The doors to the Avengers Compound loomed invitingly. A smile stretched across your face as you approached, the familiar weight of anticipation settling in your chest. The Avengers felt like family, and even though you didn’t live with them, visits were sacred. As you walked inside, Friday’s cheerful voice greeted you.
“Requesting direction to the common room, please.”
A surge of excitement bubbled within you. Steve and Bucky had just returned from a long mission, and you’d been desperate to see them, to hear their voices, to simply *be* near them.
The common room erupted in a flurry of welcomes. Clint, Sam, and Tony engulfed you in a large, shared hug. Natasha, ever reserved, offered a quick high five. Bucky, though, was pulled into a long, familiar embrace.
“I’ve missed you so much!” you exclaimed, your voice brimming with genuine affection.
“I’ve missed you too, sparky,” he replied, slowly pulling back from the hug. The nickname, a reminder of the experiments you’d both endured at the hands of Hydra, always felt…right. You were gifted with the ability to manipulate electricity, to channel it through your hands, releasing controlled bursts of energy. You inquired about the mission, wanting to hear every detail. Bucky provided a concise summary, his tone even.
“Where’s Steve?” you asked, looking around the room, a pang of longing hitting you. “I’ve missed him, and I really want to know how the mission went.”
Before you could continue your search, a woman’s voice, laced with hostility, cut through the cheerful chatter. A blonde woman approached, her eyes fixed on you with a cold, assessing glare.
“I’m his girlfriend. Who are you, exactly, and why are you so desperate to see him? I assure you, he doesn’t care about you half as much as he does about me.”
The others in the room began to move forward, ready to defend you, but you silenced them with a sharp look. All eyes in the room drew in breath, knowing that you have an insanely short temper that you couldn't help and that she just crossed the line.
“First of all,” you began, your voice dangerously low, “who the hell do you think you are? You haven’t even bothered to learn my name, yet you’re glaring at me like I’m some trespasser. You’re jumping to conclusions faster than Quicksilver can run.”
“ (Y/n/n), chill out—” Clint began, but you shot him a warning glare.
“Son, just don’t,” you snapped, dismissing his intervention with a flick of your wrist. He smirked, understanding you were going in on Sharon.
“Secondly,” you continued, your voice laced with steel, “I’m the girl who can add ‘ex’ to the front of any of Steve’s girlfriends. Especially ones who treat people they haven’t even met like dirt, let alone anyone else, and who have the personality of a teaspoon. So, how did my brother’s mission go, bitch?” A smirk played on your lips as you watched her eyes widen, her composure cracking.
Sharon’s mouth opened to retort, but she found herself unable to form a coherent response. The word “brother” echoed in her head, a revelation she couldn’t reconcile. Small sparks crackled at the tips of your fingers, a visible manifestation of your building rage. They dissipated as you waited for her to make her move.
“What is going on here?!” Steve’s voice boomed, drawing attention back to the center of the room. Sharon’s face was a mask of shock, and you wore a mischievous smirk. She glanced at you before running to Steve.
“She threatened me!”
“What?!” you yelled in disbelief, your voice laced with incredulity. Sharon looked to the others in the room for help, thinking that she had a good bond with them but no one will have a bond with them like you do.
“No she didn’t—”
“She wouldn’t do that—”
“That’s a lie—” The Avengers’ voices rose in a chorus of protest, desperate to be heard.
“Steve, she didn’t,” Bucky said sternly, placing a hand on Steve’s shoulder.
“But you’d believe your girlfriend over people who are just your friends, right?” Sharon asked, her voice dripping with saccharine manipulation. “I wouldn’t lie.”
Steve looked conflicted. “Friday, bring up the CCTV footage from the last ten minutes.”
The room fell silent as the footage played, showing Sharon’s initial confrontation, your pointed retort, and the sparks igniting at your fingertips. The footage ended as Steve entered the room. He turned and looked at Sharon.
“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice firm, “but I don’t think I can be with someone who speaks to my sister like that.”
“What?” Sharon asked, utterly shocked. “But you heard what she said!”
“She can’t help that. If you antagonise her, that will happen.” He said angrily. “I think you should leave.”
“Fine, I don’t need you anyway.” Sharon spat, storming out of the room. You watched her go, and that’s when you realised what you did. You snapped. You thought you had it under control, that you could control the temper that came with your ptsd and past trauma. Tears welled up in your eyes as you felt disappointed in yourself for getting angry.
You closed your eyes, fighting back the tears. Suddenly, a pair of arms wrapped around you. Slowly opening your eyes, you saw Natasha, smiling softly, hugging you gently. Another pair of arms joined, then another, until you were enveloped in a warm, collective embrace. You giggled as they all let go, leaving you face to face with Steve. He pulled you into the biggest hug he’d ever given you.
“I’ve missed you, (y/n/n),” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.
“I’ve missed you too! So, how was your mission?” you asked, finally allowing yourself to relax in his embrace.