, if things get ugly, it never hurts to have an escape route.

"You speak of control, yet you court chaos," says the medieval man.

"It's his M.O., isn't it?" says Dr Banner. "I mean, what are we, a team? No, no, we're a chemical mixture that creates chaos. We're a time bomb."

The director steps forward. You can see the fear in his eyes. "You need to step away."

Mr Stark puts an arm around Steve. "Why shouldn't the guy let off a little steam?"

Steve pushes him away. "You know damn well why! Back off!"

Oh, no. You start to edge towards the door. You don't want to get caught in the crossfire if anyone here starts fighting, least of all Mr Stark and Steve.

The medieval man laughs. "You people are so petty - and tiny."

"Agent Romanoff," says the director, "would you escort Dr Banner back to his-"

"Where?" demands Dr Banner. "You rented my room."

"The cage was just-"

"In case you tried to kill me, but you can't. I know, I tried." You stare at him in shock. "I got low, and I didn't see an end, but the other guy wouldn't let me. So I moved on. I focused on helping people. I was good, until you dragged me back into this freak show, and put everyone here at risk. You want to know my secret? You want to know how I keep myself calm?"

You're almost at the door now. You can see the Sceptre in Dr Banner's hand, and you really don't want to get stabbed today. Or any day.

"Dr Banner, put down the Sceptre," says Steve.

Dr Banner looks shocked to find that he's holding it, and hastily puts it down.

The computer beeping seems to break the tension slightly.

"Sorry, kids," says Dr Banner. "Guess you don't get to see my party trick after all."

He goes over to take a look, and after pausing for a moment, you join him.

You can hear the others starting to argue again, but you don't care. The numbers on the screen are more important right now - even if you're not sure what they mean.

Dr Banner knows, though, and judging from the look on his face, it's not good.

"Oh, my God," he mutters.

Suddenly, an explosion seems to rip the lab apart.

Once your head clears a bit, you realise that you must have fallen through the floor, and that you're trapped under some of the debris.

Looking over, you see Dr Banner on his hands and knees, gripping at the floor, grunting, trying desperately to control himself. You know you should probably go and try to calm him down, but you're so panicked that you have no idea what you would even say.

As you try to pull yourself free, some of the metal falls, making a loud clanging noise.

Dr Banner looks over to you. His eyes are green. You feel a shudder run through you.

"Get - away - from - me!" His voice is changing, slowly morphing into a growl.

The fear that rushes through you gives you the strength you need to pull yourself free, just as the lights go out.

A deafening, primal roar breaks the air, and with it your last nerve.

So you run.

You don't even bother trying to look for an escape. All you're trying to do is keep away from the Hulk.

But it's no use. He's too fast for you.

Finding the stairs, you begin to run up them.

You trip.

In another moment, Hulk's on top of you.

And then everything goes black.

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

Part 2

As always, I do not give permission for anyone to copy my work, repost it elsewhere, etc.

me, a writer, at 3am: WHAT? I CANT FIND THE SPECIFIC FANFIC THAT I MADE UP IN MY MIND WITH A WHOLE PLOT AND ORIGINAL CHARACTERS??? WHO DO THEY THINK THEY ARE??? DO THEY EXPECT ME TO WRITE THE STORY I THOUGHT UP OF???

Maybe Things Are Looking Up

Pairing: Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Shy!Autistic!Fem!Reader

Summary: Your friend sets you up on yet another blind date, much to your annoyance.

Warnings/tags: Soft Bradley, age gap (reader is in their 20s), mentions of autism, implied sensory issues, Bradley being an absolute sweetheart, one implication of sex (blink and you miss it), mention of crying, lots of fluff, a bit of angst, implied low self-esteem (I think?), super self-indulgent, mentions of throwing up, mention of injuries (nobody gets hurt), one mention of dieting

A/N: I feel like I'm having way too much fun writing for soft Bradley. (Sorry, the writing's probably kind of clunky.)

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

A knock on the door makes you nearly jump out of your skin.

He's here.

Your heart is pounding as you take one last look in the mirror. You can't say you're impressed with what you see, but at least you look presentable.

It's very difficult to not trip as you rush down the stairs, already regretting wearing heels. They're very uncomfortable, and your balance isn't the best, so you normally opt for flats, but you want to make a decent impression.

For a moment, you consider hiding, saying you're sick, allowing yourself to break your ankle on these ridiculous heels.

Anything but go on this date.

Why, oh, why did Callie have to set me up with one of her pilot friends? you wonder, as you fumble around for your keys. Why does she even feel the need to set me up at all? I've told her time and time again that I'm resigned to the fact that I will be single for most of my adult life.

It takes you much longer than normal to unlock the door, mainly because your hands are shaking so badly that you can barely get the key in.

But once the door's finally open, you stare in shock at the man before you.

After all, it's not every day you see a guy with an 80s mustache, wearing a Hawaiian shirt and aviator sunglasses at your front door.

He should look absolutely ridiculous.

But he doesn't. Quite the opposite, in fact. He's very, very attractive. Unfairly so, you think.

Especially considering you're suddenly acutely aware that the colour on your dress doesn't really suit you, and neither does the style. You knew it didn't suit you when you picked it out, but you just pulled it on anyway in an act of rebellion, mainly because you didn't want to make a good impression.

Something you're sorely regretting, especially because you now feel extremely unattractive.

"Hey," he says. "Y/N, right?"

You nod, your mouth suddenly too dry to speak.

He holds out a hand. "I'm Bradley."

Why's he holding his hand out? You take it anyway, forcing a smile.

"You ready?" Bradley asks.

You nod.

He's surprisingly courteous, letting you hold onto his arm as he walks you to his car, and helping you in before getting in the other side.

"So, any ideas where you'd like to go?" he asks.

Oh, no. Your chest clenches with fear, and you shake your head, hoping you're not doing it too vigorously.

"How about the restaurant near the bar?" he suggests. "I've never been there, but I heard it's a nice place."

You nod, desperately hoping that he won't get mad at you for not speaking.

The rest of the drive is silent.

After he's parked the car, he turns to you. "These doors are a little tricky when you're not used to them. I'll get yours for you."

"Okay," you whisper. It's the first thing you've said all evening.

Once Bradley's helped you out, and locked the car, he offers you his arm.

"The restaurant's usually a little busy this time of day," he explains. "Callie'd never forgive me if I lost you on our first date."

You just nod as you take his arm, feeling more and more shy by the minute. You can tell that Bradley's trying to put you at ease, but you've already worked yourself up so much that you don't even know if it's possible for you to calm down.

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

Fortunately, you're seated very quickly. You have a feeling that it might have something to do with Bradley being so familiar with the staff, but you brush it off. He's probably just a friendly person.

Still, you're not complaining about being off your feet. Those heels were definitely a mistake.

"Do you want a menu, Y/N?" asks Bradley.

You almost jump out of your skin at the sound of his voice, and then nod, your face burning.

"Here." His hand brushes yours as he hands you one.

You manage a small smile as you take it.

