Loki Laufeyson:

"Y/N, you're to take over the watch on the Hulk's cell," you were told one morning as you walked into the control room on the Helicarrier.

Your eyes widen. "What?" Everyone knows who they keep in there.

Fury gives you a look. "This is your job now, Y/N. See to it."

You sigh. You can't believe you have to spend all day with the man - monster - who murdered your family. "Yes, sir," you mutter.

Tony Stark:

Nervously you give yourself a last look in the reflected image on the glass doors of Stark Tower, before stepping inside.

A woman with ginger hair is followed by, unmistakeably, Tony Stark. "Pepper, I do not need you to attempt to pick your replacement again! I can function perfectly well on my own."

"Don't make me laugh," the woman, Pepper, snapped back at him. "I went on holiday once. If you call that functioning-"

By this time, your temper is beginning to rise. You've spent hours preparing for this, and he doesn't even want an assistant? "Do you want me here or not? Because if you don't, I have other things to do with my time."

"Aha! Now this one? This one I like," Tony says suddenly, grinning. He walks up to you and wraps an arm around your waist. "Can I keep it?"

You appear to have got the job. You're not quite sure whether or not that's a good thing.

Steve Rogers:

You're sitting on a park bench, engrossed in a book. And yes, it's Harry Potter. What else would it be? Then, a man slumps down on the other side of the bench. He's clearly tired, panting and sweaty. Probably just been running.

You risk a quick glance at him. He's also really hot. And you don't mean temperature.

And then you look again. And gasp. "It's you!"

He looks round at you. "Sorry?"

"You're that guy who saved me from the aliens... The guy with the shield... Um... I know, Captain America, isn't it?" You hope you're right. Because if you're not, that would be really awkward.

He nods. "Steve Rogers. Nice to meet you." He offers a hand and you shake it. Slightly too enthusiastically, but he doesn't seem to notice. A smile creeps across his face. "Hey, weren't you the one who hit an alien in the face with a book?"

You blush. "Um, maybe."

Clint Barton:

Who even knows when you met Clint? You too were childhood friends - together since day one. And let's face it, "Clint Barton and Y/N Y/L/N, go to the principal's office right now," wasn't exactly an uncommon occurrence during that time.

You're always the one he can rely on, who brings him up when he's down, who's always there to encourage him when he thinks he can't take a single step further.

And you admire him. You know why? Because he's the only one who spent years working on his skills to become an Avenger, of his own choosing, through hard work.

Thor got his magic powers simply by existing. Natasha was brainwashed into it in the Red Room, and got special training. Bruce and Steve got their powers by science. Tony only made the first suit to survive, in a few days.

Clint got three archery lessons and you stole him his first bow and arrows, telling him that it was yours, so that he'd take it.

He has a bow and arrows, you have words, throwing knives and assassin skills you learned from Natasha. Together, you're SHIELD's best duo, HYDRA's worst nightmare, and the ultimate partners in crime.

Bruce Banner:

I believe your first reaction when seeing your new job was, "Why the hell did I sign up for this?"

  Tony was drinking. Steve was glaring at Thor. Thor was raising Mjølnir threateningly. Natasha was whispering, "Fight! Fight! Fight!" Hawkeye was shooting arrows at Tony's glasses just before he drank, making him yell increasingly incoherent insults at him. Bucky had just accidentally broken the Iron Man suit abandoned on the sofa with his metal arm and was trying to cover it up. Pietro was running rings around his sister while she attempted to hit him with her magic, destroying half the room as she did so. Vision was away on a mission, and the Falcon was flying around, clearly drunk, yelling insults at everybody.

  And you have to manage these people. Good luck with that.

  "Sorry about them. You're the manager, right?"

  You turn to see a man with dark hair and an apologetic-looking expression. "Um, yeah, I'm Y/N Y/L/N. Are they..." You look around and dodge a burst of Wanda's powers, unconsciously synchronized with the man. "Are they always like this?"

  "They have their good days and bad days. Tony just got most of them drunk. I try to stay out of it." He shrugged. "Wouldn't want the other guy to make an appearance."

  Oh. You have a mental eureka! moment as you realise who this. Bruce Banner, otherwise known as the Hulk. "Well, it's nice to meet you, Dr Banner."

  He smiles. "Please, call me Bruce."

Thor Odinson:

You work in a pet shop, along with a friend of yours. Yesterday, however, he tripped over your foot accidentally, and he's now at home with a sprained ankle. So you had to fill in for him.

You're checking how much money you've made when a tall man walks straight into the store. "I need a horse!"

You raise an eyebrow. "We don't sell horses. We sell dogs, cats, hamsters, gerbils, mice, rats, fish..."

"Just give me something big enough to ride."

Bucky Barnes:

When you became qualified as a psychiatrist you didn't exactly expect that to lead you to where you are now. Working for SHIELD.

  It turns out that people who have to fight and kill for a living need a psychiatrist bad.

  "We have a new one in. He needs... A lot of work."

  You shrug. "They all need a lot of work, Fury. These people are crazy." Not exactly the most diplomatic way to put it, but you're no diplomat. That's how to get through to assassins, spies and superheroes, it turns out - talk to them true and talk to them fierce.

  "Not as much as this one. His name's Bucky Barnes, or the Winter Soldier."

Pietro Maximoff:

"Somebody's angry." The cocky Russian voice makes your heart sink. "What did that punchbag do to you?"

  You've never actually met him properly, but you've seen and heard him once or twice when Skyping your best friend, Wanda, while you were away on a long mission, and you've seen him around the place, visiting your you-forget-how-many-greats-there-are uncle, Steve Rogers. And what you know, you don't like. Okay, you sorta do, but you do not need that idiot right now. You ignore him and focus on destroying that punchbag.

  "Anger management issues and a fan of the silent treatment, no? I see why my sister likes you. She relates."

  You hit with a particularly vicious punch. "I do not need your **** right now, Pietro Maximoff."

  "Language, Y/L/N. What would Rogers say?"

I just finished writing this and it's now 01:54 am. Yay, not.