Avengers Preferences
How You Meet
Masterlist
Captain America/Steve Rogers-
Working for the infamous Nick Fury was a hard job as it was. Now working for him as and being his goddaughter was a whole other level of difficult. Behind closed doors, he was gentler and loving in his own, unique way. However, in public, it was strictly professional. You didn’t receive any special treatment and were held to the same standard as every other agent. You didn’t mind, it was how it was and you were understanding.
Fury had been proud and excited when you decided to become a SHIELD agent. As you quickly rose through the ranks, you began working closely with Phil Coulson and Maria Hill. You also worked closely with Hawkeye and Black Widow. In fact, they were the ones who recommended you for the Avengers Initiative. Fury protested at first because of Tony Stark, but with some help from Hill and Coulson, he relented.
To welcome you and bring some positive light to himself, Tony Stark threw one of his legendary parties. Opting for a more modest look, especially considering your godfather was there, you wore a dress that stopped at your knees and some comfortable flats. You kept your makeup minimal and natural as well. After you were satisfied with your appearance, you made your way to the party.
The party was indeed just as grand and lavish as everything Tony Stark did. People mingled about, barely acknowledging you despite the party being in your honor. You didn’t really care though. You knew they were just here for the free booze. You pushed your way to the bar where you saw Natasha and Maria talking.
“Ladies,” you greeted. They smiled and waved you over, handing you a glass full of sparkling liquid.
“Hey, you look cute,” Maria said. You smiled, tilting your head.
“Well, it was this or sweats,” you jested. Natasha let out a snort, smirking behind her glass.
"Ah! Here she comes. The woman of the hour," Clint announced. You playfully rolled your eyes.
“There she is! The woman of the hour!” Clint announced as he made his way to you. You playfully rolled your eyes. He waved over two figures. “Y/N, meet Dr. Banner and Thor.” Dr. Banner was a small man with glasses who looked completely uncomfortable. His hair was a curly mess as he rubbed his hands together, eyes darting in every direction. Thor seemed more at ease in this environment. He gave you a big smile, grasping your hand.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he said, his voice booming over the loud music and other party-goers. He was a giant compared to everyone with long, blonde hair.
“The pleasure’s all mine,” you replied. The six of you engaged in small talk, well, more like you Maria. Natasha and Dr. Banner had some weird, and slightly awkward flirting thing going on between them that you wanted absolutely nothing a part of. And Clint and Thor were trying to outdrink each other. Though from the look of it, Thor was winning easily.
After a while, Phil came up to congratulate you. He nodded towards the other side of the room where you spotted Fury talking to America’s own golden boy, Captain America. Though they appeared deep in conversation, Fury waved you over. Phil gave you a pat on the back as he replaced your spot next to Maria.
“L/N. I want you to meet your new leader, Captain Rogers. Rogers, this is your newest recruit, Agent Y/N L/N.” You nodded your head, sticking your hand out. He grasped your hand, shaking it firmly. His hands were surprisingly soft--just like his baby blue eyes. He gave you a boyish grin, causing you to smile.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you Agent L/N,” he told you.
“The pleasure’s all mine, Captain Rogers,” you replied. He gave you a boyish grin, scratching behind his ear.
"Please, call me Steve."
"Y/N."
Iron Man/Tony Stark-
Most people spent their Friday nights at the bars, getting wasted with friends and hitting on strangers. Not you though, you worked well into the night. You were at the bar too, but you were behind the counter, watching as everyone made fools of themselves. Though, you didn’t usually work on Friday nights, but your coworker had convinced you to cover their shift, a stupid decision on your part. While the amount of money you would make would be amazing, having hundreds of people scream for your attention wasn’t.
This Friday night was no different than any other. Loud, drunk adults slurred their orders to you as they attempted to flirt with each other. The night seemed to drag on as you continued to make drinks and throw away napkins with scribbled numbers on them. And as the night progressed, and the crowd around the bar slowly but surely diminished, you were able to relax somewhat. You were just about done with creeps staring at your tits.
You were cleaning a glass when someone called for you. You set the glass down and turned around, throwing the rag over your shoulder. If you weren’t so tired, you probably would have choked on air when you saw Tony Stark: genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist, and freaking Iron Man sitting at your bar. You walked over to him, resting your forearms on the bar.
“What’s your poison, sweetcheeks?” you asked. He licked his lips, peering over the rim of his glasses at you. You quirked a brow, staring at him expectantly.
