#2016 mcu

[piano-hoarder]

Mirror | Chapter 3

Pairing: Avenger!Bucky x Avenger!Reader

Summary: Bucky's decisions leave him feeling conflicted.

TW: Anxiety, PTSD, trauma, blood/injury

Word Count: 2.3K

Chapter 3 - Second Shift

Bucky stared at y/n. She looked frustrated, and afraid. He saw it the way she held herself: hesitating, on guard. She was trying to hide it, but he could tell. He could always tell.

          “Sorry— Steve said Clint would be here.” She glance past his shoulder, toward the window.

          “S’fine.” Bucky stepped aside, allowing her to enter. She did so, eyes trained on him warily, watching as he closed the door and relocked it. She was wound too tightly around him, and his own tension increased. He wanted to say something, but what? Sorry I’m here instead of Clint. Sorry my very existence terrifies you. It wouldn’t help, and she wouldn’t believe him.

          Y/N stepped away the moment the door was shut. His chest tightened, but he gave her space. He had to. Every inch felt like a mile.

          “Hey, Clint— I was given the wrong information,” she said. “I’m with Barnes.” Unfortunately for both of us. She didn’t say more, but they both knew.

          “Got it,” Clint replied.

          Y/N’s eyes flickered between Bucky and the window. “I’ll—watch the door,” she said, gesturing vaguely.

          He nodded. Her gaze dug into his back as he moved to the window. He aimed his rifle again, grip too tight. He couldn’t comfort her. Anything he said would be a lie, anyway. He should run away. Get far enough away that she wouldn’t be afraid— But who was he kidding? He’d have to be dead for that. Just do your job, Barnes.

          The sounds of fighting continued over the radio. He checked his scope, adjusted it. Y/N shifted behind him. She stood with her back to the wall. As far away as possible. His jaw tightened. Why did things have to be like this? He inhaled slowly, counting heartbeats, then exhaled. An old tactic to stay calm on duty. It wasn’t working.

          Outside, the wind picked up. A few fat drops of rain blew in, hitting his face. A shadow darted from the building below, dashing across the complex. He didn’t even think. Scope—enemy—fire—dead.

          It scared him, how easy it still was.

          “Is that it?” Sam’s voice came in.

          “Looks like it,” Nat replied.

          “Let’s clean up and move out,” Steve said. “Barton, Buck, y/n— stay put until I give the all clear.”

          “Copy,” Clint said.

          “Copy,” Bucky said. y/n echoed from behind him.

          It was strange, having Steve’s voice in his ear again. It was the only thing he could hang onto anymore. Following him.

          Steve’s shadow exited the building, followed by the others’. Sam lifted off, carrying a limp form. Doctor Hoffenbach. Bucky couldn’t see the doctor’s face, but just thinking about the man made his skin crawl. Hearing Hoffenbach’s voice through y/n’s radio had been torture. But y/n’s voice when she saw the doctor… That had almost been worse. Bucky hadn’t heard her sound that afraid since…since HYDRA. Since he’d been the Soldier.

          But things hadn’t changed much since then. She’s gotta be that scared now. Bucky prayed Steve and the others would hurry back to the quinjet. He watched the empty complex to be sure no one followed them.

          “All clear,” Steve said eventually. “Y/N, Barton, Bucky— move out.”

          “Copy.” Bucky slung my rifle into its holster across his back, turning to y/n. “Let’s go.”

          She nodded, and stepped back as he approached. Right. He kicked myself. She wouldn’t want him to be behind her. He unlocked the door and led the way from the room, allowing her to follow him. His stomach turned at the familiarity of the arrangement. He wondered if she wanted to run as badly as he did. Likely more.

          “The north end is unstable,” Bucky said over his shoulder. “Stairs caved in. We’ll have to rappel down the elevator shaft.”

          She nodded. He hated her silence. Why did it have to be her? Their boots echoed dully against the decaying walls.

          They reached the end of the hall. The elevator doors were missing, a gaping hole revealing the dark shaft. Bucky pulled out my rappel gun, attached the line to the shaft wall. He tested it, then dropped in, lowering the two stories. Y/N followed, and they continued through the building.

          Around them, the walls grew more decayed and damaged. The ceiling gaped above them, beams leaned across their path, and crumbled concrete crunched beneath their feet. The air smelled of dust. Outside, the wind sent drafts through the walls. The building’s frame groaned beneath it. Bucky hoped the sound wouldn’t mask anyone following. He stepped carefully to avoid bringing the whole thing down onto them.

          “You two on your way?” Steve’s voice asked. “Barton’s back already.”

          Ahead, a rotting beam leaned across a doorway. Bucky ducked beneath it into the next room. He could see the exit at the far side. “Yeah, we’re almost out.”

          “This building’s older than you, Steve,” y/n said. “We had to rappel the elevator shaft.” She rested her hand on the beam and ducked under. As she did, the beam shifted ominously—as did the blocks around the doorway. She cursed jumped quickly into the room. They watched the doorway, breath bated.

          The blocks settled lower against one another. Dust puffed, walls groaned, wood popped. The sound echoed around them. Bucky looked up. He didn’t see anything above, but if this was a load bearing wall…

          Y/N stepped away carefully. “Let’s get out of here before it—”

          CRASH! The beam slipped and the doorway—the entire wall—collapsed.

          Bucky lunged forward. Grab y/n—pull down—shield—

          —A huge cloud of dust enveloped them. The crash echoed—no, continued—y/n cried out—walls falling—

                                       — blocks slamming—

                                                            —   dust heaving—

                                                                                                   —          and…

          Silence.

          All was still, save for swirling dust. Bucky hesitantly raised his head, but he could only see white. he coughed.

          “Y/N?” Steve’s voice, anxious. “Buck? What happened?”

          Y/N groaned. Bucky looked down. Her form was just a shadow on the ground beneath him. “Room collapsed. Low visibility—too much dust.” His tongue felt made of chalk. “I think—y/n’s injured. We’re alive.”

          Steve cursed. “How bad?”

          “Can’t tell.”

          “All right. Hold your positions, we’ll come find you and see if there’s a way out. If not—Stark, can you move the rubble?”

          “Finally— something interesting. I thought you’d forgotten me.” Bucky could almost hear Stark’s eyeroll. Didn’t he care? “Don’t worry, kids. We’ll get you out of there.”

          Bucky bit back a retort about Stark’s age. Bucky had known Tony’s father personally, for crying out loud. You’ve got to help y/n.

          Bucky moved back from y/n, giving her space now that the commotion was over. The dust was clearing. She was conscious, thank goodness. He watched her pull bloodied fingers away from her hip.

          He cursed. “Is it bad?”

          “I’ll live.” Her voice was tight with pain.

          “All right— can you move? We shouldn’t be near the wall.”

          Y/N shifted, nodding. She pushed to her feet and took a few limping steps, then her eyes unfocused. She put a hand to her head, swaying slightly.

          Bucky reached to support her, but stopped himself. “Hey—don’t hurt yourself…” He watched, tense and conflicted. Should he offer assistance? She obviously needed it. You’ll just make things worse.

          “I think I hit my head.” She sounded dazed.

          A sharp breath escaped him. “Yeah.” That much was obvious.

          Y/N swayed again, took a step, then pitched forward. Bucky caught her before she hit the ground, lowered her carefully, helped her sit against a large cinderblock. It was like someone else was acting for him. She didn’t resist. He almost wished she would.

          He glanced toward her wound. “We need to take care of that.”

          She waved a hand. “It’s fine— I can… I can do it. I just need… a bandage…” She reached down toward her hip pack. Then she frowned and shook her head, as though trying to clear it.

          Bucky cursed again. Concussion. She had a concussion, but there wasn’t time to deal with that yet. She would lose a lot of blood if they didn’t hurry. “We’ve got to get your wound. Please just—hold still.”

          He pulled out my canteen and shifted closer— then paused, watching her face. He waited for y/n to pull back, to scream, to try to run. She didn’t. She didn’t even turn away. She just closed her eyes, face etched with pain. She’s not right. The concussion… she wasn’t thinking straight. She should have been terrified. Should be running, despite her injury. He deserved it.

          Bucky needed to treat her, and here she was—accepting it. But helping her now would be—be taking advantage. His fingers tightened around his canteen. You don’t have time for this, Barnes.

          He forced down his emotion—that was something he could do—and unscrewed his water. Cursing his hands for shaking, Bucky pulled y/n’s shirt aside. He gently poured water of her wound, cleaning the dust out as best he could. She didn’t pull away—didn’t even flinch. Maybe she couldn’t; maybe she trusted him. He couldn’t decide which would be worse.

          Bucky took a clean cloth from my hip pack and touched y/n’s arm gently. She opened her eyes.

          “Hold this to your wound,” he said gruffly. “Please.” He didn’t want to bandage her—not if Stark would be here soon. And besides— she’d heal fast, thanks to the serum.

          She took the cloth and pressed it to her injury, staunching the blood. Her eyes squeezed shut and she sucked air through her teeth, cursing. “I must’ve…fractured my hip.”

          “Don’t move, then.” He hadn’t intended to sound demanding.

          “Wasn’t planning on it.” If she noticed his tone, she was good at hiding it.

          Bucky moved away to give her space, leaning back against the cinderblock. He held out his canteen, offering her the last of his water. She took it, looking grateful, and sipped carefully. Then she rubbed her temple. “I think I have a concussion,” she muttered.

          “I know.” That much was obvious.

          “Of course you do,” she said bitterly. Her voice was still tight—but it went beyond the pain of her wound. He could tell. What else was new?

          He stared at his boots, which looked gray now instead of black. The dust continued to settle, turning us to ghosts. Y/N’s fingers tapped restlessly against her knee. Bucky recognized the tic and didn’t blame her for being nervous. He wouldn’t want to be trapped with himself, either. Especially not wounded. He wondered which of them hated it more.

          The silence stretched on, so tense it would’ve shattered if you’d shot it. Why did I help her? What had gotten into him? He couldn’t just leave her like that, of course but— But what? He closed his eyes. All he saw was her terrified eyes, over and over again. Not just tonight. It had always been that way. It always would be. But you helped her anyway.

