#marvul-original

[marvul-imagines]

Wattpad

AO3

"Tell me your name," he said, "First middle last, for the recording." He was Ward, speaking to her, through the bars in her cell. The cage he had tossed her limp, unconscious body into when he was done frying her to bits. He must have fed and watered her at some point, but she didn't remember it. She just knew it had been over three days and she wasn't dead. So somehow he had made sure she was still able to function. Why? What else could he possibly want from her? He had beat her, in this cell, too. Her left arm was broken she was fairly certain, and at least one of her back teeth was knocked loose, blood pooling in her mouth, coating her tongue in its coppery taste.

She had stood strong when it came to the questioning before. It was hard, sure, painful, incredibly so. But she couldn't just give up on her friends, her family. If she spoke up, all of them would die, too. She couldn't live with herself, knowing that. Not that she was going to live much longer anyways.

She knew that because he had told her, out there, back in that room, when he had gotten frustrated with her lack of response, with her lack of acceptance of her fate. He told her all about how he had her sister, tucked back in one of these rooms, how he had designed this place just for Mer, to enhance her fire abilities. She had taken that information well, knowing that he hadn't designed this place against her. That he didn't know about her special skill set, either. She still held out a small hope, that she would get out of here, even if that light was fading too.

Asia look up through the wire bars of the cage she was in, looking up at her captor, who was standing there, old fashioned hand camera in his palm, pointed at her. "Asia Penelope Monroe," she replied, spitting out some of her congealed blood and spit combination to the floor. "Agent of Shield."

[marvul-imagines]

I’m Going to Walk You Home - Tony Stark Drabble

“Thank for the dinner, babe. Even if I know you weren’t the one to cook it,” you stepped on your tip toes to kiss your boyfriend, Tony Stark, on his chiseled, slightly scruffy cheek. You had always loved that he was about a head taller than you. You usually hated such a height difference, but something about him just made you feel...protected. Safe. Warm.

Well, the warmness may have been the wine flowing through your blood stream. The two of you had already finished a few bottles. 

“Hey now, I may not have cooked it, but I definitely gave the cooks exact instructions on what you do and don’t like on your salads and steaks,” Tony pouted, placing a hand on both of your upper arms lovingly, then kissing you on the forehead. “And you know I’m taking lessons. I just don’t want to cook for you until I have it down perfect.”

“I think everything you do is practically perfect, but that’s beside the point,” you giggled, pulling out of his grasp and grabbing your purse and pea coat. “Now really, I have to go. It’s already dark out and I have an early day at the firm tomorrow.” You gave him a soft, sweet kiss on the lips, before spinning on your heel and marching out the door and into the chilly, New York winter air. It was snowing, just ever so slightly, and the lights of the city seemed to be trapped by the clouds, making the streets brighter than they typically were. 

Not that you were about to object. Even though your small apartment was only a couple blocks up the street from Tony’s, that didn’t mean you felt any safer walking there alone at night. Of course, you had the usual protections: keys between your knuckles, pepper spray...the Avengers on speed dial...and yet.

“(Y/N)!” You heard Tony’s familiar, soft voice call out behind you. Turning around, you found him leaning in his doorway, and a grin spread across your cheeks. “You don’t really think I’d let you walk home all alone, do you? Let me walk you back.”

You practically sprinted up his stairs to throw your arms around him and cover his face in kisses.Sure, many would have considered him walking you home the right thing to do, the gentlemanly thing. But you had reminded him on several occasions you were an adult, you didn’t need baby, or babysitting, and plus that. You’d lived in the city all of your life. You knew how to handle yourself.

But Tony making this gesture, showing that he cared about your well-being, it always made your heart skip a beat. Everyone thought of Tony as this rough-around-the-edges playboy who hid his feelings behind alcohol and sarcasm. But he was so much more than that. He was gentle, and caring. He remembered the smallest details about you, and your safety had always been his priority.

