#Featuring Nick Fury

[keycomicbooks]

Marvel Team-Up #83 (1979) Rich Buckler and Steve Leialoha Cover, Chris Claremont Writer, Sal Buscema Pencils, 1st Appearance of Virgil Ames & Maggie McCulloch, Featuring Nick Fury

#MarvelTeamUp #83 (1979) #RichBuckler and #SteveLeialoha Cover, #ChrisClaremont Writer, #SalBuscema Pencils, 1st Appearance of #VirgilAmes & #MaggieMcCulloch, Featuring #NickFury "Slaughter on 10th Avenue" Spider-Man lies on the snow-covered roof of the West Side Manhattan tenement where Nick Fury gunned him down a few hours before...  https://www.rarecomicbooks.fashionablewebs.com/Marvel%20Team%20Up.html#83 #RareComicBooks #KeyComicBooks #MarvelComics #MCU #MarvelUniverse #KeyIssue

[ivyasproperty]

Light In The Dark.

wanda.m x fem!avenger!reader

summary — you've always had problems with your eyes, so why is it there's something, specifically someone standing so brightly in front of you?

warning(s) : idfk im too tired to check

word count : 2.1k

A/N : took a 2 month break bc i was lazy oops </3, i also didnt know wtf to call the aura so i called it spiritual powers teehee

You were born with a mysterious disease that not even the worlds best doctors could diagnose, you knew this since you were a a toddler, and yet, you couldn't help but get frustrated every time it passed your mind.

Your disease was special, it messed with your eye sight. Yes, you could see, but in your eyes, everything was in a darker hue. What was supposed to be the crystal blue sky on a sunny day, looked like a rainstorm during night.

So of course it made sense you were frustrated, your disease has affected your life is so many ways. You've lost jobs at café's or restaurants for not being able to see the menu, the pages being too dark to see the words written across it, you've lost jobs at business companies, bosses complaining your progress was too slow. Sure the glowing white light from the computer helped, but only slightly.

And so of course you were surprised when Nick Fury, founder of SHIELD, presented an opportunity for you to join the Avengers. You were hesitant at first, not understanding why they'd invite a person like you. But you were then informed that your powers, that being your hindered eye sight, could detect spiritual power. You were confused... spiritual power? How the hell were you supposed to detect that?

As if reading your mind, the one-eyed man told you that a person who possessed spiritual power would emit an aura that only you would be able to see. The more spiritual power that person had, the brighter the aura would be. He explained you would be a useful asset to recruiting more people, be it for the Avengers, or SHIELD.

You didn't like the feeling of being a tool to recruit more people, so you were about to decline, but then brought up the monthly paycheck you'd make if you were to accept. Well..... how could someone refuse THAT amount of money am I right? ( i imagine it to be maybe 10k-15k usd per month ^^ )

ᯓ★

Your first day on the job wasn't bad per say, but it was definitely hectic. The Avengers compound was so far away from where you lived, you had to wake up 2 hours earlier than you usually do to arrived at a reasonable time. It wasn't just that, the compound was so big, you had troubles navigating through the damn building, and with your shitty eye sight, you ran into multiple walls, causing you to rest for awhile and wasting even more time. Curse Stark and his big ass building.

After FINALLY arriving at the lounge room of the compound, you were surprised to see all members of the Avengers lined up in a line facing towards the entrance, as if waiting for you to arrive. Standing in front of them was a familiar figure, one you've come to recognise as Nick Fury.

As if sensing your presence, he turned around and gave what you think was a grin, you couldn't tell, all you could see was pitch black because of your disease.

Introducing yourself was another issue, even with the shiny blonde hair that Steve Rogers and Thor Odinsson had, it was hard to distinguish their faces. You had to squint your eyes to see if a person was standing in front of you or not.

After introducing yourself to Natasha Romanoff, the black widow, it was on to the next and final person, one you've heard on the news multiple times. Wanda Maximoff, also known as the Scarlett Witch. She was just a few years older than you, so you were expecting a shy girl, what you weren't expecting was a bright red light shining around her figure. You covered your eyes, wanting and needing to block out the light to not damage your already damaged eyes.