          “Buck? You there?” A wave of relief passed through him as Steve’s voice came through again.

          “Yeah.”

          “How’re you two holding up? Is y/n okay?”

          Bucky glanced toward y/n, whose eyes were still closed. “We’re alive. We’ve got the blood stopped, for now.”

          “Good. Stark’s got some suits ready. We’re getting you out of there.”

          “Thank God,” y/n muttered.

          Low rumbles began outside. Stones shifted. The building groaned—and after several minutes, a large pile of rubble fell away. Moist, rainy wind rushed in, dispelling the dust. Bucky inhaled deeply, standing as Stark flew through the opening.

          “Hey, you two— having a party without us?”

          “Just getting cozy.” Y/N opened one eye. “What—you want me to drop a building on you, too?”

          “No thanks, I’m married.” He hooked a thumb over his shoulder. “Let’s get you out of here.” A few more Iron suits hovered beyond the gap.

          Bucky offered y/n a hand—though he didn’t know why he bothered. She ignored it and stumbled to her feet, heavily favoring her left leg. She hissed in pain, leaning against the cinderblock.

          Tony flew over. “I hate to break it to you, princess, but you are not climbing that yourself.”

          “Yeah, okay,” y/n sighed, hand still pressed to her wound. “Just get it over with.”

          Stark picked her up carefully and flew out into the rain. Bucky was left to climb the rubble himself. He told himself he wasn’t bitter. He wasn’t. He was genuinely glad y/n wouldn’t have to injure herself further. He didn’t like Stark, but he had to admit the man seem to truly care sometimes.

          Bucky just wished it were him. He hated it, but he couldn’t help it. He wished he were good enough for her. Good enough to help her. First Steve, and now Tony—both showing him up. Proving she didn’t need him; that he was as worthless as ever.

          Buck finally made it over the pile of debris and stalked to the quinjet, head lowered against the rain. He boarded the ramp and sat inside, avoiding Steve’s gaze. Bucky didn’t want to deal with his concern right now. He allowed myself one glance at y/n, however.

          She lay across the bench, eyes closed. Her head was on Nat’s lap, and Tony bent over her, spraying disinfecting sealant over her wound. Bucky glanced away, jaw tight. That’s right. She doesn’t need me.

          The ramp closed, quinjet taking off. Bucky sat, slumped, eyes on the floor. His damp hair hung in my eyes, but he didn’t care. Didn’t even notice, really. Steve and Nat chatted quietly. Clint checked his arrows for damage. Sam stood guard over Doctor Hoffenbach’s unconscious form.

          Then Bucky glanced up. Someone’s watching. Y/N. Her eyes were open. She looked tired, but more coherent—and in less pain. That was good. She was also staring straight at him. A tense silence hung between them for several moments. Then she spoke.

          “Thanks.”

          The word was barely a whisper, but he heard it. He almost didn’t believe it. He stared for a long moment, then nodded.

          You’re welcome.

          Y/N’s eyes closed again. It wasn’t much. Maybe it wasn’t anything. But somehow, he felt a little less tense.

          Maybe helping her had been the right choice, after all.

[ironstrange1991]

The Healing Touch

Pairing: Stephen!Strange x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: The Reader has a terrible headache and Stephen goes full doctor mode to take care of her

Word Count: 4,1k

A/N: This fic is total self indulgent. The entire medical part is based on my experience with the worst headache I've ever had in my life. I had to take something positive from the whole situation. Hope you guys like it and have a nice reading ;)

You had never had such a bad headache in your entire life. It was strong enough to bring tears to your eyes and prevent you from working. It had all started with an allergy attack due to the renovation work in the office building where you worked. Even taking the anti-allergy medication you were used to taking, things only got worse and soon your airways were completely blocked and you had an incessant cough that made you want to vomit your guts out.

But things got worse when you woke up on Friday with a headache that simply wouldn't go away no matter how many painkillers you took. The persistent pain got worse over the days, reaching its peak on Monday morning. When you woke up, you simply couldn't open your eyes, and when you tried to get up, your head hurt with a piercing throb that made you sit down again and fall into silent tears. 

It was a nightmare. Stephen was on mission and you hadn't been able to talk to him in the last few days. You were practically married to a doctor, but you couldn't count on him to help you when you needed it most and that only made you cry even more, giving in to despair.

After a few minutes you forced yourself to get up and staggered to the bathroom where you forced yourself into the shower, hoping that the cold water would somehow help you, but there was no improvement. As you were changing your clothes, feeling dizzy from the strength of the pain and the throbbing in your forehead, you decided that you would take a taxi and go straight to the hospital. By that point, your anxious mind was already telling you that you had a brain tumor.

You were slowly walking down the stairs, each step you took making your head ache even more, when you heard the familiar hiss of a portal opening in the entrance hall. You didn't feel excited, already imagining it was Wong and the light coming from the windows and the door barely allowed you to open your eyes to see anything, but then you heard a baritone voice informing you that it was Stephen who had arrived.

"Sweetheart? What's wrong?" His voice was a big relief, although it sounded extremely worried and as if by magic - which it was - he was by your side, helping you to put your arm around his neck and picking you up. He quickly went downstairs and took you to the nearest sofa in the main hall and knelt in front of you. Cloaky let go of his shoulders and flew nervously across the room, stopping behind the sofa and watching you.

Stephen's presence, although a relief, made you succumb to tears again.

"Hey, Y/n, look at me, tell me what's going on, you look pale. What are you feeling?" He asked, going into full doctor mode and forcing your eyes open so he could examine them.

"My head is exploding." You finally managed to speak. "It's been hurting since Friday, but today it's unbearable, Stephen. I can't handle the pain."

Stephen conjured a small flashlight to examine your pupils and then hummed to himself looking relieved. "The pupils are normal. That's good. Can you follow my finger, please?" He asked, raising his index finger to the level of your eyes and directing it to the left and then to the right slowly. You followed the movement with your eyes to which he praised.

"Very good. Now tell me how many fingers you see." He asked, showing you three fingers.

"Three."

"Very good. And now?" He showed you one finger.

"One."

"Good. One more time. How many fingers?" He asked, closing his fist.

"None."

He nodded, sighing in relief. But the small wrinkle that always appeared between his eyebrows was still there.

"How is your vision? Can you see perfectly or is it blurry? Any black spots or spots of light?"

You shook your head. "I can see, but I can't keep my eyes open because the light makes it hurt even more." You whimpered. "The pain is too bad, Stephen. I don't know what to do."

Stephen shushed you, putting the small flashlight aside and bringing his two thumbs to your forehead, positioning them just above your eyebrows and pressing them there in circular motions.

"Fuck." You hissed.

"I hit the spot, didn't I? Here is where it hurts the most?"

You nodded. "And inside of my eyes and on my cheeks. It feels like my whole face hurts. Even my teeth."

He hummed positively but remained silent, moving his fingers from your forehead to your cheekbones and down to the joint of your jaw, putting some pressure there.

"It hurts so much, Stephen. What if I have a brain tumor? Or... or an aneurysm? What if I have an aneurysm?" Your voice was getting shakier and shakier, and heavy tears fell from your eyes. "I don't want to die, Stephen. I don't want to." You said, clinging to him and hiding your face in his neck as you gave in to crying again.

Stephen wrapped you in his arms, one of his hands stroking your hair as he shushed you. "You're not going to die, sweetheart, and you don't have an aneurysm or a brain tumor." He said, trying to reassure you.

"But it hurts too much." You whimpered.

"I know. I'll make it stop. I promise. I'm here now. But you need to let me go so I can go to the drug store to get your medication."

But the idea seemed absurd to you and instead of letting him go, you tightened your arms around him even more, which made him grunt softly and pull your hands away gently.

"What you have is called sinusitis. It's a serious inflammation of the airways that causes secretions to build up in this region here." He explained, pulling you away enough so he could illustrate what he was saying. He ran his index finger along your cheekbones and above your nose. "Because of the inflammation, you feel pain here." He continued moving his finger down to your jaw. "That's why your teeth hurt too." You nodded.

"But why does my head have to hurt so much? I don't understand." You asked, wiping away the tears with the back of your hand.

"Because the inflammation causes the facial muscles to tense up, which causes all the pain." He explained, standing up, but you held his hand tightly.

"Don't leave me alone. Please."

Stephen sighed. "I really need to go, love. The sooner you get your medication, the faster you'll get rid of the pain. Isn't that what you want?" He asked and you nodded, but kept holding his hand anyway.

"I had an idea. What if Clocky stays with you while I go, huh? Do you think that's a good idea?"

Before you could even answer, you felt the sentient relic moving excitedly behind you.

"It really loves you, you know?" Stephen insisted and you finally let go of his hand and watched him gesticulate with his head for the relic to come closer. Cloaky quickly flew over the couch and wrapped you in a comfortable hug. One of the things you loved about it - besides the fact that it was a magical piece of clothing that had thoughts and feelings just like Aladdin's carpet and you thought that was amazing - was that it smells like Stephen.

The warmth and soft touch comforted you somehow and you leaned against the back of the couch and curled your legs up trying to get as comfortable as possible.

"That's great, sweetie. I'll be back in a minute. I promise." He said and with a quick gesture of his fingers his robes were exchanged for jeans and a shirt and he walked quickly towards the door.

...

Stephen hated waiting in line. He had always been impatient, but ever since he learned the mystic arts he simply couldn't accept that there were things he couldn't solve with magic. Sure, he could open a portal and get the medication he needed, but that would be stealing and he considered himself an honest enough guy to do that. So there he was waiting in line at the checkout with a basket in his hand, waiting for the woman to pass the purchases of the person in front of him with an almost deliberate slowness while everyone in the drug store continued to stare at him in the strange way that everyone else stared at him when they recognized him.

When it was finally his turn, the woman named Katia looked at him with a sour face and said in a tedious manner, "Prescription, please."