Somewhere between covering him in kisses and pulling back to smile at him, you realized your feet were no longer on the ground. Tony was cradling you tightly against him, iron suit covering half of his body and you flew through the air. 

“Oh, did I say walk?” He asked teasingly. “You’re dating Tony Stark, babe. You’ll never have to walk home again.”

[marvul-imagines]

Perfect Date

this fic was isntead to be for @thoughtsofdarc‘s 1k challenge but then hey. i procrastinated real bad and wrote like starts for three different ones and never finished and now. here we are. fully prepped for this to be bad as im not usually a one shot person but here we are.

summary: when y/n gets asked by clint barton what their idea of a perfect date would be, they never imagined anything more would come of it. time to find out just how wrong they were.

warnings: none really, mostly fluff. maybe a tad bit of implied sex? is that a thing? implied? idk, here we are.

prompts: “what is your perfect date?” + “the next time I’ll wear the dress“

word count: 2508

“Okay so,” he began, before taking a long pull from his beer of choice for that night, glancing around the circle, trying to pick his next target for this silly game. The question game. It was a ‘team building exercise,’ for your team, the Avengers, but was decidedly more fun while drinking than playing it sober. “Y/N” Clint Barton looked directly at you, as your name fell delicately out of his lips, almost challengingly. He had very nice lips, though you were pretty sure it was just the alcohol making you think that. You stared back at him, raising an eyebrow, waiting for his question.

“What is….” he mused for a moment, taking another sip of his own beer. “What is your perfect date?” He set his beer down hard on its coaster (Tony insisted they used coasters on his glass tables, or else) and leaned back into the couch, satisfied with his question.

You stared at him and let your mouth drop open, just ever so slightly, while you thought about his question. What was the last time you had even gone on a date?? Probably before you had joined the Avengers. Most normal people didn’t really understand what it was like to have the power you did, to be able to wield it. Most people were just interested in the fame. So it took a bit to remember, to imagine up, your perfect date.

“Well, I would want to be picked up. None of this wait outside and text that you’re here business,” you started, taking a sip from your drink. “It’s got to be real, and proper, if it’s going to happen at all. I’d like it to be raining, I think. Not pouring, but just a nice, warm, steady rain. I’d like to take a walk through the park together, under an umbrella, and eat a private dinner for two in a gazebo by candlelight.” You looked down at your lap, spinning your beer in your hand. “But if any of that couldn’t be arranged, I’d just want my perfect date to be quiet and peaceful. Meaningful, just the two of us.” You looked back up at Barton, raising an eyebrow. “Good enough answer for ya?”

Clint grinned, grabbing another beer and popping it open. “Much more detailed than I expected out of you, Y/N. Plenty good. Who's next?” And just like that, the night carried on.

The Avengers continued to ask themselves more and more personal questions until Tony and Clint had collapsed into fits of giggles and Natasha was thoroughly drunk and trying very hard not to show it. It was a good night, the kind of night you probably would have remembered forever, if you hadn’t started mixing beer and liquor a couple drinks later and wound up stumbling to the elevator to get in your uber. While Tony had obviously given you a suite in the tower, sometimes you just liked being in your own apartment, in your safe, happy space.

You practically fell into bed, barely haven’t a second thought about why the most handsome Avenger (in your personal opinion, not one you actually ever vocalized) had asked about your perfect date. In fact, you didn’t think about that night until a few weeks later, when storm clouds opened up over New York and the perfect, steady rain fell through the evening sky.

You heard the sound of the mailman dropping off your post and practically sprinted down the stairs to grab it. The last thing you want was your letters getting soaked through. It had happened before, the sudden storm making it impossible to read your bills, your letters, all the ink bled and ran like little drops of blood to the ground. Weren’t about to let that happen again, if it was up to you. But when you opened your heavy door, you were surprised to see a large, brown box, spattered with drops of water. Cautiously, you grabbed the box and brought it inside. You hadn’t been expected a package, and while no one in the outside world knew it was one of the Avengers living in this tiny, brick apartment shaded by large trees, you could never be too careful.