“I’ll have your best whiskey--neat.” You nodded, turning to pour him his desired drink. Despite his television persona, the man at least had taste. You handed him his drink, watching as he took a long sip. He nodded his head approvingly. “This is perfect. You know, I could give you my best later. Though I can’t promise it’ll be neat,” he said with a wink. You let out a snort, shaking your head.
“Sorry sweetcheeks, but you’re gonna have to do better than that. I thought you were a playboy?” you teased. He chuckled, shooting you a wink. You didn’t see him much after that, he seemed to have disappeared from the bar, probably in the arms of some hot, blonde, model. You shook your head, continuing to clean the counter. Guys like him didn’t go for girls like you. Not seriously.
Your shift finally ended when the bar closed around two o’clock. Relief flooded your body as you collected your tips and clocked out. You bade your coworker a good night and began your trek home. While you were walking under the streetlights, your skin began crawling. You looked around but couldn’t see anyone around you. Quickening your pace, you marched on, your purse clutched in your hand.
You were almost to the front stoop of your apartment when a pair of arms wrapped around your body, yanking you into a dark alley. One of the hands covered your mouth while the other was wrapped securely around your arms and body.
“Hey baby. Wanna have some fun?” slurred a voice. You rolled your eyes despite the danger you were in. You struggled to break his grip on you, but he was a lot stronger than he appeared. “Calm down baby, I’m not gonna hurt you.” His breath reeked of alcohol, making you want to gag.
“Maybe not, but if you don’t let her go, I’m going to hurt you.” The drunk let go of you and scampered away. You fell back against the nearby wall, taking deep breaths.
“Thank you, so much,” you said, turning your head. You certainly weren’t expecting to see Iron Man standing on the sidewalk outside the alley way. His face lifted up, revealing Tony Stark beneath the mask.
“So… about my previous offer.” You shot him a harsh glare. He held his hands up, taking a step back. “Kidding, although, I should at least get your number. You know, in case you need me to save you again.” You rolled your eyes but pulled your lipstick out of your bag anyway, writing your number on the arm of his suit.
Hulk/Dr. Bruce Banner-
After the New York incident, your brother, Clint Barton, had been very adamant about you moving in with him. Well, he actually wanted you to move in with Laura, but you refused to live on a farm. Tasha and your brother had helped you move from your tiny apartment to your room at the compound, located conveniently next to Clint’s.
Tony came to help as well. As well as to see one of his favorite college buddies. Oh yes, you, him and Rhodey had all gone to college together, though you were a few years younger than them. He’d been more than happy to hear you’d be moving into the tower.
Once everything had been unpacked and put into its place and you were settled, Clint took you up to meet the rest of your housemates. They were all waiting around in a lounge room with Tony, naturally, in the center of the crowd, talking animatedly about himself.
“Mini Me!” he cried when he saw you. He dramatically sauntered over to you, wrapping you in a hug. Your brother, usually not fond of men near you, had no problem with Tony. You returned his hug. “A pleasure to have you finally join us.” You chuckled, detangling yourself from him. Clint wrapped his arm around your shoulders, guiding you to the rest of the Avengers.
“Guys, this is my sister, Y/N. Y/N, this is Steve Rogers, Thor, and Dr. Bruce Banner.”
“It’s great to finally meet you all,” you told them, flashing them your dazzling smile. “Clint has told me so much about you guys.” Thor was the first to approach you, pressing a quick kiss to the back of your hand.
“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lady Y/N.” You let out a giggle, covering your cheek.
“Oh, I like you.” He flashed you a bright smile which you happily returned. Steve said hello, offering you a simple handshake. Bruce was more timid, giving you a curt nod and a small wave. You found his semi-flustered state cute, and it kind of melted your heart.
“So, uh, what’s the story behind Tony’s nickname for you?” Steve inquired. Before you could reply, Tony was wrapping his arm around your shoulders, answering for you.
“Well you see, Capsical, this marvelous, young woman here is party central. You guys thought I was crazy--this girl--this girl is crazier. Her knowledge of alcohol is unbelievable and her ability to attract the male gaze is unbeatable.” Clint glared at that last part, rolling his eyes. You brushed Tony’s arm off, crossing your arms over your chest.
“As much as I appreciate the sentiment, I did get two degrees in art and design and biochemical engineering.” The rest of the Avengers let out ooh’s at Tony. He threw his hands up in defense, bowing his head down. Clint brought his hands to your shoulders, shaking you slightly. You glanced over to Bruce, watching as he quickly averted his gaze from you, finding the ceiling far more fascinating.
