Marvel; Imagines and Preferences

Heartbreak

Tony Stark:
       You cradle Tony in your arms as he cried out for his mother, "Tony..."
    You wept silently for the loss of Mr. And Mrs. Stark, but kept it private due to Tony's emotional state. You held him for hours for hours until he sat up, looking you dead in the eye, "Get out."
      Confused by his brash words, you put a hand on his cheek, "What?"
    He cleared his throat, "Get. Out."
      Eyebrows furrowed, you stand from your seat, "I know this is a shock to you, but please don't shut me out. I'm only trying to help, believe me."
      He rises from the couch, "Get out, goddamnit! Get out!"
      You back away towards the front door, tears welling in your eyes, "Please tell me you're not going to hurt yourself. Promise me that much, Tony."
      He nods, his eyes practically burning through the door, "Leave. Now."
     Twisting the nob gently, you swing open the door, making your way to Tony once again, pulling him into a tight embrace, "I love you, Tony. Pleas don't shut me out. Keep in touch. I'm just a call away."
      With that, you step out the door, closing it behind you. You remained at his front steps for a while before walking home. You half expected a call, but you never got one. Tony was out of your life, but you were too busy sobbing to ask why he chose not to be a part of your life anymore.

Steve Rogers:
"Steve, I understand that Bucky means a lot to you. But this can't keep happening. We have a son now. He needs you. You can't keep leaving to go on a wild goose chase," You say with a sigh after tucking your newborn son into his crib for the night, "All this time you're spending searching for Bucky could be time spent with your James."
"James is okay. He has you. And I spend plenty of time with him," Steve responds, running a hand through his hair nervously.
You quirk an eyebrow, "You see him for less than an hour a day. You come home when he's ten minutes from going to bed. You're leaving for work ten minutes after he wakes up. He loves you. He doesn't understand now, but he will when he's older if this continues."
"Work's been hectic lately," He frowns, resting chin on his palm, his blue eyes meeting yours.
"I get it. Work's not exactly easy here, either. But, here I am, spending quality time with my son," You grumble, "I know that your job is demanding. I get that you can't be here with us all the time. But you spend a third of your time looking for Bucky. You could be spending that with James."
Steve looks you straight in the eyes, hissing, "Bucky was my best friend. He always will be. I thought he was dead. But he's alive. He's out there somewhere. I've just gotta find him."
"And I have no problem with that," You groan, "But I do have a problem with you not spending time with your son."
"So you want me to stop looking for my long lost best friend, Bucky, who I found out was alive after thinking he was dead for years- and you want me to quit my job?" He says, rather angrily and standoffish.
Your temper begins to escalate, "You know better than to put words in my mouth, Rogers."
"Why is that, Rogers? Do you think I have trouble reading in between the lines? If you want me to leave, I'll go. If you want to leave, you know where the door is," He snaps.
Tears begin to well in your eyes, your throat beginning to burn, "You're not the man I married."
"Who did you marry, then?"
"I married the love of my life. The Steve who cared about my wellbeing and had hopes and dreams for the future, who was generous, strong, and kind," You huffed, your voice cracking as a few tears began to roll down your cheeks.
"You're the one who said yes."
Your brows furrow, "You said 'I do'."
He scoffs at your comment, "So did you, Rogers."
Shaking your head, you sit up from your spot at the table, pushing your chair in once you're out. You wipe the tears from your cheeks, stifling a sob, rushing to your room, your head hitting the pillows, the pillowcase wet beneath your face as you cried endlessly.

Clint Barton:
       You had been at a bar with Clint, knocking back drinks one after another.
       Finally, after two hours of drinking, you were both drunk and nearly falling out of your stools, laughing uncontrollably.
        You started to lean sideways, falling into him, a smile on your face as he tucked a piece of hair behind your ear, kissing you slowly.
         You kissed him back, wrapping your arms around his neck as he threw a stack of bills into the table, the two of you moving outside.
        It was raining, causing the both of you to get drenched. Once you made it to his car, nothing could stop the two of you. Not the thunder in the distance, nor the lightning.
        You had been friends- now you were more.
      When you woke up, at around three or four in the morning, you groan, sitting up slightly. Looking over, you see Clint, stretched out beside you, the seats in the back put down due to the activities of the night.
         Clint stirred beside you, throwing an arm over your waist and pulling you beside him once again.
         Then he woke up, his eyes wide as he pushed himself away, "Shit."
      You sat up once again. You ran a hand through your hair with a sigh.
         Clint did the same, "How did this happen?"
      He frantically moved to the front of the car, getting in the drivers seat as you made your way into the passengers.
        Your eyes meet his, and he bows his head, "This was a mistake- and I'm sorry. It can't happen again."
       As much as it hurt you, you nodded, "I know."
       The back of your throat burned as he began to drive you home. He wasn't nearly as hungover as you were, thankfully.
        However, that wasn't the last time. You continued your activities. And you didn't regret a thing. You just wish it didn't hurt so much when he left.