#steve Rodgers

[wickedlittlet0wn]

some things never change ❤️

[j-eryewrites]

The Line | Thunderbolts*

Chapter Five of Under Pressure: A Thunderbolts Fic

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SERIES MASTER LIST | MAIN MASTER LIST

Word Count: ~6.0k

Warnings: Canon typical violence, descriptions of injuries and blood, mentions of death, mentions of Reader's trauma and shame rooms, mentions of child and domestic abuse, mentions of mental health and illness, Valentina hate train, descriptions of pain and suffocation, THUNDERBOLTS SPOILERS, (let me know if I missed any)

Author's Note: My significant other took me to see Thunderbolts for the third time and I'm going back later today to watch it one final time before it leaves my local theatres (thanks HTTYD). We've finally reached the end of the film and now onto the fun part, speculating. I hope you enjoy this chapter!

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A field of white welcomed you back. This time you didn’t run. This time, you didn’t try to stop what was to come. You just sat there on the linoleum floor, crying. Again, the lights flickered, a sign of what was happening to your fellow unconscious friends. Soon, everything went dark. The scene rewound, starting over again. 

“Begin the simulation,” repeated over and over again like a mantra. Unlike the self-care and self-love ones that Bucky occasionally sent to you, this one burned, opening wounds you thought were long forgotten. The scars reopened, intertwined with the fresh ones that littered your body. The Sentry–Bob’s energy still remained in you, occasionally igniting a new wave of pain. To top your stay in hell, the memory of Bob’s still body flashed in your mind. The red light of the kill switch. His dark blue cloak gently waved from the breeze that snuck in from the broken window. You had killed him. You did. The darkness that overcame Bob was right. You were a Jinx. The mantle of hero would always be out of your reach, just out of the tip of your fingers. 

“I’m so sorry, B-Bob,” you choked on your sobs. Tucking your legs into you, you wrapped your arms around your shins, pulling them in close. “I’m so sorry.” 

“Begin the sim–” 

“Y/N?” You flinched at your name. This wasn’t supposed to happen. That’s not how the memory went. You weren’t even known at Y/N back then. Untucking your head from the shield of your knees, you looked up. In the one-way window, you no longer saw the inside of the laboratory. Instead, it was an attic. In the center of the room sat Bob. He lifted his head as if he were trying to see you better. 

You stood up, wiping tears. “Bob?” You blinked, and he was gone. Confusion pinched your brows together as you whirled around. The lights above began to flicker again. Bob was here. You had seen him. Maybe there was a way to get out of here–out of this memory. Stepping back until your spine hit the wall behind you, you took in a deep breath, and charged shoulder braced for impact. 

CRACK!

You were bounced back from the recoil. Resetting your position, you continued to ram yourself into the glass. 

CRACK! CRACK! 

The flickering was getting harsher. You had to get out before the memory reset. 

CRACK!

Placing all the force you could muster behind the attack, the window gave in. The sound of glass shattering and scattering across the floor vanished just as you tumbled to the ground, surrounded in darkness. Groaning, you pushed yourself off the floor. You lifted your eyes to scan your surroundings. The laboratory was gone. Instead, you found yourself in a vast battlefield of debris and fires. The ghosts of buildings–the Avengers compound stood over the wreckage of the Earth. Scattered around the area stood heroes, your family, and others who joined the fight along the way, standing tall as they fought against the alien army. In the middle of it all, you spotted the purple titan fighting against a blur of red and gold. 

With one final swing, he tossed your Father to the ground as clouds of dust enveloped him. Behind the sky was filled with smoke. The dark grey clouds clogged up the fiery dusk in the sky. You swore the battlefield went silent as Thanos approached Tony. His thick, purple hands clasped around the glove that housed the Infinity Stones. 

“I am…inevitable,” Thanos declared, bringing his fingers together to snap. But by then, you were already running. Like the memory before, you couldn’t help how your feet carried you. A part of you knew nothing you did now would change anything, but the other side didn’t care. She was a little girl who wanted to save her dad; she was no longer the woman you were today. 

“Dad!” You screamed as you tripped over a chunk of debris. Your body tumbled, snagging your clothes and ripping holes in the fabric, but you didn’t care. Instead, you trudged on, getting back up. Just as Tony was about to snap, the glow of the infinity stones glowing brighter and brighter, you tackled him to the ground, clawing at the stones. “Please, Dad. Don’t do this. Let me–”

Tony shoved you away. The back of his hand cut deep into your cheek as he slapped you. “You can’t run from this.” It wasn’t Tony’s voice that came out.  It was Bob’s, but void of all warmth. The scene around you darkened. Suddenly, the scene brightened. Tony was no longer in front of you. Instead, he lay against a stone. His arm was ashen and falling apart. His dark eyes were losing the light of life in them. 

“No.” You shook your head, fighting back tears. 

“You can’t change anything. You just make things worse,” the voice continued. 

“No!” You screamed, covering your ears. “No, please! Bob, please stop this,” You begged, crumpling to your knees as Tony vanished, leaving only his iron heart behind. Tearing your eyes away, you caught sight of a puddle at the cusp of your knees. The puddle beside you rippled. The image was now a window into the attic you had seen before. “Bob?” You peered into the puddle, as your fellow comrades bowed their heads and knelt in respect and reverence for your Father’s sacrifice. 

“Y/N?” Bob, your Bob, not the one void of any warmth, responded. 

“B-Bob?” You repeated, unsure if your eyes were tricking you. He bit his lip, nodding. “Can I…?” You trailed off, flinching at the sound of Tony being tossed to the ground by Thanos. The memory had started again. “Can I come in to where, you know, wherever you are?” 

Bob glanced down at his hands and the Rubik's cube in his grasp. His face scrunched up in thought as he gazed at the puzzle of mixed and matched colors, before welcoming you in. You leaned closer and hesitantly reached a hand into the puddle. When your hand didn’t make contact with anything, you dove headfirst into the puddle. 

The scene around you changed. Your eyes scanned the room: boxes with different hand-written labels stacked upon each other, walls covered in plaid blueish-green wallpaper that was falling off due to the humidity, and a dusty bed with quilts, pillows, and a teddy bear piled on. On each face of the room, there were windows. Your eyes narrowed to see out of them, but you could only find a greyish light. 

“Oh, woah,” Bob muttered, looking up from the Rubik's cube in his hands. His eyes took in your disheveled appearance, so much for Valentina’s makeover. You turned around to face him and felt your breath catch in your throat. “You look like you’ve just seen a ghost.” No words found the will to crawl out of your throat. How could you speak when the man you’d just killed was sitting right in front of you? Tears pooled in your eyes at the sight. There sat Bob, on a circular rug, hunched in on himself. The pure blue of his sweater made his eyes glow, but not the gold you had seen before. These were Bob’s eyes. 

 “A-are you crying?” Bob asked you, a concerned expression flickered over his face. 

“Oh,” You muttered, snapping out of your daze. Slowly, your hands raised to your cheek, wiping the tears away. “I guess…yeah.”

“Your cheeks are really red, you must have,” Bob trailed off before his shyness took over, forcing him to quietly mutter the rest of his sentence, “…cried a lot.” His head fell back to the puzzle cube, afraid of what you might say. The sound that came next was not the reprimand he was expecting. Instead of a snappy comment, you laughed. Bob’s eyes found yours again, in awe at the sight. 

 “Thanks, Bob.” You said, now wiping tears from the laughter. “I needed that.” Once your eyes had dispelled the tears, you noticed the cube in his hands. Coming to sit beside him, you pointed to the object. “What are you…”

“Oh, it’s a Rubik's cube,” Bob explained, his voice a level below a whisper. “Helps distract me from the–”

Suddenly, a loud crash came from down below. You couldn’t help how you jumped out of your skin at the noise, noticing Bob flinching just the same. Below, an argument broke out. A man with a harsh voice began to yell, threatening, who you assumed was a young Bob, as he stood up for his Mother. Louder noises began to fill the air as pleas followed. 

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, trying to comfort Bob. Before your hand could brush against his shoulder, you froze, quickly tucking it into your lap. 

Bob’s eyes fell as he watched your hand disappear. “I–I-it’s fine. I’m used to it.” 

Shaking your head, you said, “No one should be used to that…” You paused, trying to find better words to comfort him. The only thing your mind conjured up was “I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s okay,” Bob reassured.  

A moment of silence fell over you as the room grew quiet once again. The only noise that your ears picked up was the clicking of the Rubik's cube. With each spin of Bob’s fingers, the colors became more and more mixed up. As if Bob never wanted to try and solve it in the first place, choosing to give in to the chaos. “So…,” you cleared your throat. “The memories…um, I–” You couldn’t find the words.

Bob, noticing your hesitation, paused his pursuit of solving the puzzle. “What are you trying to say?”

*I’m not good with words. Do a better job of listening and being seen. I couldn’t speak for the longest time after, well…even so, my mom, Natasha, she could…understand. Read me like a book. Could tell when I was upset, hungry, or tired before I even realized I was. It was like magic. So, I guess what I’m trying to say is that… I’m here for you. High or low.” 

“You remember?’ Bob stammered in disbelief at your words. 

Of course, you had remembered. He had mentioned this in the vault as you were trying to turn the lights back on. It was a moment of trust and calm before the storm. “I remember.” Taking a gulp, you wet your coarse throat.

You watched as Bob’s shoulders slowly slumped further down than you thought humanly possible. “It’s one of the l-lows,” he confessed. You bowed your head at his words, thinking on how to best help him. Instead, you remained quiet. The kind that allowed you to listen and not just hear. You nodded, encouraging Bob to continue talking to you. “At least I found a nice room.” He offered you a brief smile. His eyes eluded your attempts to make eye contact. 

With crinkled eyes, you turned your gaze away from Bob. The attic was cozy and seemingly less hostile than all the other rooms you had been in. You could even go as far as say it was welcoming. “It is nice. Was this–” Glass plates shattered below you. You hadn’t realized the scene had reset, watching as Bob fell back, caving in on himself.  

“Hey, it’s okay.”  Bob’s body shook like an earthquake had erupted. The Rubik's cube clattered to the floor. 

“You think you’re a hero, Bobby?!” Bob’s Father yelled, threatening his son. 

Snatching up the Rubik's cube, you placed it back into Bob’s hands. However, the whispers in his head were growing louder and louder. Each word was a dagger cutting deeper into him. He couldn’t hear you or feel your attempts to calm and comfort him. Your face fell watching his comfort and flinch as the conflict below got louder and louder. Without thinking or fear of touching him, your fingers slid around his face, covering his ears. Bob’s eyes flew open as he tried to jerk back. His brows raised as his eyes rapidly blinked, looking between your shaking hands and your face. Slowly,  the muscles in his forehead began to relax, soothing the fine lines that appeared before. 

“I’m here. I’m here, Bob.” You whispered to him. They were words you had heard before, sung to you when you were at your lowest. Each time spoken by someone new: Natasha, Steve, Tony, Clint, Bruce, and even Thor. Now it was your turn to utter them. 

Despite the volume of the violence below, Bob heard you, louder than he had ever heard anyone before. “You’re not alone.” Without warning, the room groaned and shook. Objects began to fall from their homes on forgotten shelves, clattering to the floor. Dust kicked up into the air, clouding your view. “What–?” You questioned, instinctively pulling Bob closer. 