Hawkeye/Clint Barton-
Being handed the wrapped flag was never something you thought would actually happen to you. The soldiers had been very helpful, offering to drive you to where you needed to go. You could only really go to one place. You’d just lost the only family you had left. You gave the soldiers the address and sat in the back of the car, staring out the window.
They asked for confirmation about the address when they pulled up to the Avenger’s Tower. You simply thanked them for their time and stepped out of their car. You held the flag close to your chest as you walked past agents and tower workers and went straight to the elevator. Tears welled in your eyes as the doors closed behind you.
“F.R.I.D.A.Y,” you called, your voice cracking. “Take me to the floor Tony’s on.” You really hoped he was in the room or in his lab.
"Right away Ms. L/N," the AI replied. You stood in the elevator, tears threatening to spill as you waited for the elevator to open. You rushed out when the elevator doors opened but stopped short when you saw Tony surrounded by the Avengers.
Once they did, you froze in your place. Tony had been your friend since college. You knew that you could always depend on him to be there for you, especially now. The other Avengers who surrounded him however, you were less than certain about. You contemplated leaving when F.R.I.D.A.Y. chimed in.
“Sir, Y/N L/N is here to see you.” He turned his head with a smile, opening his arms. His eyes traveled to the flag in your arms and his face fell.
“Oh… Y/N.” You lip quivered as you cast your eyes down, tears blurring your vision. You heard footsteps approaching you and a pair of arms wrapping around you. “Y/N.” Tony stroked your head as your body began shaking.
"They're--they're gone," you choked out.
"Who's gone?" the other guy inquired. You tried answering, but all that came out were choked sobs. "Hey, Y/N, I'm going to need you to breathe. Inhale. Hold. Exhale." After repeating the exercises a few times, your breathing was steady.
"Y/N, what happened?" Tony asked again.
"S/N was killed in combat," you said, fresh tears welling up in your eyes. "I just lost my whole family." You began hiccupping violently, making it hard to breathe.
"Clint, take her to my room. I'll be there shortly," Tony ordered. Clint led you to Tony's penthouse suite. He sat you on the bed, rubbing your shoulder.
"Thank you." You attempted to give him a weak smile.
"Feel better. I'm sorry for your loss," he told you, returning your smile with a soft one.
Thor Odinson-
Being one of SHIELD’s top agents came with both perks and nuances. Perks included always being in the loop of every underground operation, including the fact that Phil Coulson faked his death. Nuances included being hyper-aware of everyone around you at any given time, friends and foes alike.
Tony Stark inviting you to a party, well, all of SHIELD, was inviting paranoia. Your coworkers assured you that you were just in work mode, and this would help you relax. To appease them, you begrudgingly agreed to go.
You didn’t dress up, opting for a casual look to help you blend in. You made sure you were armed before finding a seat at the bar. Natasha was playing bartender, her eyes seeing everything all at once.
“Don’t have too much fun there,” she said, gesturing down to your cup of barely touched water. You lifted your brows quickly, looking back at the other SHIELD agents partying their hearts out.
“No promises.” She let out a snort, moving to mix another cocktail.
The hairs on the back of your neck began to stand up. You let your highly trained eyes scan the room, but you didn’t see anything. Then a thought hit you. You glanced up, searching the ceiling until you found a pair of eyes looking down at you from the vents. They shot you a wink before disappearing. Your eyes narrowed until you heard a cough behind you.
You turned to find the Prince of Asgard behind you, dressed more casually than you’d see him before. You raised a brow, looking him up and down.
“Good evening my lady. I am looking for our mutual friend Barton. Do you know where I can find him?” You glanced back towards the vent, waiting for the Prince to follow your gaze.
“Sorry, your Highness. Can’t say I’ve seen him,” you told him. He turned and found you staring at the vent. He gave you a big grin, bowing his head.
“A shame. I hope I haven’t disturbed you.”
“Not at all.”
“If that’s the case, I’d love a dance.” You turned back to Nat who was motioning for you to go. You bit your tongue, looking around the room.
“How can I--” You trailed off. From the corner of your eye, you spotted another coworker sitting at the other end of the bar. Her eyes kept flickering between her drink and the jacket that covered some guy’s arm from the elbow down. “Hold that thought.”