Opening the box delicately, you were surprised to find...a dress? Inside. It was soft, lavender in colour, and looked like it would hang on your body like dew. There was nothing else in the box but the soft dress. You checked the box for any sort of shipping address or label, a sign of where it had come from, but there were none. The hairs on the back of your neck slowly began to stand on end. Something wasn’t right here. This had to be some sort of trap. The dress was laced with something, and the second she put it on, her body would absorb some sort of poison. Closing the box, you grabbed a leather jacket off the hook and shrugged it on over your olive green tank. You had to find your phone and call Coulson. Might as well bring this sort of thing to SHIELD’s attention if someone was sending you threats.

After finding your phone, buried under a pile of clothes, you sent a quick text with a picture of the box and its contsense to the new Director of SHIELD and waited anxiously for a reply, when suddenly you heard three loud knocks on your door. Walking quietly towards the door, avoiding the floodboards that you knew were creaky, you stood on your tiptoes to look through the tiny peephole. What you saw outside was such a shock, you nearly tumbled backwards in disbelief. You had been expecting an attacker, whoever had sent that box, waiting in the eve of your stoop, shadow black against the soft grey sky.

Instead, there stood Clint Barton, in a button up shirt and a light rain jacket, holding a small bouquet of flowers in his hand, the other hand reaching up to knock on your door again. Before he could, you threw open the door and stood in front of him, eyeing him, then the flowers, your questioning gaze meeting his soft eyes.

“Clint,” you greeted, “What are you doing here?” For a moment, the two of you stood there, staring at each other as cool raindrops fell on your shoulders. His mouth opened and closed a few times, as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t quite get the words out right.

Finally he held the flowers up in front of him, soft and white, streaked with little lines of pink. “So, um, I had this idea. It was a pretty stupid idea, really,” he began, shrugging sheepishly. “It all started with that stupid question game the other week and, well, I don’t know. I’ve been thinking for a long time that you might want to, maybe, go on a date with me. So I set it up. Your perfect date.” He looked down at you with a quiet hope in his eyes.

You looked at the flowers that he still held in his shaking hands and a small smile slipped over your lips. You reached out, grabbing the small bouquet. “Let me go put these in a vase quick,” you said, “Then you can take me on this date of yours.”

You never knew anyone could look so beautiful as he did when he smiled back at you.

He had really done it, he had really listened to what you had said, orchestrated the whole thing. And he had waited, patiently, for the day where the rain had come and he could make sure that final touch was there. You could believe he had put all this time and effort into setting this whole thing up, just to make you happy. To really give you your perfect date.

As the two of you walked through the park, umbrella over your heads and fingers linked through one another, you could feel the anticipation growing. Things had always been so easy between you and Clint. He had helped you feel at home when you first joined the Avengers. He had made you laughed, helped you train. And while all the Avengers had become fast friends, something about him had just always clicked.  But you had never imagined it would lead to think. To a date. To his warm hand in yours and worrying if he could feel the sweat on your palms. Yet, here you were.

“I still can’t believe this,” you said quietly, barely loud enough to be heard over the rain pattering on the black umbrella he held above the two of you. You looked up at him and grinned. “It’s surprisingly pretty sweet, never would have thought you had it in you, Barton.”

“Well, Y/L/N, there’s a lot of things that you don’t know that I have in me,” he said with a laugh, before stopping, “Wait, that came out wrong,” he grinned down at you.

“Sounds oddly sexual but in a weird way,” you replied with a laugh. “Just how I like it.”

“Duly noted,” he said with a wink, “But we’ll have to get back to that later, cause we’re here,” he brandished his arms out wide, displaying the large gazebo before them. It was covered with flowers, the railings were practically dripping with them. Candles lined the stairs and there were three sitting on a circular table in the center of the gazebo, which had two plates, covered with silver dish lids, waiting for them. A bottle of red wine sat, waiting for the two of you to open and consume. The whole thing looked magical.