“It’s him,” Bob whimpered. Out of the chaos, the shadows in the corner no longer seemed full. Now empty of any shape or form, they crept closer to you two. Beneath you, the strands of fabric in the rug rose. Like vines, they coiled over your limbs, pulling you down. They yanked you away, swallowing you into the floor. The room began to spin, and the rug whirled as if the center of the room had become a maelstrom.  “Bob! Help, Bo–” A cluster of fabric slapped itself over your mouth. 

“He can’t help you. Can’t even save himself, let alone you.” Bob froze. His heart seemed to stop beating as pools formed in his eyes. He couldn’t move, cowering at his voice echoing in his head as you were sucked from view. Just as fast as the storm came, it cleared. There was no sign you had been there. Biting down hard on his lip, Bob tried to fight back tears. It was right. How could he have saved you? He couldn’t help anyone. 

“Always making things worse,” he heard his father’s voice say in tandem with his own.

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You fell from the ceiling, collapsing onto something hard, hearing a sickening crack as your joints rejected the cold surface of the dark floor. On instinct, you curled in on yourself, your hands clutching your waist and stomach. In the fetal position, you shakingly took in one breath at a time; gentle words of advice Natasha had given you long ago as you lay in bed with a recovering dislocated shoulder and fractured ribs. You had gotten hurt on one of your test flights with Tony. You couldn’t quite figure out how to control the force of the thrusters, causing you to spin out and crash into a few trees. Not the most graceful landing you had ever done. Still, Nat sat beside your bed, watching over you and never leaving your side until you were feeling better. 

It was just a simple breathing tactic. In and hold. Out and hold. It was supposed to calm your mind from the panic that arose with an injury. After all, you weren’t allowed to panic in a fight. One wrong move, a moment of overthinking, and you were dead. You inhaled and exhaled to calm the storm in your mind. The void. It had taken you away from Bob and brought you somewhere else. You didn’t dare look up until you were ready. The room would wait for you. 

Lying there on the unwelcoming ground, you felt a chilling breeze trickle over your body. The air was crisp and dewy. All signs were that a rainstorm was coming. Your face scrunched in thought as you continued to breathe. Maybe you could figure out what the Void had in store for you, what memory awaited your tortured mind. From behind the dark of your eyelids, a warm, barish yellow light filtered in. You frowned, finding no memory of yours to match up with what your senses were telling you. Taking a sharp inhale, you opened your eyes. 

Shattered glass and crumbled debris surround you, forming a makeshift nest. Your eyes met your distorted reflection on the dark flooring. Spects of glass lay beneath you as you carefully pushed yourself to a seat. Nothing in your body ached or screamed as if it were broken. You sighed in relief, dusting the shards of glass that clung to your body. Some cut their skin as they brushed it away. Droplets of red blood leaked out from under your skin. A sign you were human and fragile. 

Hissing, you braced yourself against a nearby wall, letting your head fall back. You hadn’t seen the room you were in, and you were terrified of what awaited you. Closing your eyes again, you tried to prepare yourself for what horrors lay ahead: would you see them all disappear again? Watch yourself fail in destroying the Mind Stone? Stand behind the door to Morgan’s room, listening to her cry herself to sleep? No matter the memory that came crawling back up to haunt you, you knew you had to find a way out and get back to Bob. 

Opening your eyes, light flooded your view. You brought your hand to shade your eyes until you adjusted to the sight. Nothing you had thought of before could prepare you. The Void had sent you here. The thing you regretted most and hit every weakened part of you. The moment you knew you had no chance of upholding their legacy. The moment you had crossed the line and lived up to your namesake. 

A sob choked its way out of your throat. There you were in the corner, shriveled up into a husk of yourself as you fought the full force of the Sentry’s power. Above you, he stood. You watched as uncertainty seeped through the cracks of his invincibility. Robert knew he was strong. Stronger than anything anyone had seen before, yet staring down at you as you suffered, you saw he did the same. His words of assistance earlier in the vault echoed in your mind. He only wanted to help. To be strong enough for you and the others. That’s why he ran from the truck and stood in the line of fire. But now the cloak had been pulled from his eyes. The truth that followed the Sentry’s actions and Valentina’s snake-like words. He didn’t help. He had created hurt.

You watched as his hands twitched; his finger itching to reach out to you and ease your pain, but your betrayal stopped him. You had drained his power. You had, only for a moment, weakened his strength. He was torn at the sight of you. Shame and guilt crept to the surface. You saw the moment his eyes darkened and an emptiness crept into them. The very look you found in his face–the Void’s. Then it clicked. They were one and the same. Bob, Sentry, and Void. Each carrying the same burdens and fears, each one manifesting it differently, each one just as terrified as the other. 

There you sat, leaning against the wall, watching the scene unfold: Valentina instructing Bob to finish it and kill you, his refusal, and a budding challenge against her. You watched as he paced around the room, the tremors from his hand returned as more of his insecurities fractured at the surface. Despite it all, you watched how he continued to glance back at you, struggling. It was like he needed assurance you were still breathing, still alive.  Each time his eyes darted back at you, his posture faltered, blond hair falling into his face as if the sight of you was grounding him and breaking him all at once. 

Finding the courage to stand, you dragged yourself to Sentry–Bob–the Void. He had Valentina pressed up against the wall. Anger and fear mixed into one, as he choked her. In the blink of an eye, he fell, eyes rolling back into his head. Valentina made her getaway, leaving you and him alone. You crouched beside his body, bringing a hand to his cheek, brushing the wisps of hair that had fallen. You fought tears as you whispered a silent goodbye. A promise you’d never hurt him again, that you’d always be there just like Tony and the others had promised you all those years ago. You and Bob were one and the same. Alone, scared, and desperate for someone to stand by them, to see you for who you truly were, unashamed of the past and of the scars that littered your soul. 

Slowly, you got up and limped to the elevator doors, all the while the other you ran to Bob’s side, weeping over her choices and his death. Sniffling, you pressed the call button, your back turned as darkness took over the room. 

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

In the darkness, you stumbled forward. Your hands were raised in front of you to warn you of any obstacle in your way. However, there were no obstacles above. Instead, they came from below in the shape of a pile of people. Tripping, you braced yourself for impact, only to have your fall cushioned by another. A groan escaped from underneath you. 

“Yelena?” You questioned, seeing the blonde below you. 

“Stark?” Yelena repeated your name back. A relieved smile appeared on her face at the sight of you. 

“I’m perfectly peachy in case anyone was wondering,” Walker groaned. Beside you was Walker, holding his stomach from where you stepped on him.

“Oh, sorry, Walker,” you apologized, trying to push them off. As you placed your hand down and pushed, a chorus of ows echoed out from Ava. You scrambled off of her and the others as best you could, totally not kneeing Alexei in the face. He rubbed his nose where you had made contact. It was still sore from when a certain meth addicted chicken whacked him in the face once or twice. 

Once everyone had found themselves back on their feet, you took in the sight of them all. They were all in varying stages of ease at the sight of you. Last they saw, you were crumpled on the floor, burning from the inside out. You had sacrificed yourself so they could get out. Bucky gave you a silent look over, his eyes scanning yours to confirm that you were really there. You saw the remaining ripples of concern and fear in his eyes as his eyes caught sight of every cut and bruise littering your skin. You knew the promise he had made Steve on that bench, that he’d watch over you, and he did. A silent protector, he stood beside you, supporting you when you found it hard to even stand. You reached out to him, finger grazing the metal of his arm. 

“Jesus you look like shit,” Walker stated taking in your appearance. 

“Thanks, Walker,” you scoffed, rolling your eyes at him. You wouldn’t admit that even the sight of him reassured you. He was still an asshole, but a welcomed one. Now, you didn’t have to face the rooms alone anymore. 

“Anytime.” He offered you a soft smile, clutching his shield just a little bit tighter. Behind Walker, you spotted a head of soft brown hair. The light curls drew you forward.  “Bob, you’re all right,” you sighed. You couldn’t help but watch how his face widened as if he expected you to be upset for how his fear overcame him earlier. Biting his lip, he gratefully smiled, eyes darting to the floor. 

“Not to cut this…short.” Ava waved her finger between you and Bob, “But where are we?”

Yelena turned her head. Before you all were a lab. Desks with tubes and glass beakers stacked upon shelves filled the room. In the middle was a pathway, leading to an examination room. Shadows of people were scorched onto the walls, and sitting in the room was he. The void. Still and silent, he sat, hunched over, hands tightly holding the other in his lap. “I've been here before,” Yelena confessed, taking the first step into the room. The rest of you followed suit, and the sliding doors closed behind you with a thud. 

“This is where it started,” Bob began to speak as you all approached the Void. “I was traveling through Southeast Asia. Thought I'd figure something out. At least find more drugs. Then there was this guy.” His eyes were wide as he recalled his memories before the vault. “Started telling me about a medical study. An experimental drug that could make me...stronger. Felt like a miracle. Finally, I could prove to everyone that I was more...something.”

“And look what you unleashed,” the void rasped. His bare feet clattered across the lab floor as he hopped off the gurney. Like a shadow, he maneuvered himself into the doorway. His empty eyes glowed with a cold light that glared at you all. You couldn’t help the tremble that escaped the tips of your fingers. Bucky’s cool fingers wrapped around yours, giving them a light squeeze. You glanced over at him, nodding your head in thanks. 

“The most embarrassing part was thinking you could be anything more than...nothing,” the Void directed his insults at Bob. 

“We're leaving,” Yelena declared, stepping forward, she made your intentions clear. You weren’t asking the void, you were telling him. 

For a moment, the Void just stared at you all in silence. His eerie eyes bore holes into the side of Bob’s skull. Slowly, his eyes trailed from Bob over to you. His eyes narrowed. “No,” he growled. “You’re not.” 

From behind the Void, the gurney was lifted off the floor. Floating, it flipped to its side, brushing past the Void before shooting itself at you all. You grabbed Bob, tackling him to the floor out of the range of the metal bed. Bucky, Walker, and Ava dodged out of the way with ease. Yelena and Alexei weren’t so lucky, as the gurney trapped them against the door. Yet the Void’s siege was not over. Above, the lights flickered as the metal and strings flew down each, trapping another one of you. Ava beside Alexei and Yelena, Bucky against one of the desks. Across from him, Walker was staked into the desk behind him. A sharp shrapnel of metal stuck out of his shoulder blade. You and Bob ducked away from each attack until you got hit with a chunk of metal. The material coiled around your wrists, bringing them to the ground. Another piece wrapped around your torso, further trapping you. All that remained was Bob. 

“Let them go,” he pleaded with the void. Tears flooded his eyes at the sight of all of you struggling and hurt. The void was an extension of him, and he was doing this. He was hurting you. 

“You think they care about you?” The void growled, stalking towards Bob, who crawled towards you to try and pull the metal off of you. With each tug of Bob’s hands, the metal constricted tighter and tighter, causing you to cry out in pain. “You don't matter...to anyone.” The Void continued his assault. 