Stephen sighed, "I don't have a prescription. I'm a doctor. The medication is for me." He lied shamelessly.

The woman cast a suspicious look at the basket and then at him. "I'll need to see your license."

Stephen sighed, letting his irritation show. "Come on, you know who I am. Everyone knows I'm a doctor."

"I'll need your license, sir."

Stephen sighed, taking out his wallet and opening it with difficulty because his hands were shaking more then usual. He took the document and showed it to her, then put it back.

"That's 145 dollars." She said, finally putting the boxes inside a plastic bag and handing it to him.

"Keep the change for the wonderful service." He said ironically, handing her the money and finally leaving the drug store and returning to the usual movement of Manhattan.

When Stephen finally returned home, it seemed like it had taken hours, but it had only been 25 minutes. He found you still in the same position, cuddled with Cloaky and with your eyes closed. He quickly moved his fingers, closing all the curtains in the room and approaching.

"Hey, I'm sorry. I tried to go as fast as I could..." He said and Cloaky gently pulled away from your hold and flew up the stairs.

He sat down next to you and conjured a glass of water and handed it in your hands while he opened the medication boxes and took out the pills and put in your hand.

"This is an anti-inflammatory, this one is an antibiotic and together they will cure the inflammation and relieve the tension."

You nodded, putting the two pills in your mouth and swallowing them with a sip of water. He couldn't help but smile at the fact that you didn't question him, just trusted him completely. He knew that a big part of that trust was because you loved him, but an important part was because you trusted him as a doctor and Stephen missed that. He missed being a doctor, having people's trust in that way and feeling good about being able to save a life or help someone in that way.

"This one is for the pain. It's a strong painkiller and should take effect within a few minutes. It will make you drowsy, though."

You took the pill and threw it in your mouth, swallowing it quickly while you poured the glass of water. Stephen smiled tenderly, taking the glass and placing it on the coffee table. Then he took a small bottle from the bag and opened it, showing you how to use it. "This one you spray twice in each nostril, and it will help decongest your nose and make you breathe better."

But instead of taking the bottle from his hand, you just got closer to him and put your head forward, waiting for him to apply the medicine to you. Stephen let out a small chuckle, feeling his chest get warm. You were so cute. Even in that situation that wasn't the least bit funny, you managed to be extremely adorable.

"There you go." He said, finishing the application of the medicine and putting them all back in the bag and placing the bag on the table. "Now come here." He asked, stretching out his arms so you could snuggle into his chest. “I think you need cuddles.”

He hugged you, gently resting his chin on the top of your head. "I'm sorry I wasn’t here for you, sweetheart. I hate these missions sometimes, especially when we can't communicate." He confessed. Deep down he was feeling extremely guilty about the situation, even though he knew it wasn't his fault. If he had been there, he would have diagnosed the problem sooner and spared you so much pain. After all, what was the point of dating a doctor if you couldn't count on him when you needed him most?

"You're here now. That's all that matters." You answered, lifting your head to look at him and it broke his heart to see your eyes red with tears like that. He cupped your cheek gently. "Can I kiss you? I heard that getting a kiss from me is the best medicine for sinusitis." He joked, managing to get a small smile from your lips.

 "Kiss me all you want then." You said with a tired smile and he giggled, kissing you softly on the lips and then giving small kisses on your cheeks, on the tip of your nose, finishing on your forehead.

You hummed softly. "I love you, Steph." You said, laying your head back on his chest.

"And I love you, sweetheart. More than you can imagine." He confessed and you hummed again, but remained silent and he respected your silence. He knew that the pain you were feeling wasn’t small. Sinus headaches could be extremely painful, and you had endured it for as long as you could without asking for help. He only wished you had gone to the hospital sooner. He hated seeing you in pain.

...

You didn't realize you had fallen asleep until you woke up to the sound of soft voices talking. Stephen hadn't moved a muscle apparently, possibly to avoid waking you up, but now he was talking to someone.

"I'm glad she's okay now. Give her my best wishes when she wakes up." You heard Wong's voice and kept your eyes closed. The excruciating pain had passed, but your head was still sore and there was still a slight throb above your eyebrows.

"Are you going back to Kamar Taj yet?" You heard Stephen ask.

"Yes. Lots to do as usual. I'll let you rest for the night, Stephen. We'll talk tomorrow morning. Send me an update on Y/n when she wakes up." And as soon as he finished speaking, you heard the squeak of the portal opening and closing and then silence followed only by the sporadic sound of cars passing by on the street.

When you finally opened your eyes, you were surprised to find the Sanctum plunged into darkness. A single lamp was on, emanating a dim light from the kitchen. You had no idea how many hours you had slept, but you were completely dizzy, probably due to the effect of the medicine. You yawned and rubbed your eyes slowly, noticing that the pain behind them had also diminished considerably. Stephen moved slowly and then stroked your hair.

"Are you awake, sweetheart?" His voice was hoarse and heavy with sleep, which made you wonder if he had fallen asleep too.

"What time is it?" You asked softly.

"Almost nine." He answered. "You've slept for almost ten hours."

You rubbed your eyes again and then looked at him in surprise. "You've been here this whole time?"

"I left you in Cloaky's care so I could shower and eat, but I basically spent the day on this couch. I ended up falling asleep too, which is a rarity. I woke up to Wong calling me and asking for a book."

You smiled to yourself. "I'm glad you got some rest too."

He hummed positively. "How are you feeling? Better, I hope."

You nodded, slowly lifting your head to look at him now that your eyes had adjusted to the darkness.

"My head is sore, hurts a little, but the excruciating pain is gone."

Stephen smiled, cupping your cheek and stroking it slowly with his thumb. "That's great. But I'm afraid you'll need to take another painkiller now to give the anti-inflammatory time to kick in before the pain starts to come back." He explained.

"But if I take another one of those I'll sleep for another ten hours." You complained, to which he shook his head.

"I think a Tylenol will do for now. I'll get it for you." He said, threatening to get up, but you held him in place and cupped his face.

"Stay. Just a minute more."

He smiled reassuringly. "Don't worry, sweetie, I'll be back in a moment."

You let him go reluctantly, but took the opportunity to sit up. Your body was limp and you felt like you were slightly drunk, so you avoided getting up. Suddenly you saw your bag on the coffee table and remembered that you hadn't even texted your boss, but before you could think to do so, Stephen was back answering the question you hadn't even voiced.

"I called the office and told them you were sick. You're staying home tomorrow too, by the way. Doctor's orders."

You nodded, watching him approach. He was wearing gray pajama pants and a white t-shirt. His hair, always impeccable, was messy and a few strands fell over his forehead. He looked handsome as always, but you couldn't help but notice a nasty cut on his cheek that you hadn't noticed before.

"You're hurt." You said as he sat down next to you, handing you a Tylenol pill and picking up the empty glass on the table and handing it to you. With a simple gesture of his hand, the glass filled with water.

"It's nothing. Drink it."

You obeyed, and the whole time he looked at you with tenderness in his eyes, but the crease between his eyebrows was still there.

"I'm fine, Stephen. Really."

He nodded, taking the glass from your hand and placing it back on the table.

"Seeing you in pain was a horrible experience, Y/n. It made me think that I would never forgive myself if something happened to you, and I'm not just talking about illnesses. The work I do, the things I deal with are extremely evil. It makes me think about the risk you run by living with me."

You smiled, trying to ignore what he was saying, but deep down you knew he was right. Living in the Sanctum with the Master of the Mystic Arts was a risk, but one you were willing to take because you loved him. "Let's not think about that." You simply said. "I'm fine and you came back from your mission safe and sound. That's all that matters."

He nodded, taking your hand in his and promptly changed the subject. "You need to eat something before taking the next dose of medication."

"Pizza." You asked immediately, which made him giggle.

"I was thinking about a salad..."

"I thought I was going to die today from a brain tumor. Fuck the salad, I want pepperoni pizza with lots of cheese and chocolate ice cream for dessert."

Stephen smiled broadly, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. "Whatever you say. I'll order and while we wait, I'll help you take a shower. What do you think?"

You nodded. "I don't think I can stand up on my own to do it anyway. Whatever you gave me made me totally dizzy."

"I told you it was strong, didn't I? But the important thing is that it took the pain away."

You nodded. "Thanks for taking care of me, Steph."

"That's what you do when you love someone, isn't it? You've taken care of me so many times, sweetheart. I lost count of how many times you patched me up after I came back from a mission. That’s what people who love each other do."

You smiled "I really do love you."

...

Stephen had never seen you eat pizza so eagerly and then devour two bowls of ice cream. It was cute. Even your childish palate was something he found adorable about you. He ate four slices of pizza himself and found himself having seconds of dessert, which he rarely did. After a day like the one you had, he was sure you both deserved the comfort of the food.

Finally, you got ready for bed and ended up in bed with the lamp on, giving the room a low, comfortable light.

"How are you feeling now?" He asked to confirm, but it was clear from the look in your eyes that the medication was taking effect.

"Better. I barely feel any pain, but my head is still sore."

He caressed your face, watching you settle into the pillows next to him. "It's normal after such intense pain. You'll be better tomorrow."

You smiled, biting your lower lip and making that little face you always did when you wanted something, but you didn't say anything, you just brought your hand to his hair, tangling your fingers in it and scratching gently. Stephen closed his eyes, indulging in the touch and only then noticing how tired he was. The mission had been energetic, it had been a really hard few days that had taken a lot out of him physically and although he had managed to sleep for an hour or two, he could feel the exhaustion taking over him.

"Hm, it feels so good." He found himself confessing as he melted into your touch. "I missed you, sweetheart. Every day all I could think about was that I wanted to go home." He opened his eyes to see you smiling sweetly at him and slowly you snuggled closer to him as he automatically reached out to hold you impossibly close.

You cupped his cheek and pulled him to your lips, kissing him slowly, but with a growing desire. "I missed you too. I had plans for when you got back. I wanted to surprise you with a special dinner, but it wasn't possible." You said and he smiled reassuringly.

"Well, even though the day wasn't the most pleasant, it's safe to say we had a special dinner tonight. The pizza was very good." He said smirking.

