avengers x male reader (requests are open)

BRUCE BANNER

[Norway – Remote S.H.I.E.L.D. Outpost | 7:42 PM]

The wind off the fjords was quiet but carried a chill. Fog clung to the jagged rocks outside the outpost, and the steady hum of generators echoed beneath it all.

Inside, fluorescent lights flickered above humming servers and stacked data cores. Researchers moved in and out of labs with tablets and coffee mugs in hand.

Bruce Banner stood near a window, sipping tea and squinting at a new set of data readings on his tablet. His hair had grayed at the temples, and though peace rested on his face, his shoulders carried the same old weight. His hands trembled—barely—but he noticed.

He always noticed.

“Dr. Banner?” a voice crackled through the intercom.

He turned.

“We just received a visit from a UN-affiliated science liaison,” the receptionist said. “Said he requested to meet you directly.”

Bruce frowned. “What’s their name?”

A pause. Then:

“[Y/N] [L/N].”

His heart stopped.

[Five Minutes Later – Main Hallway]

You walked through the corridor with practiced ease, a portfolio in hand, your gaze scanning the sterile walls. Years had passed since you’d last seen him. You wondered if he’d still recognize you — if time and scars had changed you too much.

Then you saw him.

Bruce stood at the far end of the corridor, frozen like a ghost caught in the light. His lips parted but no sound came out.

You offered a quiet, professional smile. “Dr. Banner.”

He blinked. “You… you’re here.”

You walked closer, each step echoing between you.

“Got an assignment up north,” you said. “Turns out they needed a gamma physicist with a background in radiation anomalies. Funny how that works.”

“You’re working with the UN now?” Bruce asked, dazed.

You nodded. “They trust me not to break things.”

A beat passed. Then he gave the faintest laugh — soft, sad, and full of something else.

You hesitated. “You look good, Bruce.”

He looked away. “You don’t have to lie.”

“I’m not,” you said. “You do. Older. A little more exhausted, maybe. But good.”

His eyes flicked back to yours, searching. “Why didn’t you ever write?”

You swallowed hard. “You left before I had the chance.”

[Lab – Moments Later]

You followed him into the lab — a space full of terminals and deep green screens. It was quiet save for the soft tapping of keys and the hum of machines.

“Still like green, huh?” you joked, eyeing the color scheme.

He gave a small smile. “It never really left.”

There was silence again — the kind that only fills spaces between people who used to love each other.

You leaned against a console. “Do you ever think about it?”

He didn’t ask what “it” meant. You both knew.

Bruce set the tablet down gently. “Every day.”

Your breath caught.

“I kept thinking it was safer for you,” he said, almost like a confession. “I didn’t know how to exist with you and still… be me. The Hulk, the danger, the running. You deserved better.”

You laughed softly, bitter. “You don’t get to decide what I deserved, Bruce.”

“I know,” he said, his voice cracking. “I know.”

You took a step closer. “You were it for me. I didn’t care about the running. I would’ve kept running with you. But you left. And you never came back.”

Bruce looked like he wanted to touch you — like the urge was muscle memory. But he didn’t.

“I didn’t think I’d ever see you again,” he said. “I dreamed of it. A thousand different ways.”

“And now?”

“I still don’t know what to say.”

You nodded slowly, then reached into your portfolio and pulled out a small photo. You handed it to him — and Bruce’s fingers trembled as he took it.

It was a photo from years ago. The two of you sitting on a rooftop in New York. He had his arm slung lazily around your shoulders, both of you laughing at something forgotten.

“I kept it,” you said quietly. “Everywhere I went.”

Bruce looked at you, voice low. “Why?”

You shrugged, eyes misty. “Because it was the only version of me that ever felt whole.”

He stared at the photo for a long time. Then, very gently, he set it down on the console, never taking his eyes off you.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “For everything.”

You took a slow breath. “Are you happy now? After all of it?”

“No,” he admitted. “But I’m… at peace. Sort of.”

“And do you think we’d have had a chance if things had been different?”

He nodded, eyes wet. “We were a chance I never stopped wanting.”

You exhaled, the weight of years pressing down on your chest. Then, slowly, you reached out — and he took your hand.

Not a kiss. Not a promise. Just a moment. Skin against skin. Present against the past.

“I’m here for a few weeks,” you said. “Maybe longer. We could… talk. No expectations.”

Bruce squeezed your hand. “I’d like that.”

You looked at him — really looked — and found something still familiar. Still yours.

And even though the years had taken much, maybe they hadn’t taken everything.