“That's not true!” Yelena exclaimed, only to be choked as a plastic tube wriggled its way around her neck. She gasped for air, face turning a deep shade of purple. 

“Don't hurt them,” Bob commanded. The Void only sneered.  “I'm stronger than you.”

“Let's see,” the Void challenged. Suddenly, Bob was on his feet, arms swinging into the darkness. The Void easily dodged Bob’s attacks as if it were a choreographed dance. From Bob’s inexperience, the Void attack, punching into Bob’s stomach and face, crumpling him to the ground. The Void’s smile grew brighter as Bob coughed up air and spit. 

“Get up, Bobby,” Walker urged on. The piece of shrapnel dug deeper into his shoulder. His cry of pain switched on something in Bob. Instantly, Bob was on the Void, tackling him to the ground. With his shadow securely underneath him, Bob raised his fist and brought it down. A sickening crack filled the air as the ceiling began to crumble. With each hit Bob landed on the Void, the room fell into more and more of a disarray. The hold the metal had on you tightened even further. You watched as the darkness that swallowed the Void whole leeched onto Bob. Slowly, it began to climb. Bob slowly destroyed the Void; he was slowly killing himself. 

“Bob, stop!” You cried out, only for the glass wall to shatter. The tiny shards flew into the air, cutting you all.

“This isn’t right,” Bucky yelled over the chaos of the room. 

“You thought you were going to be someone big?” The void taunted Bob as he continued his assault. “Some kind of savior? You can't even save yourself.” Bob’s punches got more and more violent as desperation seeped through. The darkness continued to spread. You flailed against your chains, fingers reaching out to Bob, but he was too far away. 

All of a sudden, a blur of black flew through the air. Yelena ducked and dodged everything the Void and the room sent at her. She leaped over the crumbling floor, rolling beside Bob. Hurriedly, she wrapped her arms around him in an embrace. One by one, the others followed suit, breaking free from their restraints to run to Bob. First was Ava, then Alexei. Next came Walker as he yanked the piece of metal from his arm, raising his shield as he ran over to you to pull you off the floor. Together, the two of you dashed to Bob, wrapping your arms around him and the others. Last came Bucky, who held you all close. His head tucked into your shoulder. 

Bob’s fist was no longer digging into the Void. Instead, he sobbed, every part of him sinking deeper into your embrace. “We...will always...be alone,” the void croaked up at Bob, who turned his head into the crook of your neck. His tears soaked your skin. 

“Not anymore,” you all collectively whispered as you continued to hug him, holding him up, letting him know he was not alone anymore.  None of you would be. Together, as a team, you’d face the darkness in each of you, come what may. 

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

When you all opened your eyes next, finding yourselves in the streets of New York City, you stayed in the hug. Each of you is holding on, not wanting to let go. Each of you yearned for the embrace and the meaning behind it. All of you scared that if you’d let go, you’d be alone again. Reluctantly, you all peeled away,  standing up one by one.  “Is everyone okay?” You asked, dusting off your pants before helping Bob to a stand. 

“You were great in there, Bob,” Walker noted, offering Bob a genuine smile. For once in the entire time you’d been together, there was no sarcasm sprinkled into his voice.

“Thanks, Walker.” Bob beamed, his eyes blinking rapidly, before calming. “Wait, where?” The expression of utter confusion spread from Bob to all of you. “Who are you two?” Bob asked, pointing to Bucky and Alexei. 

Alexei let out a nervous chuckle. “Oh.”

“What happened here?” Bob’s confusion only increased. “Sorry, I'm a little fuzzy.”

“Well–” You croaked, glancing at the others. 

“Are you serious?” Walker gasped, defeatedly flinging his arms into the air. His exasperated eyes met with all of yours. 

“Are you okay?” Yelena frowned, looking up at Bob. Her eyes scanned him for any trace of remembrance or the Void, but none could be found. 

“Yeah.” Bob nodded, a bit taken aback by Yelena’s question. “I'm fine.”

“Yes,” A sheer voice cried. As if on cue, all seven of your heads whirled in the direction of Valentina. She looked flustered as she paced around the road, hissing into her phone. “ I said I need an extraction ASAP. No, I know–” 

Your eyes honed in on the woman. “Valentina…That Bitch.” 

Before you all could begin your hunt for revenge, Walker interjected. “Wait, wait. What happens when he gets his memory back?”

Momentarily, you paused, peering around at everyone. You couldn’t just leave Bob, not after what happened, not after the silent promise you all had made to each other in the shame room fighting the Void. 

“Okay,” Yelena declared, latching onto Bob’s arm, pulling him along in the direction of Valentina.  “Come on.”

“Oh, me too?” Bob asked, looking behind him as if Yelena was talking to another person, but he found none. 

“Yeah,” Yelena nodded. “We'll stick together from now on.”

“How sweet,” Bob smiled, glancing forward at you and the others as thoughts of Valentina's death filled your heads. 

“You can't kill her,” Bucky stated. His eyes flicked back at those who had the most bloodthirsty glares. “We have to take her in.”

“You can't kill her, Bucky, but you said nothing about–” You began. Your fist was tightening at your side, dreaming of finding a home in her pompous face. Maybe you could even knock a few of her pearlescent teeth out. 

“No,” Bucky reprimanded. “You can’t kill her either.”  

“Oh, I'd like to kill her,” Ava added. 

Bucky rolled his eyes. “We are not killing anyone.” 

Beside you, Walker, fought against his shield. Your eyes flickered down to his struggle and the taco-shaped shield. You snickered. Walker sent you a warning glare. “If Bob gets his memory back, he can fix this stupid thing.”

“Don’t, I quite like it,” you teased. “Captain Taco.”Walker groaned beside you. Coincidentally, his grip on his shield slipped, bringing his elbow into your side. 

“Ow,” you hissed. Quietly, you made a note for your future self to stay clear of the super soldiers when you decide to tease them next. “Save it for Valentina.” 

“Oh,” Walker’s brows raised. “Trust me, I am.” 

Valentina’s dark brown eyes flickered over to you all. Her hands raised as she expertly backed up, navigating the debris littering the streets of New York City. “Alright, guys.” She pleaded. “I know we're all going through a lot of feelings right now. I am, too. I get it. Give me half a second.” Suddenly, she was gone, disappearing behind an opaque sheet. One by one, you all followed her through the screen, and one by one, you all froze. 

In front of you, reporters stood with mics ready. The photographers in the crowd didn’t wait to start snapping photos of you all as you trickled through the screen. You flinched at the bright flashes of light. 

“Are we alive?” Valentina asked into the various mics set up on the makeshift stage. “Excellent. For years, I've been working in secret to develop a new era of protection. Today, the citizens of the United States need that protection, and thanks to my hard work, they got it.” Turning around, she waved her hand, presenting you all. “Ladies and gentlemen, meet the new Avengers.”

“What the fuck?” You gulped as journalists’ questions filled the air. Murmurs and whispers of the news grew to a deafening volume. Still, the cameras flashed and Valentina smiled. She peered back at you all, making sure to make eye contact with Bucky and you as if to say I won, try and impeach me now. A frown etched itself onto your face, all the while Bob stood beside you, all cheering and clapping without a clue in the world. 

Stepping forward, Yelena whispered something into Valentina’s ear. You couldn’t quite make out the words, but it was all worth it to see the smile wiped off Valentina’s face. After a moment, Yelena stepped back in line with you all. Photographers were yelling at you all, demanding you look in their direction. Each command made your head ache. 

 “I’m too tired for this shit,” you grumbled. Tired was an understatement. You had been up over 72 hours fighting tooth and nail for your life. You hadn’t eaten at all in that span of time. Exhaustion filled your bones and gnawed at your remaining patience. Turning away, you stepped off the stage, pulling Bob along with you. 

“W-wait, where are we going?” Bob asked, looking over his shoulder as the others followed behind you, leaving Valentina on the stage alone. If she was so desperate to remain in the public eye, she could deal with it. 

“Getting food,” you announced over your shoulder. “I’m in the mood for shawarma.”

Yelena’s stomach growled beside you. “So long as you pay Stark. I’m happy.”

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[writersblockedx]

Wedded Under War

You can now read Part Two Here

Pairing - Mafia!Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader, slight Bestfriend!Steve Rodgers x Reader Summary - New York is plagued by a war between the White Wolves and SHIELD. Your older brother comes up with a solution: Wed you to their leader, Bucky Barnes. Warnings - Violence, arranged marriage Words - 2K

Masterlist

The first time you met James Buchanan Barnes, it was tainted in blood. It was a plan, to gather information without the man having any idea what he was doing, nor who he was talking to. Steve Rodgers and your older brother, Tony, had hatched the plan when you just turned twenty-one. For you to waltz in there, flirt enough and get him drunk enough that his tongue would slip. It should have been easy. In and out without the need for violence. Something so sparse in your line of work.

Natasha had picked out a dress for you. One that matched the formality of your old prom dress. Silk and tight, with barely any room for you to breathe. Tucked underneath, in case of emergency, were your weapons: A pistol, and a couple of knives. "Just in case." Natasha had assured as she strapped the last switchblade around your ankle.

And like that, you slipped out from the van where Steve and Natasha would be monitoring you. Flashing some fake confidence as you wandered towards a cocktail bar you had never stepped foot in before. It was for the rich kids of New York. The trust fund babies, the future lawyers and, most importantly, Bucky Barnes' favourite spot after a long week of causing havoc.

You ignored the rest of the crowd, heading towards the marble bar where you ordered a martini for the nerves. You cared little for what you were doing, your intention more than anything was to impress your brother in hopes of gaining more involvement with the job. If that meant looking pretty and flirting aimlessly with Bucky Barnes then so be it.

The moment your lips hit the drink, your eyes finally scanned the room. You gazed across the drunken Ivy League types who were trying to impress people with their knowledge of the stock market. It didn't take long to find the man who didn't fit with the rest of the crowd: nestled in the corner, in a leather booth seated the leader of the White Wolves. He wore a clean shirt and blazer, ensuring you could still see his bulging biceps through the material. 

Within seconds, his eyes finally caught your obvious flirty gaze. It was a silent invitation for him to come over and join you. He was desperate, hungry from the get-go. He whispered something in his right man's ear before standing and waltzing over to you like he owned the place - which he probably actually did. "What are you drinking?" He questioned, smoothly.

You forced a smirk to your lips, "Why?" Your head tilted. "You buying?"

"Only if you say please." Had he been any other man, had this not been the job, you might have smacked him there and then.

Instead, you kept your expression stable and said, "I'll have a martini, please."

He nodded and returned his attention to the bartender, "An old fashioned and a martini." He requested. When the bartender had his back turned, Bucky gazed back at the pretty thing of interest. "I've never seen you here before."

"I'm meeting a friend." You lied before staring down at your watch. "At least I'm meant to be, they're late."

"Well, if you don't mind, I can keep you company." He didn't wait for your answer before slipping into the bar stool beside you.

"Of course, I don't."

Two drinks landed in front of you. Bucky thanked the man and tipped him ten times the amount any normal person would. But Bucky Barnes wasn't just anyone. He was rich with dirty money and had half of New York at his beck and call. "Cheers," He raised his glass, clinking it with your own.