You're not very hopeful as you read down the menu. While they look nice, none of the main courses sounds like something you'd eat. Normally, if you were out with a friend or your family, and you ran into a situation like this, you'd order off the children's menu, but you're too scared to here, in case Bradley thinks you're weird, or makes fun of you for it.

"So, what are you thinking?" asks Bradley.

You look up, wishing your throat wouldn't clench so. Hoping he won't think you're rude, you show him what you're ordering. Fortunately, some of the sides look okay, so you've decided to order a couple of them in lieu of a main.

"You sure that's all you want?" he asks. "You don't want a main?"

You nod.

Bradley leans forward, lowering his voice. "You know, if there's nothing you like, we can just go to another restaurant."

You shake your head. Tears begin pricking at your eyes as you try to find the words to explain, almost wishing he'd just snap at you. For some reason, his kindness is making you feel much worse than if he got annoyed, or yelled at you.

It takes some time, but you manage to push past the barrier between your brain and vocal cords. "It's - it's not that I don't like anything, I just - I'd prefer to order off the children's menu. It's just - more familiar territory."

"Hey, that's okay," says Bradley gently. "Was that all you were worried about?"

Not exactly. But you nod anyway.

"I don't mind you ordering off the kids' menu, and I'm not gonna make fun of you for it, okay? I just want to make sure you have a good time."

You manage a small smile. "That's - very kind of you."

Bradley smiles. "It's nothing."

As the server comes over to take your order, your nerves suddenly increase tenfold. You've always hated having to speak to order, but you've never really felt comfortable typing an order out and just showing it to the server, either.

"Hi, can I take your order?"

You don't even hear Bradley tell the server his order, because you're trying to plan out what you're going to say - and try and stir up the courage to actually say it.

Then you feel a hand on your arm, and your face burns as you realise that you haven't even acknowledged the server, and have in fact been staring into space for some time.

"Do you want me to order for you?" Bradley's voice is very soft, whether to try and calm you, or to save you from any more embarrassment, you're not quite sure.

You nod, feeling horribly guilty at ignoring the server, but not really knowing what to say.

But you do apologise to Bradley once the server's gone. "Sorry. I didn't mean to - sorry…"

"It's okay." Bradley's voice is still very soft. "You're nervous, I get it. You don't have to be sorry."

"But I embarrassed you."

Bradley shakes his head. "You didn't. And even if you had, I promise you I've been in worse situations."

"Like what?" You regret the words the second they come out of your mouth. Don't ask him about embarrassing situations, you idiot!

But, judging by the grin on his face, Bradley doesn't seem to mind.

"Well, there was this one time at The Hard Deck…"

At first, you're not really listening, mostly because you're still trying to shake off your embarrassment, but you soon get drawn in to the story, and by the time Bradley finishes, you're feeling much more at ease.

"Okay, here are your meals."

You feel yet another stab of fear. What if I make a mess? What if the texture of the food makes me throw up everywhere?

But you manage a small smile as the server hands you your meal.

You're both silent as you eat, you because you're trying not to spill everywhere, and Bradley - well, you're not really sure. Maybe he's not the type to talk while eating.

But then why did he suggest a restaurant for our date?

Fortunately, Bradley seems to understand that you're nervous, and doesn't push you to speak too much. You do notice him glancing at you several times, and you feel guilty for not being more chatty, but it feels like there's a massive barrier between your brain and your vocal cords, one that you just can't face pushing through.

"How's your dinner?" he asks.

You look up. "It's good, I guess."

He raises his eyebrows. "You sure?"

You nod. "Um - how's yours?"

He smiles. "It's good. What're you thinking for dessert?"

Oh, no.

It's not that you don't like sweet things. Or that you're dieting. You just don't want to risk making yet another mess. You've already dropped some food onto the floor, and you only just managed to fight your gag reflex when you accidentally chewed a piece of food too long.

"Um, I'm kind of full."

"Yeah, me too. They're pretty generous with the portions here." He must have noticed that you're feeling uncomfortable, because he adds softly, "Do you want to leave?"

You nod.

"Okay."

After he's signalled to the server that you're ready to pay, Bradley tells you that he's going to pay.

You don't feel entirely comfortable with him paying the entire bill, but before you can protest, he's already paid.

You wobble as you stand up, and Bradley hastily takes hold of your arm before you can fall.

"I'm never wearing heels again," you mumble.

He just smiles. "You're not used to them, I take it?"

You shake your head. "I don't really go out much. In fancy stuff, I mean." Or at all.

Just like on the way there, you're silent on the way back.

You've got a horrible feeling that you messed up, and now Bradley's angry with you. What if he wanted dessert? What if he wanted to stay longer? What if-

Before you know it, Bradley's pulling up outside your house.

"I'll get your door for you," he tells you.

As Bradley goes to get out of the car, you stop him.

"Um - look, I'm sorry I wasn't very chatty this evening. I just - sorry…"

"That's okay," he replies. "It's not your fault for being shy."

You shake your head. "I'm not just shy. I'm - look, I know I've been difficult pretty much the entire evening. And - I wish I could do something about it, but I can't, and-"

"Hey, what's all this about?" Bradley looks genuinely puzzled. "You weren't difficult."

"I was."

"How?"

You feel tears welling up, and you desperately try to force them back. "I didn't talk for most of the evening, I was messy with my food, and I was rude to a server. And now I've ruined your evening. I'm - I'm sorry."

Bradley doesn't reply immediately, and for one horrible moment, you wonder if he's angry with you.

You don't even realise you're picking at your hands, until Bradley takes your hands in his.

"Y/N," he begins softly. "You don't have to look at me, but please hear me out. You were not being difficult. That incident with the server was not your fault. If anything, it's on me. I should've made sure you were ready to order before the server came over."

You feel a couple of tears roll down your cheeks, whether from relief or something else, you're not really sure.

Bradley gently brushes them away. "I know you didn't talk much, but - I don't mind that. I know not everybody's a talker, and I'm fine with you using other ways to communicate if that makes you feel more comfortable. And I certainly don't mind if you're a messy eater. You don't have to look perfect, okay?"

You suddenly feel light, like a heavy weight's just been lifted off your shoulders. He's not mad?

"But it can't have been a fun evening for you."

Bradley's eyebrows pinch together. "What do you mean?"

"I don't know, I just-" You pause, taking a breath. "I just - I feel like I have this bad effect on people - like I just jinx a night out and make it awkward and horrible when it doesn't have to be, because I'm just so socially inept."

"Oh, sweetheart. How often do you feel like that?"

You hang your head, trying hard to hide your tears. "Every day."

"I'm sorry. It must be hard."

You nod, almost wishing he wouldn't be so nice about it. It's hard enough trying to keep yourself together around people who don't really care, but it's nearly impossible around someone who does.

"Do you ever feel like that with Callie?" asks Bradley.

You shake your head. "She's the exception. We've known each other all our lives, so…"

"That's good."

You're both silent for a while. Bradley's started gently tracing patterns on your hands, which you're actually enjoying the feeling of.

"You know," he says, "tonight wasn't too bad."

"You think so?"

He smiles. "Yeah. I enjoyed your company. If it's okay with you, I'd like us to meet up again some time."

