Avengers (x reader) one shots

"This coffee is awful." blank stares met his statement but he'd stand by it.
"No really, Dum-e could make a better coffee than this and it'd almost definitely include oil and other non-indigestible substances. I'm going to get some from that little shop down the street. Anyone else want some?" He asked fingers, still wet, pointing in everyone's faces.
"Tasha? Popsicle? No. okay then, see you all later, meet you at home". Spinning on his heels Tony strides out of the blank room through the double doors, the overwhelming smell of antiseptic and hints of something metallic assaulting his nose. Behind him the sounds of a brief scuffle sound as Natasha grips tightly to Steve's arm, ensuring he doesn't follow and smearing red on his white sleeve.
"Don't, Steve." A glare in addition to her icy tone.
"What do you mean dont? Look at him! He's going to get coffee. The apparent 'love of his life'" he says mockingly emphasizing his point with finger quotation marks "is in their fighting for their damn life and he's going for coffee and you want me to just LET HIM?!" Jarring his arm free as he throws himself into a stiff backed chair Steve breathes angrily, seething with anger at Tony making this all about him AGAIN.
"Shut up Steve. You know full well Tony doesn't deal well with situations like this" Natasha states forcefully refusing to meet his eyes, instead glaring just over his shoulder.
"Or hospitals, or being upset, or anything to do with emotions at all really" Clint tacks on unhelpfully. Natasha wilts at this, she knows it's bad, she knows Tony should have stayed and been there for you but she also knows Tony and she understands why he left, even if it is a hard thing to accept.

Frantic breathing and muffled sobs catch in his throat as he leans on the side of the bathroom wall. He couldn't even make it out of the hospital before it became too much.
Blood. That’s all he see around you. The memory of you being all he could hear, smell, taste and feel . He didn't expect the pain to be this consuming, he couldn't feel anything but panic, which… isn’t a good thing, but he couldn't stop thinking about it. He just couldn't breath, no matter how hard he pressed his eyes closed and sucked in air, it just. wasn't. working. The memories just kept coming, the image of you surrounded in red, arms around yourself as if you were giving yourself one last hug was burned into his brain.

She'll wake up. I have to be strong for her. I have to see her again... not just that one last time.

You were all he could think of and yet, the more he thought about it the more unstable he felt. Thinking back on it made him nauseous but he couldn't shake the ringing in his ears, the sound of silence whilst he clung to you deafening him in a way not even the Jericho could, the phantom scent of blood still stuck in his airways, choking the air from his lungs and blocking his throat, filling his nose with the scent of death, making him sick to his stomach once more. Staring at his hands he can still feel the way your body hung in his arms when he picked you up, the way your head lolled and your hair, stained red from the pool surrounding you brushed against the bare skin on his arms. How could he let this happen? He knew, he KNEW they'd come for you, they all knew. That's why he insisted you moved into the compound with them as soon as. He didn't think they'd come for you so quickly though.
He's a failure, an idiot, a disgusting excuse for a person let alone a friend and lover. Clenching his fists, the blood cracks and flakes in his hands, pulling his skin and dusting the floor. He's suddenly overcome with an overwhelming feeling of horror at the sight, as if finally comprehending what it is he is covered in. His breathes sticks is his throat ones more as he frantically scrambles for the sinks turning the tap and scrubbing his hands relentlessly to get all the blood off, he scrabbles at his hand before climbing higher to cleanse his arms too, chucking water everywhere in his panic and smearing blood over the pristine sink.
It has to come off, i need it off, it's hers, i shouldn't have it. How could i have done this, it's all my fault, i can't believe i let this happen. Im a disgrace, i don't deserve her, it's all my fault, why does she love me, how can she love me, its all my fault, i couldn't protect her, it's all my fault, i should have seen this coming, it's all my fault, i should have planned for this, it's all my fault, it's all my fault. it's all my fault, it's all my fault, ITS. ALL. MY. FAULT.

Natasha's heard snaps up at the faint sound of agonized shouting and shattering glass. Immediate panic hits as she recognizes that shout, hoping hydra isn't coming to finish the job but knowing in her heart that the only enemy with Tony right now is himself, she jumps to her feet, with a glance at the others she knows they heard and recognize it too, following the continuous angry shouts they all stop outside of a disabled bathroom only 2 hallways down from where they were.
"Let me go" She speaks softly, knowing what she'll find on the other side. Nods of confirmation come from the others as they settle themselves around the hallway, intending to stop others from getting caught up in their happenings.
Noticing the lock says open, and knowing paranoid Tony Stark is incoherent enough that he didn't lock the door, she carefully slides it open steeling her face when it almost slips in shock at the sight she sees.
Water. Everywhere. And a broken tap continuing to spray the room, painting a spotless white bathroom pink as rivulets of dirtied water flow from where tony is flopped in the corner as if he lost all feeling in his legs and just folded where he stood, shards of glass reflect up from the water and litter the floor as well as Tony's arm as the blood continues to flow from his wrecked knuckles.
"Had a fight with the mirror" he huffs tiredly, turning his broken hand this way and that as if inspecting the damage done to it.
"It looks like it won" Natasha replied quietly, no hint of anything in her voice, worried how Tony might react to perceived pity or sorrow from her in his current state. A short breath came from Tony as he snorted at the obvious statement.
"You can say that again" staring at the ceiling he felt strangely numb and exhausted, as if his emotions had been wrung out and then cut off from him. Silence stretched as neither spoke, Natasha in an attempt to give Tony the space and time he needed to process, Tony just due to his bone deep exhaustion from the earlier panic attack he had.
"Come on then Stark, lets get you tidied up" Lifting from under his armpits, with little help from the man himself, Natasha got him to his feet with his arm hooked around her shoulder.
"She'll live." A statement of fact fell from her lips, needing to be said.
"And how do you know that huh?" tony said, his attempt at aggression falling short and sounding weak in his tired state.
"because there is no other option" As if that simple statement could make it so.

Together they hobbled back down to wait outside your room, the others falling in behind them.
As Tony dozed in his chair next to your bedside, the beeping from the machines lulling him to sleep and the stitches in his hand dull from pain meds a spark of hope flared inside him as he remembered Natasha's words.
"You better wake up. You owe me after that phone call" he slurred grabbing onto your hand, the fluttering of your eyes going completely unnoticed by him as he fell peacefully into his slumber.