Your brother always taught you to be careful around your drinks. He showed you how easy the enemies of the job could slip something in, to take advantage. And that worry laid heavy on your mind as you watched Bucky take his first sip. You barely let your lips touch the glass before placing it back on the bar. "So what do I call you?"

Another thing Tony had taught you was to never give your real name. "Natalie." Was the first thing you thought of; the same alias Natasha used. "And you?"

Bucky wasn't quite as smart. Or maybe he was just egotistical and liked the idea of the pretty girl calling his name. "Bucky." He nodded.

Your eyes flickered back over to his men who were still situated in the booth, throwing back neat whisky like it went down the same as water. They wouldn't be able to do much in that state. "You sure your friends don't mind you spending your time over here with me?" You queried.

Bucky smiled at the thought, "Please, they're too busy fighting over what gun has the best range." You doubted that was a lie. Maybe most other girls would have thought so, some maybe even laughed, but not you. "We can always join them if you'd like."

At that, you jumped, your hand practically crawling at his forearm for him to stay. "No," You spoke, almost too stern. "I like being here." You plastered that smirk back onto your face.

Bucky sank into his seat, not hiding the way his eyes followed your nails toward your body in that dress. "Good," He whispered.

You slowly let your hand slide away from his skin, "So what is that you do? Other than argue over other weapons?" You let the conversation change to something you might be able to get information on.

"Business."

"A bit vague, isn't it?" You jabbed for him to speak more. But, the best way to do that, was to put him at ease. For him to be far more interested in something else other than what he was saying. So your hand returned to his forearm, gently caressing against his skin. "I mean, you look like you must do something important." You smiled his way, not letting your eyes drop from his body.

"Importing." He finally answered and you realised you were getting somewhere.

So you let your hand slowly drag down his biceps which, while any other girl might have found hot, you were already calculating how hard his punch would hit against your face. "Hm, and what is it you import?" You questioned.

To your expectation, he was watching your movement carefully, a smirk plastered at his lips. "You ask a lot of questions."

You shrugged, moving your hand further and further down till it reached his finger tips, grazing across them. "You seem like an interesting man." You muttered.

"Maybe I want to know about you." He returned, leaning forward enough to put a hand to your thigh. But rather than finding your skin, his fingers hit something hard and metallic. The very weapon you had there, just in case. Your hand fell from his entirely, feeling his body tense at the touch of betrayal. You didn't move. "You should have known better than to come into my bar, in my city, with a silly little weapon like that." 

He was still. The man made no move for his own weapon that you were certain he was hiding under his blazer jacket. So, instead, you moved first. Your hand reached out, gripping at his brunette locks before forcing his head onto the marble bar side. A clash sounded at the impact. Enough to alert the rest of the customers who started screeching for help.

You rushed backwards, hand gripping at the gun that had outed you. Bucky stood from the bar stool, his hand wiping away at the blood which dripped from his forehead. Anger seethed in his pupils. Enough to make you search for cover as you caught the way his hand reached into his jacket pocket as you expected. "Move!" You ordered a group of college students.

Bullets whipped passed your head as you watched the rest of Bucky's men join in. Luckily, all the neat whiskeys had made their aim lazy. In the nick of time, you threw a table over onto its side and you covered your body against it, feeling every bullet which hit the wooden surface. The only thing protecting you from life and death.

Your hand pressed against the earpiece Natasha had given you, "Hey, you guys hearing this?"

"What the hell did you do?" The woman chimed in first as you leaned slightly over the top of the table to get a shot. One of which you assumed you missed as the bullets continued.

"Are you okay?" Asked Steve.

"Just one of you get in here please!" You begged.

You didn't understand the reply, but you liked to assume one of your friends were on their way. By now, most of the other customers had rushed out from the bar, the staff hidden in the back as the firing continued until the men started to run out of bullets. Despite their array of weapons, they weren't prepared for one girl to ruin their Friday night drinks. So without any extra ammo, they were left with one option: hand-to-hand combat.

When the firing stopped, your head looked above the wood once again, watching as Rumlow handed Barnes one of his daggers. You stood, kicking the table back in the way of Barnes. You raised your gun, an easy shot if you dared to take it. "You, silly little girl." Bucky spat.

Your head tilted at him and the rest of the men who had no way of hurting her anymore. Not when she was the only one with any ammo left. "Really? Looks to me that I'm the one with the upper hand." You pointed out.

The front door to the bar swung open. Out of instinct, they each held up their guns, without the ability to shoot at the red-headed Russian. "Let's go!" She ordered.

You gave Bucky one last victory glance before running back over to Natasha and exiting the bar unscathed. It had certainly been one way to welcome you to the job. 

---

"This has got to be a fucking joke?"

The stern expressions that faced you suggested they were all in fact serious. After years of war and bloodshed, this was their only solution for peace. "You want me- me to marry Barnes? That's-" You laughed at the idea of a domestic life alongside Bucky Barnes. It was such a stupid idea, you seriously couldn't imagine it. "That's obscene."

"It's tactical." Natasha offered.

To which, you gazed over at her as she stood beside the desk where Tony sat. His office was always filled by henchmen and paperwork. "Why aren't you the one marrying him then? Why do I get the short straw?"

"Because I'm not a Stark." She made a good point; a Stark marrying a Barnes would be more of a statement. The two names which battled over New York coming together through a marriage.

"It's the only way to keep everyone safe." Tony reasoned, making your eyes roll.

You scoffed, "Safe? Are you kidding me?" You couldn't image anything more dangerous than sleeping beside Bucky Barnes. "I would rather have that man stab me through the heart than put a flashy ring on his finger and call him mine!"

Steve, who had been quiet ever since the news dropped, finally met your eyes. "You don't have a choice."

Your breath fell hot when it left your tongue. These people, your family, your closest friends, suddenly taking control of your life for the sake of business. With no thought on how you would take it. Even now, despite your obvious distaste for the idea, they were pushing it. So it should have been expected when you faced the blonde man only to raise your hand, letting a slap fall firm against his cheek. 

You hated the sting on your palm as you faced Steve's huff as he settled in the pain. But maybe it was deserved. To have been used for years to do nothing but the small jobs, arranging staff, but never being at the forefront of the job. Suddenly, they were throwing you in the deep end. The worse of the worse: to marry Bucky Barnes. You left them with one thought, "I won't do it."

[casifell]

‘til the end of the line

[chwrrylace]

─── ❝ I LOVE YOU 3000 ❞

SUMMARY ; avengers confession hcs

AVENGERS x gn!reader.

CONTENT ; pinning, confessions, fluffy, use of y/n

WORD COUNT ;

A/N ; just rewatched avengers and fell in love w them again

── .✦ 𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐘 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐊

𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐘 𝐖𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐓𝐑𝐘 𝐓𝐎 𝐁𝐄 smooth about it, cracking jokes to hide how nervous he actually is. He’s used to having confidence, but when it comes to you, it’s different.

𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐅𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 𝐖𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐁𝐄 𝐈𝐍 a grand yet casual way—maybe over dinner at one of his penthouses, or while working in the lab together. “So, hypothetically speaking… if a genius billionaire playboy philanthropist had feelings for you, would you entertain the idea? Asking for a friend.”

𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐈𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐄 𝐇𝐈𝐌 𝐎𝐑 push for a serious answer, he’ll drop the act for a second. “I mean it, y/n. I want you. No games, no distractions. Just us.”

── .✦ 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐕𝐄 𝐑𝐎𝐃𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐒

𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐕𝐄 𝐈𝐒 𝐎𝐋𝐃-𝐅𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐃 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 it comes to romance. He’d take his time, making sure he’s certain about his feelings before confessing.

𝐇𝐄'𝐃 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐘 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐍 𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐅𝐄𝐋𝐓—like a walk in the park, a quiet dinner, or even a handwritten letter if he’s too nervous.

“𝐈'𝐕𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐌𝐄𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐄𝐋𝐋 you something, but I didn’t want to rush it. You mean a lot to me, and I…I care about you more than I should as just a friend.”

𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐄𝐘𝐄𝐒 𝐖𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐒𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐇 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒 for any sign of rejection, but once he sees you feel the same, his signature soft smile appears.

── .✦ 𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑 𝐎𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐎𝐍

𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑 𝐈𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐒𝐔𝐁𝐓𝐋𝐄. 𝐀𝐓 all. He’d make his feelings clear through grand gestures—bringing you rare Asgardian gifts, calling you his beloved even before confessing, and just showering you with affection.

𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐘 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐅𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐒, 𝐈𝐓'𝐒 with absolute certainty. There’s no hesitation in his voice.

“𝐘/𝐍, 𝐈 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐘 battles, faced great foes, and yet none have left me as breathless as you do. You hold my heart, and I would be honored if you allowed me to cherish you.”

𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐘 𝐓𝐎𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐓𝐎 the confession, lifting his drink and demanding the others in the room celebrate this glorious revelation.

── .✦ 𝐁𝐑𝐔𝐂𝐄 𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐍��𝐑

𝐁𝐑𝐔𝐂𝐄 𝐖𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐆𝐆𝐋𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐒𝐓 with confessing. He’d second-guess himself, thinking he’s too dangerous or not good enough for you.

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐅𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐖𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄𝐋𝐘 𝐒𝐋𝐈𝐏 out in an unguarded moment—maybe after a near-death experience where he realizes he can’t keep bottling it up.

“𝐈…𝐈 𝐃𝐎𝐍'𝐓 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐈𝐅 this is the right time to say it, but I need you to know. You’re the only person who makes me feel like I’m more than just… a mess. I—God, I really care about you, y/n.”

𝐇𝐄'𝐃 𝐄𝐗𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐓𝐎 𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐊 away, but if you accept his feelings, the relief in his eyes would be overwhelming.

── .✦ 𝐂𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐓 𝐁𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐎𝐍

𝐂𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐓 𝐖𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐈𝐓 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐅𝐔𝐋 at first, throwing in flirtatious quips and seeing how you react. But when he gets serious, he’s serious.

𝐇𝐄'𝐃 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐘 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐅𝐄𝐒𝐒 𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐀 mission, still riding the adrenaline high, realizing that life is too short to keep things bottled up.

“𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐊, 𝐈 𝐃𝐎𝐍'𝐓 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 tomorrow brings, but I know I want you in it. I’ve been falling for you for a while now, and if there’s even a chance you feel the same, I’d be the luckiest guy alive.”

𝐈𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐈𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐄, 𝐄𝐗𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐓 𝐀 smirk, a relieved sigh, and probably a terrible joke to lighten the mood.

── .✦ 𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐀 𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐅𝐅

𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐀 𝐈𝐒 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐃 𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐇𝐄𝐑 emotions, so her confession would be subtle at first—lingering touches, deeper conversations, protective instincts kicking in more than usual.

𝐒𝐇𝐄'𝐃 𝐓𝐑𝐘 𝐓𝐎 𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐈𝐓 casual, not wanting to make a big deal out of it, but her words would carry weight.

“𝐈 𝐃𝐎𝐍'𝐓 𝐃𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒. 𝐓𝐇𝐄 whole… feelings thing. But if I did, I’d probably say that I want you. That you mean something to me. More than I let on.”

𝐈𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐉𝐎𝐊𝐄 𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐇𝐄𝐑 getting soft, she’ll roll her eyes, but you’ll catch the faintest blush on her cheeks.