"But there was something else I wanted to give you when you got back." You said, hooking your leg around his hip teasingly and Stephen soon understood what you were up to, but even though he wanted it as much as you did, he was forced to reason.

"Unfortunately, it's not a good idea, sweetheart, even though I really want it."

You frowned, clearly annoyed. "Why not? After the day I've had, don't I deserve a little affection?"

Stephen nodded with a smile. Of course you did. You deserved everything you wanted and he believed he deserved it too after the mission he had just returned from, but it wasn't always possible to get what you deserved. "Trust me, you do, but I don't want to risk making your headache worse."

You stared at him, not understanding what one thing had to do with the other, and he chuckled, trying to explain in a way that made sense.

"Remember what we talked about the tension in your facial muscles making your head hurt?"

You nodded.

"When we make love and you have a good time, which is always, I hope, the pleasure makes you tense the muscles of your entire body, even those on your face and especially during orgasm, which could lead to an orgasmic headache."

You rolled your lips, trying not to laugh. "Did you just make that up?"

Stephen let out a soft laugh. "Of course not. I'm serious. It's a real problem that you don’t have, but given the sinusitis, orgasm could be a trigger for a worsening of your condition."

You buried your face in his neck, laughing softly, and the sound was very welcome after he had seen you crying in pain earlier. "Believe me, I would never make that up, especially since I'm climbing the walls after so many days without sex."

"It hasn't been that many days." You contradicted him. "But I believe you, as stupid as it may seem. I just hate this fucking sinus thing even more now." You groaned.

"Your treatment will last five days, but after that we will have plenty of time to make up for it, trust me."

You sighed, lifting your head to look at him. "You'll have to make it up to me tonight with lots of kisses."

Stephen smiled. "As many as you want, sweetheart." He said, pulling you back to his lips.

Reblog please! Leave a comment if you liked it. Interact! I will love to read all of your comments and opinions. It inspires me to keep writing!

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[marvelsgirl616]

just found this pic from the 2015 SDCC….

[greybluegreeneyes]

does it ever drive you crazy just how fast the night changes…

[davefoleycles]

kelly marie tran

tatiana maslany

rachel zegler

brie larson

daisy ridley

john boyega

entire cast of rings of power/wheel of time

nia dacosta

amandla stenberg

the entire cast of ghostbusters (2016)

what do they have in common? being targeted by right-wing assholes on the internet for appearing on their favorite franchises

----

amber heard

ray fisher

nia dacosta

melissa barrera

rachel zegler

what do they have in common? being subjected to smear campaigns by variety's tatiana siegel and right wing grifters twisting their words

----

in conclusion: fuck every corporation that treat their hired actors as shit while welcoming abusers with open arms, fuck everyone that didn't defend them from the backlash they received, fuck zionists, fuck every corporation's "fake progressiveness" aka pretending to be all for diversity and then treating their poc/female leads like trash

[librababe99]

ive had this idea stuck in my head for weeks. friends to lovers w Wade. I love your writing! would love to see you do something with this :DDD

Nikki, friends to lovers is one of my favorite tropes! The fact you've are my first request for Wade has me sooo stoked too😊

I hope you enjoy this!!

Title: More Than Just Friends

Tags: MDNI, 18+ ONLY, Wade Wilson, Female Reader, Set during the 2016 Deadpool Movie Summary: Wade is used to hiding his pain behind sarcasm, but after a brutal night of mercenary work, the one person who always patches him up--His best friend--makes him confront feelings he can no longer bury. WC: 1.0K

It was late, but that was typical for Wade. The nights when he didn’t come home covered in blood, bruises, or worse, were rare. His apartment was as much a sanctuary as it was a warzone. Every time he came back, it was always with a new wound, and every time, you were there. Not that you minded.

You sighed as you climbed the stairs to Wade’s dingy apartment, the bag of medical supplies in your hand. You’d been getting calls from Wade for a while now, ever since he’d been discharged from the Canadian Special Forces and started taking on freelance mercenary jobs. The two of you had been close before—best friends, even—but this work had brought him back into your life in a way you didn’t expect.

It started as a few nights of patching him up, laughing at his stupid jokes while you taped him back together, but it had become routine. A strange routine, but a routine nonetheless. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d gone a week without seeing him, usually in some state of disrepair.

You knocked on his door, hearing a grunt from inside that signaled Wade’s familiar, albeit exhausted, voice.

“Door’s open,” he called, his voice rough, and you entered.

He was slouched on his old couch, blood smeared across his shirt, which was barely hanging on by a few threads. The sight of him in this state wasn’t new, but something about the way he wasn’t immediately making a joke unsettled you. His usual bravado, the sarcastic remarks, the teasing grin—none of it was there. Instead, he looked… worn down.

“Wade?” you called softly, setting your bag down on the coffee table. “What the hell happened to you this time?”

“Just another Tuesday,” he muttered, trying to crack a smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

You knelt in front of him, already assessing the damage. His knuckles were split open, bruises darkening around his ribs, and a cut on his cheek was still bleeding. You bit your lip, shaking your head as you grabbed a cloth and some antiseptic. He watched you in silence, his gaze following your every movement.

“This doesn’t look like a ‘just another Tuesday,’ Wade. You look like someone ran you over with a semi-truck.” You tried to keep the tone light, but his silence was unnerving.

He winced as you pressed the cloth to the cut on his cheek, and for a moment, you expected a snarky comeback. Something about how he’d gladly take a semi-truck if it meant seeing you in scrubs. But nothing came. He just closed his eyes, leaning into your touch slightly.

“Wade?” you said softly, pausing. “You okay?”

His eyes opened slowly, meeting yours. There was something there, something raw that you hadn’t seen before. It made your heart skip.

“I’m fine, just… rough night,” he finally said, though his voice lacked its usual strength.

You continued tending to his wounds, the silence between you growing heavier. Normally, Wade would have filled it with crude jokes or exaggerated stories of his fight, but tonight, it felt different. It was like the weight of his life—the mercenary work, the violence, the loneliness—was catching up to him, and for once, he wasn’t hiding it.

“Why do you keep doing this to yourself?” you asked quietly, wrapping a bandage around his hand. You’d wanted to ask him this for a long time, but it never seemed like the right moment. Now, with him this vulnerable, it slipped out before you could stop it.

Wade blinked, his gaze shifting away from yours. “Someone’s gotta do the dirty work, right? Might as well be me.”

“But you don’t have to,” you insisted, your hands stilling on his. “You’re not alone in this, Wade. You don’t have to keep putting yourself through this hell.”

For a moment, he didn’t respond. He just looked at you, his expression softer than you’d ever seen. His usual mask of sarcasm and humor had fallen, leaving the man underneath—the one who felt too much but never showed it.

“I’m good at it,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “And it’s all I’ve got.”

You frowned, shaking your head. “That’s not true. You have people who care about you. You have me.”

The words hung in the air between you, heavier than anything you’d said before. Wade’s eyes widened slightly, his gaze locking onto yours. You felt the tension rise, the room suddenly feeling much smaller.

“Do I?” he asked, and there was something vulnerable in the way he said it, like he genuinely didn’t believe it.

“Of course, you do, Wade,” you replied, your voice soft but firm. “I’ve been here, haven’t I? Every time you get hurt, every time you need someone. I’m always here.”

Wade swallowed hard, his usual cocky grin nowhere in sight. Instead, he looked at you with something closer to fear—fear of what he might say next, of what it might mean.

“I’ve always joked around, you know,” he began, his voice shaky. “Flirting, teasing… but… you know I care about you, right?”

Your breath caught in your throat. You weren’t sure how to respond. Wade was always so flippant with his feelings, always hiding behind his humor. But now? Now he was serious.

“I know,” you whispered, feeling your heart pound in your chest. “But do you know?”

He looked at you, and for once, there was no joking, no sarcasm—just Wade, raw and real. “I’ve been scared, I guess. Scared that if I said something real, I’d screw it up. I’m good at screwing things up.”

Before you could respond, Wade did something you never expected—he leaned forward and kissed you. It wasn’t his usual playful, teasing kiss. It was soft, tentative, almost as if he was afraid you’d pull away.

But you didn’t. You kissed him back, your hands resting on his chest as you leaned into him. The kiss deepened, and all the tension, all the unspoken words, melted away.

When you finally pulled back, Wade rested his forehead against yours, his breath ragged. “That wasn’t a joke,” he murmured, his voice raw with emotion. “I meant that.”

You smiled softly, your heart swelling as you looked into his eyes. “I know, Wade. I meant it, too.”

For once, there were no jokes, no walls. Just the two of you—more than just friends.

[nerdby]

Okay, I can't keep this to myself anymore. I have to say it or else I will explode. I don't care if I get hate for it: Thunderbolts should have been rated R, and there should have been less humor I think.

I know, I know. It's great as is, but it is really Marvel's Suicide Squad. And if Suicide Squad was good rated R are then imagine what Thunderbolts would have been like with an R rating. I mean, it's great that the filmmakers managed to say that it's okay if we have bad mental health days and all people who struggle with mental health issues need -- even more than meds or therapy -- is a loving support system in a way that kids can understand. It's still just very adult subject matter, and I feel like the message could have been so much more powerful without all the quips and sarcasm.

I'm no fun at parties, I know🙄

[fizz-pop-thwip]

I still jump with shock when I see stucky fan content that was made recently, like you guys are still out there..? Thank god.

[could-they-be-a-pro-wrestler]

How successful would Wade Wilson / Deadpool (movie version)…

Would you like to submit a character? Click this link if you do!

[piano-hoarder]

Mirror | Chapter 2

Pairing: Avenger!Bucky x Avenger!Reader

Summary: Things still spiral, but you help him anyway. Things go horribly during your next mission.

TW: Anxiety, panic attacks, PTSD, trauma, combat, guns

Word Count: 3.3K

Chapter 2 - First Switch

Classic rock blared from the corner of the lab, along with spraying sparks from Tony’s welding. Peter’s foot tapped on the floor in a comforting rhythm, matching the beats as he worked.