"For a date?"

"Only if you're comfortable with that."

You manage a small smile. "Okay. I - I'd like that. But - can we not do it in public?"

"Of course." Bradley gives your hand a gentle squeeze. "If that's going to make you feel more comfortable, then I'm fine with it."

You nod. "Thanks. You're - you're very kind."

"I try." He goes to open his door, but then stops. "You okay walking in those?"

That's when you suddenly remember you're wearing heels. Blushing, you shake your head. "I'll probably fall over."

"You want me to carry you?"

You shake your head again. "I'll just take them off."

He frowns. "I noticed some broken glass on the ground earlier. I don't want you stepping on it and hurting yourself."

Despite yourself, you giggle. "I guess you'll have to carry me, then." Not that I'm complaining.

Bradley just smiles and pats your arm, before getting out. "I'll get your door for you."

While he's going around the car to open your door, you arrange your handbag in your lap so that you'll be able to reach your keys easily. You haven't been carried in a long time, so you're a little nervous about how it might feel.

Bradley must have noticed that you're nervous, because he's very gentle as he lifts you, and makes sure you're completely comfortable before he starts walking. You're surprised at how easily he carries you, like you weigh nothing - and how safe you feel in his arms.

He doesn't seem to want to let you go. Even once he's right outside your front door, he still doesn't set you down.

"Um - I should be okay from here," you begin, rather nervously.

"I know," says Bradley. "But I was actually thinking it might be safer if I get you settled on your sofa, so you can get those shoes off, before you start walking. I don't have to if you're not comfortable with me being in your house, though."

That actually makes sense. "No, that's - that's fine."

It only seems to take a few seconds before Bradley has you in your house, and settled on the sofa. You take your shoes off with a sigh of relief.

"I am never wearing heels again."

Bradley chuckles. "You really hate those shoes, huh?"

You smile. "I guess so. I would get rid of them, but someone bought them for me, so it just wouldn't feel right to give them away, you know?"

"Yeah. I get that."

You stand up. "Um - Bradley?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you. For being so kind."

He shakes his head. "It's nothing. I'm just glad you had a good time."

You nod, suddenly feeling rather shy. "Yeah. Um - see you."

Bradley smiles. "See you around."

Once he's gone, and you've locked the door, you go upstairs, and collapse on your bed with a sigh.

Can I be bothered to change into my pajamas?

You're replied by the seam digging into your back. Yes, I can.

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

Once you're back in bed, you curl up, preparing to do some scrolling. It's been a long day, and you need some headspace.

It's a relief to be back in your normal clothes once again. That dress was not very comfortable.

Your phone buzzes.

It's a message from Callie.

You home yet?

You type a reply. Yes.

How'd it go?

You pause, thinking out an answer. Was okay. Bradley was really nice. He offered to take me out again.

Take him up on it.

I already did.

Good. You know, I thought you'd get on well. He's a bit more mature than the guys our age.

You frown. How old is he?

He's in his thirties, I think.

Your heart nearly jumps out of your chest. Thirties?! Callie! Why didn't you tell me?

I did.

I didn't see it.

You hastily scroll back through your messages.

Oh, nevermind. You did. Sorry.

Told you. And he's not ancient, Y/N. He's in his early thirties.

But - his thirties! I'm practically a kid compared to him!

You're not. I'm the same age as you, I'm friends with him, and you're more mature than me.

I guess we are both adults. But still… Did you tell him?

Tell him what?

That I'm younger than him.

Of course. And he's a good guy, Y/N. He'd have never asked you out on a second date if he wasn't comfortable with the age gap.

You breathe a sigh of relief. Good to know. Oh, we're still meeting up for drinks on Tuesday, right?

Yep.

Okay. Bye.

Byee.

Well, that was unexpected, you think, putting your phone aside.

But you don't really mind the age gap. So long as Bradley's okay with it - which he seems to be - then you are, too.

Plus, it would explain why you actually enjoyed tonight. You've been on dates before with guys your age, but you've never really enjoyed them.

For one thing, none of them have ever been as nice as Bradley, and for another, they've always wanted you to come back to their place…

Another message from Callie pops up.

Oh, hey, forgot to tell you I gave Bradley your number.

You groan. Callie is enjoying herself way too much.

He said he'd message you tomorrow.

Why tomorrow?

There's a bit of a pause before Callie replies.

He says he noticed you were tired out, and he doesn't want to bother you until you've rested.

You feel your throat getting a little tight. That's so sweet.

Told you he was nice. I'm telling you, Y/N, he's a keeper.

Callie, we've only been on one date - and even that wasn't really a date.

Close enough.

You grin. I'm going to bed now. See you Tuesday.

Byee.

Putting your phone on silent, and setting it aside, you roll over, grinning like an idiot.

Maybe things are starting to look up.

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

As always, I do not give permission for anyone to copy my work, repost it elsewhere, etc.

Unintentional

Pairing: Loki x shy!autistic!fem!reader

Summary: Accidentally getting caught up in a chain of events outside your control was not on your bucket list. But neither was working for SHIELD. Or being able to read the mind of a certain Asgardian captured by SHIELD…

Warnings/tags: Fluff, soft Loki, angst, reader hates their job, mind-reading, implied concussion, mention of stabbing, minor character death, mentions of injuries, probably OOC Loki? (I don't really know…), probably confusing dialogue, morally questionable SHIELD

A/N: I'm so sorry I haven't posted in so long, life's just been really busy lately.

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

Working for SHIELD was not on your bucket list. In fact, you didn't even know that the organisation existed until you'd dropped out of school, and started looking for work. You'd started as a lab intern, but you got promoted to lab assistant - and then you got onto SHIELD's radar.

In a good way, fortunately. You ended up getting a job there, and now you're one of the top lab assistants. You've worked with (well, for) some of the best scientists in the world. Some were nice, some not so nice, some just average.

Like your previous employer, Dr Selvig, who mysteriously disappeared quite recently.

And now you're stuck being a lab assistant to Dr Banner, who's probably the most dangerous person on the whole ship. Sure, he's not the worst scientist you've ever had to be a personal assistant to; in fact, he's actually really nice. One of the best, in fact.

Even so, you're pretty on edge around him. You're not the best with people, and the only reason you even agreed to the position of lab assistant in the first place was because, well, you thought that it would be only a few people that you'd have to interact with that would all be as awkward as you.

Unfortunately, that's not the case. Apparently, being a lab assistant also means acting as a mediator between the agents and the scientists - something you've never been great at, as it requires, well, people skills. Good people skills.

Fortunately, Dr Banner doesn't seem to be having any trouble like that, so far, and another guy's helping him out with whatever they're supposed to be doing (SHIELD is annoyingly 'hush-hush' about that sort of thing), which renders you pretty much useless as far as helping is concerned.

That's why you're glad that Banner lets you do pretty much whatever you like. He doesn't like being disturbed while he's working, he doesn't want to talk with the agents until he's found something of value - and that other guy, Sparks or something, is already playing assistant.

But still, knowing that he could lose control, and turn into a giant green rage monster at any point has been doing a pretty good job of keeping you on edge.