© chwrrylace — all rights reserved. even when credited, these works are prohibited to be reposted, translated or modified

[transboyswitchytales]

A Proposition

This is Part 2

Wanda Maximoff Professor X Student Reader

Part 1,3,4

After a night together, reader is suprised to go to class the next day to see a certain one night stand or rather her professor? Will she be just a one-night stand?

Now how will they move on from that?

( Mommy kink, 18+ Will block you if under 18)

My Masterlist

“You haven’t heard what I’m offering yet.” 

“Professor,” you say again, and the name falls flat, and it only amuses Wanda now. But she looks at you with a twinkle in her eyes. You are both walking and you turn to see if you will be overheard.

“Yes, Darling?”  She says, amused at your paranoia. 

“This is inappropriate.” You whisper loudly. 

“No, what’s inappropriate is if I fucked you on my desk really slow with the strap on from the other night. What would be really, really inappropriate is if I made the class watch. Especially that boy who stares at you all class long, Steve Rogers. That would be sweet revenge. Yeah, that, now that would be inappropriate. You and I met and were two consenting adults, and we still are.” She says with a shrug as if it’s nothing. Your eyes are fucking wide as she says such dirty things. You catch up to the last bit in shock.

“Still are?”

“I don’t know about you, though I have an inkling. But that was the best sex I’ve ever had. It’s also the most chemistry I’ve had, maybe ever. It was never gonna be a one-and-done. At least that wasn’t my plan. I knew at the bar I wanted more than one night with you.” She says, and the blush is now definitely all over your body. 

“Professor-“

“Wan-da.” She sounds out and stops to open a door that is her private office. Unlocking it with her keys. She opens the door and waves her hand for you to enter. You hesitate, and she lifts an eyebrow. You roll your eyes and walk in as she flips the light on. It’s a cute office, her blinds are drawn. But there are plants everywhere, a little mini fridge with stickers from national parks all over it, and it's wall-to-wall shelves that are covered in books. You can’t help yourself; you get distracted and walk over to trace your hands over the spines.

Wanda seems to like this as she shuts the door behind her and locks it. You don’t feel even a little worried, like you know you should. You bend down and pick up a copy of The Count of Monte Cristo. Its leather spine draws you in, and you love the story so much. You open it and look for a publication date. 

“It’s about 80 years old,” Wanda says, pulling off her glasses and leaning against the desk. She threw her bag and keys onto it. Then she lets her hands hold her weight behind her. 

“Fuck.” You say, and suddenly feel bad about picking it up. Wanda seems to take that as you have been scolded by people too much before. But she saves that thought away. 

“You can touch it, honey. It’s ok.” She says, seeing your panic. You ignore her and put it back. Standing back up, you see Wanda looking at you like she was enjoying you on the floor. You chastise yourself to stop imagining her naked. 

“I-“

“I’d like to take you out tonight?”

“Tonight?”

“Yes, well, right now actually. No time like the present,” she says, smiling at you for the hundredth time today. She likes how much she smiles because of you, she hasn’t done that in a very long time. 

“Shouldn’t I play harder to get?” You tease at the lack of dating etiquette she’s showing. She shakes her head 

“Why would you do that? I’ve already tasted you and I want more, I don’t want to play games. And before you ask no I’ve never fucked a student before. I never planned on it before you.”

“But-“

“Our age gap isn’t that wide, Darling. Even if I make you call me Mommy. Don’t look so scandalized. We aren’t breaking any district or college rules. I like you a lot. And I’m not the kind of woman who likes things and then takes no for an answer.”

“You do this with all your one-night stands, then?” You say, and it’s meant to be funny, but it sounds desperate, and you hate it.

“You would be the first person I’ve ever taken home from a bar. I wasn’t going to say anything this soon, but I was married …to a man… for too long....”

“Oh.”

“It’s been a few years. I have tried to date but… no one’s caught my attention.”

“Until now?” You say, and you try not to sound hopeful.

“Until now.” She says more confident than you’d expect.

You turn and look at the books, and she watches you. 

“I think we have more in common than you realize.” She says slowly, and you snort at her. Looking over your shoulder, you are sarcastic to a fault.

“You mean besides the fetishes we share.” It’s not supposed to make you blush more, but you do at your own sentence. She thinks it’s cute and smiles. 

“It’s not just about sex.”

“I’m not sure I believe you.” It’s a bit of a lie, because you want it to be more. But you keep your eyes on the books. So she talks to your back, not seeming bothered by sharing your attention with her library.

“You are getting a BA in English with an emphasis on writing, so did I,” She says, and you look at her like ‘that’s obvious.’ 

“You like old books, and so do I. You are extremely smart. And way funnier than I am.” She says as if she’s already in love, and you aren’t sure how to respond. 

“I don’t know if I’m all that.” You say, and she disagrees with you. Her face shows instantly that she doesn’t like your answer. You turn to her now, fully taking her in. She’s so fucking gorgeous. Her professor's look is sharp as hell. You would happily go back to the floor for her right here, right now. She surprises you, though. 

“You have been hurt by people. That much is clear. So have I. I get that you don’t want to trust me. I’m scared too, but not scared enough to let you walk away without taking my chance.” She says, and her voice dips, and it does things to you. 

“You can tell all that, huh?” You sa,y looking down at your shoes. She walks over and lifts your chin so you are eye to eye. 

“I can see that and much more. I don’t want to hurt you. I just want to be with you, will you let me?” 

You nod slowly, and she moves and kisses you. It’s a sweet kiss, it’s slow and tender. Not possessive and demanding like her kisses the other night. She pulls back and grabs her keys. 

“Come with me.” She holds out her hand, and you take it.

————

That’s how it starts. You go to a restaurant thinking it’ll be one and done. And you have an amazing time, and it’s not the last. Not even close. Wanda is on your ass like white on rice. She’s texting you, calling you, FaceTiming you all the time. You are inseparable. And you fucking love it. You won’t let yourself tell her you love her. Afraid of what that will mean. You are at her apartment all the time. She starts buying your coffee creamer and makes the popcorn brand you like for nights when you watch endless hours of sitcoms. It’s so fucking sappy and it’s getting extremely domestic on a Tuesday. 

You are both sitting on a dryer in a laundromat. You got a big gulp of a cherry slushy. You are waiting for your laundry to be done. She asked if she could come, and you laughed at her and told her it would be boring. Wanda said nothing with you could ever be boring. And here you were both laughing so hard your sides hurt. 

“What do you mean you’ve never had a slushie?” You say after you wipe your eyes from tears over laughing. She reaches over and brushes stray tears from your other cheek. 

“I’m from Socovia, baby. We didn’t have slushies.” Wanda reminds you and you hold the cup up like it’s amrosia from the gods and it’s being blessed.

“That simply won’t do.” 

She giggles at your display, and it’s the best sound. You hold it to her, moving the straw so it bends.

“Isn’t it like water and corn syrup?”

“Do not knock the cherry syrup like that.” You say in mock horror. She shakes her head at you. 

“You know, I keep Swedish fish at my place for you now. I read the back of it. That stuff is gonna kill you, devochka.”

You beam at her, knowing she’s calling you baby girl in her language, feels so sweet. So many partners called you baby. This felt so much better. 

“I’ll die happy.” You say not to defend the red food dye.

“Nu uh, no dying, how about that. You stay my girl and be healthy.” She says, and it feels good under your skin. Being her girl. 

“I can do that.” You whisper and kick your legs up against the machine. She seems to like you flushed and embarrassed, and she moves your jaw and kisses you. It’s long and slow, but unlike her offic,e it’s practiced now. Like two lovers who know how to slow dance with each others, understanding one another's body rhythms. You lean your forehead against hers and slowly open your eyes to see her staring at you with love laced in every single inch. 

“Be a good girlfriend and drink my toxic slush.” You whisper, and she laughs now. 

“I’m your girlfriend, huh?” She says, and you panic.

“I mean-“

“No, no, my love, no take backs. You taught me no take backs.” She reminds you, and you curse because you had taught her that. 

“Well…”

“I did want to ask…”

“Yeah?” You say and tuck a hair behind your ear. She watches it and seems in a trance, looking at you. You look at her with a questioning glance. You take a sip of your drink as she finishes. 

“Are we um… what’s the English word? Are we exclusive?” 

You snort the drink and cough, and she looks panicked as she rubs your back. You breathe again after a few seconds. 

“Um.. do you want to be?” You ask, catching your breath. 

“I was hoping we already were.” She says slowly, and you look confused. 

“Why did you think we weren't?”

“My friend Natasha told me it’s a conversation that people have to have?” She says and looks anxious now like she’s fucked up. 

“You told your friends about me?” It’s what you take from the sentence, and she looks slightly miffed that you haven’t answered her question only asked follow up questions. 

“Moya lyubov', you are killing me with the suspense. I’m a little scared now. Are you seeing someone else? Or sleeping with someone else?” Her eyebrows furrow, and you quickly grab her hands 

“Oh god, no, Wanda. I have no interest and no time. When would I have slept with someone else? I’m always either on the phone with you or at your place. You think I sneak off after your apartment and have a gangbang or something?” You say, and it’s meant to be funny, and her eyes bulged. 

“Gangbang? What is that? Do you get hurt with that?”

“Oh yeah, that’s an English word you might not have heard before. I’ll tell you later. The point is, I’m all yours, ok?” You say, and she instantly relaxes.

“Ok,” Wanda says, and she seems deep in thought again. Her nose scrunches, and you know she’s in the depths of it.

“So who’s Natasha?”

“Friend from college. You’ll like her, she mostly does S.H.I.E.L.D. agent retaining now.” She looks over and you and you nod, impressed. 

“So she’s like super hot and buff?”

“Hey, you are now in a committed relationship. Very taken and very off the market. There will be no hot buff girls in your future. Only this Socovian Professor who is totally going to spank you tonight for that.” She says and scoffs in outrage. 

“Yes professor.” You smirk and she mumbles in her native;’ you’re that she can’t believe you, and you are such a brat. ‘

“So will Natasha be coming by soon?” You say, and she turns bright red and looks at you. 

“No, actually, I’m not sure you are ever meeting her.”

“Is she straight?” You say not getting that you are making Wanda more jealous. 

“Why does this matter?” Her accent comes out and that’s when you realize she’s anxious. 

“Oh, baby, I’m not into your friend. I’m very taken as I just was told. I’m just curious who your friends are.” You say, and you look down at the time on the machine. But when you look back at her, she’s thinking again. 

“Well, there’s Natasha, Clint, who I’m not super close with. But he hangs around Natasha, so I put up with him. He’s gonna love you.”

“Wh,y because of my breasts?” You tease and you swear you see smoke come out of her ears. 

“Hey! I’m not gonna tell you any more about my friends. I’m going to fuck you in that bathroom instead.” She points to the grungy bathroom. 

“Not a bad time for me. But I’ll behave. Why would Clint like me? Would Natasha not like me?” 

“No, she’d like you too. She already does. She’s always telling me what I should do with us.”

“Good stuff?” You say feeling weird. 

“I’m not used to dating in the U.S I don’t know the customs of what’s too much too soon.”

You reach over and grab her hand.