You set your untouched water down, moving down the bar. Nat followed you, keeping an eye on you. You carefully took out one of your concealed knives, pressing it to the guy’s back. He tensed immediately, allowing for your coworker to slip away.
Unfortunately he wasn’t the only undercover spy. A mass shoot-out took place, bullets whizzed by, glass shattered, and bodies hit the floor. Thankfully, most SHIELD agents survived unharmed.
You watched as Maria, Clint, and Nat hauled the last of the spies out of the party, handcuffs on their wrists. Thor approached you as you finished giving your statement, holding tightly onto Mjölnir. He opened his mouth to say something, but Clint called for you, waving you towards one of the SUVs.
“Raincheck on that dance?” you called back, jogging towards the van. Thor bowed his head, lifting Mjölnir briefly. You shot him a wink, sliding into the car before it took off.
Quicksilver/Pietro Maximoff-
Drinking was not something you did very often. Drinking alone was something you only did within the comfort and safety of your own apartment. So why were you sitting alone at a bar on a Friday night? Well, your boyfriend had a terrible accident. He tripped and fell into your manager’s bed.
“Well hello there.” You tipped back another shot, setting the cup back down onto the bar. You turned slowly in your seat to stare at the blurry man now seated next to you. Raising a brow, you moved to rest your head in your hand. “Hey Sweetheart. I hate to bother you, but I could really use your number?” the stranger asked.
“I think you could use a better line,” you slurred, rolling your eyes. You turned back to face the bar, staring down at your empty shot glass. From your other side you heard someone laughing. Glancing over, you could only make out another blurry man with almost white hair. “Can I help you?”
“Do you know who you just turned down?” he asked with a thick, foreign accent. You shook your head, immediately regretting it. You held your hand to your head, willing your brain to stop moving around. “That was Tony Stark.” You scoffed.
“Then I’m glad I turned him down,” you said. The blonde man smirked, you thought. He was slowly coming into focus, and he was actually kind of cute. Kind of. Poor lighting and tequila made everyone look good.
“You’re funny. And cute. What’s a girl like you doing in a place like this?” he asked. You shrugged.
“Men suck. Left me for his stupid manager. She’s not even pretty,” you said, face heating up with anger and alcohol. The man winced.
“Yeah, men do suck. I’m Pietro by the way.”
"Y/N."
“Y/N,” he repeated. The way your name sounded with his accent almost had you swooning… almost. “You should head home. You’re wasted, and I’d hate for someone to take advantage of you.”
“And you’ve been doing what, exactly?” you challenged. He grinned, looking down at his hands which had somehow gotten ahold of your phone.
“Distracting you so you can sober up a bit before the cab I called arrives.” He handed your phone back to you. “I’ll have one of the bartenders escort you. When you’re sober, give me a call.”
Spiderman/Peter Parker-
Switching schools was never something you liked. Always being the new kid and having to recreate a social life was always hard and frustrating. Trying to be the lone wolf never worked in your favor either. Your bubbly and friendly personality didn’t let you fade into the shadows. Then when you inevitably moved, it was always full of tears.
Your latest move wasn’t any different. Your family had relocated to New York City for your father’s business. Once again you were in a new school, surrounded by people you didn’t know. While their faces blurred together, yours stuck out. Tingles ran up your spine as you avoided everyone’s curious gazes. You glanced down at the paper containing your schedule and locker number and combination.
You found it easy enough, but when you entered the combination it refused to budge. You double checked the combination before carefully putting it in.
“Son of a bitch,” you mumbled, shaking the lock. You dropped the lock, resting your head against the cold metal door.
“Need some help with that?” A tall girl with glasses and frizzy hair pulled into a lazy ponytail stood a little ways down. She was standing in front of, presumably, her own locker, a tower of books balanced in her arm.
“That’d be great, thanks,” you said. You stood up straight, pulling your mouth into a thin line.
“These things suck,” she told you. She slammed her own locker shut. She jiggled your lock before hitting the door with her elbow. It swung open with complete ease.
“Thank you.” You bowed your head slightly.
“No problem. I haven’t seen you around here before.”
“Uh, no. I’m new. My name’s Y/N. Y/N L/N.” You stuck your hand out, a smile on your face.
“Hey, I’m--”
“MJ!”
You turned around to find two boys coming down the hallway, waving their hands excitedly. One boy had tan skin and dark hair that was neatly combed, while the other was pale with light brown hair and wore a dorky sweater.