Sure, there's a dangerous guy locked up in the cage downstairs, who's apparently from another planet, and is ridiculously overpowered by all accounts, but - he's locked up. Banner isn't. And - well, you don't really know how the whole Hulk thing works. Does he get a nasty mood swing that turns him into Hulk? Is it under immense stress? Or does it just come on randomly?

One of the advantages of having pretty much free rein on a SHIELD hideout is that you can find out some pretty interesting stuff about the history of SHIELD, past cases, etc., and if anyone asks, you can just say it's for your job. It's just unfortunate that you aren't allowed to use your knowledge in trivia quizzes, and have to play clueless like other people.

"L/N? Where are you going?" You bite back a groan as you turn around.

It's just unfortunate that Agent Romanoff's seen you leaving the lab. You've never really been sure what to make of her. She's never been overtly mean to you, but she does have a habit of sticking her nose into your business, which you find kind of annoying, especially as you're a fairly private person.

"Aren't you supposed to be helping Dr Banner?" she asks.

You have to fight the urge to sigh. "He doesn't want to be disturbed while he's working."

"You should still stick around, though."

You shake your head. "He told me he doesn't like having people hovering over him unless they're actually helping."

Romanoff considers this for a moment, before nodding. "Okay, well, I actually have a job for you. I know it's not exactly in your skill-set, but - well, we still don't know what Loki's planning to do, so I need you to go and talk to him for me, see if he lets anything slip about his plans."

You nod. "Yes, Agent."

As you walk off, your mind's racing. I've got to talk to Loki, the second most dangerous person on the entire ship, a guy so powerful that it took the combined efforts of Sparks, Richards, Romanoff, and a couple others to even capture him? What if he attacks me? What if he gets inside my head? What if-

"L/N?"

Wonderful.

It's Agent Hill. "What are you doing?"

"An errand for Agent Romanoff."

You're surprised at how quickly her manner becomes more approving when she hears Romanoff's name. This could be a get-out-of-jail-free card for the next time I get caught snooping!

But even after that delightful discover, you're still very nervous by the time you reach the cage where Loki's being held, so much so that you end up debating with yourself about whether to even open the door.

Come on, Y/N, you have to open the door. You have to talk to him.

But he's dangerous! He might kill me!

He's in a cage that'll drop out of the helicarrier if he tries to break it, much less attack you.

But the mechanism might fail!

There's a button on the control pad that you can press that will do the exact same thing.

I don't want to do this!

Look, you promised Agent Romanoff you'd do it. You don't have to stay very long. Just ask him a couple questions, and then run away. You don't even have to stay to hear his answer; they can probably see him on the security cameras anyway.

Even so, for all your rationalising, you're still pretty scared when you finally push the door open, and step inside.

Maybe he won't hear me if I keep quiet. Maybe I can jumpscare him.

No such luck. Loki snaps his head around the minute you step inside.

He's actually a lot less scary-looking than you imagined he'd be.

Well, apart from his eyes. They're a glowing, unnatural blue that reminds you eerily of that weird spear-scimitar hybrid that Sparks and Banner are working on.

You can hear your heart pounding in your ears. Your lungs are struggling to fill with air, making you hyperventilate.

What am I even supposed to ask him? 'Hi, how's your day going? Oh, and by the way, could you very kindly tell me what exactly your plans are for invading Earth?'

Bang!

You jump back as Loki slams his fist on the glass.

"How did you get into my head?" he hisses.

Your first instinct would have been to run away, but you're so terrified that you can barely think straight, let alone run away.

He thumps the glass again. "Answer me!"

Tears begin to fill your eyes, partly from the shock, but also from his manner. You can see now why he's so dangerous; he can be absolutely terrifying when he wants to be.

"I - I don't know what you're talking about," you gasp, trying hard to hold back your tears.

"Don't lie to me." Loki's voice is quieter now, but more menacing. "Tell me how you got into my head!"

"I didn't!" Your voice is getting more and more high-pitched. "I swear!"

"Then why did I hear your voice while your lips weren't moving?"

"You can read thoughts?"

"When I choose to."

So he didn't-

"Why would I bother myself with the thoughts of a mere mortal?"

Darn. I forgot he could read thoughts.

"I'm not trying to read your thoughts, mortal," snaps Loki. "Now would you say something?"

You open your mouth, but it's completely dry, so you close it again, while trying to work out what you're going to say.

Then a wave of anger hits you.

You know what? you decide. Screw Romanoff. Screw Fury. Screw SHIELD. I'm sick of them, pretending like they're better than everyone else just because they work for the government.

You can tell Loki's listening in, but you don't care. Let him listen. Let him hear exactly what goes on inside my head.

"Tell me about yourself," says Loki suddenly, in a much more civil tone than before. "How did you start working for SHIELD?"

I got too good at my job, so Fury forced me to work for him. Outwardly, you say, "It was an internship."

Loki nods. "What do you want from me?"

Well, not from you specifically, but I'd quite like to quit this job, and go back to being a civilian. "Why… why would I tell you that?"

Loki just smirks. "I think you know why, mortal."

I don't want to tell you.

Loki chuckles. "Don't you trust me?"

I don't know who to trust anymore. "Why would I trust someone fighting the organisation I work for?"

Loki's suddenly serious. "Do you trust SHIELD?"

I thought I did. But after I read the files… "Of course." You're shocked at how easily the lie slips off your tongue. What have I become?

"L/N!"

It's Fury. And he looks like he's living up to his name quite well.

"What do you think you're doing?"

Your mind goes blank for a moment. "Uh… Romanoff asked me to interrogate Loki."

"Well, it doesn't look much like an interrogation to me. Seems like Loki's doing most of the asking."

Maybe there's different types. "Well - I'm - I'm going to ask him questions."

Fury sighs. "Fine. Just - don't get too close. He's a master of manipulation, L/N. He'll get inside your head, if you let him."

Well, I wasn't letting him. "Yes, sir."

After he's left, you turn back to Loki with a sigh. "Where were we?"

L/N, I need you to pay attention to me. In a few minutes, Barton will be breaking in with enemies of SHIELD, who work for me. I need you to stay low, draw as little attention to yourself as possible. Stay near me if you can. And get rid of that uniform, or they will kill you.

You try hard to keep your emotions in check. Why are you doing this? Why are you helping me?

There's no time to explain. Are you with me or not?

You consider for a moment. What has SHIELD ever done for me? For any of its agents? I don't even like the organisation, so why…

Loki sighs. What have you to lose?

Everything, if you lose. But… you know what? Screw SHIELD. I was planning to leave them anyway, at least once this mission was over, so why not leave now?

Loki smirks. "You have no questions for me, L/N?"

It's Y/N. "I did, but then Fury interrupted, and I forgot."

"Well, I'd rather like to hear some questions, all the same." What do you have to offer me, Y/N? I'm not doing this purely out of the goodness of my heart.

If we fail, I act as a double-double agent, and see if I can get you the lightest sentence possible. You'd still be incarcerated for a while, but it would be shorter than life - and better than going to the electric chair. If we succeed - well, I'm not sure. "How - how old are you?"