“You don’t need advice. You can just talk to me. I’ll tell you.” You say, and Wanda rubs her thumb over your knuckles. She gulps and agrees.

“I know, but you scare easily sometimes, and I don’t want to ruin this or scare you away.” She says it, and it’s so vulnerable and rea,l and you know, just the feeling.

“Wanda Maximoff, you sweet charmer. You got me pretty wrapped up in you. I don’t think you have anything to worry about.” She meets your eyes and grins now. Her mega-watt smile, the one she only gives you. 

“So Clint.” You say, and she goes on.

“While he would love to see you naked, he’s never going to. Because your mine. He’s a jokester, and he will love laughing with you. Because he’s effortlessly funny.” 

“So are you.” You say taking a sip. She furrows her brows.

“I am so not funny.” She says, and you disagree. 

“I think I’ll be the judge of that.”

“My brother was funny. He would have adored you.” She says, and it’s only the third time she’s brought him up. You cup her cheek and she lays her hand on top of yours. You know she’s got a lot of trauma. 

“You think so?”

“I know it.” 

“Ok, so your brother, Natasha and Clit like me. Who else is in your life that you are hiding from your girlfriend?” You say, and she chuckles. Her face hurts from smiling this much. Like it has a lot recently because of you. 

“Well, I used to hang out with this guy Stephen. He’s a doctor, well surgeon now, so he’s pretty busy, but we email a lot. Bruce is getting his PHD, so he’s slammed, but he texts me pretty regularly. He’s upset with his boyfriend a lot.”

“Wow, you have smart friends.” You say, and she arches an eyebrow,

“You won’t think that when you meet them. Beside,s I have a way smarter girlfriend.”

“Then a PHD student, a surgeon, and a S.h.i.e.l.d agent?”

“You are waaaay smarter.” She says, and you don’t believe her, but her face proves she believes it. Wanda doesn’t lie to you. Even when she wishes she could because it would be easier in some moment. 

The dryer dings and you hop down. Wanda looks anxious for a moment, not wanting this date to end. You don’t see her worry and you speak. 

“So I’m thinking we grab dinner and then you read my paper, professor.”

Wanda instantly feels relief that the night isn’t over. She hops down and takes your laundry out of the hamper you are putting it in, and starts folding. 

“What are you doing, Maximoff?” You sa,y and she looks momentarily taken aback at you using her last name.

“Folding?”

“I think we have to be married for you to fold my underwear. You can’t just do that, like we haven’t been dating only three months.”

She looks confused at you. She wants to talk more about marriage, but changes her mind. 

“Who do you think folds your laundry at my apartment?”

“Oh my god, you so do. You throw my clothes in with yours, too. Oh my god, you do my laundry.”

“Yeah, I’m also in a lesbian relationship, so I put your bra on the delicate cycle. Not just throwing it in with jeans like an ape.” She says, and your mouth opens. She looks proud as she folds one of your sweatshirts with more precision than you’ve ever folded. She doesn’t stop at your shocked expression, grabbing a pair of your sweats. 

“That…is really hot.”

Wanda throws her head back and her curls bounce as she laughs at you. 

“My love, you’ve never been taken care of, and it shows.” She say,s and it’s light coming from her, but you realize that it’s really true. 

“Maybe, or maybe you just take care of me really well. Like better than anyone ever has.” You say and shut the door. You turn to load another load into the washer and move the wet clothes to the dryer. You pull out quarters and miss Wanda looking at you. Because she has more love for you than she thought she could have for anyone. After breaking her marriage with Vision and the loss of her family, her brother. She felt so lost and alone. But here you were, like a bolt of lightning into her dead heart. And now she felt like she was living, for maybe the first time ever. 

“I’m thinking Thai. But I know you didn’t like the place on 3rd, even though you say you didn’t mind it. You barley ate your drunken noodles. And I know you were hungry cuz we went on that hike. So don’t even say “that place you like.’ Because I know my girlfriend way better than that.” You say, and it’s so easy, and you don’t even think about it. 

Wanda looks at you still. She felt such warmth in her chest. You were now throwing around her new title with ease. Like she’d always owned it. And she realized she’d wanted your lips to say wife. And then she felt herself growing hot. So she coughed, and you looked at her. 

“What? Did you find gum in my clothes? That’s happened here before, and it ruined an awesome sweater that had a Jane Austen quote. It wrecked me.” You say throwing a laundry pod in the wash and cranking it to start. 

“You take really good care of me…too, just so you know,” Wanda says and she stops folding but looks down at your black jeans with new interest. You walk behind her and snake your arms around her waist. 

“Wanda?”

“Hmm?”

“You think I take good care of you?”

“You make my to-go coffee in the morning better than I do now. You cook for me, and you make sure I take my meds at night. You always check in when you know I’m sad. Or reaching out when you know I’ve gone dark and gloomy, so I haven’t texted. You always lift my spirits and make me laugh…I…no one’s ever cared for me like you.” She says, and you kiss her neck. She leans back into you, and you repeat kisses over her shoulder and up her throat. 

“I don’t want anyone else to.”

“To what?”

“To take care of you. I want to do it.” You say, and she turns and wraps her arms around your neck. 

“No other college girls have applied, so you have job security.” She jokes, and you laugh sarcastically. 

“I thought you didn’t date college girls.”

She pretends to think about it and you pinch her ass and she laughs. 

“Only one college girl.”

“Aye, woman.”

“All women.” She says and leans in and kisses you sucking your bottom lip in. You moan, and she pulls bac,k putting her hand over your mouth.

“Those noises are for me, not the laundromat!” She hisses at you. You lightly bite her hand, and she pulls back.

“Oh, please, the only guy in here is drunk. It’s not like we are being live streamed on pornhub.”

“Ok, slow down, American girl. Livestream? Pornhub? Gangbang?”

“Sometimes the language barrier is really funny and other times it’s hilarious.” 

Wanda glares at you but grabs your ass and squeezes. Making it clear she’s won… again.

“Lifestream is when you are giving a live, real-time feed onto the internet.”

She nods, and you continue. That was probably the most innocent explanation and you figured you’d build into the other ones.  

“Pornhub is a website with pornography videos.”

Her eyes zero in on you. 

“Do you watch porn on Pornhub.”

“I have.” You answer, not about to deny it. 

“Do you still?”

You shrug as if it’s nothing. 

“Why?”

“I don’t want you to.” She answers plainly, but her eyes are squinting at you. Her nose scrunched, and you laughed. 

“Are you being a prude? Because you made me squirt before. Hell you’ve tied me up and fucked my mouth with a dildo. Plus, the names you like in bed or call me in bed. I don’t think you have a leg to stand on here.”

“No, I’m not a prude. And plenty of women like being called Mommy in bed. I have no shame for what we do. I just don’t want my girlfriend masturbating to someone else.” She said the last part at a high decibel in her voice, and you realize you’ve hit a new nerve for her. 

“So you are a prude.” You say, and she glares deeper now.

“I don’t think this is a hard ask. I don’t masturbate to porn.”

“Do you masturbate?” You ask genuinely curious now.

“Besides, when I’m on the phone with you, no.” She admits looking over at the man, clearly passed out in the corner. Before looking back at you. 

“Before me?”

“You know I own a vibrator and some dildos,” Wanda says as if this line of questioning makes no sense. 

“I know I just am curious what you cum to.”

“I used to use my imagination. Now I am having so much sex, I don’t have time or the desire to masturbate. Not when it’s so much better when I’m straddling your face. Why would I want to use my vibrator alone?” Wanda says, unsure of why this doesn’t make sense to you. Her arms stay around your neck. 

“Hmm..”

“What?” She says a little too sharply.

“I think we should go to a kink event.”

“What?” She looks shocked at your answer.

“You might like it. Plus it’s always interesting.”

“Will you be clothed?”

“Yes, baby, I won’t let anyone else touch me. But you are a bit of a dominatrix, I think you’d like to see it. And if you don’t like porn then it’s an intresting way to watch.”

“I’m not much of a voyeur.” She says having learned the word from you. 

“You like watching me. But that’s not the point. If you don’t wanna go, we don’t have to. No pressure whatsoever. But I do think it would be interesting. On the conversation of porn, I won’t watch it if it makes you uncomfortable. I haven’t really masturbated much since we started dating. Maybe twice in the shower on my own, but it was all to thoughts of you.”

This seems to make Wanda feel better. 

“Do you mind that I’m…”

“Possessive? Jealous?” You insert the thoughts. 

“Dominant?” Wanda says even though all of those thoughts crossed her mind as well. 

“I like it all. I like that you put your hand on my ass when someone is staring at me at Starbucks. I like that you make me beg and call you Mommy in bed. I like that you ask me what I’m reading because you like picking out books for me.” You say and Wanda’s hands travel to your ass again.

 She likes to touch you. She, for the first time, is allowed to do PDA. Vision didn’t even like holding hands, so it’s a big shift. Wanda craves being able to touch you. So she wouldn’t be able to stop in public if she tried. The hand on your lower back through a crowd gives her a shot of a power high. She knows you are gorgeous, and you chose her. So she doesn’t keep her hands to herself ever. 

“You said you liked my book recommendations.” 

“I do. I even lie and say I haven’t read it just so I can re-read it and talk to you about it.”

“You lie!” She yells now. 

“Only about books. Only because I like it when we talk about them.” You admit, and she softens her gaze on you. 

“You are getting punished for that later.”

“I’m game. After we get pad Thai, cuz your baby needs food.” You break the contact and throw one of your Lacey thongs like a slingshot, and it hits her face. 

“Nice shot, kid.” The drunk man in the corner says, and you smirk at Wanda’s shock. His eyes were closed.

“Thanks, Ernie.” You say, and Wanda looks at you in horror. 

[gender-thief2]

iron man incorrect quotes in the year of our lord 2025 because i have brain rot and you all will suffer for it

[unholyhelbig]

Can we please please PLEASE have part two of Brackish?

Title: Brackish [Part Two] | Read Part One Here

Ship: Female!Reader x Natasha Romanov/Romanoff

Word Count: 3454

Warnings: Mentions of torture, mentions of mind control, mentions of ice baths, cannon typical violence, nightmares, physical testing, murder, KGB conditioning, Horrible grammar I don't proofread!

Summary: Agent Romanoff is sent into an interrogation room to break the only prisoner they pull from a Hydra compound, but things don't go exactly as planned.

[A/n: Totally wasn't expecting the response the first part got, thank you so much! Truthfully this ask and the draft was sitting in my inbox for months. This is just a bunch of fluff. I don't know where to take it from here. Hopefully you enjoy!]

You’d woken up screaming, something that never bothered Daniel Whitehall. There were stretching corridors that were damp from broken pipes and water buildup. It smelled thickly of metal and never offered any kind of warmth. It carried your agony like a music box, or a greeting card. It had amused him- his men. So, you did your best to swallow your distress. But sometimes it was impossible to tamp things down in the bridge between sleep and alertness.

It had been three days and you still expected to be jerked back into the reality. A frigid tub of ice and metal under Whitehall’s hand. You must have lost your grip on reality and the Avengers Tower, Agent Romanoff and her rigid kindness, was all a mental tactic, to account for the trauma. You’d finally been broken.