          I glanced at him. “Tweezers?”

          Peter shot a web without looking, pulling the tweezers to himself, then tossed them to me. I caught them.

          “Thanks.” I hunched back over my circuit board, then cursed. My hand wouldn’t stop shaking.

          “You good?” Peter asked.

          “I’m fine. Just— my stupid hand won’t hold still.” I held my wrist in place with the other hand. It helped some, but the circuits were too small to focus on. I tossed the tweezers to the table in frustration, then sat back in my chair and rubbed my eyes. “And my eyes won’t focus because of this dumb headache…”

          Peter’s eyes tracked my movements. I felt his gaze and opened my eyes, giving him a look. “Don’t look at me like that.”

          He glanced back down to his work. “I don’t… know what you’re talking about.” When I didn’t answer, he continued, “Is Mr. Stark still keeping you out of the lab at night?”

          I nodded morosely, slouching over the table with my head in my hands. “And it’s the only way I can fall asleep. Fewer nightmares that way,” I mumbled.

          “You could take a project to your room. I’m sure Mr. Stark wouldn’t care.”

          I shook my head immediately. “I can’t… I can’t combine them. My room is where…where things go wrong.” That was half the problem. If I could just keep the nightmares in my room, then never sleep there…

          “When was the last time you slept, y/n?” He looked genuinely concerned.

          “I—” I cut off when I saw his eyes flick to the lab entrance.

          “What’s he doing here?” Peter asked, standing.

          I turned. Oh heavens. My throat clenched painfully. It’s him again. I was on my feet before I registered the motion.

          Why was he here? He wasn’t supposed to come here—I was supposed to be safe here—safe from him—if I can’t even have this—

          “Hey.” Peter touched my arm. I jumped a little. “Let’s just see what he wants, okay?”

          I nodded, swallowing. Peter was right. And I wouldn’t be alone this time. Safety in numbers.

          Bucky approached us hesitantly. He looked frustrated. His arm—left arm, vibranium arm, not safe—don’t look—have to look—stay away— His left arm hung by his side strangely.

          “Hey, Mr. Barnes,” Peter said, a little hesitantly. He was never terribly comfortable around the Soldier. But he was better than I was. I was grateful he took the lead. “Are you looking for something?”

          Bucky glanced over to me, eyes lingering for a moment before going back to Peter. “Is Stark here?”

          Peter nodded, turning to call toward Tony’s corner of the lab. “Hey, Mr. Stark! Someone’s here for you.”

          The music cut off, and Tony lifted his welding mask, peering at us. “What’s up?”

          Peter gestured toward Bucky, who watched Stark warily.

          Tony grinned, pulling off the mask and gloves. “Hey—the Terminator’s here.” He sauntered over. “To what do I owe this—fabulous honor—Mr. Barnes?”

          Bucky frowned a little. I wondered briefly if it was because of the Terminator reference. Then I remembered Siberia, and Zemo. Perhaps Bucky thought Tony still hadn’t forgiven him. I didn’t blame him.

          Bucky shifted uncomfortably. “Got a problem with my arm.”

          Tony’s eyes lit up. “Loose screw in the tin can? Let’s give it a look.” He waved Bucky over to his mess of a work station. Bucky followed, but not before glancing at me. His face was unreadable. Why does he look at me that way?

          Peter followed, looking excited. I watched, headache growing worse as my heart rate increased, pounding in my ears. I tapped my fingers against my thigh, watching as Tony pulled up a new holodisplay and used DUM-E to start scanning Bucky’s arm.

          I began to wonder. A horrid intrigue swelled in my chest. His new arm… it wasn’t the same. Better designed, most likely. How different was it from the one I remembered? My eyes tracked its movements, even from here. More fluid. Sleeker. Probably lighter, with better wiring. When had I stepped closer? I watched the holodisplay, which now showed a wireframe of Bucky’s arm. Would have been nice to use one of those. Before, it had been a tangle of wires that I’d hated always needing to—

          My eyes met Bucky’s, and I snapped back to the present, feeling ill. How much does he remember? I suddenly realized that he looked terrified. His right hand was clenched tightly, knuckles white. He seemed ready to bolt. I glanced toward Tony and Peter. They were both absorbed in the scan, talking excitedly together. Neither of them noticed.

          My eyes darted across Bucky’s face. The Soldier’s face. Asset. Experiment. I steel my resolve. “Hey, Stark?”

          Tony cut off, looking toward me.

          “Maybe… you could hurry with the fixing?” I said, my voice stupidly shaky. “You have the scan, study it later.”

          Tony glanced at Bucky, and I knew that he understood. He nodded. “ ‘Course. Just a minor stick; you’ll be fine, Buck.”

          Bucky tensed. “Don’t— don’t call me that. Please.” His voice was tight, quiet.

          Tony met his gaze. A memory flashed across my mind. Tony, face bloodied. His Iron Man suit is riddled with scars, arc reactor cracked and flickering. Snow falls behind him.

          “Right. Barnes.” He glanced down at Bucky’s arm. “You good if I—" He gestured. “’Cause I gotta touch you if I’m gonna fix you.”

          Bucky gave a tight nod. Tony quickly got to work, fingers moving deftly as he began to fix Bucky’s arm.

          Bucky met my eyes again, desperate gratitude written across his face. I looked away, eyes darting uncomfortably.

          Soon, Tony was finished, and Bucky stepped away from the table, a breath escaping him. He looked down at his vibranium arm, bending it experimentally, testing. He glanced at Stark, hesitating. “…Thanks.”

          Stark gave a lazy, two-fingered salute. “Anytime, Sarge.”

          Bucky’s jaw tightened slightly, but he didn’t say anything more. He gave me one last fleeting look before all but running from the lab.

          I watched him go, then numbly walked back to my work table. Peter stayed with Tony to examine the scan of Bucky’s arm. The rock music started up again.

          Why… why had I done that? I picked up my circuits, but I wasn’t really seeing them. I thought of his eyes, flashing with fear.

          I’d never say it out loud, but it was like looking in a mirror.

——

I tapped my fingers on the table, but I was only half-listening. I was supposed to be listening to Steve’s mission briefing, but I had to watch Bucky. Even with Nat, Sam, and Tony in the room, Bucky’s presence still made my skin crawl. My fingers typed out imaginary code as a distraction.

          “Our target is a former HYDRA operative. His purpose is unknown, but we believe he’s been trying to reform HYDRA underground.”

          A customary mission, the kind I’d grown familiar with over the last two years. Tracking down every last one of HYDRA’s members. Many had gone into hiding after the 2016 info dump, and HYDRA had had arms everywhere. I wondered if we’d ever catch all of them. How many small coalitions like this had formed, trying to refound the organization? We’d killed the body, but its heads were still alive.

          “The building is in an abandoned complex, and we don’t know how structurally sound they will be. It will be important to…” Needing both hands, I switched to tapping my thighs.

try :

    while True:

        GPIO.output(LED_PIN, GPIO.HIGH)  # Turn LED on

        time.sleep(1)

        GPIO.output(LED_PIN, GPIO.LOW)   # Turn LED off

        time.sleep(1)

          “…located in the basement. He’s chosen a strategically sound location…”

def aggregator(data_queue):

    try:

        while True:

            sensor_name, value, timestamp = data_queue.get(timeout=3)

            print(f"[{time.ctime(timestamp)}] {sensor_name}: {value}°C")

    except—

“…Clint and Bucky on snipe in the nearby buildings. Y/N, we’ll need you to pull any information you can from his computers.”

          I nodded, eyes unfocused.

          “Good. Everyone clear?”

          We all gave our agreement. Steve nodded curtly. “Good. Suit up, and meet on the roof at sundown.”

   —except queue.Empty:

          print("No data received for 3 seconds. Shutting down aggregator.")

——

Boots touched quietly on concrete. Warm night air hushed across skin. Sliver moon, few clouds. The air smelled of rain and fish off the Sound. Several yards to my right, Steve’s shield glinted dully across his shoulders. His voice spoke in my comm.

          “All right. Sam, Nat— take the roof and head down. Y/N and I will take the north and south entrances. Clint, Bucky, you in position?”

          Their voices gave assent. They’d gone ahead to scout and find good sniper positions. Tony would be staying behind with the quinjet.

           “Redwing says the coast is clear.” Sam’s voice. “He found a tunnel connecting our target building, though. Leads to the building south of it.”

          “Keep an eye on it. Let’s move.”

          Steve and I made our way through the crumbling complex. He switched to a private channel and radioed me directly. “That tunnel will be good. Your purpose on this mission is to retrieve data. Avoid conflict if you can. Once you’ve finished clearing his computers, get out and meet up with Clint. He should be south.”

          I frowned, stepping around a pile of crumbled bricks. “Why didn’t you mention this earlier?”

          “You seemed out of it.”

          “I was paying attention.”

          “I saw you coding,” he said knowingly. “We need you for this mission, y/n. But I don’t want you getting hurt.”

          “Is this because you think I can’t handle a fight? I haven’t lost that much sleep—”

          “I never said anything about sleep.”

          I fell silent. Rats.

          “If it makes you feel better, Nat and Tony didn’t think you should’ve come at all.”

          “Oh, great.” So now they all thought I was weak? “Please tell me you told them to shove it.”

          Steve was quiet for a moment. “That isn’t like you, y/n,” he said quietly.

          My jaw tightened.

          “I told them we need you,” he said eventually.

          “Did you tell them I’m fine?”

          He didn’t respond.

          I scowled. “I won’t even have to see Bucky for this mission. I will be fine.”

          “I hope so. I’ll watch your back.”

          I ground my teeth. “I can take care of myself, Steve.” I switched to the group channel before he could respond.

          I pushed my anger down as we neared our target, focusing on the building. Three stories of dilapidation. Most of the windows were boarded up, broken, or otherwise so dirty they could hardly be counted as windows anymore. There came a great WHOOSH and I glanced up to see Sam swoop overhead, dropping Nat to the roof. He followed, wings folding in as he landed. “In position.”