“MJ! We’ve been looking for you,” the first guy said, almost ignoring you.
“I was just helping out Y/N here,” she said. “Y/N this is Ned and Peter-- a couple of losers.”
“Um, hi.” You gave the boys an awkward wave as the bell rang loudly. “I’ll see you guys around. Thanks for opening my locker.” You gave the three of them a tight-lipped smile before hurrying down the hall.
Falcon/Captain America/Sam Wilson-
When you had returned from Iraq, you were so happy to be home. Your family had thrown a small get-together to celebrate your safe return. Everyone was so proud of you for serving your country. Your parents had offered to let you stay with them until you found yourself a job and an apartment. With a good record, and an honorable discharge, it shouldn’t have been hard.
It was two months before you landed a job as a receptionist at the V. A. Center in D.C. It wasn’t a glamorous job, but you made decent money. However, living in D.C. was expensive. Finding a place seemed almost impossible, even with a job. Luckily your parents were extremely understanding.
After about three months at the V. A., you had your job down pretty well. Most of the time you were answering calls from local and nationwide veterans. Most were nice, inquiring about certain medical options and wanting help through the transition back into normal society. Some veterans weren’t as friendly and called to complain about how the government treated them or simply to yell.
You had finished another call and were logging it when someone cleared their throat. You tapped on the board that was in front of you. You listened as the pen scratched across the paper for the visitor. Once you finished your log you glanced up.
A tall, dark, and handsome stranger stood in front of your desk, a half-smile on his face. You smiled back, bringing your full attention to him.
“Welcome to the V. A. Center, how can I help you?” you asked, raising your brow a bit.
“I’m Sam Wilson. I have an interview in about twenty-minutes,” he told you. You nodded, sliding down a bit to the other phone. You picked it up, dialing the three numbers to your boss’ office.
“One moment.” You slid down to your other phone, dialing the three numbers for your boss’ office. “Sir, you have a Sam Wilson here to see you,” you informed him. “Yes sir.” You slid back down to Sam Wilson, a smile on your face. “He’ll be with you shortly. He’s finishing up a meeting.
He nodded, sitting down in one of the chairs. He leant back, arm thrown over the back of the chair as he stared down the hall, resting his ankle on his knee. You tried your best not to stare, but not staring was never a strong suit of yours, and boy did Sam Wilson give you plenty to stare at.
“Which branch did you serve for, Mr. Wilson?” you inquired, pretending to type on the computer as if you hadn’t spent the last five minutes staring at him.
“Just Sam is fine,” he said with a chuckle. “And I served in the army.”
“Army,” he replied. You nodded, a smirk tugging at the corner of your mouth.
“Interesting. So when they did the Men of the Army calendar, was it just twelve months of you?” You watched as your words went through his head before he let out a chuckle. “What? Didn’t like it?” You shot him a wink, a smirk on your face.
“I like it quite a lot, actually… what’s your name?”
“Y/N. Y/N L/N.”
Winter Soldier/Bucky Barnes-
It took years and years of studying and hard work, but becoming the leading psychiatrist in dealing and helping soldiers with Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome (PTSS), formerly PTSD. You never experienced it personally, but you had neighbors and friends who suffered from it growing up. You wanted to do something helpful in the world, something good, so you dedicated your life to finding ways to work through what others had experienced. Your reputation began to precede you, and that was how you were flown across the world to help one of the worst cases you’d ever seen.
The patient was a Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes. He served in World War II where he was presumed KIA, Killed In Action. That was until about four years ago when he resurfaced as an assassin for an organization that was almost gone. The more you read, the wilder his story seemed to get. Reading his file, which was quite extensive, covered almost the entire flight to Wakanda.
King T’Challa stood ready to greet you when your plane landed. You bowed your head respectively, taking in the empty fields that surrounded you. He shook your hand firmly, offering you a warm smile.
“Welcome to Wakanda Dr. L/N,” he greeted.
“Thank you for having me, Your Majesty,” you said. “You have beautiful, open lands.”
“You’re much too kind. If you would follow me this way.” He held his hand out and began guiding you across one of the fields. Birds chirped above you as you made your trek over the verdant hills.
Just over the last hill was a single hut. Goats roamed around freely, munching on grass and bleating. King T’Challa gestured to the hut, staring at it solemnly.
“White Wolf lives there. He lives happily in solitude, but human interaction is important. The world says you are the best in your field. Please, help him,” the King said. You nodded your head.