Loki chuckles again. "What a silly question. I am around one thousand and fifty years old - which is equivalent to around twenty-one of your years." That sounds fair enough.

How do I know you'll keep your word? "Um - well - do you have any siblings?"

"A brother. His name's Thor. You may have seen him." I promise to you, Y/N, on all I hold dear, I will protect you.

Cross your heart? "The blonde guy carrying the big hammer?"

Loki nods. "Yes." Cross my heart?

It's a kind of promise. Cross my heart, hope to die. Or you could swear on your mother's life. "Well - um… he mentioned you were adopted."

"That's correct." Well, if it makes you feel better - cross my heart, hope to die. But I already promised on my mother's life.

And you'll keep that promise? "How old were you when you were adopted?"

"I was a baby." I will.

Should I leave? "So, like, a birth adoption?"

Loki shakes his head. "I don't want to talk about it." No, stay here. You'll be safer near me.

But what about my uniform? "Well - um…"

"No more questions, hm? You don't seem to have learned very much about me." When I get out, I can cast an illusion to hide your uniform.

Should I help you break out? "Well, I learned a bit about your family and childhood. That's something, right?"

"But you still have no idea of my plans." Do you know how?

I think I could figure it out. Or Barton could get you out. "That's true…"

Crash!

The whole aircraft gives a massive shudder, the impact knocking you to the floor.

For a moment, you're dazed, unsure what to do next.

Looking up, you see that the security cameras around the cage are broken. Not that it matters whether anyone sees you now.

Struggling to your feet, you stagger to the control panel, and try to figure out which button to press to open the cage.

After trying a few random buttons, which fortunately do nothing untoward, you find the right one, and press it.

Stepping out, Loki takes a long look at you, before putting his hand on your shoulder.

"There," he says softly. "You should be safe now. Just stay with me."

Looking down, you see that your SHIELD uniform is gone, replaced by plain black clothes. "Thanks."

"Don't thank me yet. Do you have a weapon?"

You shake your head. "I'm not allowed."

Loki points to your belt. "You are now."

That's when you realise there's a holster on your belt - with a gun in it. Taking it out, you take a good look at the gun. You don't know very much about guns, but it looks pretty powerful.

"Come on," mutters Loki. "We can't just stand here."

"Sorry," you mumble, hastily putting the gun back into the holster.

You feel Loki tense behind you before you hear the heavy footsteps entering the room.

Stay still.

You obey without question, your mouth dry, as you watch Loki cast an illusion.

"No!"

Clang!

It's Loki's brother, Thor. And he's locked in the cage.

"Are you ever not going to fall for that?"

Loki's words make you want to laugh. Despite everything, it seems that he and Thor still have a sibling dynamic.

"Brother-" Thor's voice is low, threatening.

An illusion of Loki walks up to the control panel. "The humans think us immortal. Should we test that?"

In desperation, Thor throws his hammer at the cage wall. It manages to crack the glass, but then the bars holding the cage in place start to give way.

Loki's hand hovers over the button, ready to press it.

"Move away, please."

You turn, and - oh, of all the miserable luck!

It's Coulson. And he's holding a pretty lethal-looking weapon.

"You like this? It's a prototype we started working on after you sent the Destroyer to Earth. I don't even know what it does, but I'm pretty interested in finding out."

Loki begins to back away - and then disappears.

The real Loki appears behind Coulson, stabbing him in the chest.

"No!" yells Thor.

Ignoring him, Loki walks over to the control panel, and pushes the button.

You have to suppress an audible gasp as Thor is thrown out of the aircraft.

Loki gestures to you. "Come on."

You obey, scuttling up to him, trying not to look at Coulson's body, which is now slumped on the floor.

"You're going to lose."

Both you and Loki turn around to see that Coulson's still alive.

Loki lets out a soft laugh. "Am I?"

"It's in your nature."

Loki shakes his head. "Your heroes are scattered; your floating fortress falls from the sky. Where is my disadvantage?"

"You lack conviction."

"I don't think I-"

Bang!

Coulson fires his weapon, which sends you and Loki flying through the wall.

Fortunately, Loki was standing in front of you, and took the brunt of the blast, but you're still in a lot of pain, and you're pretty sure you've cracked some ribs.

"Y/N!" Loki gets up, and rushes towards you. "Are you alright?"

You nod. We should go.

"Come." Loki helps you up.

You're grateful for his concern, but you're not planning on telling him how you really feel. Not yet, anyway. Your whole body hurts, which makes you wonder if you're more injured than you first thought. Maybe the adrenaline's masking it.

Your suspicions are confirmed when your knee buckles, nearly sending you down a flight of stairs.

Loki catches you before you can fall. He gives you a look, but picks you up in his arms without a word.

You nearly yelp at the unfamiliar sensation, but you're grateful for the support. You're pretty much certain that you're badly hurt, and you doubt you could have gone the rest of the way by yourself.

A jet's waiting for you when you finally get out of the aircraft.

Loki's still holding you as he steps onto the jet, maneuvering you onto his lap as he sits down.

As the jet takes off, Loki gives a few orders, before turning his attention back to you.

Let's have no more lying, please, he begins, rather sternly. Now, how do you really feel?

You stare at the floor. I don't know. I know I'm injured, but…

Loki's face softens slightly. I'll get a medic to see to you once we land. You do need to rest, so just try to relax for now.

You try to do as he says, but it feels kind of weird. It's been a long time since you've had this much physical contact, even longer since you've sat on someone's lap, and even longer since you've been held in someone's arms.

Loki…

Yes?

Why are you helping me? I'm literally supposed to be a SHIELD agent. Or are you just taking me hostage for ransom or something?

Loki sighs, shifting you into a more comfortable position. I'm not taking you hostage, sweet. Look, Y/N, I know you won't believe me, but - I really am helping you - I really want to help you. But I can't tell you why. Not yet, anyway.

Couldn't you tell me at least one reason?

Loki's mouth turns up slightly. Well, it's been a long time since someone confided in me.

But what about your brother? Hasn't he confided in you before?

Not for a long time. Loki's arms tighten around you as the jet dips. And listen, once this is over, I will tell you why I'm helping you. But for now, you need to trust me.

Well, I don't really have much of a choice, do I? I'm injured, you're about a hundred times stronger than me, and I'm in a jet with a load of guys who'll kill me if I attack you.

Loki brushes a strand of hair out of your eyes. You should rest. I doubt you could attack even a human right now, let alone me.

Sighing, you close your eyes, and rest your head on his shoulder, suddenly feeling very tired. Your whole body's really hurting now, and it's getting difficult to breathe, but you're too exhausted to care.

You're painfully jolted awake when the jet lands.

You hear Loki curse under his breath. "Are you alright?" he asks you.

You're too tired to respond.

Answer me. Are you hurt?

I don't know. Leave me alone…

You feel Loki's hand rest on your forehead, before moving down to cup your cheek. "We need to get you to a healer."

And then everything goes black.

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

Part 2

As always, I do not give permission for anyone to copy my work, post it elsewhere, etc.