But no: Right now, as you woke up screaming as the hours rolled into the fourth day, she was there. The bed was too soft. You’d learned, and sleep did not come easy. But you drifted off in spurts and woke with air caught in your throat. Never yelling. Never in such a panic.

You didn’t remember what had startled you, but there was a cool hand against your cheek and another one splayed against your chest and worried green eyes peering into yours. You moved to fight back, wanted to push the limbs away until you realized who they belonged to. Until you breathed in that polished scent.

“Sorry, I’m sorry” You whispered, your fingers ghosting over her wrists.

She was a busy woman. You’d realized that over the past 72 hours. Agent Romanoff was in high demand, her signature was required on countless documents and many with downturned eyes stalked up to her with a nervousness that you didn’t quite understand but, you were beginning to.

After some persistent pushing from Natasha on the second day, you’d agreed to blood tests, to EKG’s and other medical trials to make sure you were relatively healthy after years of captivity. She’d promised to stay, and she did. While a certain heat and embarrassment colored your cheeks at the unspoken request, she saved your dignity that morning by not brining it up.

Natasha frowned, didn’t say anything but applied a short pressure to your jaw with her thumb before guiding a glass of water to your hand as she lowered herself to the bed. “Sip this, all of it until it’s gone. Don’t gulp, it’ll hurt your stomach.”

You nodded, doing as you were told. She watched you carefully until you finished the glass. You wanted to cower under her scrutiny, but your heartrate had slowed by the time you’d drained the water and she’d taken it the moment it was empty, her hand on your knee as a grounding source. She was like that, you’d learned, attentive and able to read what you needed though you’d not found your voice to ask.

There wasn’t a clock in the guest room. You didn’t know what time it was, but no morning light seeped through the crack in the door and sleep still clung to you like a heavy blanket. You let out a deep breath and pressed your head against the wall behind you, tempted to let your eyes droop shut, but stopped from the fear of another scream ripping through you.

“The nightmares won’t go away. They’ll come less and less, but they’ll always be there.” She swallowed audibly, ran her fingers over a raised pink scar from a blade, or a bullet, or some type of metal that could easily tear skin against her exposed muscle. “What you went through isn’t easily forgotten. You can manage the symptoms, push it to the back of your mind during your waking hours but it’s hard to fight that kind of thing when you’re asleep. You’re guard can’t always be up.”

You nodded, working your hand through your damp hair. “I’m sorry for waking you.”

“You didn’t” Natasha assured “Would you like me to stay?”

More than anything. It felt like crossing a line. There wasn’t a chair in the guest room. It was fairly sparce. A bed and a nightstand and lamp that had bathed you both in a soft golden glow. It would be easier to tell her no, to ask her to leave. But your chest wouldn’t forgive you for that.

So, you scooted over, looked at her expectantly, going as far to peel back the duvet. Natasha huffed out something akin to a laugh and laid in the spot that you had just vacated. You could feel the heat of her skin, the closeness of her as you lowered yourself down next to her. She paid you a mercy by turning the lamp off.

The two of you lay, shoulder to shoulder, breath synchronized. You couldn’t sleep. Wouldn’t. Your entire body was wound up. While Agent Romanoff’s presence was a balm, it also wound you up like a spring. You were conscious of every movement. Every twitch of your finger and tense of a muscle.   

“It scares me that I can’t remember things.”

You could hear Natasha turn her head in the dark, the shift against the pillow. Her breath was warm against the side of your face. Your fingers curled against the fabric of your shirt, a stone on the center of your chest. You couldn’t remember feeling this comfortable- this at ease- in a long time.

“Do things come back when you sleep?”

It was her job, you knew, to pull things from you. In exchange for a bed and warm meal, you’d give her anything. She had quiet eyes and a quietness to her that gave away the fact that she was examining you methodically. But there was something else there that you couldn’t pinpoint. Something caring.

You turned onto your side, facing her, curling up more for your own comfort. “More of a feeling than a memory. Being there, I recall everything. Whitehall, his brainwashing, his tests and his tortures. His why’s and his motives are foggy. It was like he just wanted to inflict pain. But at his core. At Hydra’s core, I know that’s not true.”

Natasha adjusted on the bed, turned to face you. Inches apart. Her nose was close enough in the dark to bump against your own. Neither of you spoke for a moment, hands brushing closely like a bridge uncrossed.

“I worry that they changed me in way’s that can’t be unchanged, but can’t recall who I was before they’ve changed me. That they kept me alive because they were… succeeding in something that they hadn’t before.” You let out a heavy breath, it splayed hotly against Natasha’s chest, warmed her. “That deep down inside, something uncontrollable is there.”

Natasha made a small noise in the back of her throat that could only be described as a whimper. Tentatively, she’d shifted in the quiet, had found the edge of your jaw in the darkness and traced the sharpness of it with her touch. You let your eyes flutter shut, leaned into it.

Soon, her palm was against your cheek, warm from the prospect of sleep. Her hold soft as she pulled you forward, the initial shock of the swift movement replaced by that detergent scent and the instant comfort. An undignified grunt escaped you when you slotted so perfectly against Natasha’s front.

You’d learned rather quickly that she liked to show her protection.

When your blood had been drawn, the tech on the medical floor insisted of her credentials but quickly blanched with a glare from the Black Widow herself and the assured hand at the base of your spine. You’d shown your strength during the physical trials as they monitored your heartrate during a mile run, and Natasha had watched with a warning stare as another tech adjusted the censors.

And now, she wrapped her arms around your center and hooked her leg over your own. She was tense until she felt the coolness of your nose against her pulse point, the way you nuzzled against her, sighed into her comfort instead of tensed, as if she feared of rejection.

“We’ll figure it out.” Her voice was a rumble, your ear this close to her chest. “Get some sleep. I’ve got you.”  

There was a sensor under your collarbone, one on either side of your chest, and another directly under your ribs. Two more that had been stuck to your abdomen. The adhesive was unbearably itchy, and you had half the mind to tear them away. A huff pulled uncomfortably at you. Another huff earned you a sharp glare from the woman wrapping your hands.

Natasha was on her knees for you. Not for you, but certainly in front of you. Either way it made you blush profusely. She worked with intention, making sure that the next trial they were putting you through was safe enough for you to participate in. A tech had offered to do this for her. For you. But she’d refused.

“Stop pouting, sweetheart. This is the last one and then they’ll leave you alone for at least the weekend.”

“Promise?”

Natasha sighed and her exhale was hot against the skin on your chest, forming a valley of goosebumps. You swallowed back a shiver. “No. Now sit back.”

You did as you were told, all the while, another SHIELD tech kept a keen eye on the both of you. Nameless, faceless, dressed in black. You almost preferred them this way. Whitehall was a constant for you, a villain that always signified a form of hurt and anguish. The constant revolving door of men and women made it impossible to link a test with a face.

Natasha was almost the opposite. You were starting to associate that piney, vanilla bergamot scent of hers with safety. It scared you. Her hands were assured and so were her movements. You were very aware that she had been with you nearly all hours of the day since you’d been pulled from the wreckage of all you’d known for possible years. Stockholm syndrome, some would call it.

You approached it with reckless abandon. You didn’t care. She was warmth. She was opposite of ice baths and frigid water that you choked on until you blacked out. She was lean muscle and healed scars and tender green eyes. She made it easier to think. She gave orders that were easy to follow: To sit back. To Stop Pouting. To Get some Sleep. You could do those things. Those things were easy.

“We’ll start at a weight of fifty and steadily increase until you cannot support the bar any further.” The nameless, dark-eyed man said, not looking up from his tablet. “If at any point, you feel uncomfortable during the test, please alert me or Agent Romanoff. Do you have any questions?”

You shook your head, laid back on the cool bench and adjusted yourself until you stared up at the metal ceiling. It looked taller from this angle, impossible to reach. Black weights were saddled on either side. Agent Romanoff’s presence was at your six the entire time. Lingering, watching with careful and apt attention.

“Alright. You may begin. Make sure not to lock your arms.”

The bar was nothing in your hands, a slight nuisance, if anything. Ever-so-slowly the weight was increased: Fifty, sixty, seventy, eighty. All the way to 700 before another huff left your lungs, chin tipping towards Natasha as you stared up at her. Pouting. You were absolutely pouting.

They were being methodical about this, and that also meant it was taking ages. One of Natasha’s brows was quirked and she worried the nail of her thumb between her teeth as they upped the weight to a solid 1,000. You adjusted your hold on the bar. Nothing more, nothing less. There was no strain, no sweat. No spike in heartrate.  

“Okay. I think we know enough.” Natasha finally barked. “Right?”

“But I-“

“Right?”

Sure, it had only been a few days, but you knew that tone and it was enough for the SHIELD agent to snap his jaw shut and for you to replace the bar before sitting back up. The test, you were sure, was far from over. But there was such a finality in the demand.

You knew you had some strength to you, sure. Daniel Whitehall wouldn’t keep you locked up the way he did, in a steel-enforced cell, if that weren’t the case. The binds you’d sometimes recall were much too thick for anyone that had the normal stamina, someone who could survive his trials. You don’t remember being tested like this before, your limits pushed.

The SHIELD agent tapped at his screen, letting out a non-committal noise “Well, your strength is remarkable. You say you don’t remember a thing? I think you could benefit from some memory recovery sensory therapy.”

Natasha rumbled in the back of her throat, snatching the tablet from the man before shoving him roughly from the room. You watched the display with raised brows, the protective edge to her that you knew was there, but hadn’t been privy to at this degree. He protested, but didn’t’ overtly stop her. Not even when she slammed and locked the door with the waggle of her fingers and the lowering of the blinds.

“The know at all’s from logistics get on my nerves.”

She wouldn’t look at you, instead clicking off the screen and throwing the tablet onto the counter. There was a light blush to her cheeks. You peeled off your shirt, almost in habit now, leaving you in nothing but one of the agencies issued sports bras. The adhesive was getting too irritating.

Your eyes lingered on her. “Uh-huh, is that all?”  

“Yes, that’s all.”

But when those deep green eyes snapped up to yours, the way her breath hitched betrayed her. You’d effectively flustered the Black Widow herself and it brought a sort of heady confidence to you that you quite enjoyed. You ripped the sensor from below your ribcage away, the stickiness making an odd noise as it pulled away.

“I don’t know what you’re smirking about, what he was suggesting is out of the question. They’ve run enough tests on you to determine that Hydra didn’t place any type of chip in your brain. They didn’t change your bone density or alter your blood chemistry. With your added strength, your speed.” She closed the distance between you, ripping another sensor off with little abandon, her hands cold against your skin. “We’re looking at an infinity stone.”

You grunted under her touch, fingers soothing over the spot she’d just torn, a silent apology. “I don’t know what that means.”

“Wanda Maximoff, do you know her?”

You shook your head, remaining still as she moved to the next sensor. Agent Romanoff pulled with the same quickness as before, but was softer with her hands, instantly using the coolness of her palm to quiet the sting that soon followed. You’d given up peeling them away yourself. Instead, you peered up with her with watery eyes, blinking and doe-like. They’d melt her if you weren’t careful, and it seemed like you never were.