“Nothing is guaranteed,” you reminded him. “My methods aren’t a one-hundred percent success, but I will do my best.”
“That is all we ask.”
You nodded one more time before resuming your walk to the small hut, this time alone. The goats were curious about you, pausing their lunch to stare at you. One particularly small one ran to you, nudging its head against your leg.
“Steve, be nice.”
A new voice caught your attention. His hair was longer and his beard was fuller, but you recognized the man as Sergeant Barnes. He stood in the doorway of the hut, staring down at the tiny goat that was now nibbling at the bottom of your pants. He wore white, traditional, Wakanda clothing. A white bandage covered the stub where his arm once was. He would have seemed peaceful were it not for the dark, solemn gaze in his eyes.
“Sergeant Barnes?” you called, bending down to pick up the goat. He looked up at you. “Sergeant Barnes my name is Dr. Y/N L/N. King T’Challa asked me to help you transition back into civilian society.” He nodded his head slowly. The goat, Steve, nestled into your chest, nibbling your shirt. “I was hoping we could talk.”
“Of course,” he said, moving aside so you could enter his hut. Setting the goat down, you stepped inside the small hut. It was bare for the most part, only the necessities were present. You took a seat on a nearby chair, watching him carefully. He took a seat across from you, awkwardly shifting in his seat.
“Sergeant Barnes, I would like to preface this by saying I am here to help you, and if what we do isn’t helping, it’s okay to say that,” you said.
“Bucky.”
“I’m sorry?”
“My name… it’s Bucky.” You smiled.
“It’s nice to meet you, Bucky. I’m Y/N.”
Loki Odinson-
Rehabilitation, patience, and forgiveness were some of your core beliefs. You also believed that good was in everyone, no matter what bad deeds they did, no matter how lost they seemed, with the right guidance and a voice of encouragement, you truly believed that anyone could redeem themselves. Because of this firm belief, you started a rehabilitation center in your kingdom which grew into the biggest and most successful rehabilitation center in the world.
Being the princess of a small country was hard, but this success gave your country exactly what it needed--money. Which sounded worse than it actually was. The world runs on money and your people weren’t exactly millionaires, but being paid to rehabilitate both petty and hardened criminals was surprisingly a great way to make money.
So much so that King T’Challa of Wakanda, an old childhood friend of yours, asked a favor from an American acquaintance of his. Tony Stark, owner of Stark Industries and Avenger, had been asked by his fellow Avenger, Thor, to seek a place for his trickster brother. You had heard all about New York in the news, but you never expected that to have an effect on your country. You weren’t so sure until Thor offered to pay in pure gold. That, you simply couldn’t refuse.
You stood on the runway, watching as the plane carrying your latest case began to touch down. The wind whipped your hair around your face, but your sunglasses protected your eyes. The wind settled once the plane came to a stop. The door opened and the first to exit was King T’Challa.
“Your Majesty,” you called. He smiled at you as he descended the stairs.
“Your Highness,” he greeted. He jogged over to you, skipping all formalities to give you a heartfelt hug. “It has been too long, old friend.”
“Much too long,” you agreed. A posse of people had followed him. Guards from Wakanda, Tony Stark, Thor, and his brother, Loki.
“Princess Y/N, this is my American acquaintance, Tony Stark.”
“Yes, Stark Industries precedes you.” He bowed to you respectfully.
“Your Highness, this is Thor and his troublesome brother Loki,” Stark said, gesturing to the two giant men beside him. Loki was bound in unique chains and had his face covered so you could only see his eyes.
“Welcome, gentlemen. We are happy to welcome you to our small corner of the world. If you all would follow me,” you said. You looped your arm through T’Challa’s, leading them to the facilities where Loki would be kept. “While your brother is a rather unique guest, we will be treating him like we treat everyone else here. Because of his abilities, he will be placed in a special room designed specifically for him.”
“How do you know it will hold Reindeer Games over here?” Stark asked, sending a pointed look to Loki. You smiled.
“I had a top engineer design it using advanced technologies that could put your entire company to shame,” you said. A smirk pulled at T’Challa’s mouth at the mention of his sister.
“You are very kind for doing this Princess Y/N,” Thor said. “I know with the right guidance, my brother will come back to who he used to be. Loki rolled his eyes at that, opting to look out the window. From the corner of your eye, you could see him staring at your reflection through the glass.
“It’s my pleasure.”