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societyfolklore · 3 months ago

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We Couldn’t Stop

Title: We Couldn’t Stop Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader x Steve Rogers

Summary: During a sweep of a forgotten HYDRA lab, you, Steve, and Bucky trigger an old aerosol dispersal system. No one realizes what hit you until it’s too late. Now stuck in quarantine- burning, aching, and caged in with two dominant, unraveling super soldiers- you’re forced to ride out the drug’s effects together.

Word Count: 7k

Warnings: / Explicit Content /18+, Minors DNI, Sex Pollen / Drugged Lust, Threesome MFM, Dubious Consent (due to drug influence), Double Penetration, Oral (F & M receiving), Praise Kink, Rough Sex/Overstimulationm Fingering, anal ply, cum play, Competitive Doms

A/N: my entry for @avengers-assemble-bingo for April Kinky Bingo Square: A3- Threesome Card Number: KB003

The mission was supposed to be a simple sweep- an old HYDRA lab buried deep beneath the forest floor, long abandoned, just a routine retrieval run for leftover tech and encrypted files that could pose a threat if they fell into the wrong hands. You, Steve, and Bucky had done that sort of thing more times than you could count. Clear the rooms, grab the drives, secure any volatile tech, and call for extraction. In and out. Easy.

You should’ve known better the moment you stepped inside. The facility was too quiet, too intact. Dust settled thick on the floors, but the lights still flickered dimly overhead, and the security systems were half-alive, humming low like they were waiting.

You were the one who found the sealed door- reinforced, heavily protected, and drawing power. It was locked down tight, tucked at the end of a corridor where the flickering lights didn’t quite reach. You called the others over.

"You think it’s storage?" Bucky asked, frowning at the biometric pad.

"Locked and powered," you muttered. "Could be data. Or maybe just a lab they forgot to scrub."

"Let's not poke the bear," Steve said, but he stepped up beside you anyway, scanning the door. "Looks like it's sealed for a reason."

That should've been the moment you backed off. But your fingers were already dancing over the keypad, overriding the old security system. The panel blinked. Clicked.

"I’ve almost got- "

The door hissed. Not wide- barely a few inches.

A soft spray hit you all in the face.

It came fast. Silent. A puff of pressurized mist like compressed air, followed by the faintest scent- ozone, chemical sweetness, almost floral.

You stumbled back, coughing once.

"What the hell was that?" Bucky barked, wiping his face with his sleeve.

Steve grabbed your arm, pulling you away from the door. "You okay? Did you breathe it in?"

"Yeah, but- I don’t feel anything."

"We’re all covered in it," Bucky snapped, glaring at the faint sheen settling over Steve’s shoulders. "Fucking hell."

"Close it," Steve ordered.

Bucky slammed the door shut, sealing it again with a growl. "Old security measure. Shit."

"We’ll report it," Steve said, but his jaw was clenched.

The spray clung to your skin. Sweet. Heavy. And whatever it was, it was in all three of you now.

~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~

By the time the jet touched down back at the compound, you were already flushed and aching, your heart thudding too fast in your chest. Whatever had come out of that door- it clung to your skin, settled in your lungs, and made everything inside you feel off. You weren’t the only one affected. Bucky was pacing the perimeter of the quinjet like a caged animal. Steve hadn’t spoken for the last twenty minutes, but his white-knuckled grip on the back of a seat said everything.

You’d hoped the decontamination shower would be the end of it. But blood was still taken. Swabs run over your skin. Scans. More questions. Until finally, they left the three of you in the quarantine room- one sterile space, no outside contact, and cameras in every corner.

You wanted to apologize. This had been your mistake. But Bucky’s expression was pure storm as he continued to pace like a tiger in a zoo. Steve’s face was unreadable- steely, distant, controlled. So you kept your mouth shut and tried not to scratch at your skin like you desperately wanted.

Soft static crackled, and then Tony’s voice filled the room over the speaker. "It’s biochemical bonding serum," he said. "Looks like it's engineered to push subjects into a state of hyperarousal and submission, designed to override inhibition and drive instinctual behaviors."

Your stomach dropped. What kind of mess had you landed yourself in?

"How long?" Bucky snapped, voice sharp.

"We'll have to check back on the decay and metabolic rate, and we- "

"What Bruce means is- we don't know," Tony cut in. "For you guys, it might be a matter of hours. Little Miss Curiosity might be stuck with it in her system a little longer."

You flinched and shied away from the speaker, burying your face in your hands.

"We're working on it, don't stress. It shouldn't kill you," Tony added casually.

"Big fucking whoop," Bucky growled, pressing a fist into the wall. Steve shot him a look of disproval.

"Buck.." His tone warning.

"Just, try and stay calm, guys," Bruce said, trying to sound optimistic. "It'll be alright."

"Don’t make a mess," Tony said, his voice laced with sarcasm. "We’ll keep you posted."

And just like that, you were cut off again. Biochemical- engineered arousal.

"Well, you heard him," Steve sighed, leaning back against the wall, scrubbing a hand over his face. "We just have to keep our heads. It can’t last forever."

That was easy for him to say. Both Steve and Bucky had super soldier serum in their veins- enhanced bodies that could regulate, adapt, maybe even resist. You… you were human. And you could already feel your body reacting in ways that made your skin itch and your blood feel like it was boiling.

You didn't say anything. Just shifted your weight, trying not to squirm. The heat beneath your skin pulsed steadily now, like it was alive.

"This is fucked," Bucky muttered, pacing again. "They just dumped us in here like we’re some kind of experiment."

"They’re doing what they can," Steve said, tone calm but tight. "We don’t know enough yet. Getting worked up won’t help."

"Worked up?" Bucky turned on him, eyes flashing. "You don’t feel that?"

Steve’s jaw flexed. "Of course I feel it."

"Then quit acting like you don’t."

You glanced between them, heart racing. The tension in the room was building again, only this time it wasn’t from anger- it was something heavier. Thicker. Clinging to the air like smoke.

And under it all, that hum beneath your skin only grew louder.

Hours had passed.

You'd started pacing a little while ago, unable to sit still. Movement helped. Not much- but it was something. You were going through the water they'd left in the room like you were dying of thirst. You were hot, sticky, your tank damp and clinging to your body, and you were doing everything you could to ignore the throbbing pulse between your legs.

You kept moving. Pacing. Trying to shake it off.

Steve watched from the far cot, jaw tight. His shirt was damp, his breath shallow, but he was sitting like he was trying to pretend everything was normal.

Bucky was pacing again, eyes locked on you more often than not, his jaw clenched so tight it looked like it might crack. “She smells different,” he muttered. “Fuck.”

His words made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. The rough, raw sound of his voice made your head twitch like it was a physical thing pulling at you.

"Gonna try and sleep," you muttered, not looking at either of them.

Maybe you'd be able to sleep through the worst of it. Maybe if you were lucky, your body would calm down. You slipped behind the thin curtain, stepping into the tiny corner of privacy around your cot. Laying down, the heat of your body only seemed to intensify. Your skin felt suffocated, and with a frustrated sigh, you peeled your tank top over your head, leaving you in just your bra, hoping the exposure would help you breathe easier.

It didn’t.

You curled onto your side, arms around your stomach, thighs pressed tight together. The ache between your legs was a constant, heavy throb now. Maybe… maybe you could just handle your own needs. Just enough to take the edge off. Anything to ease the ache.

Your hands trembled as you pulled the thin blanket around you and lay on the cot. There was a small curtain for privacy, but it did nothing to muffle the sounds when your fingers slipped beneath your waistband.

You tried to be quiet. Tried to hold your breath. But your body was on fire, and even the gentlest brush of your fingers sent you bucking.

A whimper escaped, broken and desperate.

And then you heard it- Steve’s voice. Low. Strained.

“Don’t- don’t do that.”

You froze. “I- I can’t- ”

Still, you didn’t stop. You rubbed faster, then slower, your fingers diving inside of you, pressing deeper, trying every angle- but nothing worked. Every shift of your hand sent sparks across your nerves, your breath hitching with each pulse of pressure, but the fire wouldn’t break. Your legs trembled, your toes curled, but it all stayed out of reach.

You changed angles, tried circling your clit with trembling fingers while your other hand held onto the edge of the cot like it could ground you. You rocked your hips up, whispered pleas into the dark, but it wasn’t enough. Not even close. You needed more- needed them- but all you had were your own shaking hands and the unbearable ache growing between your legs.

Your breath hitched again as frustration bloomed hot and frantic in your chest. You were soaking, your thighs slick, the air sticky with the scent of your arousal. Your skin was flushed and clammy, your body locked in this endless loop of need- and yet you still couldn’t fall over that edge. Not like this. Not alone.

"You gonna keep pretending you don’t want her?" Bucky asked, voice low and rough, growling on the other side of the curtain.

Steve didn’t move at first, but his voice followed, strained. "I can smell her arousal from here, Buck. You think I’m not affected?"

"She’s whimpering, Steve. Sounds like music to me."

"We’re not doing this. We can’t- "

"Fuck this. She needs someone."

"Don’t you fucking touch her," Steve snapped.

"Then you do something," Bucky fired back.

Silence followed. You pressed your fingers deeper, hips rocking, but it wasn’t working. You were going to explode- your body was wound so tight it hurt.

Your fingers weren’t enough. You begged, voice cracking, desperate and broken.

"Please... please someone- "

Someone pulled the curtain back. Bucky’s eyes were dark. Blown wide. He didn’t speak. It hurt. “I can’t…” you whimpered, barely able to speak. “It’s not working…”

Your hips shifted again instinctively, your fingers still caught between your thighs, but the tension was unbearable. You were so wet, so swollen with need, it was maddening- and yet release stayed just out of reach. Your body craved more than your own touch could give.

They both appeared, stepping past the curtain without a word. You could see it in their faces- this was affecting them just as much. Steve’s eyes were dark, jaw clenched. Bucky looked wrecked, barely human with how sharp and hungry his expression had become.

You writhed again on the cot, body shaking, and Steve moved first- his weight shifting over you as he pressed your shoulders down into the mattress with steady, unyielding hands.

"Stay still," he said, voice gravel-thick.

At the same time, Bucky grabbed your wrist and gently pulled your hand away from you.

You whined, hips arched up, as Bucky’s gaze dropped to your slick fingers. He looked transfixed. Obsessed. His mouth parted before he dragged his tongue along your digits, groaning low in his chest at the taste.

Then- without breaking eye contact- he brought your hand to Steve.

"Tell me again we shouldn’t do this," Bucky said, voice rough and knowing.

Steve hesitated, staring at your hand, your eyes, then your body.

"...Steve?" you pleaded, chest heaving. A bead of sweat slid down your ribs, slicking your skin as the heat inside you pulsed like a second heartbeat. "Help... please."

Steve’s jaw flexed. His eyes raked over your flushed, trembling body, lingering where your bra had ridden up from the way you were squirming, the curve of your thighs glistening in the low light.

Bucky didn’t speak. He just stood there beside him, wild-eyed and rigid, chest rising and falling with short, shallow breaths. The scent of you filled the air. Thick. Sweet. Desperate.

Steve exhaled through his nose, heavy and slow like he was trying to exhale restraint. It didn’t work.

"You’re going to regret begging so pretty, sweetheart," he murmured, finally moving closer, the promise behind his words like thunder rolling through your veins.

~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~

They were both on you.

You didn’t know who moved first- Steve’s hand slid up your thigh, firm and sure, while Bucky’s mouth was suddenly at your neck, teeth grazing the sensitive skin just below your ear. The tension shattered. Clothing came off in frantic tugs- your joggers peeled away, your bra unclasped and discarded. Steve’s tank was tossed aside. Bucky’s sweats hit the floor with a low rustle.

Heat and skin and breath surrounded you. Their bodies pressed in, solid and hot and overwhelming. Steve's chest pinned you down as he kissed you- hard and consuming- his tongue sliding against yours as he groaned into your mouth. His hands cupped your jaw, fingers splayed, tilting your head how he wanted it.

Bucky moved lower, lips trailing down your throat, teeth scraping along your collarbone. His hands gripped your hips, dragging you down the cot toward him with a roughness that made you moan. He kissed your stomach, your ribs, your inner thighs, worshipping each inch like it belonged to him.

You gasped, arching into the touch of both of them. Their mouths- wet and demanding. Their bodies- slick with sweat, grinding against you like they couldn't get close enough.

You'd all held out for so long. Now there was nothing but the letting go.

Every nerve ending in your body sparked like live wires with every touch- every graze of skin against skin sent jolts of unbearable sensation through you. It was impossible to stay still. Your limbs twitched, your hips rocked, your breath came in short, gasping pulls as your body tried to process too much, too fast.

“Don’t move,” Steve growled, voice rough but laced with something gentler beneath. “Too sensitive? No. You’re just not used to being handled right.”

Bucky pushed your legs open wider, guiding your knees apart until your calves hung off the edge of the cot, completely exposed, completely theirs. “She’s soaking,” Bucky breathed. “Fucking hell- she’s dripping down her thighs.” The cool air kissed your slick folds and made you shiver. Then his hand slid between your thighs again, and fingers plunged into you- two, maybe three. You didn’t even know whose they were anymore.

Steve’s mouth found your chest, teeth grazing over the top curve of your breast before his lips closed around your nipple. You sobbed, your body already arching upward from the overload.

The blonde growled against your skin, one hand gripping your jaw while the other tangled in your hair, yanking your head back just enough to bow your spine upward. You gasped, helpless, writhing between them, your body trembling from overstimulation.

“You’re taking it so well,” Steve murmured, voice low and rough. “Just like that. Good girl.”

“Look at her,” Bucky snarled. “That’s it, sweetheart- ride my hand. Come on. Take what you need.”

His fingers worked deep inside you, curling and thrusting, hitting that spot that made your legs twitch and your hips lift off the cot. His palm pressed against your clit with every motion, grinding you into the edge of bliss, holding you there with cruel precision. You could feel everything. Every ridge of his knuckles, every flex of his wrist. It was too much and not enough all at once.

You whimpered, your hands scrambling against the sheets, seeking something to hold onto as your body rocked with each relentless stroke. Steve bit gently at the underside of your jaw, his hand still twisted in your hair as he whispered praises that barely reached your ears over the rushing roar of need building inside you.

