Avengers x reader imagines

But...you died?

I died today.

I'm not actually dead, I'm under disguise. I'm using the neat mask Tasha used during the attack of the Winter Soldier.

So I'm officially dead. I hate it.

Why would this bother me? Well, it's not too bad being a new person.

What bothers me is the people who think I'm dead. The only ones who know I'm still alive are Tony and Tasha. That's it. The end.

Any questions?

Well, the hardest part of today was walking out of the compound...and passing all the Avengers.

They'd just received the news that I was dead.

The only reason they couldn't know was because if they did, the possibility of putting more people in danger was higher, Tasha said. They can't know or they'll get hurt, Tasha said.

You'll ruin the mission, Tony said.

But...what about all the people I'll hurt in the process? I am an agent. A SHIELD agent. We're supposed to be very good at our job, and I am! But...I think I've hurt too many people..and I really want to tell them I'm okay.

I passed Steve and Bucky outside my 'hospital room'. Bucky was covering his face with his hands, shoulders shaking. Steve was staring at the floor, and sniffling every so often.

Sam stood in the main entrance, leaning on the window and not moving. Bruce had been staring at the same spot on the same page for the past half hour. Wanda was full on sobbing, hiding nothing. Clint hugged her tightly, letting tears fall onto her hair, which Vision smoothed out.

Even he looked sad.

Thor and Loki sat in silence, Loki occasionally sniffling.

Thor remained still.

Tasha played her part well, sobbing into her arms while Tony managed to let a few tears fall as well.

But the worst was Peter.

"When you go on a mission, you have to come back," Peter sobbed. "That's-that's the rule."

I remained silent. He couldn't know.

"Wh-why didn't she come home?" He asked himself. His voice was broken, and from the looks of it, so was his heart.

I had come home. In disguise. But I couldn't tell Peter, and that beat me up so badly.

Right now he sat by himself on the concrete pad outside Stark's compound, waiting for Happy to bring the car around.

I stood behind him, a few feet back, watching him.

Crying.

Almost as hard as he was. "Why didn't she come home," he kept repeating.

I felt so sick. My stomach wanted to give up on me, and my inner monologue was saying, 'don't tell him don't tell him don't tell him Tasha would kill you' all over again and again.

But there was Peter, handsome as always, but broken and sobbing, looking lost and confused.

And he thought I was dead.

But I wasn't. I was right here.

But Tasha made me promise I wouldn't give in, because it could put Peter and myself in more danger.

And I couldn't do that.

But as I sat down beside him, just as an act of comfort, Wanda gasped and looked up at me.