“Hydra conducted experiments on Wanda and her twin brother Pietro using something called the Mind Stone. A very powerful mineral that ultimately should have killed them, but it didn’t. It changed their DNA and gave them abilities. Pietro super-speed and Wanda the ability to manipulate the world around her.” Natasha’s voice was smooth as she spoke, the final sensor ripped away, you watched her do it, frowning at the red mark it left behind.

After a few moments of labored silence, she dragged her touch feather-light against your jaw and guided your attention back to her own. “They think Whitehall got ahold of the power stone, and they think it was used to torture you for years to replicate the success achieved with the Maximoff’s.”

“I don’t think he was very successful,”

Natasha’s grip tightened on your chin, not enough to wound, never enough, but a soft warning. “Nonsense. You’re more capable than you think.” Her thumb ran over the blush that was suddenly running across the bridge of your nose and your cheek. “Let’s take a break from all these boring trials. I want to show you something.”

There was a basement that resided below the cacophony of spruced up cells in the Avengers tower. You’d stood shoulder to shoulder with Agent Romanoff and watched as the numbers descended. Her scent had soothed you, even as the cold infiltrated the elevator and reminded you too much of a metal tub, safe for the water.

It jolted to a stop before the anxiety swirling in your lower belly could solidify. Natasha led you into another corridor that looked like all the other corridor’s in the tower. She walked with no urgency and you followed with the same pace. Finally, you reached another non-descript door, only accessed by the card on Agent Romanoff’s belt.

You were hit by the sharp scent of decaying paper, quiet leather and dust. There was a coolness here. A dull light that Natasha flicked on. A heaviness that reminded you of a library. There was a history here that told you it hadn’t been accessed in a long time.

Copy boxes lined bookshelves bracketed to the walls, a single table with a few chairs sat pushed in the corner. Natasha seemed to know exactly where she was going, exactly the files she was looking for. “We’re a multi-trillion-dollar organization, yet, all of the incriminating evidence about the Avengers exists in this singular room.”

You flinched, eyes meeting Natasha after she hauled the off-white box to the center of the table. You watched her carefully, not moving from your rooted spot at the edge of the doorway. You blinked at her, mouth slightly agape. She was trusting you with this. She was trusting you with this?

“Natasha you can’t… you don’t have to…”

“I want to. Come, sit.”

The chair was frigid against your skin, the whole room kept tepid to preserve the documents. Natasha sat adjacent to you, your knees brushing in a surge of warmth. Neither of you moved to pull away. She pushed the box to the far end and pulled out the first file, edging her fingers against the manila.

Before she could pry the cover back, you gripped her hand, squeezed it with fervor. “Wait, you can’t do this. Agent Romanoff, if you… if you tell me this, and I’m- if Whitehall did something that fundamentally changed me and I turn around and betray you, then I’d never be able to forgive myself.”

“Mm” She hummed, frowning down at the file. “There’s more to you than that.”

“And if there’s not? I don’t even have a name, and you’re about to trust me with everything from your past, everything you’ve worked so hard to scrub. I can’t let you do that.”

“You’re not letting me do anything, darling. I didn’t scrub anything, I embraced it.”

Her other hand engulfed the one that had covered the one that had grasped her own. You hadn’t realized that you were squeezing so hard for purchase. Goosebumps covered your entire body, and you were trying not to tremble. It felt as if your bones were trying to claw their way from your skin. You ground your teeth together to keep them from clacking.

Natasha’s hand left yours for only a moment, peeling the cover of the file back, moving it in between the both of you. “I was born in Stalingrad Russia, indoctrinated into the Red Room by a man named General Dreykov. The Red Room was a program designed to create sleeper agents utilized by the KGB. Young girls were taken against their wills and molded into perfect killing machines.”

Your thumb moved over her knuckles, scarred from years of strain. She grasped back, grounding herself.  

“For years, I was just that. Ruthless. Cruel. I spilled an impossible amount of blood because that’s what I was trained to do. It was a cycle. Wake up, kill, sleep. Wake up, kill, sleep. Sometimes they’d throw a little torture in there just to spice things up.”

You knit your eyebrows together, a small whimper escaping you.

 “Tough room.” Natasha gave you a sad smile “milaya devochka, eventually, someone saw through the dripping ledger and what Dreykov had done. They saw me. That made a world of difference when the programming I had was all I’d ever known.”

You swallowed thickly, fingers tracing a raised pink scar at the edge of her palm. You let out a shaky breath. “And you… can be that person for me?”

“I’d like to be.”

[Dt: @ima-gi--na-tion, @l0nelyish, @taliiiaasteria, @ahintofchaos, @redhoodte]

[loversrocktvgirl2]

my mini multiverse of madness…

Babyfever (Steve Rodgers x Reader)

word count: 0.6k

masterlist

The first time Steve saw you hold a baby was about five months after you had first started dating. Some friend of yours had had a baby, and you had been so excited, and dragged Steve along with you to go meet the baby. 

When your friend handed you her infant daughter, it was like the pieces clicked together for Steve. Your face had lit up, a gentle smile on your lips, and your eyes were locked on the child’s. You were enraptured by this baby, enchanted just to hold her and smile softly. Steve hadn’t thought a lot about ever wanting kids since he’d come out of that ice, but the look on your face was starting to make him reconsider things. 

When he drove you home, you were still smiling, chatting with him like normal, but he could tell how happy you were. You’d only been together five months, but he knew that he loved you. However, he was in no position to be talking about any of this with you—he was an old fashioned man, and he needed both to get himself in a more stable place and to marry you before he could even think about having a baby with you. 

The second time Steve saw you hold a baby was when you went to Clint’s house together. You’d been together for a little over a year now. Clint’s kids ran over to you, and you held them close. Then Clint’s wife, Laura, handed you their one-year-old baby boy. You gently took him into your arms and held him close, savoring the proximity. The kids constantly climbed on you, one of them always in your lap the entire time you were visiting with Clint and Laura. Steve couldn’t help but smile at you in your obvious fondness for the kids—he found it endearing. 

The real kicker was the third time. At this point, you were engaged to Steve, living together in his apartment. The place had once felt a little empty or out of touch, but the second you came into the space and filled it up with life, it was never the same again. Had Steve cringed at the Homegoods receipt? Yes. But you were so, so worth that, and he did have to admit that the place looked better.

You and Steve had been asked to babysit your best friend’s child. The girl was three years old, and when Steve came home to find her asleep on the couch, resting on you. You looked up at Steve with a tired smile. Steve bent down to kiss your cheek. “We’re gonna have one of these, right?” Steve gestured to the sleeping girl, keeping his voice quiet. 

“‘These’? Steve, she’s a child,” you chastened in a whisper. 

Steve smiled. “I know, I know,” he said, and gazed at you softly. “I wanna have kids with you, though.”

You bit your lip a little, smiling a little to yourself. “I want that too.” 

Steve kissed your head and stood up. “I’ll carry her to bed. Why don’t you get pajamas on, we’ll go to sleep?”

You looked up at him, tired but content as he lifted the sleeping girl into his arms. “Sounds good. I love you, Steve.”

“I love you too,” Steve whispered back at you, cradling the girl against his chest and walking away to lay her down on her air mattress, and to tuck her in under the blankets. 

[pubbiee]

☆ cg! steve rogers moodboard

“ i’m with you 'til the end of the line ! “

– requested by: self induglent for myself, not requested!

- with themes of: music, dad activities, writing, affection, etc

[movienerd22]

Steve: so Tony.. where’s the flying cars huh

Tony: what ? what flying cars, that’s not a thing

Steve: mhm sureee I bet your just keeping them for yourself

Tony: what are you even talking about.. flying cars did you hit your head coming out of the ice

Bucky: *walking in* Howard promised the world flying cars

[hipsterfrankcastle]

accidentally watched a stevebucky edit on twitter in the year of our lord 2025 and now i'm in my feelings like... do u think the mcu are aware they sort of stumbled onto a deeply compelling (extremely dark) storyline in the midst of one of the corniest periods of cinematic history (2010s marvel sludge). like. are they aware the extent to which they had it all and then fumbled it at the absolute last minute? ARE THEY AWARE??

[boypied]

pairings: steve rodgers x male reader

request: Tony stark walks in on Steve Rogers getting his huge cock ridden by his big butty fem boy boyfriend in the living room at stark tower.

warnings: SMUT ! , swearing, anal sex, kissing sweating, voyeurism.

MDNI + FDNI !

Steve holds onto your hips as you slowly and cautiously lower yourself onto his thick shaft, your walls separate to make room for his size.

You gasp, taking him in whole. You wince in pain that gets over come with pleasure as his dick presses against your sweet spot. Steve's grip on your waist tightens as he begins using you like a fleshlight.

Steve uses his strength to take over your body. He bounces your hips up and down, causing your ass to smack down on his groin. "Are you sure we should be fucking here baby?" You moan out, "If we get caught, just let them watch. Show them who owns you" Steve grunts out as he continues to fuck you hard.

Steve thrusts his hips up into your hole, his cock attacking your entrance. "Your hole is so tight for Daddy" He groans out as your hole grips onto his cock, milking him.

You lean yourself forward and begin bouncing yourself onto his thick shaft, Steve's hands spank against your ass. He admires the jiggles.

Your eyes continue to dart around the room making sure no one is secretly watching you bounce on your boyfriends juicy cock. "D-Daddy!" You shout out, as his cock rubs against your sweet spot.

Tony walks out into the living room of stark towers, completely oblivious to what is happening until he hears the moans and slapping.

Tony doesn't stop making eye contact with you as you bounce on Steve's cock, a smirk appears on his face. Steve also smirks as you ride faster to try and impress Tony.

Tony smirks, "Looks like you're taking him so well, boy." You blush and ride faster, his cock rubbing against your g-spot causing you to release hands-free, your cum squriting across the floor.

Steve's balls tighten as your ride non-stop even after your release. His cock spurts cum out, painting your walls white with his super soilder cum.

You don't stop making eye contact with Tony. He smirks as you watch him leave the room, Steve leans up. "You started riding me faster when Tony walked in. Maybe he should join us soon".

You blush slightly while nodding your head.

p.s , sorry that it's short, but I hope you still enjoy it all !

taglist - @starboye @mailmango @addictedtomalepits

[ive-fallen]

Watching Civil War again: I CANNOT HANDLE how Steve and Bucky fall into their pattern again so quickly. Literally they've just been making eye contact for 2 minutes, spoken maybe 20 words in total, and then special forces drops in and BOOM. IT'S LIKE NEITHER OF THEM EVER LEFT. IMMEDIATELY. it's so sudden and as a viewer you're like "oh noo Bucky doesn't recognize him" but Steve knows he does. And Bucky can't handle that he knows so much about this guy he seemingly just met. And then he probably is freaked tf out by the fact when they're attacked, he knows exactly what Steve will do and exactly how to work with him. LIKE SUBCONSCIOUS MEMORY IS SO POWERFUL AND THEY'RE SO SOULMATES THAT THEY JUST FALL BACK IN IMMEDIATELY. LIKE WHAT.

[fay-draws-just-because]

I just think this is how a lot of their conversations went in the forties

[glazedrogers]

bucky barnes, who always volunteers to listen to peters history papers and presentations because hes so eager to learn what happened after 1945.