After getting used to the shine, you let your hands fall to your sides, her features were something you've never seen before, which was ironic since you could barely make out people's faces. She had emerald green eyes, scarlet hair and light freckles adorned her cheeks. She was ethereal, you thought.

You were about to let go of her hand after shaking it when it hit you. Did you just explain her features in detail? But how? You could barely see anything. You looked back up at her face, and your eyes widened at how normal she looked. Nothing about her was a dark color, it was basically your first time seeing colors so bright.

You didn't notice the poor woman getting nervous under your gaze, 'is there something on my face?' she thought to herself. But before she could ask the question that she recited in her mind, she saw Fury tapping your shoulder, affectively breaking you out of your stupor.

"Sorry.." you murmured, "I've just never seen a face with such bright colors before. You know, with my disease and all...." You hated how shy you sounded, it was as if you were a petite girl getting caught for sticking her hand in the cookie jar.

"It's fine!" she enthusiastically said, she felt at ease after finding out the reason for your blatant staring. "Your names Y/N right? I hope we can be good friends." You hoped so too.

ᯓ★

You were settling in nicely. After being here for around 5 months, you've realised a lot more things about yourself. Who would've thought you'd be so good at sparring? Well at least yo were when against Steve, you'd never be able to beat Natasha. And who would've thought you were able to work out complicated biotech with Stark? Certainly not you. Who would've thought your heart would start pounding whenever Wanda Maximoff was around? Who would've tho- wait what? Your heart pounds whenever Wanda is around? You stopped in your tracks after the thought came into mind.

'I like Wanda?' you thought to yourself, 'That can't be, sure I'm always flustered around her and always crave to be around her, but that doesn't mean I have a crush on her! Right?' you asked yourself. 'Right?'

"Right about what, malysh?", you'd recognise that nickname from miles away. "It's nothing wands, somethings on my mind is all." "Penny for your thoughts then?", you couldn't help but giggle at her words, yo don't know why. "It'd be my pleasure."

"Is it about your powers? Oh! Maybe about how you'd finally beat Natasha at sparring?", her words were filled with excitement as she asked you questions.

"Ouch, Wands. To be clear I've beaten Natasha before..... at everything except what she's good at. And no it's nothing you've listed." you replied.

"Whatever you say malysh, so what's on your mind? Let me guess! Let me guess! Uhm...."

You giggled at her excited tone, your lips instantly pulling up into a smile whenever she showed you this side of her. Wanda was still fairly new to the Avengers, sure she was friends with all the members but she was closest to you. You felt fluttering in your stomach at the thought.

But, what if she eventually finds out about the pathetic crush you have on her? You've noticed the way she looks at vision, you don't know what he has that you don't, because you can't even tell what he looks like. Is he good looking? Handsome? Cute? But you did hear Clint muttering something about him having red skin.....

Back on the matter, you were worried, worried about how she'd react, would she like you back? Or would a disgusted look be plastered onto her goddess like features?

Even in stressful situations like this, you couldn't help but find Wanda beautiful. Her face got brighter day by day, the aura surrounding her getting brighter and brighter, showing that she was getting stronger too. You admired her for that.

You looked back in front of you, trying to avoid Wanda's piercing gaze as she tries to guess what's on your mind. What you didn't know was that Wanda had read your mind. She felt guilty, she promised you she'd never do anything like that to you. It was an invasion of privacy. But your thoughts were so loud! They were practically spewing out of your mind!

She couldn't help the blush that rose upon her cheeks at finding out about your crush on her. She herself was also finding it hard to come to light about her feeling towards you. Yes, she felt an undeniable pull between her and vision but her heart pounded in a different way when she was in your presence. She felt the stress ebb away from her body when she was able to rant to you about your problems.