I love this so much! ❤❤❤

His Life (Pietro Maximoff x Reader)

Request: Hello love, how are you doing? May I request something with Pietro where the reader is returning from a mission that lasted a couple of months and he is eagerly anticipating for the reader to return. And the day the reader is returning he sets up a romantic date for them and it’s all cute and fluff and just adorable and a lot of hugs and cuddles please!

Requested By: Anonymous

Word Count: 2, 331

Warnings: Slight Swearing, Fluff

A/N: Wow. This is my longest imagine yet, I think. All of my Pietro ones are super long, has anyone else noticed that? I guess I just get swept up in the idea of Pietro. Why can’t I have a Pietro in my life? That would be amazing. Anyways, this one won the vote, so here it is! FYI, ‘printesa’ means ‘princess,’ ‘draga’ means ‘darling,’ and (Y/F/S) means ‘your favorite show. If you would like to be added to my Tag List for all future updates, just let me know! Well, I hope you enjoy!

Tag List: @mp938368 @gcneral-organa @thatgirlsar @jumperswellies @quicksoldier @kitkatgaming @marvelfandom-stuff @itsmaytimetosaygoodbye @agentraven007 @marvelgoateecollection

MASTERLIST

Pietro was nervous. Excited. Overjoyed. Practically bouncing off the walls with energy, more so than other days. He could feel his heart soaring. He felt like he had just won the lottery. Why, you may ask?

You were coming home.

You, his Printesa. His Draga. His Love. His Heart. His Life. And you were coming home.

Finally, you were coming home. Pietro had been waiting (somewhat patiently) for this day. The day where he can see you step off that quinjet. The day where he would run up to you, pick you up, and twirl you around as if you were lighter than a feather; because to Pietro, you were. The day where he could finally kiss you, after not being able to for the past four months. Those four, painstakingly agonizing months where he couldn’t feel your skin against his, couldn’t taste your lips, couldn’t smell your sweet scent. But today, today was the day where he could do all of it and more.

And he was beyond ready to have you in his arms once again, safe.

Unfortunately for Pietro, you wouldn’t be arriving until around dinner time. But since his nerves and excitement decided that he wasn’t going to get a good night’s sleep before you got home, they woke him up at six in the morning. A whole twelve hours before he could see you, his ray of sunshine on a cloudy day.

Staring at the ceiling of his bedroom, Pietro’s mind was racing. This had to be the best welcome home anyone has ever received, that way you wouldn’t want to leave again. Shutting his eyes, Pietro tried to will his mind to shut off and let him get more sleep. Every time he was close to that blissful rest, he received a flash of your scent, or an image of your lips that he would soon be kissing in eleven hours and fifty-seven minutes; and he would start the vicious cycle all over again.

Sitting up, Pietro checked his phone to see if you had sent him any messages. Not a single one. She probably wants to make me wait, Pietro thought with a small smile. That little minx. Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, Pietro made his way to the bathroom to get ready for the day. Grabbing the clothes that he set out the night before, (All your favorites, of course. Especially the tight gray and blue shirt that you loved. He had made sure that they were all washed the day before, courtesy of his wonderful sister, Wanda) Pietro quickly showered and changed. Slipping on his tennis shoes, Pietro sped off to the kitchen where the rest of his teammates sat.

“Whoa,” Tony shouted after nearly being ran over by Pietro. “What’s got you excited, Speedy Gonzales?”

Smiling brightly as he grabbed the cereal box, he placed a kiss on his sister’s forehead. “(Y/N)’s coming home today!”

“Really?” Natasha said, looking up from over her phone. “Hadn’t noticed.”

“Yeah, not like you’ve been telling us every single day for the past month,” Clint grumbled, taking a bite of his cereal. “‘Only twenty-six days until (Y/N) is back!’” Clint said in a horrible Sokovian accent, obviously trying to imitate Pietro.

Eyes turning into slits, Pietro glared at him. “I do not sound like Dracula, old man.” Scooping up a spoonful of cereal, he shoved it into his mouth. “Besides, what’s wrong with me wanting to see my Printesa?”

“Nothing at all,” Vision replied, phasing through the kitchen wall, scaring Scott. “It is perfectly normal for a human to miss their partner and want to be with them.” On the word ‘partner’ Vision had moved next to Wanda, causing her to blush slightly.

Eyes turning into slits once more, Pietro sent daggers towards Vision. “Get away from my baby sister, Android.”

Scoffing, Wanda pushed away from the table. “I’m not your baby sister! We are only twelve minutes apart. And besides, I don’t complain about your relationship with my best friend.”

“(Y/N) isn’t red like a tomato and came from a computer program and a rock!”

“That’s besides the point, and I’m done arguing,” Wanda said, putting her foot down. “Now, do you need help planning her welcome home party?”

“Yes, please,” Pietro said, kissing his sister’s hand.

“Great!” Vision shouted, clasping his hands together. “I’ll help.”

This is going to be a long day, Pietro thought to himself, groaning at the thought of spending the day with Vision.

Placing the last touch on your welcome home party, Pietro stepped back and looked proudly at his work. Wanda and Vision had helped him put together his masterpiece, to which he was beyond thankful.

“She’ll love it,” Wanda breathed out, looking at all the hard work they put in.

“Oh yes,” Vision added, surveying the room. “Knowing (Y/N), there is at least an 85% chance that she will enjoy what you have set up.”

Eyes rolling at Vision’s statistics, Pietro opens the door. “Lets go wait for her. Only one hour left until she is home.” Nodding at his words, they all exited to await your arrival. Some more than others.

“Calm down, will you? You’re driving me insane,” Wanda scolded, pinching the bridge of her nose in annoyance. The quinjet was landing in five minutes, and Pietro was so nervous that he kept tapping his foot. Because of his enhancement, his foot tapping was accelerated so much that his foot was a blur.

“Sorry,” Pietro mumbled, brushing his hand through his silver hair. Eyes trained on the sky, Pietro anxiously looked for the familiar shape of the quinjet. The wind on the roof constantly kept blowing his hair in his face, along with his sister’s long brown hair. Swatting away his hair, Pietro almost screamed when he saw the familiar black shape along the horizon.

“SHE’S HERE!” Pietro yelled, running towards the edge of the roof. As the black mass moved over his head, Pietro ran back to his sister’s side to wait for you to finally step off the platform, reuniting the two of you.

Landing gear deploying, Pietro’s accelerated foot tapping started up once again as the doors opened.

Stepping out of the jet, your eyes adjusted to the light. Looking down, you saw your best friend, Wanda, waiting for you with a smile. Immediately next to her was Pietro, his face lighting up when he saw you.

“(Y/N)!” He shouted, speeding up to you. Smiling brightly, you laughed as he scooped you up into his strong arms and began spinning you around.

Setting you down, you were met with Pietro’s smiling face and bright blue eyes. Tears welling up in your eyes, you placed your hand against his stubbly face. Oh, how you missed that stubble.

“I missed you,” You croaked out, voice laden with tears.

“As did I,” Pietro whispered, pulling you even closer to him. “Four months was way too long.”

