Marvel Preferences and Imagines (Taking Requests)

Just Someone to Confess to

A/n: So I went ahead and embraced my full New England accent in this. I put the "translations" at the bottom for your reference. Let me know if I missed any. Sorry about the ending. Didn't really know how to end it. This was a request from samantha2001wwe.

You glanced in the mirror one more time, scanning your eyes over the numerous bruises and cuts that you covered with makeup. They dotted your body like stars. Except they caused your muscles to clench and spasm under your touch.

You rolled the sleeves of your hoodie down over your arms, covering all the injuries that you had received from the night before. Thinking back, you couldn't even remember what you had done wrong this time.

Maybe you hadn't gotten a case of Sam Adams the last time you went to the packie? Maybe you forgot to pick up some Brigham's when you went to Hannaford?

Whatever you had down was enough to make your boyfriend sock you in the face hard enough to send you to halfway to Russia. Somehow, the bruise seemed to have faded enough for you to go to work today. It wasn't like you missed work.

Yesterday was the first day you had actually called sick to Avenger's Tower in your life. Thank the gods above no one was there to actually answer your call. It went straight to FRIDAY who seemed to know that something was off. But she didn't say anything and you thanked her for that.

You were about to grab your purse and walk through the door when your boyfriend barged into the room, totally ignoring the fact that you were walking towards the door. You hit each other with a definite smack, the noise echoing around the small apartment.

You instantly tried to as much space as you possibly could between the two of you. You knew that it was stupid to think that you could possibly disappear, but at that moment, you actually thought you could slip past your six foot three boyfriend without him noticing.

He let you get three steps past him before he whirled around and pulled you by the hair, back into the bathroom. He must not have noticed how much you were wincing. Or maybe he didn't care.

Either way, he threw you like a ragdoll into the bathroom, your face slamming against the sink. It was suddenly as if a sheet of red covered your eyes as you tried to open them. You could feel cool liquid begin to seep down onto your hands as the ringing in your ears slowly began to fade.

As it did, you can start to hear your boyfriend screaming at you to get the fuck off the floor. He yanked you up to your feet where you tried to balance as much as possible, but you couldn't help it as you slumped over on the counter.

You rubbed the spot above your forehead that made you scream internally at the pain. You couldn't let out a screech. Your boyfriend would beat you more if you did. As he said, a couple's argument should stay hidden to any outsiders.

You could barely register that he had drawn his fist back again until the doorbell rang. You tried to hide your relief as he set his fist by his side and marched furiously to the door, trying to see who had interrupted his punching session.

As he conversed with whoever was at the door, you pressed the bathroom door shut and sat down directly behind it so that you wouldn't be hit square in the face if he decided to storm back in again.

You could hear the faint conversation that sounded more like yelling than an actual civil conversation but decided that it wasn't worth moving from your spot. Well, it hadn't been until you heard the distinct knocking of your best friend Natasha.

"Y/n? I know something's wrong. It's kinda obvious. I got the boys here. All you gotta do is say something. Anything,"

You wanted to. You really did. But you didn't want Natasha to get hurt by him. Not that it would go down that way. But any possibility of her getting her hurt because of you would make you feel so guilty.

"Give him hell. Turn their heads. Gonna live life till we're dead." You heard Natasha quietly sing. You smiled through the pain. It was your song.

Years ago, before any of this crap happened to you, you and Natasha had been going through your music trying to find a song that the both of you could work out to without being too distracted. After a good thirty minutes of skipping through music, you finally landed on The Fighter by Gym Class Heroes.

Ever since then it had been your song.

"Give me scars, give me pain. Then just say to me, say to me, say to me" She continued, trying to get a response from you.

You studied the floor for about a minute, trying to convince yourself that everything was okay.

"There goes a fighter," you whispered, not sure if she heard you. But she did.

She did.

"So you want to tell me what happened?" She asked, raising an eyebrow. You studied your Ben and Jerry's Ice Cream. It was your favorite flavor, the one that only a selected few knew. You dug your spoon into the pint, leaving it standing up as you set the container aside for a minute.

"It...it wasn't supposed to be like this. He was supposed to be my Prince Charming, Natasha," You sighed, not really loving this conversation.

You didn't want to stop talking though. It was better to get it off your chest than to let it simmer for an extended period of time.

"I know hun. The "Prince Charming"s of this world are either actors or fictional characters. It's totally not fair. We save the world on a daily basis and what do we get as thanks? A government that hates us? People who think they can take advantage of us? It's stupid that we can't have a normal life like everyone else. Either we are treated like gods or demons. There is no in between," She ranted, running her hand through her newly dyed blonde hair.

"Nat, it's okay," You tried to calm her down by placing a hand on her thigh, but she only sighs.

"No, it's not. You deserve the world, y/n. Not some piece of trash," She whispered, pressing her hands onto her face.

"I second that," A new voice chimes in. You look up to see one of your favorite Avengers eating your ice cream and staring down at you with a deadly serious look.

"Sammy," You yelled, lunging for your ice cream. He backs up a bit, dodging your flailing limbs.

"Nope, sorry," he laughed, as you pout slightly. He takes a little bit on the spoon and brought it to your face as if you were a child again.

"Aweeee, cute," Natasha gushed at Sam's actions, before dragging you away to go train. You glanced back at Sam who winked at you just before you left the room.

So maybe your Prince Charming hadn't been so hidden in the first place. If only you would open your eyes.

New England Slang:

Packie - liquor store Sam Adams - beer

Brigham's - a type of ice cream Hannaford - food market