It wasn't until you finally reached your destination, that being your room, that you stopped Wanda's rambling. "It's nothing to worry about Wands, just figuring things out is all."

And just as you were about to close your room door after entering, Wanda hurriedly jammed her foot between the door and your doorframe, wincing at the pain that she had willingly put herself through. To say you were shocked at her action was an understatement. "Are you alright?!" you half shouted, "You could hurt yourself doing that!" "I'm fine malysh. I just.... I just need a moment with you." she panted between breaths.

'A moment? With me? Did something happen? What's going on?' . you pondered as you entered your room, Wanda following behind you. "What's wrong Wands? Your face is really red. Like, REALLY red. And you can tell it's bad when even I can see a color as bright as that.", your worried tone warmed Wanda's heart. 'All I want to do right now is kiss that worried face of yours away.' she thought to herself. Well atleast she thinks she did.

"Y-you wanna what to my face away?", you asked, bewildered at the fact she just said that aloud. "Hm?", Wanda was still oblivious, it took a few seconds for her to realise what had just happened, and of course, her face turned as red as a tomato, at this point it was hard to differentiate the color of her face and her hair, they were almost the same.

"I-I'm so sorry, malysh! It just slipped out! I didn't mean it— well I DID, but I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable!-", you could feel your heart pumping wildly against your chest, what does she mean she means what she said? Does she want to kiss you? No that couldn't be it, but then what could she mean? I mean if she did, you wouldn't be complaining.

"Malysh? Are you listening? You know what i'll get straight to the reason why I wanted to talk, I like you, okay? Y/N? Y/N listen to me!" You were still in your own world, asking yourself question when Wanda suddenly started shaking your shoulders and was repeating the same sentence over and over again.

"Wait, hold on a second Wands. You like me? You?" you asked incredulously, as if she hadn't said it a dozen times already.

"Yes, stupid! I like you! Are you gonna say anything? Y/N? God....", she felt frustrated, and rightfully so. Your mind was still trying to process what she said, and after doing so your face turned to what you think is a bright red.

"Oh! That's.... that's cool! Yeah! I... I just......", you were a stuttering mess under Wanda's watchful gaze, and you felt panic rise within you when you noticed an upset look spread across her face. Wanda had took your stuttering as you being uncomfortable, and tried to talk her way out of the topic at hand when you suddenly cut her off before she could even say anything.

"I like you too! Okay! I just, I have a hard time expressing it.... 'M just shocked is all....", the words finally left your mouth in a hurried sentence.

"Why would you ever be shocked, malysh?", Wanda was confused, did you not notice her liking towards you?

"It's just, you're like a goddess Wands. You're beautiful, cheerful and powerful. I don't understand why you'd be with someone like me, someone who can't even see things properly."

"Well you can see me perfectly fine, no?"

"That's different, Wands."

"How so, Y/N/N? I don't care if you have problems seeing, malysh. Hell, I wouldn't even care if you were blind! I like you because you're you. And I like you, okay?"

You were processing her words, still trying to tell if she was saying it for fun or not, but when you realised she wasn't, you wrapped your arms around her frame.

"Woah! Calm down there, malysh. Still need to breathe." she chuckled. But you couldn't care less. She finally liked you back. You finally got your girl. You finally got the light in the dark.

A/N : if im being honest, i fucking hate this. i thought that maybe if i went with the flow it'd come out okay but at this point its just nonsense, but anywayyy!!! hope you enjoyed this one! feel free to leave requests!!!!

[kaznejis]

Public affair- Bucky Barnes x Reader

The Avengers PR department designs the perfect fake relationship for you- the key to instant fame and high ratings. Except, you’re already in a relationship with Bucky. 

Word Count: 8.2k / Read it on AO3! / Part 2!

Enjoy!��

“You’re joking- tell me she’s joking right?” you laughed, turning in the padded desk chair you had been ushered into upon entering the meeting room to stare at Nick Fury- the man only stared back at you, nonchalant as ever. 