Steve’s mouth was on your chest again, sucking one nipple into the heat of his mouth while his hand massaged the other, groping you with a needy rhythm that only made it harder to breathe. His other hand had tangled itself in your hair again, gently tugging until your spine arched up off the cot, your body straining toward both of them.

Bucky’s metal thumb pressed into your clit, circling with just enough pressure to make your thighs jerk. Your breath hitched, head tipping back as you let out a broken moan.

"OH FUCK." you cried, fingers clawing at the side of the cot, knuckles white.

He didn’t stop. His fingers pumped into you, slick and steady, coaxing the sound out of your throat again and again. You felt like you were vibrating- nerve endings lit up with fire, each touch sparking through you like electricity.

“You hear that, punk?” Bucky’s voice dripped with ego. “That’s the sound of my fingers making her cry.” Steve shifted beside you, sitting up to watch, his eyes locked on where Bucky's fingers slid in and out of you. One of his hands moved down, low and out of sight, and you could see the tension in his jaw as he fought to keep control.

Bucky glanced back at him, grinning as he curled his fingers just right and made you cry out again.

"Look at her, Stevie," Bucky growled, his voice rough and ragged with arousal. He didn’t even look up, just watched his fingers slide in and out of you like it was the most important thing in the world. "She’s writhing just from my fingers. What happens when I put my cock in?"

"You’ll wait," Steve snapped, voice sharp, strained with barely checked control. He was flushed, jaw tight, clearly fighting the same battle Bucky was already losing.

"God, look at her," Bucky muttered again, breath coming faster. "Fuck, I want her mouth. I want every part."

You couldn’t answer. Your vision blurred. Every nerve in your body felt like it had snapped tight, vibrating with unbearable pressure.

And then it broke.

You came- hard.

Your whole body convulsed as the orgasm tore through you. Your legs kicked against the cot, arms flailing blindly for purchase. Steve had to hold you down, one hand braced across your chest, the other still tangled in your hair as your back arched and a strangled sob tore from your throat.

It didn’t end quickly. The drug made it last- your climax dragging on and on, crashing over you in waves so powerful they left you gasping, wrecked.

You felt Bucky’s fingers slow inside you, easing off just enough to let you ride it out without breaking. But they didn’t stop touching you. They didn’t let you go.

And worst of all, the haze in your head didn’t clear like you hoped it would.

You were still shaking. Still needy.

Still burning.

You were a panting mess, your skin still hot and your chest tight when one of them scooped you up and lay you out on the cool floor. The shock of it made you gasp, the chill a sudden relief against your fevered skin. You blinked your eyes open, dazed, limbs slack and breath ragged.

"You’re such a mess for us, baby," Bucky murmured, crouched above you now. His voice was low, ruined with hunger. "That sweet little body of yours wasn’t made to handle all this, was it?"

Your eyes found him- Bucky, kneeling near your face now, his cock hard and leaking, so close it blurred your thoughts. He looked feral, undone, lips parted like he was barely restraining himself.

Your tongue slipped out to lick your lips without thinking. The taste of your own sweat clung to your skin, but all you could focus on was him. The way his chest rose and fell, the way his fist clenched at his thigh.

Your mind narrowed to a single point of clarity.

You wanted him in your mouth.

You leaned forward slowly, licking the bead of precum off his tip before taking him in fully- hungry, needy, your lips stretching around the thick, velvet length of him. Bucky’s breath stuttered, and he let out a ragged groan as your mouth sealed around him.

“Fuck, that’s it,” he gasped, one hand flying to your hair, not to guide but to anchor himself. “So fucking pretty like this- taking me so deep. Look at those lips- look at that mouth.”

You moaned around him, the vibrations making him hiss. He was hot, heavy, pulsing against your tongue, and you hollowed your cheeks to take him deeper, until your nose pressed against the base and he swore low under his breath.

“Messy little mouth,” Bucky panted. “So eager. You needed this, didn’t you? Needed something to suck while we ruin the rest of you.”

You were lost in it- the taste of him, the heat, the way he twitched when your tongue flicked just right. Spit gathered at the corners of your mouth as you worked him with sloppy desperation, gagging slightly as you bobbed your head in a steady rhythm.

Just then, you felt Steve’s hands at your hips, steady and sure. He shifted your lower body, pulling your legs open and up until you were spread out for him on the floor.

“You liked Buck's fingers? Let’s see how you do on my cock,” Steve growled against your ear, his voice dark and thick with restraint.

You gasped around Bucky’s cock, the moan caught in your throat turning into a garbled sound of pleasure as Steve aligned himself behind you. His fingers dug into your thighs, holding you wide as his tip pressed against your entrance- already slick, fluttering, aching.

He pushed in slow, filling you inch by inch, and every nerve inside you lit up in electric spasms. Your muscles fluttered around him, clenching and pulsing as he stretched you open, the thick drag of him stealing your breath.

The pressure, the fullness, the stretch- it was overwhelming. You sobbed around Bucky, the vibration of your moan making him groan above you, his hips twitching as he fought not to thrust.

Steve bottomed out with a hiss, his hands gripping tighter like he needed the anchor. Inside you, he throbbed, deep and perfect. You felt stretched to the edge of your limits, your inner walls fluttering in frantic spasms around him, struggling to adjust and clench all at once. Your body didn’t know what to do- pull him in deeper or push him out.

It was too much. It was everything. Your head was spinning.

They started to move- slow at first. Steve dragging back only to sink in again, deliberate, controlled, while Bucky’s cock bumped the back of your throat as he rocked forward with a groan. You gagged, whined, clung to them both with your mouth and body.

You were stuck in it now. The lust. The drug. The heat. There was no thought left, only sensation. Only how it felt to be stretched open in two directions, trembling and gasping.

They didn’t talk to you anymore. They talked about you.

“She’s so sensitive,” Bucky growled. “Poor thing doesn’t know what to do with herself.”

Steve grunted, his pace picking up. “Tight as hell. She’s pulsing like she doesn’t know whether she wants to come or cry.”

You tried to moan but it came out a broken, garbled sound around Bucky’s cock. Your tongue dragged along the underside of him as he pushed deeper, your throat fluttering as you swallowed around the stretch. Spit dripped from the corners of your mouth, tears tracking down your cheeks, but you didn’t stop. You couldn’t.

Bucky’s hand tightened at the back of your head, not forcing, just holding you there, gazing down into your wet, dazed eyes. “That’s it, baby,” he groaned. “Fuck, look at you drooling all over me. You love it, don’t you?”

Your hips rocked back into Steve without meaning to as he thrust forward again, harder this time, grinding deep. Your nerves fired like sparks, the friction of his cock dragging against hypersensitive flesh sending bursts of pressure low in your belly. Your insides coiled, pleasure building with every thick, deliberate thrust, your body wound so tight it felt like you might snap apart.

“You’re doing so well for us,” Steve grunted, leaning down, his mouth hot at your ear. “Such a good girl, letting us use you like this.”

He hooked one of your legs over his shoulder, changing the angle, driving in deeper. The stretch made you cry out around Bucky’s cock, throat flexing as your moan turned to a sob.

"That's it," Steve growled, pace quickening. "Fuck, so fucking wet and warm... you gonna cum, sweetheart? Gotta feel you squeeze me while you swallow Bucky."

Your body arched, heat crashing through your spine as Steve hit that perfect spot again and again, each thrust sending a jolt through your core. Your throat tightened around Bucky's cock, the vibration of your desperate moans making him curse under his breath.

“Fuck- she’s so close,” Steve panted, driving harder. “You feel that? She’s fucking pulsing.”

You sobbed around Bucky, tears streaking your cheeks, the pressure in your belly a coil tightening with no escape.

“She’s gonna lose it,” Bucky panted, watching the way you writhed. “Look at how she’s trembling. She needs cock.”

And then it snapped.

Your climax hit like a bolt of lightning, seizing your body with white-hot tension as your inner walls clamped down around Steve’s cock. You wailed around Bucky’s length, the cry vibrating through him as he let out a guttural groan.

“Fuck, that mouth- ” Bucky growled, watching your teary eyes roll back. “I’m gonna- shit- ”

He spilled down your throat with a grunt, his cock twitching between your lips, his hand holding you steady as you swallowed every drop of him while he pulsed.

The clenching spasms of your climax milked Steve mercilessly, dragging his own orgasm from him with a ragged curse. He slammed in deep, staying buried as he came hard, filling you with warmth that only made the pleasure burn hotter.

“Take it,” he groaned, his breath broken against your shoulder. “Take it all. Good fucking girl.”

Bucky sat back on his heels, pulling himself from your mouth with a wet pop, still hard, his cock glistening with your spit. “"Fuck... you’re unreal..." he panted, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing..pupils blown as he looked down at you.

Steve finally pulled out with a groan, the loss of him sudden and jarring, making you whimper. His cum followed, warm and slick as it dripped from your stretched pussy, pooling between your thighs.

His gaze dropped between your legs, transfixed. His eyes went heavy-lidded as he watched it leak from you, dripping down to your slick, twitching rim. Slowly, his fingers moved to your core, smearing the mess down lower, spreading it deliberately to your other entrance.

You gasped, twitching from aftershocks, your body still sensitive everywhere. His fingertip teased your tight hole, rubbing softly, slicking it with a practiced ease. You whimpered, already overwhelmed, but the moan that spilled from you was pure need.

“Damn, Stevie- you didn’t fuck her right if she’s still aching like this,” Bucky drawled, voice hoarse and edged with a smirk, watching the way your hips shifted restlessly on the floor.

You whimpered, the heat still rolling inside you, every nerve ending alive and twitching. The aftershocks made your muscles flutter, your body too sensitive and still so hungry. Steve didn’t bite back. He was too focused- his fingers slick with his own cum as he spread it lower, smearing it over your pussy and then circling your tight, twitching rim.

And then one thick finger pressed inward.

You gasped, whole body jolting, a broken sound catching in your throat as your body tried to clamp down instinctively. But Steve worked slowly, steadily, easing the finger deeper, the stretch sharp and slow as he began to work you open.

You felt your core clench around nothing as Steve worked his finger deeper. “I need- please, I need more, I can’t- ” you gasped, voice trembling. Your head was a mess, fogged with lust and the aftershocks still sparking under your skin. Steve kept up the slow pump of his finger, pushing in deeper, working more of his cum into your ass to keep you slick and open.

“Hear that, Steve?” Bucky said, voice thick with amusement, already fisting his own cock in lazy, slow strokes. “She wants more.”

Steve’s gaze didn’t waver, his finger sinking deeper, curling. You whimpered again.

“Can’t say no, can we?” Bucky added, grinning.

“Oh, I think I know exactly what our girl needs...” Steve muttered, voice thick with heat and control, as his hand disappeared between your thighs.

Steve pulled his finger from your ass just as Bucky got down onto the floor, reaching out to haul you up into his lap. Steve’s arms hooking under yours, supporting your limp, boneless body as they moved you together like you weighed nothing.

“Let’s get you on Buck now...” Steve purred near your ear, voice thick and smooth, a slow heat curling down your spine.

Bucky’s cock was already there- thick, hard, and waiting. They guided you together, Steve steadying you from behind while Bucky angled his cock to your entrance.

As Steve lowered you, your legs wrapped weakly around Bucky’s hips, and you felt the first stretch as his tip slid inside. A guttural groan ripped from Bucky’s throat, his hands tightening on your thighs.

“Fuck, baby,” he gritted out, voice rough and reverent. “You always take me so damn good. Still so fucking tight- even after Steve blew you open? Shit.”

“That’s a girl,” Steve murmured, voice low with praise. “Nice and slow... Want you to feel every inch of him, don’t you?”

You just whimpered and nodded, the need to be filled consuming, overwhelming, as the pair of them helped you sink down onto Bucky’s cock, inch by perfect inch.

Your head fell back against Steve’s shoulder as you settled fully onto Bucky, who thrust up into you with steady pressure. The heat and stretch made your whole body tremble. You could barely breathe, still twitching from your earlier climax. Then Bucky's hands gripped your hips tight.

“Oh fuck,” he hissed, hips rolling upward as he began to move you, guiding you into a rhythm. “Look at you. Still aching. Like how I feel doll?”

The moan that spilled from your mouth didn’t even sound like you anymore- wrecked, raw, and desperate.

You were unraveling under Bucky’s rhythm- the way he filled you had your mind slipping, your thoughts scattering with every deep, slow thrust, how every thrust hit deep, high inside, brushing against that spot that made you shudder. Your head lolled back onto Steve’s shoulder, eyes fluttering, lips parted around desperate little gasps.

“She bites her lip when I go deep. You see that?” Bucky said with a rough chuckle, voice wrecked but smug. “She likes my rhythm.”

You didn’t even notice the way Steve bent you forward over Bucky, hands guiding your body like you were something precious and fragile and already ruined.

You didn’t have time to think too much before you felt Bucky’s hands grip your ass, pulling you open as Steve shifted behind you. It wasn’t until the thick, spongy head of his cock pressed against somewhere you’d never let anyone touch that your eyes snapped open in surprise.

The first inch pushed into your ass slowly, carefully, but it still stole your breath.

“It’s too much- I can’t- wait- ” you gasped, voice cracking with overwhelmed panic as your body instinctively tried to jerk away.

But Bucky rocked his hips upward, pushing deep into your pussy again, and the shockwave of pleasure was enough to paralyze your resistance.

“Shh... it’s okay,” Steve murmured, arms wrapping around you from behind as he continued to press in. His voice was thick and coaxing, his control iron-tight. “I’ve got you. You’re doing so good for us.”

You sobbed, your whole body fluttering around them as Steve sank in deeper, the thin wall between your holes trembling with every inch he took. The two of them groaned in unison, voices rough and reverent as they filled you together.

You were caught between them now. Two super soldiers, all three of you lost in lust and need. Your face twisted with sensation as they held you there- one thick cock filling your pussy, the other spreading your ass open inch by inch. Both sunk to the hilt. You were impossibly full. You were shaking. Overwhelmed. Unable to process the stretch, the heat, the drag of their bodies inside you. It was too much. And you needed more.