          “Copy. Move in.” Steve ran off toward the south end of the building, and I jogged toward the north. Feet light. Breath steady. I wondered if Bucky could see me from here, and the back of my neck tingled uncomfortably. Focus.

          I found the north door bolted shut, but the windows were all smashed in. Climb through, flashlight on. Reveal dusty floors, cobwebbed corners, rotting crates and pallets. It looked like an old supply building. No sound. No footprints in the dust beside my own. An unused entrance, then.

          Moving past the debris, I went through the next door and found myself in a musty hallway. Find the basement. That’s where Steve had said the target would be. See? I pay attention. I checked each of the hall’s doors. All empty rooms, save for the occasional rubbish heap. Perhaps our target was never in this end of the building. Not surprising, if he had no use for it. Still, I remained wary.

          “Found two guards,” Sam’s voice spoke over the radio. “At the third floor stairwell.”

          “Any trouble?” Steve asked.

          “I gave them a little present,” Nat said.

          “Keep an eye out in the other stairwells. Could be more of them,” Sam added.

          “Copy.”

          I moved to the stairwell, turning the door handle. The door creaked angrily as it opened. The sound echoed in my ears like a memory. A smart move—if they knew what they were doing. Anyone on the steps would have been alerted to my presence. Either that, or this door was also unused.

          Aiming my flashlight, I peered up the stairwell, listening. No sound. Good enough. The place was too echoey; I’d hear them coming if someone was there. I used a discarded plank to prop the door open before making my way down to the basement.

          The stairs ended at a solid metal door. Try the handle. Locked. Pull out pick and tension wrench. Make short work of the bolt. Shift here…prod there… The lock twisted, and I heard the bolt slide back smoothly. Someone had replaced it recently.

          Switching off my flashlight, I twisted the handle and slowly eased the door open. A shadow lunged forward. My hand darted up and caught a gloved fist. Twist downward. Kick the door open. Jab a punch to the face. They grunted. Knee to the groin. Headlock as they double over. I slapped a widow’s bite to their face, then let go as they fell to the ground, unconscious. All in under ten seconds. I stepped over their writhing body.

          The hall beyond was empty. But there—from beneath a door toward the end—a soft glow. Someone’s here.

          “I’m in the basement,” I said, voice low. “Just took out one guard. I haven’t found anyone else, but there’s a light. I think it’s our target.”

          “Good,” Steve’s voice responded. “Wait for—”

          “Behind you, Cap!” Sam suddenly cut in. The thuds and blows of combat ensued through my radio feed. I felt a strange detachment as I listened, tense. The basement around me remained silent.

          “We’re fine, y/n,” Nat’s voice spoke in my ear. “Get in there.”

          “Be quick. Then—” Steve grunted “—then get out and find Clint. We’re almost done here anyway.”

          I ignored my indignation. “Copy.” I took a deep breath, then moved in.

          Steps silent, deliberate. Breath even, controlled. Focus. I slipped my gun from the holster on my thigh. I stopped next to the door. It was slightly open. Trusted your guards, huh? I paused, back to the wall. Listening.

          Computers hum. Glass clinks. Someone shifts. One person.

          Don’t trust the door to open silently. Head-on would be better. I inhaled. On three.

          One. I inhaled. Two. I raised my gun.

          Three.

          I spun around the corner, kicking the door open and pointing my gun at the man inside. “Hands up!”

          He froze, then carefully set down his vials before raising his hands. Small room. He was alone. A computer monitor glowed from the back wall. Bright lights illuminated a mess of a worktable. Bare walls. No window. I met the man’s gaze, eyes narrow.

          He smiled slightly. “Private Y/L/N.”

          My eyes widened. I searched his face, and it rose, grotesque and cruel, from my memories. No. My grip on my gun loosened slightly. “Doctor—Doctor Hoffenbach.”

          His smile widened. No, no— NO—

          Nausea. The back of my neck burned. I saw needles, my hands clench—my veins are on fire—I writhe in pain—my vision tunnels—

          “Y/N?” Steve’s voice was in my ear. “What’s going on? Is he alone?”

          Steve. Focus, curse you. “I need backup,” I replied, feeling dizzy.

          “Copy. We’re on our way.”

          I tightened my grip on the gun, focusing on the doctor. “Come around the table, slowly,” I said, cursing my voice for shaking. “Make any sudden moves, and I shoot.”

          “Very well.” He stepped slowly around the worktable, that horrid smile still plastered to his lips.

          I kept my gun trained between his eyes, willing my hands to keep still. Footsteps from outside. I don’t look. Have to keep your eyes on him. Then Nat was tackling the doctor, a widow’s bite already in her fingers. Electricity arcked over his body. I didn’t move. My face felt numb. I stared at him, gun still raised.

          “Files, y/n. We don’t have much time. One of the guards alerted backup; they’re on their way.” Nat’s voice cut through my fog, just barely. Like a scalpel. Small, but sharp.

          I holstered my gun, then walked mechanically to his computer. At least my fingers knew what to do. Just type. My eyes darted across the screen, seeing faces in the code. The doctor’s face. My handlers. The Soldier.

import socket

     target = "192.168.1.1"

          open_ports = []

          for port in range(20, 1025):

             sock = socket.socket(socket.AF_INET, socket.SOCK_STREAM)

             sock.settimeout(0.5)

             result = sock.connect_ex((target, port))

          “Redwing reports incoming.” Sam’s voice in my ear. It was far away. “Movement toward our position, at our eight o’clock. Ten minutes out. How you doin’, y/n?”

          My voice didn’t work. I didn’t have a voice, did I? Sosredotóchit'. I watched myself plug my comm drive into the computer. Files began moving to it, instantly transferring to Stark’s database. Watching it felt like a blood draw. I shook my head, trying to clear it. “We’re good. Transfer in progress.”

          “Found the tunnel.” When had Steve entered the room? “The door is on the south end of this hall, next to the south stairwell. You got that, y/n?”

           I nodded. The progress bar inched forward.

          “We’re running out of time!” Sam warned. “How long is this gonna take?”

          “Clint, Bucky, take out as many as you can.” Steve said.

          “Copy.”

          The last file transferred. I yanked the drive from the socket, turning. “We’re good.”

          “They’re here!”

          Nat dashed out of the room. I ran to follow. I need to do something. A fight. I need a fight. I felt a hand on my arm. I turned to Steve, a scowl on my face.

          “You’ve got to get out of here, y/n.”

          “I’m fine.” My eyes darted toward the doctor’s prone form.

          Steve searched my face, then shook his head. “No. We’ve got this handled. Get out of here. Please.”

          I worked my jaw. I couldn’t say no to him. Not really. I almost hated myself for it. “Fine.” I turned quickly to keep myself from seeing his relieved expression.

          I walked down the hall, fists clenched. A gunshot echoed from the stairwell. I didn’t need his help. I didn’t need anyone’s help. I just needed to—to do something. I entered the tunnel. First Stark keeps me out of the lab. Then Steve sends me away from fights. The tunnel walls were too close, the ceiling too low. I began to jog.

          “Clint, I’ll be in your building soon. Don’t shoot when I come up to your floor.”

          “No promises.”

          I reached the door at the tunnel’s far end. Pick the lock. Down the hall. Up the stairwell, three flights. Just get this over with. I heard a gunshot as I neared the top floor. I frowned. Had Clint run out of arrows? “What’s your position, Barton?”

          “North building, top floor, south side.”

          North building. Steve had said Clint was in the south building.

          Another gunshot from down the hall. I closed my eyes. Why? It was too late now. My feet were made of lead as I followed the sound. I set my jaw and knocked.

          I heard no footsteps, but a moment later, his voice came from behind the door. “Who’s there?”

          “Y/L/N.”

          A pause. Then the latch clicked; the door swung open. I knew it wouldn’t be Clint. My heart dropped anyway.

[ironstrange1991]

The Goatee Problem

Pairing: Doctor!Strange x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 0,600k

Warnings: None, just fluff.

A/N: This is just a small blurb I came up with instead of finishing my Defender smut. Didn't want to end the month with nothing so I am posting this. Hope you guys like it and have a short but very nice reading.

"Believe me, you don't want to see this"

Stephen's voice sounded a bit shaky and nervous and his insistence that you do not go into the bathroom had you worried.

"Stephen, just tell me what happened. Are you hurt?"

You tried again to open the door and this time he didn't try to stop you from entering.

He was standing by the sink, but he turned his face so you couldn't see him in the mirror's reflection. You walked over hugging him from behind and he sighed "My hands... are shaking more than usual today... I shouldn't have tried..."

He turned to you, his face still smeared with shaving foam, but the goatee you were so used to was gone. "I had no alternative but..."

"Oh..." Was all you managed to say before bursting out laughing. Stephen frowned slightly offended.

"That's why I didn't want you to see me like this" He said pulling the towel from his shoulder and wiping his face.

He was gorgeous. Of course it was weird to see him without the goatee, but he was still handsome without it.

"I am not laughing at how you look, but at all the drama you are making."

You caressed his strangely smooth face, your index finger tracing around his lips and down to his chin. Stephen's skin was extremely soft.

"I've had my goatee for years, I don't even recognize myself without it."

You nodded, still distracted by how much the sight of Stephen in that different way was messing with you. "Well, I can't complain, you're still as hot as ever"

His face flushed with your compliment which made the whole situation even cuter. You pulled him to your lips and the feel of his smooth skin was different and interesting at the same time. He seemed taken aback by the intensity of your kiss and he was the one who broke the kiss to breathe.

"Don't get me wrong, Steph. I want the goatee back and you're going to have to put up with Wong and America's jokes for a month, but it's not all bad"

He didn't seem to understand where there could be a bright side to that tragedy and you made sure to make that clear when you kissed him again and continued to kiss the corner of his lips, running your lips up his cheeks  until you reached his ear and licked his earlobe with the tip of your tongue before whispering "I'm sure it will feel very interesting between my legs"

He glanced at you completely intrigued as you pulled away and walked towards the bedroom.