Chuckling slightly, you ran your fingers through his thick hair. “Yes. Yes it was.”

Forehead resting against yours, Pietro leaned in slightly, brushing his lips against yours gently, igniting a fire inside of you. Impatient, because dammit, you’ve waited too long, you pulled your boyfriend to you, crashing your lips against his.

Smiling at the contact, Pietro pulled you close to his body by your hips, resting his large hands on your lower back.

“Get a room!” Clint yelled over the dying engine of the quinjet, joining the welcoming group along with the others. Releasing one hand from Pietro’s hair, you flipped off the whistling group, causing laughter to erupt among them. Feeling only one hand on your waist, you opened your eye just a tad bit to find Pietro’s hand right next to yours, flipping them off as well.

Pulling back from lack of oxygen, you turned towards your group of friends, all of which you missed dearly. Hand intertwining with Pietro’s, you walked down the ramp to be swarmed by your friends, each giving you a hug.

“Missed you, kid,” Tony said affectionately, pulling back from the hug.

“Missed you too,” You responded as you felt a tug on your hand. Looking back over your shoulder, you see Pietro motioning towards inside with a smile.

“Sorry, everyone,” You said with a small smile as Pietro pulled you into his side. “I promised I would spend time with him.”

“Aw, can’t you share?” Steve joked. “We missed her too.”

“No. Mine.” Pietro replied as he swung you up into his arms. Knowing what happened next, you placed your arms around his neck.

“Bye,” You said quickly to your friends, knowing that you would catch up with them later. Pietro then speeded into the compound, turning everything into a blur. Stopping abruptly outside of his bedroom, you looked at him suspiciously.

“Why here?” You asked as he set you down. Shrugging, Pietro took your hand once more as he opened the door. Walking in, you laughed as you felt Pietro cover your eyes. “Pietro…”

“Shh,” Pietro whispered, guiding you into the room. “Okay, Draga,” he said, removing his hands. “Surprise!”

Opening your eyes, your breath became caught in your throat at the sight before you. Pietro’s room was covered in candles, casting everything in a warm and comforting glow. On the bedside table were all of your favorite foods, waiting to be eaten. Next to his TV were all of your favorite movies and shows, some of which you only watched with him. What really made your heart stop though was that the room was covered in rose petals, filling it with a sweet scent. Sure, it was cheesy, but it was perfect to you. Because Pietro did it all.

“Pietro…” You breathed out in awe. Arms wrapping around your waist, Pietro hugged you from behind.

“Just wanted to treat you. Welcome home,” Pietro whispered in your ear as he placed a kiss on your neck. Turning in his arms, you smiled up at him as you laced your fingers through his thick locks once again.

“It’s perfect,” You replied as you pecked his lips. Pulling away slightly, he pulled you back to his lips, not quite done kissing you yet. Giggling as he continued to kiss you, your giggles turned into laughter as he kissed all over your face. “Pietro!”

“C'mon,” He said, halting his attack. “Let’s eat.” Dragging you onto his bed, you ate almost all of the food set before you, with the help of Pietro and his fast metabolism. Kicking off your shoes, you laid back onto his bed, completely relaxed.

“What are you doing?” He asked, Sokovian accent prevalent.

“Resting,” You answered, eyes closed.

“Oh no,” He said with a grin, pulling you up by your arms. Laughing, you sat up. “You’re going to spend time with me. I haven’t seen you in four months.”

“Can’t we do that after a nap?” You pleaded, giving your boyfriend the puppy dog eyes.

Shockingly, he resisted. “No. We are going to cuddle while we catch up on (Y/F/S). I haven’t been able to watch it for four months!”

Shaking your head whilst laughing, you look at your boyfriend. “You could’ve watched it without me.”

“It is our show. I couldn’t watch it without you,”

“You’re too sweet,” You blushed, pecking his cheek. “Set it up. I’m going to get into comfy clothes.”

Nodding at your orders, you got up from the bed and grabbed some of Pietro’s sweatpants and one of his shirts. Quickly changing into them, you jumped back onto the bed, with Pietro following suit.

Cuddling up to your boyfriend, you sigh in bliss as the familiar theme song began. Wrapped up in his arms, you smile as you feel him kiss your forehead.

I am never leaving him again, you thought as you breathed in his welcoming scent.

After three episodes, Pietro looked down at you. You had fallen asleep halfway through the second episode, but Pietro didn’t have the heart to wake you up. You looked too cute. Smiling, Pietro turned off the TV. Brushing away a strand of hair that fell into your face, Pietro pulled you closer to him.

“You are never leaving me again, Printesa,” Pietro whispered knowing that you couldn’t hear him. “That was way too hard. Every morning, I found myself walking towards your room to wake you up, since I was your personal alarm clock. But you weren’t there. Every morning I had to go through the realization that you weren’t here, with me. And every morning my heart broke. Because all I wanted to do was wish you good morning, to kiss you. In those four months I not only lost my girlfriend temporarily, I lost my best friend. I missed just talking to you, seeing you smile. I don’t think you realize just how much of a hold you have on me, Printesa,” Pietro smiled. “You are my life, my whole life. You are my love, my heart, my world. Do you realize that, Draga? Because you are. Without you, I am nothing. I love you so much. More than you ever know.”

Kissing your forehead once more, you stirred in your sleep. Freezing, Pietro waited to see if you had heard any part of his confession.

“…Pietro?” You mumbled, blearily blinking away sleep.

“I’m here, Draga,” Pietro whispered, brushing away your hair.

“Good. I missed you,” You sleepily muttered, already drifting back to sleep.

“I missed you too, Printesa. Now, sleep. I’ll be right here,”

“Good,” You replied, burying your face into the crook of his neck. “I love you.”

“I love you too, my Life,” Pietro whispered, kissing your forehead one last time. Already feeling your breathing slowing down, Pietro smiled to himself as he too drifted off to sleep.

Those four months were hard, but you made it. The lives the two of you led were difficult, extremely difficult. But you could get through it, as long as you had the other. Because true love endured all.

a comic about fix-it fanfics

You know when you get one of those readers who comments on every chapter of your fic, pointing out their favorite parts and quoting lines that really resonated with them?

Yeah, as a writer, this is an absolute gift. ❤️

Love this!! I'm more of a quiet, grumpy person myself, so this was great reading. ❤️❤️❤️

how it could grow

thank you for voting in this poll! here we have grumpy!reader and sunshine!rooster going to the farmer's market | fluff, 1.7k

It's early.

Bradley gets up early and probably will forever. You've always considered yourself able to get up in the morning, but he's so...cheery. So damn chipper.

Being up early on a Saturday means the local farmer's market. It's so early that it's not even close to crowded, so you and your boyfriend stroll down the rolls of stalls, checking your combined list as you to to make sure you hit the right vendors.

Bradley waves at many of them, dragging you over to get some pickles and compliment Carlota's hat, to the bee farm stand to ask Steve about new candle scents, to get some iced tea and to hear about Lu's new puppy.

"This is delicious, Lu," he says. "What do you think, babe?" He nudges your shoulder with his.