“You’re both so… big- I’m gonna- fuck- ” you sobbed. You couldn’t believe how sensitive you’d become- how just being filled, just being stretched, could reduce you to this. You weren’t even moving, yet your body was already bracing to come undone again. There was no going back. No holding on. Just surrender.

You came without moving, the sensation of fullness alone tipping you over. Your body seized in the middle, core clenching violently, squeezing down on both of them at once as pleasure ripped through you like a lightning bolt.

Your voice cracked into a scream. You were gone- shaking, convulsing, burning from the inside out as your orgasm dragged through you with devastating force.

Both of them groaned at the way your body squeezed them- tight and hot and trembling.

“Fuck,” Bucky grunted, rocking his hips once more. “Didn’t even have to move. Just had to be inside you.”

Steve chuckled darkly, voice low and wrecked in your ear. “She’s that sensitive. That fucking perfect.”

You couldn’t even answer. Your lips parted in a silent gasp as Steve’s hands slid up to cup your breasts, thumbs brushing across your stiff nipples as he started to move again. Slowly at first, easing back before pressing forward, dragging against that thin wall with every thick stroke.

Bucky's grip returned to your hips, steady and possessive, guiding you to rise and fall on his cock. Your body jolted with every motion, your moans soft and slurred.

“That’s it,” Steve cooed, hips snapping gently. “We’ll start slow…”

“I-I can’t- ” you whimpered, but your body was already moving, driven by instinct and need.

“I know you can take more,” he murmured. “Look how beautiful you are when you come apart. It'll feel better- just gotta keep going.”

And it did. It felt better than the denial. Better than the ache that came from holding back. The pleasure rolled through you like a drug, heavy and all-consuming.

Your hips started to move again, slowly grinding into Bucky as your walls fluttered around him. You didn’t know if it was need or instinct- maybe both- but you couldn’t stop. You were cock-drunk. Barely aware of anything except how good it felt to be filled this way.

“Breathe,” Steve whispered. “Just like that. Hold it- good girl.”

Then Steve pulled your hips back into him and pressed all the way in.

“You think you’re fucking her deep?” Steve growled at Bucky, voice low and wild. “Watch this.”

Bucky shoved his hand flat to your lower stomach and lifted his hips with a brutal thrust. You cried out, the stretch making your eyes roll back as he ground up into you. It was obscene how deep he reached, how thick he felt. You pawed at his chest, clinging to him with trembling fingers.

“..fuck fuck fuck...” you gasped, the breath knocked out of you before he eased his hips again, smug and steady.

“Told ya,” Bucky muttered with a grin.

But it didn’t stop there.

Bucky answered your gasps with harder thrusts. Steve listened for his name and answered with praise. His mouth latched to your neck, nipping and licking along your skin as he squeezed your breasts roughly, molding them in his palms.

“Did you hear that one? That was mine,” Steve muttered against your skin when you gasped his name.

Bucky answered with a sharp thrust that made your breath catch. “She moaned louder for me, sweetheart. Don’t get cocky.”

Each of them was locked into the game- testing reactions, adjusting pace, trying to claim the sounds that spilled from your lips. One made you cry out, the other drew a gasp. They used your body like a live wire for their competition, and you were helpless in the storm.

“She whimpers when I kiss her right here,” he growled, biting just beneath your ear.

Bucky’s hands gripped your hips tighter, fucking up into you hard enough to rock you against Steve’s chest. “She clenched around me when you said that,” he rasped. “Bet she’s trying to pick a favourite.”

You couldn’t keep up. Couldn’t think. You only managed to gasp whatever name escaped your lips first, and they both heard it- every time. And they responded with sharper thrusts, filthier praise.

“You’re so cock-drunk, you don’t even know who’s making you come anymore, do you?” Bucky said, voice rough.

“She’s beautiful like this,” Steve murmured, licking the sweat off your throat. “All wrecked. All ours.”

Then Bucky’s metal hand slid between your thighs again. His fingers brushed your clit, the coolness of steel a shocking chill of metal against your heat made you jolt, gasping as sparks danced up your spine.

“Oh- god - fuck- ” you sobbed, trembling uncontrollably as sparks shot up your spine.

“Breathe,” Steve ordered again. “Just like that. That’s our girl.”

They started to move faster now- driving into you in sync, pistoning in perfect rhythm. The slap of skin echoed, the slick sounds of your soaked cunt and the obscene wet pressure of being filled from both ends breaking whatever was left of your mind.

“You want to make her come, punk?” Bucky growled. “You gotta fuck her harder than that.”

“Shut up, jerk,” Steve snarled, thrusting harder. “We don’t need to break her. Just ruin her a little longer.”

“She’s shaking so bad. You keep her steady, Steve- I wanna see her face when she comes again.”

Your next orgasm ripped through you with a small wail, your features contorting as your body locked up tight. You clawed at them both- gripping Steve’s forearm, Bucky’s shoulder- as your walls fluttered around their cocks, milking them, begging for more without a word.

They didn’t stop. Didn’t give you time to come down. Steve groaned, his thrusts picking up as he rolled your nipples between his fingers. Bucky cursed, gripping your hips tighter, lifting and dropping you into him with growing urgency.

You felt them both losing control- felt their restraint slipping with every second you squeezed around them, heat and slickness pouring down your thighs.

“Fuck- fuck, she’s doing it again,” Bucky grunted.

Steve’s voice was a low growl in your ear. “She wants it. She’s not done. Not till we are.”

Then the pace shifted- harder, rougher, deeper. Their moans grew louder, matched only by the slap of skin on skin. Your head spun, your vision blurred.

And then they were coming again- Steve first, pulled tight to your back, his groan muffled in your shoulder. Then Bucky, buried deep beneath you, eyes locked on yours as he spilled inside you with a strangled moan.

You collapsed between them, limp and boneless, your body a trembling wreck held up only by their hands. You didn’t even try to move. There was no fight left in you- only the slow hum of satisfaction and overstimulation. Somewhere in the haze of your mind, a flicker of disbelief passed through you- how had you endured that? How had you survived the storm of them inside you? But there was no room for shame or second thoughts. Only surrender. And the quiet, overwhelming hum of being utterly, deliciously wrecked. You were too dazed to understand what was happening at first, the haze still thick behind your eyes. The humming under your skin hadn’t stopped, but it had dulled- muted to a low thrum that echoed in your bones. They were careful, even if your overstimulated body didn’t register it that way.

You whined, squirming, as they slowly pulled out of you. The stretch reversed, the heat slipping away, leaving you empty and raw. It wasn’t pain, but your body protested the loss with soft whimpers.

Someone pressed a water bottle to your lips, coaxing you to sip. You obeyed without thought, the coolness trickling down your throat a small mercy.

Another set of hands gently wiped you down. A cold, damp cloth slid between your legs, easing away the slick mess with slow, tender strokes.

Then your head was lowered into someone’s lap. Fingers carded through your hair.

“You did so well,” Steve murmured. “Look at you- perfect.”

You blinked slowly. Steve’s voice again, closer now: “Easy, sweetheart. Just breathe. I’ve got you.”

Your limbs twitched weakly, still responding to phantom pleasure. A quiet laugh came from Bucky.

“Still twitching. Still fucking gorgeous.”

You felt him kissing up your leg, mouth trailing along your calf, your knee, your inner thigh.

Then your legs were being moved again- lifted, spread with a gentleness that contrasted starkly with the earlier frenzy. There was no rush now, no urgency- just the soft reverence of Bucky's hands as he cradled your thighs like something precious, something breakable, as though he hadn’t just wrecked you minutes ago. You blinked, barely aware, as Bucky settled himself between them, laying flat, his breath hot against your oversensitive core.

He pressed a kiss there, soft and reverent, and your whole body jolted in response.

“And I’m not done tasting her,” he muttered, voice thick with need.

“Buck- she needs to recover,” Steve warned again, but his voice had softened to something indulgent.

“I’ll be gentle…” Bucky promised, his mouth already lowering, tongue dragging slow and careful over your aching folds as your head lolled back into Steve lap, eyes fluttering closed, lost to the warmth and the wetness and the impossible pleasure building again

TAGS: @buckybarnesfic, @ruexj283, @yesiamthatwierd @trojanaurora, @hextech-bros

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relto · 11 months ago

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investigating my favorite issue again, this thing is definitely making up inbetween values and now i have PROOF

#tütensuppe #this thing is killing me i just want to be done with it #edit this one guy responded to my ticket like yeah youre correct :)#arghahsu #note this is also the guy who had been made aware that his program that copies raw data files to storage misses MANY of them #and his reaction was like oh it does that i guess

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mythalism · 3 months ago

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i know everyone is really excited for the oblivion remake because i was too. oblivion was the first real video game i ever played when i was a kid, and is literally the reason i am a gamer today, but BDS has called for a microsoft boycott, and that includes anything made by bethesda.

this isn't just a "oh they have some obscure business partnerships in isr*el" or "oh they donate to this or that lobby" sort of boycott either, although those are important too. my tone is not meant to be flippant about them, but rather i want to emphasize the gravity of how microsoft directly and deliberately contributes to the palestinian death toll daily, in a way that is uniquely cruel and complicit.

microsoft has had a $35 million dollar contract with the isr*eli military since 2002. they provide cloud storage for surveillance data of gazan civillians, and an artificial intelligence program called a "mass assassination factory" to assist in planning and targeting their attacks, many of which are on civilians or involve mass civilian casualties.

microsoft's service agreements with the isr*eli military also includes the CPU responsible for the military's tech infrastructure, military intelligence units that develop spy technology used against palestinians and lebanese, the maintenance of the palestinian population registry that tracks and (illegally) limits the movement of palestinains in the west bank and gaza, their air force targeting database, and much more. they work closely with isr*eli military intelligence agencies on surveillance systems used to monitor palestians, provide specialized consulting, technical and engineering support, hosts training software for the IOF, provide financial support to organizations based in the illegally occupied west bank, and have repeatedly invested in isr*eli start ups specializing in war technology.

in 2020, internal and external pressure forced microsoft to pull out of its 74 million dollar investment in an isr*eli company that violated international law due to its use of facial recognition technology for military surveillance.

in 2021, microsoft signed a new, 3-year contract with the isr*eli ministry of defense worth $133 million dollars. the isr*eli military is microsoft's second largest military customer. the first? the united states.

you can read more (w/ sources) about microsoft's complicity here.

BDS asks us to boycott microsoft products whenever possible.

microsoft is directly complicit in countless isr*eli war crimes, and the money you provide them will further proliferate this violence. i know the oblivion remake was exciting, but please, consider the lives of palestinians above your own nostalgia. no one is free until everyone is free.

#oblivion remake #oblivion #tes #tes: oblivion #the elder scrolls #tes iv #mine

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luvmanifesting · 8 months ago

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Some more manifestations

i manifested another trip to china i’ve been there before without using manifestation BUT IT WAS SO FUNNNNN AHH

plus i manifested a trip to singapore!!

for my finals i made sure the school would do something extremely fun after it and none of the students stress out for the exams

a healthy amount of snow

never having to use internet or data anymore so my phone is always working

my phone battery stays at 100 ALWAYS

unlimited storage on my phone

princess treatment every where i go, trust me in china and in singapore i felt like everyone was worshiping the ground i walked on

some more beats + making them more comfier to lay down with

never getting anymore headaches from blasting music in my ear

A BIRKIN BAGGG (sorry if i spelt it wrong)

my whole family being safe no matter where they go + their phones always stays on 100 no matter what.

being like a professional babysitter (i love taking care of kids) 😞

BEING A GREAT COOK (i always was but like i just felt like i needed to be better)

BYEEEEE :3 i hope this encourages you to keep manifesting and that you’re limitless

#loa tumblr #pure consciousness #manifesation #loa success #void state #void state success story

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gonkaccino · 24 days ago

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I'm going to blame Bridget for this one. We know from DS1's logs that she went out of her way to bully Lucy, presumably to try and get her to make a suicide attempt that would stick hard enough for her to function as a stillmother, and given how her one complaint in the Cliff situation was oh no my test subject!, she was likely the hand behind Neil's smuggling. Sam apparently has had fuck-all for friends his whole life, too, given how often he's surprised that his Bridges pals like him.

With all that in mind, Bridget saw what could've been a functional throuple as a threat to her power and kept all three of them too miserable to communicate anything with each other, much less anyone outside of their relationships, and her only regret is that she didn't live to see the network activated.

I beat Death Stranding 2 yesterday

#I didn't like how every mention of Bridget in DS2 conflated her with Amelie #the first game presented them as having split early enough that Amelie could be horrified by Bridget's actions #that sense that her ka hated everything that her ha was doing to the point of risking the last stranding made Amelie more sympathetic #if the two of them really were working as one then it means Amelie wasn't losing her mind trying to fix Bridget's evils #like perhaps falsifying BB-00's data to shuffle her into storage before Bridget can take away the only thing Sam had left #should've gotten emily o'brien back to do some more stuff with them and better clarify how much bridget ruined everything she touched #instead of Nameless Government Mook #imagine if we had Ominous Mother-in-Law tormenting Lucy in totally deniable ways #and Neil was the only one who had the chance to see glimpses of it and Sam didn't entirely believe her #Neil being the guy who believes her + shared childhood trauma vs Sam being reluctant to view his mom as evil + not being around as much #there's so many ways they could've done this without making Lucy look this bad

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treasure-mimic · 2 years ago

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So, let me try and put everything together here, because I really do think it needs to be talked about.

Today, Unity announced that it intends to apply a fee to use its software. Then it got worse.

For those not in the know, Unity is the most popular free to use video game development tool, offering a basic version for individuals who want to learn how to create games or create independently alongside paid versions for corporations or people who want more features. It's decent enough at this job, has issues but for the price point I can't complain, and is the idea entry point into creating in this medium, it's a very important piece of software.

But speaking of tools, the CEO is a massive one. When he was the COO of EA, he advocated for using, what out and out sounds like emotional manipulation to coerce players into microtransactions.

"A consumer gets engaged in a property, they might spend 10, 20, 30, 50 hours on the game and then when they're deep into the game they're well invested in it. We're not gouging, but we're charging and at that point in time the commitment can be pretty high."

He also called game developers who don't discuss monetization early in the planning stages of development, quote, "fucking idiots".

So that sets the stage for what might be one of the most bald-faced greediest moves I've seen from a corporation in a minute. Most at least have the sense of self-preservation to hide it.