You gripped his forearm, giving it a tight squeeze. “Shut up! You did this all for me? This is amazing!” You gushed, unable to contain just how happy this had made you. No one had ever done something so personal for you. No one had ever tried this hard to make you happy. You weren’t one for crying, but in this moment you felt like you could.

“Pssh, this? This is nothing. You’re the amazing one here,” he said cheesily, full well knowing how corny he sounded, but not really giving a damn. This was your moment. The two of you, finally, on a date. Just like he had always imagined it, but even better. Because it was no longer imaginary. This was the real deal, you were finally here with him. He couldn’t ask for a better night.

You couldn’t help but blush and roll your eyes. “Alright now buddy, watch the cheese level. We haven't’ even started eating yet,” you pushed him playfully as the two of you walked up the steps to the table. He graciously grabbed your chair and pulled it out for you, allowing you to sit down in front of the meal. Then, with a playful air, he pulled the lids off your plates with a flourish, revealing your favourite meal. He must have gotten that secret from Nat.

Pouring you each a glass of wine, he sat down across the table from you. In this moment, this moment of quiet where the two of you were together, eating, drinking, everything was perfect. No one saw you as Avengers here, no one needed you to be heroes. You could just be Clint and Y/N. There was nothing more you had ever asked for. You smiled over at him happily, as you took a sip from your wine.

“Really, Clint, thank you for this,” you smiled shyly over at him. “I never thought...I never thought you’d be interested in someone like me. I always thought you just saw me as...I dunno, as family I guess.” You could feel the redness of your cheeks, which only added to the embarrassment you felt for opening up to him. Opening up had never been easy for you, letting people in had become even harder when people only wanted to get close to you for the fame. “You make me feel normal, a feeling I haven’t felt in a long, long time.”

Clint’s brow furrowed as he looked over at you. “Well I don’t know why you’d ever think I wouldn’t like you. Fuck, I thought I’d been dropping pretty good hints for like...the past year!” He laughed. “Apparently they weren’t that good. But seriously, Y/N.” He reached over the table, grabbing your hand. “When you joined the team, my entire world changed. I know you’ve had your own battles, we all have, but I want you to know that you bring light to the team. You are such a genuinely good person, and my day feels better just by being near you.” At this point, you did really have tears brimming in your eyes. “I know this is just the first date, but I want to keep going on them with you. I want there to be hundreds of dates. Because when something feels this good, you can’t just let it go.”

You sat there, stunned for a moment, touched by his words. Clint had always been the kind of hide his feelings behind sarcasm and wit, and now, here his was, bearing his soul for you to see. “I want that, too,” you replied, smiling and blinking away the tears. “I think we’re a good thing together, Clint. We fit together.”

“We do,” he grinned. “Now comeon’, let me bring you back home.” The two of you walked lazily back to your house, dancing around puddles and laughing the whole way back. This truly was a good, good thing.

It was on the stoop of your home that you shared your first kiss. He had been starting to say goodbye when you stood on your toes and kissed him sweetly, passionately. You wanted him to feel just how much this moment had meant to you, how he had touched your heart. His lips were soft and warm and melted into yours. His hand slipped behind your neck, cradling you close to him. Without a word, not wanting him to leave you just yet, you pushed open the door and pulled him inside.

Inside the house, your jacket’s fell to the floor as the kiss continued, heat searing across your body like lightning. No one had ever lit such a spark inside you. He lifted you up, having you wrap your legs around his waist as he carried you up stairs, laying you gently on your bed. He kissed you again there, then lead a trail of kisses down your cheek, your neck, your chest until he reached the button of your jeans.

“Clint, what are you doing?” You laughed, as he struggled to undo the button.

He looked up from your hips and grinned, wiggling his eyebrows. “Giving you a perfect date.”

You threw your head back laughing, the entire thing coming together. Between laughs, you managed to choke out, “Next time, I’ll wear the dress.”