"Did you like it then?" He asked still unsure.

You chuckled "Yes I did. Besides I'm sure in another universe there must be a version of you without the goatee."

He took a good look in the mirror and shook his head as if trying to encourage himself. "You're right, it isn't so bad."

"Don't get too excited tiger, I want my goatee back as soon as possible or you'll be sleeping on the couch." You warned.

“How do I face Wong and America now?” He asked, his voice sounding completely mortified “Shit, can’t let Stark see me like this.”

“Good lucky with that.” You said laughing while leaving the room.

Reblog please! Leave a comment if you liked it. Interact! I will love to read all of your comments and opinions. It inspires me to keep writing!

BACK TO DOCTOR STRANGE MASTERLIST

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[marvelsgirl616]

[assiraphales]

I love zoro n luffy and the devotion trust and beyond all love they have for each other is undeniable. the dare I say soulmatism. no matter how u view their love it is there and it’s never going away. their dreams are entwined but also half empty if they didn’t have the other by their side. perhaps not even death could tear them apart (ie zoro threatening to follow luffy to hell). I know in my heart of hearts that found family is absolutely essential as a core theme of the story. that the entire crew is destined to be together and stay in touch even if they drifted. that most fans are in agreement that won’t happen, and at the very least zoro n luff would continue their journeys together. but as an mcu veteran —

[jackiequick]

—Timeline Wise For The Couples 🎞 💌🍿

-> Very similar to this post

Stevella ~ Steve Rogers & Estella Strange 🩺🇺🇸☕️

2012 — Meet Cute in NYC, bumping into each other a couple of times and eventually exchange numbers

2013 — Steve got settled into a decent rhythm, going out a bit more and living at Avengers Tower. That’s when he bumps into Stella one day at the park, yeah sure they text one another and even have some phone calls, but this was different. While chatting, Steve somehow managed to ask her out for a cup of coffee and Stella said ‘yes’ as the two went to a coffee shop afterwards.

2014 — (Captain America: The Winter Soldier Era), the two are actually going out together. Having dates, texts, calling one another and flying out to see each other. They decided to keep their relationship private. But of course, their relationship slowly comes to the surface due to their friends. Natasha spent days and weeks trying to set Steve up on a date, teasing him and everything as he kept shooting her down with each option until they were driving to New Jersey…

“Was that your first kiss since 1945?” Natasha asked him, playing with her necklace Clint bought her.

Steve was driving and answered, “That bad huh?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Well kinda sounds like you did.”

“No, I-i didn’t, I’m just wondering how much practice you had?”

“You don’t need practice.”

“Everybody needs practice.”

“It’s not my first kiss since 1945. I’m 95, I’m not dead.”

Natasha just chuckled then asked, “Nobody special though?”

He scoffed chuckling, “Believe it or not..um, there is.”

That caused Natasha to gasp and smiled, teasing him for the rest of the time being trying to figure out who it is that Steve was seeing. She was genuinely curious and wanted tidbits on who’s the lucky lady was. Steve just rolled his eyes regretting he told her anything but honestly smiled appreciating that she actually cared about this fact.

When they got to Sam Wilson’s house for shelter, Natasha wasn’t the only one curious. Since Steve used the phone to call a certain someone, as Sam was making breakfast he heard the name ‘Stella’, as he smirked. Sam has been friends with Stella Strange since 2011, he was surprised he didn’t know about this. However he stayed quiet and pretended like he didn’t hear anything as he was more focused on helping Cap and Natasha to tease his new friend.

At the end of the film, as Steve was in the hospital recovering from the damage he suffered during the fight. He woke up to music softly playing and Sam smiling at him saying “On your left.” Steve tiredly cracked a little smile. A few seconds later, Sam said he called her. That’s when Stella walked in two fresh cups of coffee, giving them both a soft smile.

2015 — The two were now living in New York. Stella mainly worked at the hospital meanwhile Steve was being an Avenger with his teammates and Young Avengers. He often picked her up from work and took them to her apartment to rest, if not he invited her to stay at The Tower. Yes, he finally let most of his teammates and friends met his girlfriend! It was about damn time too, as a few people got more curious about things and became a little family oriented group. Hell, Steve was trying to afford a place in Brooklyn too!

The two were pretty much spotted together at restaurants, the park, Avengers Tower and other locations. Hell, according to Tony, he was surprised Captain America scored such a lovely women to keep him on his toes as Steve lightly glared at him. Stella just told her boyfriend to not mind Stark’s remarks, he’s just annoyed Pepper won’t let him buy a new car or something.

Things went on (Age Of Ultron hit), as Stella spent her time more often at Avengers Tower and even help patch up the heroes every once in a while. She was honestly pretty skilled and tech with a gun too! Which came in handy the night of The Party, things were going well of course. But Ultron struck hard, as everyone was fighting bots and protecting one another. Some got a little hurt too, mainly upset with Tony.

Later on, at Clint’s house, everyone was a little out of it. Whatever Wanda showed them had a couple of them beaten and bruised. Clint called in Stella and a few others to help everyone out. Tension was still in the air through, as Steve seemed a little off and unable to talk about it, until he found his girlfriend holding up a cup of warm tea for him on the front porch…

“What you doing up? It’s late.” Steve said, sipping the tea and wrapped an arm around her.

“I couldn’t sleep…are you okay?” She asked, rubbing her hands.

“I will be..uh, Wanda showed me something back there..”

“You wanna talk about it?”

“Only if you tell me what she showed you..”

It was only fair. She nodded and went on to explain the horrors Wanda showed her, how helpless and vulnerable she felt as she remained stuck in a hopeless position at the hospital after her very brutal accident. Even if she looked at her physical scars and condition, it haunts her. Steve listened providing comfort to her. He then went on to share his own thoughts and feelings onto Wanda showed him, feeling scared and anxious about it all as he was thrown out into another era, the life was gone and a part of him stayed stuck there. Stella provided him comfort as she listened.

Everything went on kinda crazy after that as The Avengers, Young Avengers, SHIELD and whatever others assets helped to fight off Ultron and his bots. To save and protect as many people as they can. They won but lost a few things along the way.

The Avengers moved their location upstate. Steve and Tony talked about their life choices before going their separate ways. Steve said that family, stability and whatnot post-war times, that man died when he went into the ice 75 years ago. Someone else came out, feeling a sense of mourning and comfort that his life has changed forever. He had The Avengers to watch out for, a girlfriend now who he cared deeply and unlikely friendships. But the idea of having a wife and children stayed stuck in the back of his mind.

2016 — Things changed for the couple once again living in a new location. Stella was starting to take up magic, having been resistant to being a magic-user, as her brothers were more into that kind of stuff. She knew magic and spells, but she wasn’t one to really used that very often. But she decided it would be helpful. Steve was becoming more of a team leader, busy with meetings, creating a new team alongside the one he already had and making sure everyone was able to handle themselves. When neither of them were working, the couple was hanging out a lot more and wanted to take a larger step into their relationship such as officially moving in together.

Steve also had big plans in mind, he knew he wanted to one day marry his girlfriend. He wanted to put a ring on her finger and have her become a bigger part of the family. Hell, he hadn’t picked out a ring yet but he knew.

One morning, he suddenly found himself popping the question. Saying ‘Marry me?’ As Stella was looking for a new set of cups, she heard the words come out of his mouth and accidentally bumped her head on the kitchen cabinet. He winced asking if she was alright as she nodded turning around wanting to clear what he said clearly, he repeated his question and she just smiled. That’s all Steve needed to see to know her answer was ‘Yes.’ That, and the fact that she pressed a kiss to his lips and nodded softly.

As we know Civil War happened, which caused a major disruption to the team and family. It caused a rift between Steve and Stella, a mixture of screams, cries, tears and anger ran through them. Despite it all, they still managed to deeply love one another. However Steve had to leave with Sam and Natasha, not having much contact with her for over a year!

2017–2018 — Just rough time in general for the couple. They had limited access to talking or texting, however still managed to communicate and spend mail to one another. But it just hurt. It wasn’t easy! Stella was heartbroken and Steve wasn’t exactly feeling happy about this either. He was devastated and hurt that he left his fiancé.

When Thanos made his appearance, it wasn’t pretty. As Stella followed Bruce and a few others to The Avengers Compound, to talk to Rhodey and that’s when Steve, Nat and the rest of the crew appeared. To say Stella had a million thoughts running through her mind the moment she saw Steve was an understatement, but it didn’t all make sense to start bickering with him.

Especially after he pulled her into a thigh embrace the moment he saw her and kissed her face apologizing for everything he did, saying how she had ready right to be upset with him. She just wrapped her arms around him and cried a little, apologizing for not calling earlier as she was fighting Thanos children in New York.

He just chuckled and nodded, knowing they had bigger things at stake.

You know what happened, Thanos kicked ass despite everything the teams gave. They still lost.

2019–2023 — Post Thanos things went quiet. But they tried to make the best of it, just luck neither one of dusted. Steve thanked the heavens he didn’t have to watch his fiancé dust away. The two just spent a couple of days making up for the lost time, catching up and apologizing for everything. When they realize they couldn’t afford to fix the damage due to Thanos destroying the damn stones. Steve and half of the team returned to earth silently. It pained everyone.

But like I said, they tried to make the best of things, try to move on. In 2022, Steve decided to not wait any longer than he should’ve and asked Stella to actually marry him. He waited so long to make her his wife and he wasn’t even going to waste any longer, as Stella grinned that morning agreeing to the idea. A private little day for the two of them, as the couple went to the court house and filed for a marriage certificate, getting married right then and there. They knew one day they would have a grand ol’ wedding but a quiet little day to themselves is all they needed.

They were married, had an apartment together and were doing their best to help others feel comfortable in the world. Hosting support groups, going to food drives, heading out on smaller projects and making sure their friends were alright. Stella often visited Pepper meanwhile Steve went to Natasha.