A few hours ago, Unity posted this announcement on the official blog.

Effective January 1, 2024, we will introduce a new Unity Runtime Fee that’s based on game installs. We will also add cloud-based asset storage, Unity DevOps tools, and AI at runtime at no extra cost to Unity subscription plans this November. We are introducing a Unity Runtime Fee that is based upon each time a qualifying game is downloaded by an end user. We chose this because each time a game is downloaded, the Unity Runtime is also installed. Also we believe that an initial install-based fee allows creators to keep the ongoing financial gains from player engagement, unlike a revenue share.

Now there are a few red flags to note in this pitch immediately.

Unity is planning on charging a fee on all games which use its engine.

This is a flat fee per number of installs.

They are using an always online runtime function to determine whether a game is downloaded.

There is just so many things wrong with this that it's hard to know where to start, not helped by this FAQ which doubled down on a lot of the major issues people had.

I guess let's start with what people noticed first. Because it's using a system baked into the software itself, Unity would not be differentiating between a "purchase" and a "download". If someone uninstalls and reinstalls a game, that's two downloads. If someone gets a new computer or a new console and downloads a game already purchased from their account, that's two download. If someone pirates the game, the studio will be asked to pay for that download.

Q: How are you going to collect installs? A: We leverage our own proprietary data model. We believe it gives an accurate determination of the number of times the runtime is distributed for a given project. Q: Is software made in unity going to be calling home to unity whenever it's ran, even for enterprice licenses? A: We use a composite model for counting runtime installs that collects data from numerous sources. The Unity Runtime Fee will use data in compliance with GDPR and CCPA. The data being requested is aggregated and is being used for billing purposes. Q: If a user reinstalls/redownloads a game / changes their hardware, will that count as multiple installs? A: Yes. The creator will need to pay for all future installs. The reason is that Unity doesn’t receive end-player information, just aggregate data. Q: What's going to stop us being charged for pirated copies of our games? A: We do already have fraud detection practices in our Ads technology which is solving a similar problem, so we will leverage that know-how as a starting point. We recognize that users will have concerns about this and we will make available a process for them to submit their concerns to our fraud compliance team.

This is potentially related to a new system that will require Unity Personal developers to go online at least once every three days.

Starting in November, Unity Personal users will get a new sign-in and online user experience. Users will need to be signed into the Hub with their Unity ID and connect to the internet to use Unity. If the internet connection is lost, users can continue using Unity for up to 3 days while offline. More details to come, when this change takes effect.

It's unclear whether this requirement will be attached to any and all Unity games, though it would explain how they're theoretically able to track "the number of installs", and why the methodology for tracking these installs is so shit, as we'll discuss later.

Unity claims that it will only leverage this fee to games which surpass a certain threshold of downloads and yearly revenue.

Only games that meet the following thresholds qualify for the Unity Runtime Fee: Unity Personal and Unity Plus: Those that have made $200,000 USD or more in the last 12 months AND have at least 200,000 lifetime game installs. Unity Pro and Unity Enterprise: Those that have made $1,000,000 USD or more in the last 12 months AND have at least 1,000,000 lifetime game installs.

They don't say how they're going to collect information on a game's revenue, likely this is just to say that they're only interested in squeezing larger products (games like Genshin Impact and Honkai: Star Rail, Fate Grand Order, Among Us, and Fall Guys) and not every 2 dollar puzzle platformer that drops on Steam. But also, these larger products have the easiest time porting off of Unity and the most incentives to, meaning realistically those heaviest impacted are going to be the ones who just barely meet this threshold, most of them indie developers.

Aggro Crab Games, one of the first to properly break this story, points out that systems like the Xbox Game Pass, which is already pretty predatory towards smaller developers, will quickly inflate their "lifetime game installs" meaning even skimming the threshold of that 200k revenue, will be asked to pay a fee per install, not a percentage on said revenue.

[IMAGE DESCRIPTION: Hey Gamers!

Today, Unity (the engine we use to make our games) announced that they'll soon be taking a fee from developers for every copy of the game installed over a certain threshold - regardless of how that copy was obtained.

Guess who has a somewhat highly anticipated game coming to Xbox Game Pass in 2024? That's right, it's us and a lot of other developers.

That means Another Crab's Treasure will be free to install for the 25 million Game Pass subscribers. If a fraction of those users download our game, Unity could take a fee that puts an enormous dent in our income and threatens the sustainability of our business.

And that's before we even think about sales on other platforms, or pirated installs of our game, or even multiple installs by the same user!!!

This decision puts us and countless other studios in a position where we might not be able to justify using Unity for our future titles. If these changes aren't rolled back, we'll be heavily considering abandoning our wealth of Unity expertise we've accumulated over the years and starting from scratch in a new engine. Which is really something we'd rather not do.

On behalf of the dev community, we're calling on Unity to reverse the latest in a string of shortsighted decisions that seem to prioritize shareholders over their product's actual users.

I fucking hate it here.

-Aggro Crab - END DESCRIPTION]

That fee, by the way, is a flat fee. Not a percentage, not a royalty. This means that any games made in Unity expecting any kind of success are heavily incentivized to cost as much as possible.

[IMAGE DESCRIPTION: A table listing the various fees by number of Installs over the Install Threshold vs. version of Unity used, ranging from $0.01 to $0.20 per install. END DESCRIPTION]

Basic elementary school math tells us that if a game comes out for $1.99, they will be paying, at maximum, 10% of their revenue to Unity, whereas jacking the price up to $59.99 lowers that percentage to something closer to 0.3%. Obviously any company, especially any company in financial desperation, which a sudden anchor on all your revenue is going to create, is going to choose the latter.

Furthermore, and following the trend of "fuck anyone who doesn't ask for money", Unity helpfully defines what an install is on their main site.

While I'm looking at this page as it exists now, it currently says

The installation and initialization of a game or app on an end user’s device as well as distribution via streaming is considered an “install.” Games or apps with substantially similar content may be counted as one project, with installs then aggregated to calculate the Unity Runtime Fee.

However, I saw a screenshot saying something different, and utilizing the Wayback Machine we can see that this phrasing was changed at some point in the few hours since this announcement went up. Instead, it reads:

The installation and initialization of a game or app on an end user’s device as well as distribution via streaming or web browser is considered an “install.” Games or apps with substantially similar content may be counted as one project, with installs then aggregated to calculate the Unity Runtime Fee.

Screenshot for posterity:

That would mean web browser games made in Unity would count towards this install threshold. You could legitimately drive the count up simply by continuously refreshing the page. The FAQ, again, doubles down.

Q: Does this affect WebGL and streamed games? A: Games on all platforms are eligible for the fee but will only incur costs if both the install and revenue thresholds are crossed. Installs - which involves initialization of the runtime on a client device - are counted on all platforms the same way (WebGL and streaming included).

And, what I personally consider to be the most suspect claim in this entire debacle, they claim that "lifetime installs" includes installs prior to this change going into effect.

Will this fee apply to games using Unity Runtime that are already on the market on January 1, 2024? Yes, the fee applies to eligible games currently in market that continue to distribute the runtime. We look at a game's lifetime installs to determine eligibility for the runtime fee. Then we bill the runtime fee based on all new installs that occur after January 1, 2024.

Again, again, doubled down in the FAQ.

Q: Are these fees going to apply to games which have been out for years already? If you met the threshold 2 years ago, you'll start owing for any installs monthly from January, no? (in theory). It says they'll use previous installs to determine threshold eligibility & then you'll start owing them for the new ones. A: Yes, assuming the game is eligible and distributing the Unity Runtime then runtime fees will apply. We look at a game's lifetime installs to determine eligibility for the runtime fee. Then we bill the runtime fee based on all new installs that occur after January 1, 2024.

That would involve billing companies for using their software before telling them of the existence of a bill. Holding their actions to a contract that they performed before the contract existed!

Okay. I think that's everything. So far.

There is one thing that I want to mention before ending this post, unfortunately it's a little conspiratorial, but it's so hard to believe that anyone genuinely thought this was a good idea that it's stuck in my brain as a significant possibility.

A few days ago it was reported that Unity's CEO sold 2,000 shares of his own company.

On September 6, 2023, John Riccitiello, President and CEO of Unity Software Inc (NYSE:U), sold 2,000 shares of the company. This move is part of a larger trend for the insider, who over the past year has sold a total of 50,610 shares and purchased none.

I would not be surprised if this decision gets reversed tomorrow, that it was literally only made for the CEO to short his own goddamn company, because I would sooner believe that this whole thing is some idiotic attempt at committing fraud than a real monetization strategy, even knowing how unfathomably greedy these people can be.

So, with all that said, what do we do now?

Well, in all likelihood you won't need to do anything. As I said, some of the biggest names in the industry would be directly affected by this change, and you can bet your bottom dollar that they're not just going to take it lying down. After all, the only way to stop a greedy CEO is with a greedier CEO, right?

(I fucking hate it here.)

And that's not mentioning the indie devs who are already talking about abandoning the engine.

[Links display tweets from the lead developer of Among Us saying it'd be less costly to hire people to move the game off of Unity and Cult of the Lamb's official twitter saying the game won't be available after January 1st in response to the news.]

That being said, I'm still shaken by all this. The fact that Unity is openly willing to go back and punish its developers for ever having used the engine in the past makes me question my relationship to it.

The news has given rise to the visibility of free, open source alternative Godot, which, if you're interested, is likely a better option than Unity at this point. Mostly, though, I just hope we can get out of this whole, fucking, environment where creatives are treated as an endless mill of free profits that's going to be continuously ratcheted up and up to drive unsustainable infinite corporate growth that our entire economy is based on for some fuckin reason.

Anyways, that's that, I find having these big posts that break everything down to be helpful.

#Unity #Unity3D #Video Games #Game Development #Game Developers #fuckshit #I don't know what to tag news like this

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natsaffection · 3 months ago

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Innocence. pt 1 | N.R

Older!Sargent!Natasha x Younger!Soldier! Reader

Warnings: None for now.

Word count: 5,1k

A/N: First of three parts is here! This one covers the very beginning, what we mostly go through during the first few days after leaving the comfort. The pacing might feel a bit slow while reading, but in person, it’s like you’ve already been there for weeks… and your body definitely isn’t thanking you.

The aircraft swayed just slightly with turbulence, but you barely noticed. You were sitting straight-backed in a seat along the right wall, harnessed in, hands resting atop your gear bag like you were afraid to let go of it. Your fingers itched with nerves, not the kind that made you panic, but the kind that made you wait. Watch. Think too much. You weren’t afraid. Not really. You were just…aware. Of everything.

The soldier across from you had his eyes closed, music bleeding faintly from one side of his headset, something with guitar, low and steady. Two others sat a few rows down, murmuring to each other over a bag of sunflower seeds, occasionally laughing too loud before catching themselves. One guy was bouncing his leg fast, his helmet tipped forward like a makeshift blindfold.

Everyone had a way to sit with their nerves. You just stayed still.

You watched the red glow of the overhead light paint everything in harsh shadow, hard edges on uniforms, tight lines across tense mouths. You could smell oil and canvas, gunmetal and worn leather. The air was dry, and warm. Somewhere far ahead, you knew the pilot was calling out distance markers. They were close.

And out there, already on the ground, already waiting..was her. Staff Sergeant Natasha Romanoff. Your new commanding officer. And the one woman you weren’t sure you knew how to impress…but desperately wanted to try.

Four Weeks Earlier

You stood stiffly at the desk, file in hand. The officer on the other side, some square-jawed sergeant you barely knew, was looking at you like he’d just broken bad news and didn’t want to say it twice.

“I’m sorry.” he said, “Aplha-One didn’t select you. High marks, yes. But they’ve got their own standards.”

You stared at the floor. Your mouth was dry. It wasn’t fair to cry, this was part of the game, you knew that..but still. You’d killed yourself for this unit. Two years of discipline, sweat, tests, sacrifices. Aloha-One was the goal.

“However…” he continued, sliding a second file toward you. “You scored extremely high in tactical reasoning and zero-error protocol under stress. Another team saw your data.”

You looked up slowly. “They want you in Echo 9. SSGT Romanoff’s division.”

Your fingers twitched on the edge of your folder. “Echo 9?”

“They don’t recruit often. But when they do, it’s for a reason. You caught someone’s attention.”

You hesitated. You’d heard the stories, Romanoff’s unit was covert, fast-moving, low profile. Their ops were real, and rarely spoken about.

Alpha-one had been the dream. But Echo 9? That was…something else. You blinked back the sting in your eyes and nodded. “I’ll take it.”

Back to Present

You rolled your shoulders gently. You kept looking at the door, the one that would open and spill you into dust, hot wind, and the start of whatever came next. You’d land near an isolated base camp in a desert region, you knew that much. Some recon op tied to sensitive cargo and possible extraction. High alert. Your first true deployment outside the wire.

Your chance to see her.

You’d only met twice, once during evaluation, and once during the fastest, coldest briefing you’d ever been through. Romanoff had scanned you like she already knew everything, your past, your stats, your tells. Like you’d already said enough by standing in front of her.

Two Weeks Ago

You were sitting cross-legged in the middle of your paper mess, balancing your tablet on one knee and typing with your thumb. A to-do list bloomed across the screen:

• Cancel lease

• Storage unit rental

• Forward mail to Mom

• Emergency contact

• Get tactical gloves (broken stitching)

• Sell old field jacket

Your fingers paused. You looked around the space, still half-lived in. Walls still had photos. Fridge still had magnets. The place didn’t feel like it was missing you yet. But you were already halfway gone.

A few hours later, your best friend Harlow came over to help you pack. You stuffed gear into crates and duffels, argued over which mugs to leave behind, and finally just collapsed onto the couch, still sweaty from lifting boxes.

“I can’t believe they picked you..” Harlow teased, nudging you.

You threw a pillow. “Screw off.”

“No, really. Romanoff? Echo 9? That’s wild. You’re gonna have stories.”

You smiled faintly. “If I come back with stories, it means I didn’t mess it up.”

Harlow looked at you. “You won’t mess it up. You’re meant for this.”

Back to Present

You let out a slow breath, fogging the air just slightly. Someone nearby tightened a strap; someone else cracked their knuckles.