[marvul-imagines]

friendly neighborhood hellraiser pt1

Libby stared at her reflection for a moment. It was just another day of school. Just another day at the place she considered her own personal hell. Not that was all that much different from the life of any other highschooler, if she was being honest. But what was a newly turned 18 year old to do? Her dad would have her head if she ever quit school. The guy watching over her now...her second adoptive father (that was another, much longer story) would probably kick her out of his new, sweet penthouse. Which wasn't exactly ideal either. She didn't want to be homeless. Adjusting the band on her black leggings, before fixing her red, cashmere sweater. It had been a gift from her adoptive father, Steve Rogers (that's right folks, you heard it here first) two Christmases ago. Before all this nonsense with the Sokovia Accords went down. Back when they were a family. Back when he wasn't missing. Back when she wasn't living under the watchful eye of Tony Stark.

The young blonde gave one last look at the mirror when Friday spoke. "Miss Rogers, your ride to school is waiting downstairs. How long should I tell him?" Her voice was always warm, if slightly robotic. It was what she imagined a mother's tone to be like. Not that she'd ever know.

So Libby sighed, pulling her wavy, ash blonde hair into a loose ponytail. "Tell Happy I'll be there in two minutes. Heading to the elevator now." Today was just going to be another day. Another day of being Captain America's adopted kid. It was nice being Libby Rogers for a while, it really was. After the Battle of New York, everyone really seemed to like having her around. Maybe it was only because of who her dad was, but, it was better than being ostracized. Which was what she was now. After everything that happened, her father and Tony fighting, the whole word watching, watching as her family fell apart and her dad was put on the most wanted list. It wasn't easy to say the least.

She grabbed her black backpack and slipped into her boots, before making her way out of her room and towards the elevator. "How's the forecast today, Friday?" she asked, as the metal shoot dropped her down, down, down.

"Cold, Miss Rogers. Currently 42 degrees. Rain is expected later today. Would you like an umbrella?" the voice automatically chimed back without missing a beat.

"No, that's ok," Libby replied, adjusting the straps on her bag. She liked the rain, even though it turned her long hair into a giant tangled mess. "Tell Tony I'll be back later than usual, I'm going to do some studying after school. I won't be long." She had a history project coming up and wanted to do some work away from her new, hightech home. Ever since Tony had taken her in, school had been ten times easier, what with a computer that would literally answer all her questions. But that wasn't how Libby liked doing things. She liked working stuff out on her own. She wanted her report to be 100% Libby Rogers built.

"Will do. Enjoy your day at school, Miss Rogers," Friday said as Libby exited the building and walked to the curb, where Happy Hogan was waiting, black car parked and purring, back door opened for her. The tinted windows were there as usual, only the best bullet proof Stark money could buy. Or invent.

"Good morning, Miss Rogers," Happy greeted in his thickly accented voice. You could tell this guy was raised out east just buy hearing him speak.

"Happy, I told you to call me Libby. Seriously," the blonde replied with a roll of her green eyes. "Just because Tony is your boss doesn't mean I need any special treatment."

"Yea, yea, I know Libby. I'm sorry, let's just get in and get you on your way," he replied, helping her into the car with a small grin, before slamming the door tightly. It would be a quick ride to school, even with traffic.

Libby relaxed into the car seat, pulling up her phone and browsing the news. Only thing remotely interesting was how the local hero (besides either of her fathers) Spiderman had stopped yet another bank robbery. The guy hadn't been in the news for long, but he sure was making a name for himself. It must have been nice, being able to do some good in the world. That was one thing Libby always struggled with. Being around all these amazing people, yet never being able to do anything quite so powerful, quite so good. Her father had done so much good before he had gone into hiding. She missed him so much.

She shut her phone and shoved it into her bag, staring out the window instead, jaw clenched as she rode out the wave of sadness washing over her. She didn't even noticed Happy studying her in the rear-view mirror. He hated seeing her this way, the way she always got when she was thinking about her family. He knew she put up a strong front, but that didn't make it any easier on the poor kid. Regardless of what she said, he knew better. Things could not have been as easy at school as she was always saying. He'd have to drop a note to Mr. Stark later, tell him to follow up or something. Tony would figure something out, he always did.