But in 2023, Scott Lang showed up to change things for the better. You know what happened time heist, get back the gang together and fix things. And no, Steve didn’t leave his wife, Sam or Bucky for Peggy Carter when he returned the damn stones! He returned the stones to where they belong, saw Peggy happily with her spouse and family, went back to his old apartment in Brooklyn where he found a certain item then returned back to 2023. The item you may ask was an old leather brown jacket that he lost during The Battle a few days earlier that held a ring looped around his dog tags.

Phase 4 (2023–2024) — Steve and Stella were living in a different household in a similar neighborhood, helping to rebuild The Avengers Compound after it was destroyed and supporting families with the new changes. The two even considered on finally having a family of their own, the pair already had a dog. Might as well have a kid or two!

Which they did! Having adopted two beautiful children, a young teenager who has been in their radar for a while now as they foster and develop a relationship before two years prior. And another one, being a gorgeous little girl.

And I know what you’re asking, did Steve retire? Yes, yes he did. Steve knew for a while that he did not want to be Captain America forever, wanting to stay put and start a new project in his life. Of course he gave the opportunity to Sam Wilson to become Captain America and when he saw that John Walker was holding his shield and not Sam, the man was already to to pick a bone with his friends. Hell, he was ready to try and take down Walker himself after having gone through the five stages of grief watching the news.

“Honey! Have you seen my navy blue jacket and guns? That ones with the faded red stripe around the handle. ” Steve yelled from the closet as he went searching for his things.

“I think so! In the—wait why do you need your guns?!” Stella yelled from upstairs, as she untangled her curls.

“Just asking!”

“Steve what are you planning?!”

“Don’t worry about it!”

It took Stella to hold him down and hide his stuff in the basement, getting Kendall and their youngest to keep things in order or else Steve would’ve driven to get his hands on the man.

His wife had to distract him and take his mind off things to stop him from going to find his friends and get shit done himself. Luckily with two kids, a dog, housework to be done, groceries to buy and activities to do Steve was very much occupied. Thanks to Sam and Bucky they were able to get updates on how things were going, and finally once they got The Shield back, that’s when Stella gave Steve the opportunity to help out.

However thankfully Sam, Jason, Bucky and Liz handled the situation better than expected. Hell, Steve was able to sneak off in the background in his dark navy blue stealth suit to help and support them in the fight. He was even standing in the background when Sam appeared in the Captain America suit and shield, along with a pair of sleek wings to match grinning like an idiot.

Everyone and their mothers were watching on television when Sam Wilson made his flying debut in the Stars and Stripes, and they couldn’t be more prouder. Stella remembered how she was crying happy tears as she sat on the couch with her friends and family to watch everything go down. It was freaking amazing.

~~~~~

Ahhh! That was a lot, anyway I hope you guys like it. Pls let me know what you guys think 💭

Keep the chain going! Which couple is next? 💘

Tags: @gaminggirlsstuff @gcthvile @cherrysft @missstrawbs2001 @mandylove1000 @eliohasmyheart @terry-perry @sherloquestea @superspookyjanelle @starkleila @buckysteveloki-me @parisparker269 @yetanotherwells @rickb-chaos @fluffystevefest @savemewattpad @daughter-of-melpomene

[librababe99]

Kinktober Day Eight: Wade Wilson

Wade Wilson x Gender Neutral Reader | Sub / Dom & Lingerie |

Tags: MDNI, 18+ ONLY, SMUT, Sub/Dom dynamics, oral ( M receiving), penetration

Summary: Wade submits to reader's control and ends up wearing black lace lingerie after some persuasion.

wc: 1.1K

| Day Seven | | Kinktober Masterlist | | Day Nine |

The dim glow of candles flickered against the walls, casting soft, wavering shadows in the room. The air was thick with a heady mixture of arousal and anticipation. Wade Wilson—mercenary, smart-ass, and current wearer of black lace lingerie—was sprawled out on the bed, his breathing erratic, skin prickling with a kind of nervous excitement that he wasn't used to.

You had to convince him at first, of course. He’d resisted, muttering sarcastic quips about how he wasn't exactly "lingerie material," but after some coaxing, a few teasing touches, and the promise of something more, Wade found himself unable to say no. And now, he was yours—entirely, utterly yours.

The lingerie fit him surprisingly well, the black lace clinging to his muscular thighs, hugging his body in all the right ways, the delicate fabric doing little to hide his growing arousal. You had taken your time dressing him up, your hands trailing over every inch of his scarred skin, your touch reverent and soft, as though you were worshiping him through every lingering caress.

"You're so fucking gorgeous, Wade," you whispered, kneeling over him, your breath hot against his ear. His eyes fluttered shut at the sensation, a low groan rumbling from his throat as you shifted your weight, settling just above him. "Look at you... in this lingerie. You have no idea what you do to me."

Wade's breath hitched as your hands traced the edge of the lace fabric, fingers grazing his hips, teasing but not giving in just yet. He opened his eyes, a flash of vulnerability in them that made your heart clench. Beneath the wisecracks and the bravado, Wade was raw, unfiltered—and right now, he was entirely yours to savor.

"Jesus... you make me feel..." Wade’s voice trailed off, too overwhelmed by sensation to finish. His muscles twitched beneath your touch as you leaned down, pressing your lips against the scars on his chest, your kisses deliberate and slow, as though each one was meant to heal something deeper than just skin. He shivered beneath you, his hands gripping the sheets beside him, fighting the urge to take control, to be the brash, overconfident Deadpool everyone expected.

But not tonight.

Tonight, he was letting you lead. Letting you dominate.

You continued to kiss him, your lips mapping out every inch of his body, lingering on the places you knew he was self-conscious about—the scars along his torso, the jagged lines of his past. Your mouth moved down, lower and lower, until you reached his thighs, the black lace framing his body like a work of art.

"Fuck... baby, you're killing me here," Wade rasped, his voice hoarse with need. His hands twitched, wanting so badly to touch you, but you had set the rules tonight. No touching until you said so.

"Shh, Wade," you soothed, your fingers dancing over the bulge straining against the lace. You could feel the tension in his body, the way he was trembling beneath you, completely at your mercy. "Let me take care of you."

You pressed a kiss just above the waistband of the lingerie, then another, softer this time, your tongue darting out to taste his skin. He moaned, his hips bucking up slightly, desperate for more friction, more of anything you were willing to give.

"You look so good like this, you know that?" you murmured, tracing the outline of his cock through the lace with your fingertips. "So fucking good. And you're mine, Wade. All mine."

Wade groaned, his voice rough as he rasped, "Yeah, baby... yours. Only yours."

The sheer submission in his tone sent a surge of heat through your veins, and you couldn't resist any longer. You hooked your fingers under the waistband of the lace panties, slowly sliding them down his thighs, exposing him to the cool air. His cock was hard, straining and dripping with precum, the sight of him laid bare beneath you making your own arousal throb between your legs.

You could feel his eyes on you, watching your every move, the vulnerability in his gaze making this moment feel even more intimate. Wade—who could take a bullet without flinching, who laughed in the face of danger—was now trembling beneath your touch, his breath shallow as you wrapped your hand around him.

"Fuck, that feels... oh God," Wade groaned, his hips jerking up into your hand. You stroked him slowly, deliberately, savoring the way his body responded to you, every twitch and shiver a testament to just how much he wanted this—wanted you.

You leaned down, your breath ghosting over his length as you pressed a kiss to the tip, tasting the salty beads of precum that had gathered there. Wade moaned, his hands fisting the sheets, knuckles white as he fought the urge to take control, to guide your head down and beg for more.

But you were in charge tonight.

"You taste so good, Wade," you purred, your voice dripping with lust. You swirl your tongue around the head, taking him into your mouth inch by inch, until his cock was hitting the back of your throat. Wade's moans grew louder, his body writhing beneath you, completely undone by the sensation.

"Fuck, baby... please, don't stop," he begged, his voice strained, desperate. "I need you... please."

You pulled off him with a wet pop, a smirk playing on your lips as you looked up at him, his chest heaving with every ragged breath. "You like being worshiped like this, don't you?"

Wade's head lolled back against the pillows, a shudder running through him as he muttered a broken "Yes, fuck, I do."

"Good," you murmured, pressing a kiss to the base of his cock before taking him back into your mouth, your hand pumping what your mouth couldn't reach. Wade's moans grew louder, his body trembling beneath you, every inch of him completely at your mercy.

You could feel the tension building in his body, the way his hips were bucking up into your mouth, desperate for release. And just when you knew he was on the edge, ready to fall apart for you, you pulled back, leaving him panting and trembling, his cock twitching with need.

"Wha—baby, why'd you stop?" Wade's voice was a breathless whine, his eyes wide with confusion and desperation.

You crawled back up his body, straddling his waist as you leaned down to kiss him, your lips brushing against his as you whispered, "Because I want you to remember this moment, Wade. I want you to remember that you're mine. Always."

With that, you sank down onto him, taking him deep inside you in one slow, deliberate motion. Wade's hands finally broke the rules, grabbing your hips as he groaned your name, his head falling back as you began to move, riding him with a rhythm that was both torturous and perfect.

He was lost to you now, completely undone, and as you rode him, your hands running over his chest, his scars, his trembling body, you knew you had him. Wade Wilson was yours—in body, in mind, in soul.

And tonight, you would worship him until he broke.

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[sobeautifullyobsessed]

Just read an article on GAMINGbible (don't ask me - my phone has learned to show me Doctor Strange/MCU news of interest) which basically said don't expect a Doctor Strange or Shang-Chi solo movie any time soon. Which first doesn't surprise me in the least. And second, as far as DS is concerned, is probably for the best, given how they treated Stephen in his last 'solo' outing.

In the meantime, I'll be content to survive on the fan fiction created by people who actually understand, appreciate, respect, and LOVE Doctor Strange.

I feel bad for Benedict, though. He signed on to play Stephen because he saw a multi-faceted character with a ton of story potential, based on his research reading the comics. And stupid Feige once went so far as to call him the "...anchor of the Marvel Cinematic Universe and the only actor capable of guiding us through the madness of the multiverse."

Was that the movie we got in DS II? I expect nothing but disappointment for Stephen's future in the MCU.