Almost there. And somehow, in the middle of all this..the adrenaline, the altitude, the silence between heartbeats, you felt something else rise in your chest.

Pride.

With a sharp hiss, the hydraulic doors cracked open, and in the same instant, it hit you- The heat. It slammed into your face like a physical wall, dry, thick, pulsing with sun-baked intensity. Your breath caught for a moment, involuntarily. Not from shock, but from the weight of it. It wasn’t just hot, it was the kind of heat that crawled down the back of your neck, sat in your boots, and stole the moisture from your lungs.

You blinked, eyes adjusting to the brutal midday glare. The light was white. So bright the sand looked like it was glowing. A wasteland of tan and beige, mountains ghosting in the distance, like mirages wavering in the heat lines. Your boots clunked against the ramp as you followed the line of soldiers off the aircraft, dust already collecting around your ankles.

“Welcome to hell.” someone muttered behind you. You didn’t reply. You just kept walking, adrenaline mixing with sweat.

The group gathered in formation just beyond the landing zone, sweat already beginning to pool beneath gear not meant for this kind of sun. The tarmac shimmered. A breeze kicked up, hot and sharp with the scent of sand, diesel, and sweat. A tall man in a scorched tan uniform approached, clipboard in hand, sleeves rolled up, sunglasses hiding his eyes.

“Listen up!” he barked. The chatter died instantly. “Today’s the twelfth. It’s 122 degrees out. That’s forty-nine Celsius for you metric-lovers. Hydrate, don’t pass out. You’re not heroes if you collapse on Day One.”

Someone coughed behind you. A few nods. The air was too hot for anything more. The man paused, then added with a dry smirk, “Romanoff’s waiting at Command. You’ll meet her shortly.”

And just like that, the atmosphere shifted, not from the sun this time, but from the name. Romanoff.

You felt a twinge in your chest. Sharp, curious, alert. “She really as hot as they say?” someone to your left whispered under his breath. His voice was low, but not low enough.

“Oh, she’s more than hot..” another guy replied, cracking a grin. “They say she can kill a man and give him a boner at the same time.”

Several soldiers chuckled, their laughter quick, dirty, laced with the kind of bravado that only came when they thought they were out of earshot. Your jaw tensed. You didn’t know Natasha well, yet..but something about the casual, sexual tone made your stomach twist. This wasn’t the kind of place you joked like that. Not about your people.

Then, a silence. It didn’t come slowly. It snapped into place like a rope pulled tight. You turned just slightly. There she was.

Natasha was walking toward you, slow and composed, each step measured, boots kicking up puffs of dust in her wake. Her uniform fit like it was cut for her alone, sleeves rolled up, tags tucked in, not a wrinkle on her. She carried no visible weapon, but no one needed proof.

She was the weapon.

Every soldier in the group straightened, even those who didn’t realize they were doing it. And her eyes, flat, cold, and controlled, landed directly on the man who’d made the joke.

“Name?” she asked, voice like ice under fire.

The guy swallowed. “Uh…Private Miles, ma’am.”

She walked up to him. Close. Too close. Their boots were almost touching. You couldn’t see her eyes anymore, but you saw his. They widened a fraction. His shoulders stiffened. The grin was gone.

“Private Miles..” Natasha said softly, voice barely above a whisper, “if I ever hear you speak about another soldier that way again, especially one in my command, I will personally make sure your transfer home includes a medical dishonorable discharge, and a broken jaw to explain it.”

The air around you didn’t move. Even the breeze seemed to stop. Miles stood like a statue. No response. No breath.

“And if you’re wondering whether I’m ‘as hot as they say,’” she added, stepping just slightly closer, her tone a thread away from venom, “I suggest you test your theory in a combat scenario. I’d love to see how long you last.”

Then she stepped back. “Eyes front.”

The entire group snapped to attention. You felt your pulse in your throat. You hadn’t moved, hadn’t blinked. It was like watching lightning strike just beside you. Romanoff turned to face everyone now, still calm, still unreadable.

“I’m Staff Sergeant Romanoff.” she said, tone level, eyes scanning the line. “You’re now part of Echo 9. That means your record matters less than your performance. You are responsible for each other. If you want to act like civilians, I suggest you turn back now.”

No one moved.

“Training begins tomorrow at 0500 (5:00am). Briefing starts at 0430 (4:30 am) sharp. You’ll receive bunks and assignments from base command in the next ten minutes. Hydrate. Unpack. Do not be late.” She paused. “Dismissed.”

Without another word, she turned on her heel and walked back toward the base structure, heat swirling behind her in shimmering waves.

No one spoke for a long time. You swallowed, throat dry as bone. You couldn’t tell if your heartbeat was from the sun, or from her.

The base wasn’t much to look at, a sprawl of beige and metal, containers turned into housing, makeshift fences, worn banners catching the wind like tired flags. The ground was cracked and sun-bleached, the heat radiating off the concrete like an invisible second sun.

You followed the thin trail of other soldiers toward the housing row. A clipboard had been shoved into your hands moments after Romanoff’s departure, listing your bunk number and clearance ID. A container near the outer edge. Far enough from command to feel temporary. Close enough to hear the weight in every bootstep.

When you reached it, you paused. The container was basic, standard military housing. Matte green. Bolted shut with a manual handle. But it was yours. At least for now. You lifted the latch and stepped inside. Cooler air hit your face immediately, not cold, but not scalding either. A cheap mercy.

Inside, there were two narrow bunks, one metal locker each, a shared footlocker in the center, and a cracked mirror bolted above a dented sink. Sparse, lived-in, but clean. And someone was already unpacking on the left side.

She was bent over her duffel, sorting through rolls of gauze, small vials, medical wraps, her dark hair pulled into a messy low bun. She looked up when you entered and grinned.

“You must be Y/l/n.”

You blinked. “Yeah. That’s me.”

The girl stood, wiping a smudge off her cheek with the back of her hand. “I’m Rae. Rae Bishop. You snore, you die.”

You laughed, tension bleeding out of your shoulders almost instantly. “Fair enough.”

You shook hands, firm, quick. That unspoken military rhythm already forming. You tossed your bag onto the right bunk and began peeling off your outer vest, already feeling a small pool of sweat at the base of your spine.

Rae slid a canteen across the small desk toward you. “You look cooked. Drink.”

You did. It was warm, but water was water. “You infantry?” Rae asked, hopping up to sit on her bunk, boots still on.

“Combat operations.” you replied, settling on your own bunk and unlacing one boot. “Support and recon for Exho 9. You?”

“Medic.” Rae said, tapping the red cross patch on her shoulder. “Second rotation. Got here three weeks ago.”

You raised a brow. “So you’ve already survived Romanoff?”

Rae grinned. “Barely. She’s not as scary when she’s not slicing you open with her eyes. But yeah..she’s the real deal.”

You nodded. You knew that already. The image of Natasha walking through the dust, silencing that joke with only a look and a sentence, it was burned into you.

“What made you volunteer?” Rae asked.

You hesitated for a second. “Wasn’t my first choice. But this unit…feels like it might be the right one after all.”

Rae smiled knowingly. “Same.”

A knock at the metal door broke the moment. Three short raps. You exchanged a quick glance.

Rae swung the door open. Three guys stood outside, dusty, still geared-up, grinning. You recognized two of them from the aircraft. The third held a dented pack of cards in one hand and a pack of instant ramen in the other.

“Y/l/n..” the tallest one said, “we’re playing cards in the rec tent. You in?”

Rae raised an eyebrow and muttered, “Wow, no invite for me?”

“You don’t lose gracefully.” one of them shot back.

You hesitated. The memory of that crude joke on the tarmac flashed in your head. Your mouth tightened slightly, and you crossed your arms, thoughtful.

“I don’t usually hang out with people who make sex jokes about our CO.”

The smiles wavered, just for a second. One of the guys, younger than the rest, rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah. That was Miles. He’s…well. He’s eating dinner alone tonight.”

The third guy nodded. “Look, no pressure. But you seemed chill. No one’s looking to mess around or anything. We’re just…unwinding.”

There was a beat of silence. The hot wind pushed dust across the open door. Inside, the cool air hummed. Then you sighed. “Alright. But if you deal me crap cards, I’m walking.”

Laughter broke out immediately, easy and welcome. Rae grinned and flopped back onto her bed. “Tell ‘em I taught you everything.”

The rec tent was barely lit, strings of mismatched bulbs hung along the corners, buzzing softly. Folding chairs surrounded a center table, already cluttered with cards, crumpled wrappers, and one old speaker playing lo-fi beats someone swore helped with morale.

You took a seat, your body still adjusting to the tempo of the place, the slight vibration of generators, the scent of old coffee, the shift in your nerves from edge to ease. You played three rounds. Lost one. Won two. Someone made fun of your poker face, or lack thereof, and you shot back with a sarcastic quip that made Rae snort water through her nose.

They didn’t talk about Romanoff again. They didn’t talk about war, or blood, or fear. Just music. Home. The taste of actual food. The way sand got everywhere. Laughter felt strange at first — awkward and too loud in the open air, but then it settled in like warmth.

Before you knew it, the sky outside the rec tent had turned from gold to steel blue. Then to black.

0500 Hours

The alarm pierced the air like a bullet. You flinched upright in your bunk, adrenaline kicking before your brain caught up. Your heart was hammering. For a second, you had no idea where you were.

The room was still dark, bathed in faint blue light from the small LED clock bolted to the wall. Your eyes tracked across the plain metal ceiling. The thin sheets twisted around your legs. The sound of Rae breathing across the room. Dust floating through a stream of early light filtering between the blinds.

Then, heat. That dry, ever-present warmth, already crawling in through the container’s thin insulation. The heavy scent of sand and sweat. The sound of footsteps, boots outside the wall. A voice barking out a name. A door slamming.

Camp.

Deployment.

It came back all at once. You exhaled and scrubbed a hand over your face. The ache in your spine was from the unforgiving bunk. The itch on your skin? Dust. Always dust.

You dressed quickly, muscle memory already forming after a single day. Tactical undershirt. Lightweight fatigues. Boots laced to regulation tightness. Canteen clipped, ID tags tucked, comm unit ready.

Rae stirred behind you. “Tell Romanoff I’m alive..” she muttered, voice rough with sleep.

You smirked. “No promises.”

You stepped out into the early dawn air. The sky was a hazy pink, sun just starting to rise over the distant ridges. Heat was already forming, like a warning curled around the horizon.

The training yard was a square of cracked earth and sandbags. Half the unit was already assembled, some stretching, others checking weapons or reviewing briefing notes on slim tablets. Conversations were low, sparse, and cautious.

You spotted Martinez, Johnson, a few others. Miles stood off to the side, arms crossed, avoiding everyone’s eyes. A knot of anticipation hung in the air.

Then.. “She’s here.”

Every head turned. Natasha walked across the yard with zero wasted movement. Black tactical vest over sun-bleached fatigues, combat boots spitting dust behind her. Hair tied back. Calm, controlled. Not out of breath. Not rushed. She stopped dead center.

“Morning.” she said. One word. It hit harder than any shout. Everyone straightened.

“You’ll be split between physical combat, strategy, survival theory, and behavior conditioning. Yes, it’s hot. Yes, it’s early. No, I don’t care. This unit doesn’t carry excuses.”

She turned toward a group of soldiers. “First pair-up. Hand-to-hand.” She scanned them once, then landed on her target.

“Miles.”

He stepped forward stiffly. She waited.

“…Ma’am?”

“I said combat sparring. Step up.”

He did. Hesitant. You felt the buzz ripple through the unit. Everyone knew exactly what this was about. Then Natasha looked at you.

“Y/l/n. You’re with him.”

Your stomach flipped, but not in fear. Your fingers twitched at your sides. Excitement, fire, something warm rising in your chest. You stepped forward, facing Miles.

He frowned. “We’re doing this for real?”

Natasha tilted her head, expression unreadable. “Unless you’d prefer to sit this out.”

He flinched, barely, but got into a ready stance. Defensive. Hesitant. His center of gravity too high. You didn’t wait. You stepped in, low and fast. A feint to the right, testing him. He flinched. His hands came up late.

Then he swept under, pivoted his foot..And stopped. He didn’t finish the strike.

But Natasha did. In a blink, she stepped in from the side, grabbed Miles by the collar with one hand, and drove her knee hard between his legs. The sound he made wasn’t even a word. He crumpled, knees buckling, face contorting in shocked pain as he hit the dirt.

A beat of silence. Natasha turned, looking directly at the rest of the men. Voice like ice melting on steel. “Women are underestimated in combat more often than I can count. Happens in the field. Happens in training. But do it in my unit, and you’ll learn the difference between cocky and unconscious.”

She didn’t smile. Not exactly. Just a slow, razor-edged smirk as she turned to you. “Well done. Switch partners.”

Training settled into a brutal rhythm. Mornings began with sparring and PT, climbing walls, crawling through obstacle courses, sprinting under the punishing heat. By midday, it was tactical theory. Sand-tables, holographic maps, mission simulations. Natasha drilled you on terrain advantage, split-second decisions, blind recon.

“Enemies don’t come at you clean.” she said once, pointer hovering over a digital battlefield. “They come when your boots are stuck in mud and your comms are down. Think beyond perfect conditions.”

Afternoons were dedicated to behavior conditioning. How to read a room. Spot a liar. Break a pattern. It wasn’t just about physical training, it was mental warfare.

One session was held in a metal container rigged with sound loops and flashing lights. Designed to simulate chaos. You had to complete logic tests under pressure.

You nearly failed the first time, until Natasha stood behind you and said, calmly, “Breathe slower. Find the rhythm. You control your mind, or the mission controls you.”

By the third day, you were keeping pace. Faster. Sharper. And more confident. The soldiers around you began to notice. Some nodded as they passed. Rae snuck you protein bars and coffee tablets. Even Martinez, cocky and sarcastic, offered to swap gear tips.

Miles? Still avoiding eye contact. You didn’t mind. Not when every sunrise started with that burst of nerves, and every night ended with sore muscles, heavy lungs, and the knowledge that you belonged here more than you ever did anywhere else.