He's not teasing you, not really, but he is trying to make you talk. You're usually very content to let Bradley be the talker, the friendly face. He's like the sun and for a long time you had no idea what he was doing spending his time with you. You're quieter, rougher around the edges. But he's practically drilled it into you by this point: he loves you. So you let him prod you a little because you do like these people and they always have a smile and kind word for you, even if Bradley does all the chatting.

"It's lovely," you tell the vendor, and mean it. It's no surprise Bradley knows him and his dog's name and everything about the business. He beams at you.

"Thank you!" he says. "Bradley's told me you're particular about your tea. Here, you take some of this new blend to try and let me know next week what you think."

So ensues a small battle over paying that ends with Bradley convincing Lu to come to the Hard Deck for a free drink this weekend in exchange for your sample blend.

"That was nice of him," you mumble, tucking into Bradley's side. He holds the iced tea you're sharing between you so you can take sips from the straw, his other arm slung over your shoulder.

"You're his favorite customer," he says. You look at him. Yeah, right, you say with your eyebrows. Seriously, his say back. You roll your eyes.

"I think that's you."

He winks. "Alright, beautiful." You scowl but he ignores it. "I think it's time to divide and conquer. You take fruits, I'll take veggies? And then we can hit the bakery on the way home and eat on the porch."

"Okay," you tell him. He gives you the rest of the tea and you tilt your cheek up. Bradley recognizes what you're asking for immedietly, surging forward to press his lips to your cheek tenderly.

"I'll find you," he says, and heads to the farm stand, whistling as he goes.

You head to the fruit stand. Bradley asked for strawberries, so you'll get some of those. And some apples for snacking on and blackberries, if she has them. When you get there, there's a small child and her mother in front of you. The little girl looks at you and you crack a smile at her and wiggle your fingers in hello. She giggles before burying her face in her mother's leg.

Yeah, okay, so a few things can crack your exterior. Your cheery, handsome aviator boyfriend and cute kids. And dogs, obviously.

The mom and kid leave and it's your turn. "Hi, honey!" the vendor says.

"Hi, Thalia," you say. Bradley comes here almost every week and when you tag along you love to visit this woman especially and her colorful piles of fruit.

"What's it for you today?" she says. Before you can answer, she holds up her hand. "Wait, I forgot!" She bends down under her stall table and reemerges with the most perfect carton of raspberries you've ever seen. You gasp softly. This is the first time she's had them all summer.

"Those are gorgeous," you say. She grins.

"That tall boyfriend of yours came by last week and I didn't have any yet." She chuckles at the memory. "He looked downright heartbroken and asked me to save some for you special once I picked 'em. So here we are! First and only carton before we bring a full load next week."

You gently take the berries from her and find that words won't come. "Oh," you say softly, looking down at them in your hands. "Thank you."

"Not a problem, dear," Thalia says softly. "Anything else for you?" You snap out of it and smile at her, rattling off your list. She bags up your things into your tote after you pay and you carry them over your shoulder while cradling the carton in your hands like precious cargo. Because it is.

The market is a little more crowded as you scan the veg stalls for Bradley. He does things like this -- the berries -- all the time, really. He looks out for you, makes sure your water bottle has ice in it, buys you more shampoo when he notices you're low, resets the car seat when he knows you'll be driving. You know that he likes taking care of you, that it makes him feel useful and like he's loving you properly, but you wonder if maybe you don't show him the same courtesy.

You know you can be sullen, you can be quiet, you can be prickly. It's not proved too much for him thus far and you're sure it won't drive him away, but you worry that he just doesn't know that he deserves to be loved with the same care and concern that he loves you. He deserves someone who makes sure he has the very first carton of the season of his favorite fruit.

You spot him standing by the kombucha stand and admire him as you walk over, tossing out the empty iced tea cup as you go. Highlighted hair, golden skin, tote bag of veg over his broad shoulders. He's so beautiful and he's yours. You love him, you really do. Right before you call his name he looks up and finds you, almost as if he felt you coming. He breaks into a smile so genuine you can't help but return it.

"Hi, gorgeous," he says, loudly. Beautiful, gorgeous. Bradley is always calling you something that makes your cheeks heat and your stomach swoop. You duck your head and step close to him. "Oh, hell yeah, the raspberries! Are they alright?"

"They're perfect," you tell him. You're perfect. "Thank you."

"Good," he says, like you being pleased by some raspberries is the best thing he's heard today. "Ready for breakfast?" You nod and he grabs your free hand and you head out of the market and down the street.

"Bradley," you say quietly, once you're clear of the stands. It's your serious tone and he picks up on it right away, giving your hand a squeeze.

"You okay?"

You hum. You are, but you need to get this out. "It was really nice of you to ask Thalia for these," you say, looking at your raspberries. "And I...I feel like I don't do things for you like that. And I wanted to say I'm sorry and that I'm going to try to do more because --"

"Woah, woah, woah," Bradley says, tugging you to a stop and making sure you're facing each other. "What's all this?" His brows are creased in concern, the furrow between them annoyingly adorable.

You take a deep breath and keep your eyes on his, determined. You want to be sure he hears this because you mean it.

"I know that I'm...prickly. And you're like the sun, Bradley." He looks like he wants to say something but you keep going before he can interrupt. "And you do nice things for me all the time and I know it's because you love me but also because it's just how you love, and because you're good. And I just want to do more to make sure you know that I love you and that you deserve to be treated like you're...like you're the best person in the world because you are."

His eyes get wider and wider as you speak, his lips parting. Yeah, maybe this is a little intense for like, 8:30 in the morning, but you two are honest with each other. It's how you got this far.

"Sweetheart," he says. "Baby, god, I--" He cups your face with one hand, eyes darting back and forth between yours. "But you do."

It's your turn to furrow your brows. What does he mean?

"You iron my uniform and you make sure I get dinner with Maverick every few weeks and you put gas in the Bronco and you stay up late to call me when I'm halfway across the world and you never let me forget my watch and you tell me you love me and that I'm brave and..." Bradley trails off and his thumb gently strokes your cheek. He starts again, quieter this time. "You're quiet in the mornings but you don't mind when I whistle and you're grumpy when it's too hot but you go outside with me anyway and you let me do the talking because I can't shut up and you only smile when you mean it and you're you. You do love me like that. You do."

Good god, you're blinking away tears at his words. "Okay," you say. "I guess we...I guess we love each other alright." Maybe it's just hard to see yourself the way he sees you. Maybe he finds it hard to see himself the way you see him. Maybe this is just how it is -- you have to remind each other you're doing your best.

Bradley leans in and presses his lips to your forehead. "You fucking bet we do," he whispers.

"Don't crush my berries," you say, eyes fluttering closed. He shifts and you feel his breath on your lips.

"I'd never."

And then he kisses you on the empty boardwalk on another gorgeous morning in your lovely, wonderful life.

thank you for reading <3 reblog, send feedback, masterlist here! (also did anyone catch the easter egg in this fic :))

Reblog this if you had to learn cursive writing as a child

If you were ever told or were made to learn cursive writing when you were in grade school. I wanna see how many of you suffered like I did.

Me with my long LoTR fic