"Alright kiddo, here we are," Happy announced, pulling up infront of Midtown School of Science and Technology. "Just give me a ring when you're ready for a ride home, or whatever you need, alright?" He said, opening the door for her, even though she always asked him not to. It made people stare, she always protested. But he did it regardless, every day. It was chivalrous. And kind of his job.

"Alright Happy, see ya," Libby replied with a small wave as she slipped her headphones over both ears, drowning out everything else as she put Imagine Dragons on Spotify.

She walked lazily into the school, slipping between crowds and bystanders, not really paying attention. No one waved to her anyways, no one stopped to say hello. No one ever did, not since half of the Avengers had become Public Enemies. Not since the FBI pulled her out of her science lab to interrogate her on the location of Steve Rogers. No one wanted to be friends with the girl whose dad turned out to be the bad guy. Which he didn't, not really. He just didn't want a set of laws determining when he could or couldn't save someone's life. Libby understood it, she got it so well. That was part of the reason she loved her father so much, he was so effortlessly good. So right. He was Captain America for a reason, even if he wasn't really following that moniker anymore. He was still the best in her eyes, anyways. Always had been since he'd rescued her from another year of foster home living. That was why she spent half of her free time now researching him, trying to find the latest sightings of Steve Rogers, man on the run. He had to be out there somewhere. She would find him, eventually.

She was so lost in thought that she didn't see the locker door open right in front of her, knocking her flat to the floor. She practically saw stars as she rubbed her forehead, knowing there would probably be a bump there later.

"Peter, what the hell?" She heard a low voice say. "How can you have these great senses and not even notice a person right in front of you?"

"Ned shh," another male voice replied. As Libby blinked, looking up, and found herself staring into a set of caramel brown eyes, and a pale hand extending down towards her. "Hey, I'm, um, really sorry. That was completely my fault. Wasn't paying attention."

"You don't say," Libby replied dryly, but she accepted his hand, letting him pull her up from the floor. He did it with almost surprising ease. Her eyes narrowed as she studied him. He had cropped brown hair, almost the same colour as his eyes, and wore a baggy shirt that almost hid how broad his shoulders were.

"You're, um, Libby, right? Libby Rogers?" He asked again, scratching the back of his head.

"Holy shit, Peter, you just knocked Captain America's daughter to the ground!" his friend elbowed the guy, presumably Peter, in the ribs. "Tony Stark is probably going to string you up from the top of his building using whatever that super strong stuff you-"

The guy covered his friend's mouth with his hand, glaring at him. "We don't talk about that here," he whispered, but Libby still heard him. After he removed his hand, he turned back to the blonde girl. "Seriously, Libby, I'm so sorry. Let me make it up to you somehow. Have lunch with us or something?"

Libby could practically feel her heart leap out of her chest. Someone wanted to have lunch with her? That hadn't happened in months. "Um sure," she replied, trying to sound as cool as possible about it, even though inside she was ridiculously excited. Embarrassingly so. Who got this excited about lunch anyways??

"Ok, cool, cool," The guy said again, adjusting the backpack that hung lazily over one of his shoulders. "I'll see you around then," he said, starting to walk off with his friend.

"Wait," she said suddenly, stopping him in his tracks. He swiveled around, piercing her with those brown eyes again. She knew them, from somewhere. Where had he seen him before? Besides school, obviously. Something about him seemed too familiar. "I never got your name," she said, cautiously.

He grinned back at her, walking backwards down the hall as he replied back, "The name's Peter. Peter Parker."

[marvul-imagines]

“Aren’t you on a mission??”

        “Yea but I had a little free time, just wanted to hear your voice.”

[marvul-imagines]

[marvul-imagines]

[marvul-imagines]