DAY 6

The room was built to look like an alleyway. Cracked walls. Sandbags. Smoke machines filling the air with grit and haze. Speakers embedded in the ceiling blared distant gunfire and shouting, sirens wailing in timed bursts. The simulation chamber was used for high-stress ops training, strategy under pressure, team maneuvering, and live tactical decisions. Everything tracked. Every shot. Every step. Every second.

You crouched low, rifle to your shoulder, sweat soaking your collar. Your breath was fast, lungs burning. You moved with your unit through the mock-up street, Rae trailing you with med gear, Martinez and Johnson flanking either side.

Target: secure a civilian in the “hot zone” evacuate to the south extraction point. Simple, on paper. But nothing ever was.

You breached the second corner, cleared the breach, and..You froze.

Two silhouettes appeared behind a scrim of smoke. Civilian or hostile? You hesitated. Your fingers tensed on the trigger. Your brain tried to assess. The figures move-

And then everything went to hell. A simulated blast went off. Too close. Too loud. Martinez dropped, “wounded.” Rae got separated. A red strobe light flashed across the chamber, symbolic of a “critical failure” in evac timing.

It was over. Simulation terminated. The smoke cleared slowly, the lights steadying. Soldiers blinked in the false dawn of debrief lighting as the system powered down. You ripped your goggles off, chest heaving. Your hands were shaking. Not from fear.

From frustration. Natasha walked in, tablet in hand. Her expression unreadable. She let the silence linger. Then she looked up, eyes slicing through the group like scalpels.

“Everyone out.” she said flatly, not looking at anyone but you. “Except Y/l/n.”

The others filed out silently. Rae gave you a small glance. Not pity. Just understanding. When the door closed, Natasha walked closer. Not looming. Just…present. You stood straighter, trying to lock your jaw. Waiting.

“I want you to explain what happened.” Natasha said.

You hesitated. “I hesitated at the corner. I.. I didn’t want to misfire. The shapes weren’t clear-”

“They weren’t clear?” Natasha repeated, voice cold. “You’ve run that drill four times. You know the shape of that alley. You know what cover looks like from thirty meters. And you froze.”

You swallowed. “Yes, Staff Sergeant.”

“Why?”

You opened your mouth. Closed it. “I.. didn’t trust myself.” you admitted. Quiet.

Natasha nodded once. A slow, deliberate motion. Then she stepped forward until you were almost eye to eye.

“If this had been real..” she said softly, “Martinez would have bled out before Rae could get to him. You would’ve lost your right leg to that blast. And your hesitation would’ve put your entire team in body bags.”

Every word was a scalpel. No yelling. No rage. Just cold truth. You didn’t speak.

“You don’t get to be unsure out there.” Natasha said. “Not when people are counting on you. Not when seconds mean survival. If you doubt yourself again, do it on your own time. Not mine.”

She turned away. Walked two steps. Then stopped. “But…”

You blinked.

“…you still identified the pattern before the system ended the sim. You saw the angle of the shooter. You started moving to block Rae’s exit. That means your instincts are right. You just didn’t trust them.”

Another long pause. “I want you in my class this afternoon. Behavioral split-second response training. Two hours.”

You nodded. “Yes, Staff Sergeant.”

“And Y/l/n?”

“…Yes?”

“If you ever freeze like that again, I’ll personally send you back home with a thank-you card and a slap for wasting my time.”

Your mouth twitched. The sharpest edge of a grin. “Understood.”

DAY 11

The room buzzed with quiet suffering. The overhead lights flickered in that sickly yellow way that only military bulbs seemed to manage. Dust drifted lazily through the stale air. Everyone was slouched somewhere, against the walls, over the table, heads resting in hands, boots half unlaced beneath chairs. Not a single soul was upright by choice.

You sat near the end of the long table, chin propped in one hand, trying to pretend you weren’t blinking longer than you should.

Your thighs still burned from morning PT. Your knuckles were bruised from combat drills. Your brain was a fog of unfinished sleep and half-digested ration bars. Even your boots felt heavy. Like they’d been dipped in cement.

Rae, sitting next to you, looked dead-eyed at her half-full notebook. Johnson was using his own notepad as a pillow. Martinez had a cold pack wedged under his shirt, muttering something about “inhumane training laws” under his breath.

You were wrecked. And no one dared to say it out loud.

The door opened. And just like that, the room snapped into shape. Natasha walked in with a slow, unreadable expression. She didn’t bark a command. Didn’t speak. She didn’t have to.

Her presence alone was a straight line drawn through chaos. Her expression unreadable, calm, but not soft. Alert. A storm in waiting. She walked past all of you without a word and hoisted herself up to sit on the table directly in front of the class , boots planted wide, elbows on knees.

The silence grew dense. Then, slowly, she looked at you. One by one. Not judging. Measuring. You sat straighter. Your heart, despite exhaustion, thudded once. Hard.

She reached for the remote and pressed a button. The screen behind her flickered to life. A drone shot filled the screen, a wide, aerial view of an arid landscape. Cracked land. A village reduced to fragments of stone and splinters. Roofs caved in. A single road, broken with impact craters, carved through what used to be homes.

Everything changed in the room. The fog of exhaustion evaporated. Spines straightened. Eyes locked forward. No one moved. Not even to breathe.

“This..” Natasha said, her voice low, “is the village of Qasira. Forty-seven clicks east of this base. Population, formerly nine hundred. Current? Unknown.”

She let that sit for a second before continuing. “Three days ago, an insurgent convoy passed through the area. They were hit mid-transit. Likely an airstrike from a local faction. Civilians were caught in the crossfire. Local med teams are moving in now. You’re going with them.”

The screen shifted to a satellite map. Pinpoints. Movement indicators. Roads. “This isn’t a combat op. It’s a secure-and-monitor. Your job is to escort, establish perimeter, and provide overwatch while the medics assist the injured and collect survivors.”

Her voice was firm, but there was something in her eyes , a warning, subtle but sharp. “You will be met with three types of people.” she continued. “Those who are glad to see you. Those who resent you. And those who hate you outright. All of them will be scared. Some will be armed. Some won’t.”

Rae swallowed softly next to you.

“You do not fire unless fired upon.” Natasha said. “You do not engage unless absolutely necessary. If someone spits at you, you walk. If someone screams at you, you listen. You are not here to escalate. You are here to protect the people doing their jobs.”

Another click. A street-level image filled the screen, caved-in houses, burnt-out windows, children standing in the rubble, watching the drone.

Your throat tightened.

“This is what real missions look like.” Natasha said, quieter now. “It’s not always bullets and body armor. Sometimes it’s holding a perimeter while someone bleeds out two feet away from you. Sometimes it’s walking past a woman crying over what used to be her kitchen.”

She looked at all of you. And this time, there was no cold edge. Just steel. Steady and unwavering.

“You need to be better than your instincts. You need to be professional, even when it’s hard. Especially when it’s hard.”

A pause. “We leave at 0700 (7am).”

With that, she stood, clicked off the screen, and stepped down. Then, she turned back.

“Gear up. No mistakes.”

The silence lingered after she left. It wasn’t fear. It was something sharper. Something real. You exhaled, slow, as if the weight of the next phase had finally landed on your chest.

Part 2

#natasha x reader #natasha romanoff #natasha romanov x reader #dom!natasha x reader #nat x reader #natasha romonova #the avengers #natasha #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanov #natasha romanoff x reader

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ilovemarvel97 · 17 days ago

Text

Written in Our Souls - Part 15

Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Summary: Y/N goes on the mission. It was supposed to be a simple mission…

Word Count: 6,255

Warnings: angst, little fluff, mention of blood

Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist

---

The Mission

At first, the mission unfolded like clockwork.

The team touched down on the outskirts of a remote Hydra outpost nestled deep in a mountainous region. Intel had flagged the facility for data extraction—nothing high-threat, mostly old storage, according to the briefing. Just a simple in-and-out. Surveillance disabled. Entry points mapped. The air was cool, thin, but quiet. Too quiet.

Y/N moved with the others through the tree line in a blur, her senses sharp, every muscle tensed. Even with her enhanced speed and strength, something about this place made her skin crawl. Wanda’s absence was like a silent echo in her chest, tugging at her instincts louder than anything else.

“Eyes up,” Steve’s voice came through the comms. “We’re approaching the eastern entrance.”

Y/N nodded, appearing beside Sam and Nat with supernatural ease, scanning the perimeter. They breached the door with minimal resistance. The corridors inside were dim, dust-covered, abandoned-looking—but not entirely empty. Y/N could feel it.

“Too quiet,” Nat muttered, checking the corners.

“Energy readings are spiking,” Sam said, holding up a scanner. “Something’s still live down here.”

They reached the data terminal without incident. Strange. Y/N started the extraction, her fingers a blur across the interface, while the others secured the area.

Then everything went to hell.

A sudden boom ripped through the silence. The ground trembled. Dust poured from the ceiling as a wall at the far end exploded inward. Reinforced blast doors hissed open—and behind them—

“Ambush!” Steve barked.

Dozens of Hydra operatives poured in, armed to the teeth and moving with disturbing precision. Automatic fire erupted. The team dove for cover.

Y/N was already moving. In a blur, she shot in front of Sam, arm outstretched—her fingers snapping closed around the bullets mid-air. One. Two. Three. Caught like they were nothing. Then, with a burst of speed, she launched forward, disarming three men in the blink of an eye and slamming one clean through a wall.

“We’ve been set up!” Nat shouted, ducking a blast.

Gunmen dropped from above, rappelling from vents and hidden shafts. It had all been a trap.

Y/N gritted her teeth, eyes darting back to the data terminal—78% downloaded.

“We have to hold until it’s done!” she yelled, tearing a chunk of metal from the wall and using it to block another barrage of bullets. She threw it like a discus, taking out a group of enemies in one clean arc.

But her mind wasn’t on the fight—not fully.

She was thinking about Wanda.

And the baby.

And how fast everything could be lost.

Her chest tightened. No matter how fast she was, how strong—she couldn't be in two places at once.

I have to survive this.

I have to go home to them.

And suddenly, surviving this mission became the only mission.

---

The hallway was barely holding together from the force of the battle. Y/N stood at the front of the team, chest heaving, adrenaline pumping. Her speed had cleared most of the path, and her strength had kept the walls from collapsing entirely.

“98%!” she called out, her voice cutting through the chaos. “Just hold a little longer!”

The terminal hummed beside her, screen flashing as the data download neared completion. Behind her, Steve and Nat held their ground while Sam covered the flank.

Suddenly, Tony’s voice crackled through the comms, urgent and sharp:

“Heads up—Vision and I have visuals on reinforcements. Not inside. Outside. And they’re not your average goons—these are enhanced.”

Vision’s voice followed, more controlled but just as serious:

“I count at least seven. They’re waiting for extraction to fail.”

Y/N’s heart dropped.

Before she could react, the terminal pinged—100%.

“Drive’s ready!” she shouted.

Sam grabbed it and turned, but a low hum began to vibrate through the floor.

Y/N froze.

“What is that?” she muttered, then realized,

The sound was familiar.

“Fall back—now!” she yelled, but it was already too late.

Her limbs felt heavy. Like molasses had filled her veins. She tried to run, to push forward—but her body didn’t obey. Her momentum died mid-step, and the blur of motion that usually trailed her fell still.

“What the hell—?” Steve called out, noticing her slow down.

Then came the sound.

Pop. Pop.

Two gunshots.

Sharp. Close.

Y/N staggered backward, breath catching in her throat. She looked down.

Blood bloomed across her side and lower abdomen.

The pain hit a second later, burning, white-hot.

“Y/N!” Sam shouted, diving toward her.

Y/N hit the ground hard, her vision swimming. Blood seeped through her suit—hot, fast, and too much.

She tried to move but her legs barely twitched. Whatever they hit her with… it was working. Her speed—her healing—it was all gone.

Nat was by her side in seconds, skidding to her knees. “Where are you hit?”

“Side... and ribs…” Y/N gritted out, clutching her abdomen. “Bullets are still in.”

Nat’s fingers were already working, applying pressure. “Alright. You’ll be okay. I just need to get them out.”

She tapped her comm, urgency in her voice. “Vision, we need immediate extraction. Y/N’s down—bullets lodged too deep to remove here. Vision, do you read?”

Static.

“Vision?” Nat repeated, louder now. “Come in. Y/N’s hit!”

More silence.

Sam and Steve were laying cover fire around them, but Nat’s eyes flicked to the sky. “Where the hell is he?”

Y/N’s breathing was shallow, ragged. “Nat…” she rasped. “He’s not answering?”

“No,” Nat said grimly. “But that doesn’t matter. We’ll handle it. I just need—”

Y/N gasped as Nat dug a blade into the first wound, her body convulsing. “AHHHHH—!”

“Hold still!” Nat snapped. “I have to get it out. Your body won’t heal with the metal in you!”

Y/N screamed again, eyes squeezed shut, teeth clenched so hard it felt like they might crack. “It’s not working… dammit, Nat—it’s not working! There’s something wrong.”

Nat’s hand froze mid-motion. “What?”

“They did something. Slowed me down. Whatever it is, it’s still in my system. I can't heal until that bullet's gone…”

Nat looked down, heart pounding. She could feel the bullet—it was deep, but accessible. Maybe.

“Okay. Deep breath. You have to trust me.”

“I do,” Y/N whispered, clutching her shoulder. “But please—please—don’t let me die.”

Nat's expression softened just for a second. “You’re not dying. Not today. Not on my watch.”

Another call through the comms. “Vision! Where the hell are you?” Sam’s voice this time, urgent. “We need you down here!”

Nothing.

Nat bit back a curse and dug in again, ignoring the cry that tore from Y/N’s throat. Steve and Sam were closing ranks to protect them, enemies swarming. Time was running out.

“I’ve almost got it,” she said through clenched teeth, blood coating her gloves.

Y/N’s lips trembled, sweat slick on her brow. “Wanda… needs me… the baby…”

Nat froze. “What?”

But Y/N’s eyes were rolling back. Her grip loosening.

Nat forced herself to focus. “No time for questions,” she muttered. “Just hold on.”

Whatever was blocking Y/N’s powers—they needed to get it out fast.

---

Wanda’s POV

Wanda’s breath caught before the pain even registered.

It struck like lightning—sharp, violent, and wrong. Her knees buckled and she gripped the edge of the sink in her bathroom, the coffee cup slipping from her hand and shattering on the tile below.

Her vision blurred.

“No…” she whispered, one hand flying instinctively to her abdomen, the other to her chest. Her heart thundered wildly, a rhythm not entirely her own.

Y/N.

Something was wrong. So wrong.

She felt it through the bond—not a vague unease or a distant pulse of fear like before—but a surge, raw and red-hot, flooding her senses like fire. The pain, the panic, the searing heat of a wound that wasn’t hers but somehow was.

Her body curled forward, a cry ripping from her throat.

“Y/N—”

Wanda scrambled to her feet, stumbling toward the door. Her vision swam, her pulse chaotic. The nausea came again, but this time it wasn’t morning sickness. It was fear.

She could feel her.

Y/N’s pain.

Her helplessness.

Her scream.

Wanda’s hands shook as she pressed her palm to the wall, trying to ground herself. But grounding was impossible when the person who was your ground was out there bleeding.

The bond screamed in her blood.

Wanda gasped. “No—no, no, no—”

The baby. Y/N’s voice echoed in her soul. Wanda… needs me. The baby…

She staggered toward her nightstand, fumbling with her comm. “Steve—someone—tell me what’s happening!”

There was yelling in the background, static and gunfire, but no one answered her directly.

A cold chill crept up her spine, colder than the panic. She didn’t have time to question it.

Wanda's voice broke as she yelled again into the comm, "Where’s Y/N? Is she—is she okay?!"

Another wave of pain nearly knocked her down.

This wasn’t just injury.

This was a wound meant to sever.

But she wouldn’t let it.

“I’m coming,” she whispered, hands glowing red with magic that trembled and sparked wildly. “I’m coming detka.”

She pressed a trembling hand to her belly and then to her wrist, where Y/N’s name had always burned brightest.

“Just hold on.”

---

BACK TO THE TEAM

Y/N screamed as Natasha tried again, her gloved fingers slick with blood, shaking as she tried to reach the bullet lodged too deep in Y/N’s side.

“I’m sorry—I’m sorry, I can’t find it—” Nat hissed through gritted teeth, her voice straining against the chaos around them. “Where the hell is Vision?!”

“I CALLED HIM!” Sam’s voice came through the comms. “He’s not responding—he’s just hovering up there with Stark!”

Steve’s shield flew past, slamming into a Hydra soldier closing in. He dropped beside them to cover their position. “What’s wrong with him?!”

Y/N’s skin was pale, blood soaking her suit. Her breath came in short, ragged gasps. “He’s not coming…” she said hoarsely, her eyes fluttering open, meeting Natasha’s. “He’s not coming.”

Nat looked down at her in horror. “Why would he—?”

“I don’t know…” Y/N whispered, her body jerking as another wave of pain hit. “Maybe he wants me to die…”

Nat froze, but only for a second. “No. No, don’t say that. Focus. Stay awake. We’ll fix this.”

Y/N shook her head weakly. “It hurts, Nat. I can’t… I can’t heal unless you get the bullets out.”

Her hand reached out blindly, fingers brushing Nat’s wrist. “Wanda… she felt it. I know she did. I felt her panic. I need to get back. I need to hold her. The baby—”

A choking sound escaped her throat, part sob, part scream, as another tremor of pain wracked her.

“I can’t die, Nat…” Y/N gasped, her eyes wild with desperation. “She needs me. The baby needs me. Please—please—get them out—”

Nat’s face twisted with emotion as she grabbed the med kit again. “I’m going to try. Just—just hang on, okay? Stay with me. Don’t you dare give up.”

Blood pooled beneath them.

Gunfire rang louder.

Smoke clouded the battlefield. Explosions from Hydra tech rattled the ground as Sam flew overhead, trying to suppress enemy fire. Steve was shouting commands, but his voice was drowned in the chaos.

Nat’s hands were soaked in blood. She couldn’t see the bullet—couldn’t feel it—and Y/N was slipping.

“I can’t get to it!” she shouted, panic now breaking through her usual cool.

Y/N’s eyes were fluttering closed, her lips pale and trembling. “Tell Wanda I’m sorry,” she breathed.

“No.” Nat grabbed her face roughly, forcing her to look at her. “No goodbyes. You hear me? You’re not dying. I’m not letting you.”

But then another explosion hit nearby—closer. Dirt and metal rained over them. Steve threw his shield, taking the brunt of the shrapnel, but the noise was deafening.

And that was when Sam’s voice cracked through the comms, horrified.

“WE’VE GOT A NEW WAVE—RIGHT SIDE! ALL ENHANCED! SHIT—VISION’S STILL NOT MOVING!”

Nat’s jaw clenched. “What the hell is he doing?!”

“I don’t know! Tony’s trying to override something—he says Vision locked him out of the system!”

Y/N coughed hard, blood on her lips now.

“No, no, no—stay with me—stay with me!” Nat was shaking now, her voice breaking.

Then Y/N cried out—loud, guttural—as the dampener activated again, forcing her body into complete stillness, locking her abilities down even more.

“I can’t… move…” she gasped. “It’s spreading…”

Her body jerked, back arching as another pulse hit from the tech laced into the bullets inside her. Her speed was gone. Her healing stalled. Her strength fading.

“Wanda,” she breathed again. “She’s coming. I feel her. Please…”

But everything was slipping—her vision blurring, the world dimming—and still, Vision hovered above them, unmoving, watching as if he were a god among ruins.

Nat looked up, her fury nearly explosive.

“You bastard,” she whispered. “What are you doing?”

And in that moment—everything tipped toward disaster.

A sudden pressure rippled through the air, thick and electric, like the calm before a storm.

Then—

A crack of red lightning exploded overhead, and in the next heartbeat, Wanda descended like fury itself, a scarlet streak tearing through the sky. She landed hard near the blast site, the ground trembling beneath her feet as her powers surged outward in a blinding pulse.

Her eyes, glowing red, scanned the chaos—but locked instantly on the only thing that mattered: Y/N.

Collapsed. Bleeding. Barely conscious in Natasha’s arms.

“Y/N!”

The scream that left Wanda's lips was raw, broken.

She sprinted forward and dropped to her knees, trembling hands hovering over Y/N’s blood-soaked side. Her magic sparked uncontrollably, crackling around her fingers.

“Wanda—” Natasha began, but Wanda barely heard her.

“What happened?” she choked out.

“Shot twice. Something tech-based is slowing her down—her healing isn’t working,” Nat answered quickly, voice tight. “I tried to pull the bullets out, but I couldn’t reach them.”

Wanda’s heart clenched. Her stomach turned, not from the nausea that had become her norm lately, but from pure panic. She felt Y/N’s pain through the bond like fire in her chest.

“I’ve got her,” Wanda whispered, lowering her hands until scarlet light enveloped Y/N’s abdomen.

“Wands—” Y/N gasped, body twitching. “You can’t… it hurts—”

“I know,” Wanda whispered shakily, “I know it does. But I have to. Please… hold on.”

The magic delved deep, guided by instinct and desperation. Wanda closed her eyes and breathed through the wave of emotion crashing through her—her mate’s pain, her baby’s life, her fear that she might lose both.

“Come on,” she whispered, voice breaking. “Come on, please…”

She felt the first bullet—foreign and cold—and pulled. It scraped through muscle, then finally popped free, clattering to the dirt.

Y/N screamed, her back arching, but her eyes fluttered open for a moment.

“Just one more,” Wanda whispered, tears falling freely now. “Then your body can start healing. I promise.”

Scarlet magic trembled as Wanda reached for the second bullet. It was deeper, wedged in tight.

Behind her, Nat was holding pressure on the wound. “Wanda, she’s losing too much blood—”

“I know,” Wanda snapped, then softened. “I know. I feel it. I feel everything.”

She cradled Y/N’s cheek with one hand, steadying her, while her other hand worked the bullet loose with delicate, precise pulses of red.

“Don’t you dare leave me,” she whispered, voice shaking. “Not when I’m carrying our baby. Not when we just started.”

Then—with a final surge of light—the second bullet tore free.

Y/N gasped, then coughed weakly, color beginning to return to her cheeks as her body started to heal.

Wanda let out a sob of relief, gathering her into her arms and holding her tight.

“I’ve got you,” she whispered again and again, pressing her lips to Y/N’s forehead. “We’re okay now. You’re okay. We’re okay.”

She didn’t let go—not even when the sounds of battle still echoed in the distance.

Because in her arms was everything.

Her soulmate.

Her future.

Their child.

And nothing would ever take that from her.

---

The ground was scorched in patches, blackened by blasts and collapsed tech. Gunfire and the roar of enhanced enemies echoed across the battlefield, the mission having spiraled fully out of control.

Steve’s voice crackled over the comms—strained, breathless.

“Wanda—we’re getting overwhelmed! There’s at least six more enhanced coming from the east—super strength, energy manipulation, some kind of shielding. I can’t hold them off alone!”

Wanda turned her head sharply, heart pounding in her chest. Scarlet crackled around her like a storm barely held in check. Behind her, Y/N lay still—her breathing shallow, her body slowly healing, but not fast enough.

“Stay with her,” Wanda said to Natasha without looking. “Don’t let her move.”

Nat nodded, positioning herself over Y/N with a weapon drawn, gaze flickering between her fallen friend and the advancing enemy line.

Wanda stood slowly, power rippling around her in waves. Her fingers flexed at her sides as she looked toward the approaching threats—faces twisted in Hydra armor, masks glowing, eyes feral with aggression. They were enhanced and coordinated. This wasn’t a random ambush. It was a planned assault.

Scarlet power surged behind her eyes.

They were coming for them.

For Y/N.

For their baby.

And that made them a threat Wanda could not afford to let live.

She rose into the air, her movements graceful and terrifying, arms outstretched. “You don’t get to touch my family.”

She launched forward in a burst of red lightning, colliding with the enhanced before they could close in on Steve. Chaos exploded—energy beams ricocheted through the sky, but Wanda moved like a force of nature, tearing through them with a fury born of fear and love.

Steve, catching his breath, turned toward her briefly. “Thank God…”

But the tide hadn’t fully turned yet. Not with how many there were.

Back by the rubble, Natasha glanced down at Y/N. The blood flow had slowed. Her chest rose and fell, but her eyes were barely cracked open.

“Y/N,” Nat said urgently, touching her cheek. “Come on. Wake up.”

Y/N’s fingers twitched.

A broken breath escaped her lips. “W-Wanda…”

“She’s fine,” Nat lied through her teeth. “But she needs backup. She needs you.”

Y/N gritted her teeth. Her limbs were like stone, her body sluggish from the tech that had slowed her down. But her healing had started now that the bullets were gone—pain radiated through her ribs as bones began to knit, muscle stretching back into place.

Her fingers curled into the dirt. She forced herself to move.

For Wanda.

For the baby.

Because her soulmate was out there risking everything—and she wasn’t about to let her fight alone.

Y/N groaned as she shifted, her hand pressing to the half-healed wound in her side. Her vision swam, but she forced herself upright, swaying on her feet. Blood still stained her clothes, and her muscles ached like fire—but her healing had started. Her speed was coming back, little by little.

“She’s pregnant,” Y/N rasped, her voice sharp and trembling. Her eyes locked onto the red storm of chaos swirling in the distance—Wanda in full force. “You need to get her out of there.”

“Y/N—”

“Now, Nat!”

Without waiting for another word, Y/N shot forward, pain ricocheting through her body as she pushed her legs to move at near full speed. The speed inhibitor had weakened, and the moment she broke through the last of its grip, everything clicked into place—her strength, her purpose, her need to reach Wanda.

Wanda was still holding her own, throwing back enhanced enemies with brutal force, her magic wild and lethal. But even she was starting to show signs of strain. Her breathing was erratic, her movements slightly slower, protective instincts clashing with growing exhaustion.

Just as one of the enhanced flanked her from behind, raising a plasma blade to strike—

A blur slammed into him, sending his body flying into a heap of twisted metal.

Wanda spun around just as Y/N skidded to a halt in front of her, blood on her lips and fury in her eyes.

“Detka!” Wanda’s voice cracked with panic. “You shouldn’t be up!”

“You shouldn’t be here,” Y/N snapped, chest heaving. “You’re pregnant, Wanda. Get out. Now.”

Wanda looked like she might argue—until she saw the blood still leaking through Y/N’s side.

“Y/N—”

“No. I’m not leaving you, but I am getting you out of this fight.” She gritted her teeth, eyes burning into hers. “Please. For our baby.”

Wanda’s breath hitched.

Then she nodded.

But before they could move, another wave of Hydra reinforcements broke through the smoke.

Y/N stepped forward, shielding Wanda with her body.

“You get her out,” she said to Steve and Natasha over comms. “I’ll hold them off.”

Wanda’s eyes flared red as the enemy closed in. “No,” she said, her voice deadly quiet.

Y/N’s heart clenched. “Wanda—”

“I’m not leaving you,” she snapped, stepping up beside her. Her hand slipped into Y/N’s, and her grip was firm despite the tremble in her fingers. “Don’t ask me to. Not again. Not now.”

The world around them raged — Hydra soldiers, enhanced enemies, smoke, and gunfire — but in that moment, all Y/N saw was her.

The woman she loved. The woman carrying their child.

And she looked fierce. Terrified, but unyielding.

“You’re pregnant,” Y/N said, pleading, trying to keep her voice from breaking. “If something happens to you—”

“Something did happen,” Wanda cut in. “To you. And I felt every second of it. You think I can just walk away from that? From you?” Her voice cracked, and her other hand pressed to her stomach for a brief moment. “We’re bonded. You feel like home. I can’t leave you here to fight alone. I won’t.”

Another explosion rocked the ground behind them. Steve’s voice shouted something through the comms, but neither of them listened.

“I don’t care if the sky falls, Y/N,” Wanda said. “I’m staying with you.”

Y/N blinked hard. Her wounds throbbed. Her legs barely held her upright. But her heart… her heart ached with so much love for this woman that she could hardly breathe.

“Fine,” she whispered, voice hoarse but firm, “but you stay behind me and Steve.”

Wanda nodded, lips trembling as she blinked away the tears she refused to shed here. Not in front of their enemies. Not when the one she loved was still bleeding, still shaking, still standing — for her.

Y/N turned, eyes scanning the battlefield through the smoke and chaos. “Steve! On me!”

He was already moving, bloodied but alive, his shield up as he carved through the thick of the enhanced soldiers trying to push forward. At Y/N’s call, he redirected, heading straight for them.

“Got you,” Steve called, urgency in his voice. “Fall in!”

Y/N took Wanda’s hand for just one more second, squeezing it — grounding herself in it — before letting go.

“Stay back,” she told her again. “And if I fall, you run. You protect our baby. Promise me.”

Wanda looked like she might argue again, but something in Y/N’s voice — in the quiet command of it — made her nod once.

“I promise,” she whispered.

Then Y/N was gone in a blur of speed, still slowed but pushing through the pain, through the fire in her legs and the burn in her chest. Steve covered her flank. Wanda’s magic surged behind them, glowing scarlet, protecting their backs.

But the low pulse came again—another speed-blocker wave.

Y/N’s legs locked mid-run.

Her scream caught in her throat as she collapsed, tumbling hard, her momentum shattered. Before she could recover, enhanced agents surrounded her. Hydra operatives dragged her toward the trees.

Wanda screamed.

Her eyes glowed red, her magic ready to lash out, to burn the world to get to her.

But suddenly—

Strong arms wrapped around her from behind, locking her in place.

"Let me go!" she yelled, thrashing wildly, magic pulsing and flaring. “Y/N!”

“Wanda,” came the unnervingly calm voice of Vision.

She froze for half a second, shocked. “Where the hell have you been?! Let go of me—she's down there—!”

He didn’t answer. Instead, with a swift, calculated movement, he pulled a small syringe from his belt and stabbed it into her neck.

Wanda's breath hitched. “Wha—?”

Her magic sparked, faltered.

The world tilted.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly as her body began to go limp. “You’re not thinking clearly. I can’t let them take you too.”

She slumped against him, her eyes fluttering, her arms wrapping protectively over her stomach even in unconsciousness.

Vision carried her onto the quinjet.

Sam and Nat turned, startled, as he emerged with Wanda in his arms.

“Where’s Y/N?!” Sam demanded.

Vision didn’t answer. He just shook his head once—expression unreadable.

“We’re not leaving without her—” Nat started, stepping forward.

“She’s gone,” Vision said flatly. “We have to go. Now.”

“She’s not dead!” Sam shouted.

Vision’s voice sharpened, cold. “She is compromised. And this one—” he motioned to the unconscious Wanda in his arms— “is all that matters right now.”

Nat’s eyes narrowed. Sam clenched his jaw, furious.

Just then, the quinjet hatch opened again, and Steve climbed aboard, urgency in his movements.

“Go,” he said firmly, breathing hard.

Sam hesitated, looking at Steve, then nodded.

As the engines roared to life and the quinjet began to lift off, Steve cursed under his breath, voice tight with anger and helplessness, “We left her behind…”

Vision didn’t respond, his expression unreadable as the jet disappeared into the clouds with Wanda in his care.

---

The quinjet’s ramp hissed open as it touched down at the Avengers Compound, its landing gear trembling slightly with the weight of tension inside. At the same time, Tony’s suit clanked against the tarmac as he landed hard nearby, his faceplate sliding open as he marched forward, eyes blazing.

He didn’t wait for pleasantries.

“The hell were you doing up there, Vision?” Tony snapped, striding up just as the others disembarked. “You went dark in the middle of the mission. You blocked my feed—mine. No comms, no HUD link. You disappeared.”

Vision stepped down from the ramp slowly, carefully, carrying the still-unconscious Wanda in his arms. His face was neutral, impassive, even as Tony got in his path.

“I was caught up with Hydra agents,” he said smoothly. “I couldn’t respond.”

“Bullshit,” Tony said without hesitation. “You’re a walking satellite dish. You could’ve blinked Morse code if you wanted to. And don’t tell me you got overwhelmed—we both know that’s not even remotely possible unless you wanted to be.”

Nat stepped in, placing a calming hand on Tony’s arm. “Tony—”

But Tony shrugged her off. “No. We left Y/N behind. Because of him. Because no one knew where the hell he was.”

While Tony was still locked in a heated standoff with Vision, the medics arrived with a stretcher, urgency in their steps. One of them gently took Wanda from Vision’s arms, eyes flicking to her pale face, her limp form.

“She’s stable,” one medic noted after a quick scan, “but her vitals are all over the place. We need to run a full checkup immediately.”

Natasha’s jaw tensed. She didn’t say anything, but the way she turned on her heel and followed the medics said everything.

Inside the medbay, Wanda was quickly hooked up to monitors. Her heartbeat echoed steadily in the room, but her eyelids didn’t flutter. She looked so small, too still, and it made Nat’s chest ache.

Bruce arrived a few minutes later, pulling on gloves, his brow already creased with concern. “What happened to her?”

“That’s what we’re trying to figure out,” Nat replied, voice tight. She glanced over her shoulder to make sure the door was closed before continuing, her voice low. “There’s something else you should know… I think Wanda might be pregnant.”

Bruce froze. “Wait—what?”

“Y/N told me while she was bleeding out in the field,” Nat said, biting down the emotion in her voice. “She was begging me to get Wanda out, said the baby needed her. She looked terrified.”

Bruce ran a hand down his face, eyes moving toward Wanda again. “Damn. Okay. I’ll run a full scan, but I’ll do it quietly—no one else finds out until Wanda wakes up and tells us herself.”

Nat nodded. “Thanks. And Bruce?”

“Yeah?”

“Something’s wrong. I don’t just mean with Wanda. Vision didn’t respond on purpose. Y/N is still out there because of him. We need to find her fast.”

Bruce gave her a grim nod before getting to work, while Nat stayed by Wanda’s side, gripping her hand.

“Come on, Wanda, wake up,” Natasha whispered, her thumb brushing gently across the back of Wanda’s hand. “She needs you. The baby needs you. And we need answers.”

The room was quiet except for the soft beeping of monitors. Bruce worked quickly but carefully, scanning Wanda’s vitals with a portable device, already setting up for more in-depth testing. He didn’t ask any more questions—he knew better than to speak until they had facts. But the weight of Nat’s words hung heavy in the air.

Outside, the storm hadn’t calmed.

Tony was still pressing Vision, his voice sharp and full of disbelief.

“You blocked me out. You blocked me, Vision. That’s not a glitch, that’s a choice.”

Vision remained stoic, almost eerily calm. “I was overwhelmed by the Hydra units. I made a judgment call.”

“A judgment call that left Y/N behind?” Tony snapped. “A judgment call that somehow left Wanda unconscious and drugged out of her mind?”

Steve stood a few feet away, arms crossed tightly over his chest. He hadn’t said much—not yet. But the tension in his jaw and the dark storm in his eyes promised that he wasn’t buying any of it either.

“I acted in Wanda’s best interest,” Vision said, coldly. “She was in danger.”

“And Y/N?” Steve finally asked, voice low but heavy. “She wasn’t?”

There was no answer. Just silence.

And it was all the confirmation Tony and Steve needed to know something was off.

Back inside the medbay, Wanda stirred.

Nat shot upright.

A flicker beneath her eyelids, a twitch of her fingers.

Then Wanda’s lips parted in a small gasp as her head turned weakly toward Nat.

“Y/N…” she croaked, her voice hoarse and broken. “Where’s… Y/N?”

Nat squeezed her hand, trying to steady her own heart. “We’re going to find her, Wanda. I promise.”

But as Wanda’s eyes fluttered open, filling with confusion, pain—and dread—the color drained from her face.

“No…” she whispered, her voice trembling. “No, no—Vision…”

Her body jolted as the memory returned all at once—her struggling to get to Y/N, the desperation in her chest, Vision grabbing her, holding her back… then the prick of something sharp in her neck before everything went dark.

She sat up abruptly, gasping, her hands flying to her stomach. “The baby—oh God, the baby—”

“Wanda—hey—Wanda, breathe,” Nat said quickly, gently pushing her back down with steady hands. “You’re okay. They’re okay.”

Wanda blinked, her chest heaving, tears welling in her eyes. “They?”

Nat froze for half a second, then cursed herself internally.

Bruce turned from the monitors, giving Nat a quiet nod. “The scans confirmed it. You’re carrying twins, Wanda. And they’re both strong. Healthy heartbeats.”

Wanda’s hand remained frozen over her belly, as though afraid to move. “I didn’t know,” she whispered, voice barely audible. Her wide eyes shifted from Bruce to Nat, brimming with confusion. “Wait—how did you…?”

She looked at Nat sharply now, a tear slipping down her cheek. “We didn’t tell anyone. Not yet. Not even the team.”

Nat’s expression softened, her voice lowering with a kind of reverence. “You didn’t have to.”

Wanda’s heart skipped. “Y/N?”

Nat nodded. Her throat tightened as she remembered the blood, the panic, the raw desperation in Y/N’s voice. “After she got shot… while I was trying to stop the bleeding, she begged me to get you out. Said you needed to be safe… that the baby needed you.”

Wanda covered her mouth, a quiet sob escaping.

“She was so scared, Wanda,” Nat whispered, blinking quickly. “But she wasn’t afraid of dying. She was afraid something would happen to you. To them.”

Wanda leaned forward, clutching her stomach as if to shield her children with her own body. Her shoulders shook, but her resolve was building beneath the grief.

“She still doesn’t know it’s twins,” Wanda choked out between sobs. “We haven’t even been to the doctor yet. We were waiting for the next off-week, to go together…”

Her voice broke on the last word. Nat reached out, placing a steadying hand on Wanda’s back.

“Then we’ll make sure she hears it from you,” Nat said softly. “When we get her back.”

Before Wanda could respond, the medbay doors burst open.

Vision stood there, his expression unreadable, eyes locking on Wanda immediately. “Where is she? I need to see her.”

Wanda stiffened, and for a long moment she didn’t say a word.

Then she stood, slowly, protectively placing herself between Vision and the monitors still softly displaying her babies’ heartbeats.

“You drugged me,” she hissed, voice cold and trembling with rage. “You drugged me, and you carried me away from the person I love while she was bleeding out in a war zone!”

Vision’s face remained neutral, but his eyes flickered faintly. “You were in danger. You weren’t thinking clearly.”

“You don’t get to decide what I’m thinking,” Wanda snapped, magic crackling at her fingertips now, glowing faint red. “You don’t get to touch me without my consent. You don’t get to sedate me like I’m some experiment that’s gone too far.”

Bruce stepped forward cautiously. “Alright, that’s enough—”

“No, Bruce,” Wanda said without looking at him, her gaze fixed on Vision like a blade. “He did this. He left Y/N behind. He put his hand on me like I was his property. And for what?”

“You are my property,” Vision snapped, his voice suddenly rising — cold and sharp like broken glass.

The room fell deathly silent.

Bruce froze. Nat took a step forward, instinctively placing herself just a fraction in front of Wanda. Even the medics, silent in the background, looked up in shock.

“You were created from the Mind Stone just as I was,” Vision continued, his tone hardening with every word. “You and I are bonded by something beyond the primitive nonsense of soulmates. That mark on your wrist? It's nothing. A biological coincidence that humans cling to for meaning.”

Wanda’s lips parted slightly, but no words came. Her entire body tensed.

“She manipulated you,” Vision said, eyes glowing faintly now as he stepped closer. “Y/N saw your vulnerability and exploited it. And now that she’s out of the way—”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence,” Wanda said, her voice a low growl.

“She was always in the way. Always trying to steal you. Poison your mind. But now she’s gone, and we can finally—”

“No!” Wanda’s voice cracked through the medbay like a whip, laced with a surge of red energy that exploded outward and knocked Vision back into the wall with a bone-rattling crash. Monitors beeped wildly. Lights flickered overhead.

Wanda stood in front of the bed, trembling, her hand instinctively clutching her abdomen.

“You’re not bonded to me. Yes, I felt a connection because of the Mind Stone, but we were never bonded,” she spat. “You don’t own me. And I was a fool—for ever being engaged to you in the first place.”

Vision pushed himself up slowly, smoke rising from the wall behind him. His synthetic face contorted with something cold and twisted.

“You are confused,” he said, stepping forward again, unwavering. “Y/N will die soon—if she’s not already dead. And then you’ll realize—”

Wanda’s eyes went wide before he could finish. She gasped, a sharp cry escaping her throat as her knees buckled beneath her. Her hand flew to her chest, pain ripping through her with terrifying intensity. Not hers—Y/N’s.

“Wanda!” Nat called out just as she saw her sway.

Before Wanda could collapse fully to the floor, Nat lunged forward and caught her in her arms.

“Bruce!” Nat shouted, voice high and urgent. “She’s in pain—get something—now!”

Wanda clutched at her chest, her face pale, sweat blooming across her forehead. Her lips moved, barely forming a sound: “Y/N…”

Bruce rushed to her side, barking orders to the medics, already reaching for the sedative and scanner. Wanda’s entire body trembled in Nat’s hold, magic sparking erratically from her fingertips, reacting to the panic and pain rolling through her.

“It’s Y/N,” Wanda sobbed, barely conscious, her voice hoarse and breaking. “She’s in pain—I can feel her. She’s hurting—please—”

“I know,” Nat whispered, holding her tighter. “I know, we’ve got you. Just hold on.”

Wanda cried out again, her body arching as another wave of Y/N’s agony surged through the bond. The lights above flickered wildly, and the nearby monitors sparked with static. Bruce injected the sedative into her arm with steady hands, his jaw clenched.

“Her heart rate’s spiking—adrenaline’s flooding her system,” he muttered. “She’s going to crash if we don’t get her calm.”

But it wasn’t Wanda’s fear doing this—it was the bond. Y/N’s suffering was bleeding into her like fire through a cracked dam. Wanda’s fingers dug into her abdomen protectively, even as her body fought to stay upright.

“She’s still alive,” Wanda gasped. “I can feel her—Bruce, please—don’t let her die.”

Bruce hesitated for the briefest moment, then met Nat’s eyes. “We need to keep Wanda stable. But if what she’s saying is true, we need to find Y/N now.”

“I’ll tell Tony,” Nat said, still cradling Wanda. Her gaze shifted to the door where Vision had stood seconds ago—but he was gone.

Vanished.

And that was all the confirmation Nat needed.

---

Sorry! We are back with the angst 😆

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