“No, Miss L/N, we aren’t joking,” he rose, striding towards the refreshments table to pour himself a fresh coffee, “We find that this initiative will be … beneficial towards our engagement and how the public perceive the Avengers.”

The young, public representations co-ordinator that had informed you of the plan nodded then, shuffling a stack of folders and clicking her heels under the table; a mixture of excitement and optimism, “Miss, this project will see a significant rise in traction towards the Avengers, I mean, come on- you’re young and hot; everyone either wants to be you, be with you or see you in a beautiful, public relationship. Seeing as though the first two are impossible; this is the only option.”

“Okay,” you nodded, twirling a pen before aiming it at the woman, “Did you, may perhaps, forget the part where I’m in a relationship already?”

The woman sighed then, her lips thinning; the plump redness of her lipstick almost disappearing as stress lines creased her face. Trailing a finger down the edge of her folders, she spoke slowly- as if coaxing a rabid dog, “You see- Mr Barnes isn’t exactly, you know, the kind of person for a project like this–” 

“Seriously? Isn’t a public display of affection what this is all about?”

“No, Y/N- this is about public ratings. The public will not bide well with you having any form of a relationship with someone like … Mr Barnes; it would be career suicide for me and everyone in the PR department.” 

You nodded, humming and scrunching your eyebrows together as if about to say something inquisitive until your face dropped entirely, “Yeah, okay. I’m leaving.”

Nick stopped you before you could leave your seat, raising a hand and rendering you seated with the simple gesture, “Just hear her out, Miss L/N.” 

“Fury- you’re telling me you approve of this? You recruited us to be superheroes; not influencers.”

Nick turned then, placing his mug of coffee down and retreating back towards the table before sitting directly across from you; a pensive look on his face, “I’m sorry Y/N, but our ratings have dropped significantly recently. If people don’t support us, they won’t want us to save them. Just hear Sophia out.” 

Scoffing, you turned in your seat to glare at ‘Sophia’ who only continued to click her heels beneath the table, perhaps it had been nerves after all. “The plan is to have you appear in a few high profile locations with our high profile representative,” she reached for a remote and activated the projector before you, pictures of your ‘selection’ appeared, “So- don’t worry we have preliminarily selected your choice for you-”

“I don’t even get a choice?” you spat, leaning towards the woman in your chair; nothing but shock prevalent in your features, “So you’re shipping me off to just about anyone you can find?” 

“He is not just anyone!” Sophia snapped, her curled blonde hair bobbing back and forth as she seemed genuinely offended, “We have specially selected the perfect man for you; he’s military and is the first to gain three medals of honour. He’s a similar age and he is extremely respected within the public right now as he recently donated a lot of money to a selection of charities. It’s perfect!” She sat back in her chair as if overlooking an art piece, hands clasped together. 

Fury sighed, thumbing at his brow, “I’m sorry Y/N- but you’re arguably our most favoured female avenger- the public love you.” Raising his hands, he turned towards the projector where a recent video of you coaxing a herd of school children away from a fire began to play- your grip on their shoulders protective as you led each one away to safety. “You’re a positive influence towards our younger audiences and we all know that teen audiences love a good romance.” 

“You know, Fury,” you spoke slowly, lifting your feet to rest them on top of the table- much to Sophia’s chagrin, “Prostitution is illegal in the United States Of America.” 

“Y/N-” 

“Oh my Goodness!” 

“Y/N, don’t be ridiculous,” Nick composed himself, straightening his blazer and huffing at you, “It’s just a few dinners, picnics- whatever you kids like to do. You don’t even have to meet with him behind closed doors. It is strictly professional.” 

Shaking your head, you huffed- lowering your feet from the table and sitting back in your chair, “And what about Bucky? Hm? What will he think of this?” 

Fury opened his mouth to speak, though before he could, Sophia butted in; her voice urgent but smug, “Actually, Mr Barnes did agree to it. He was completely happy for you to do so.” 

“You’re lying.” You snapped, your voice stone-cold; disgusted at the woman before you who was willing to pamper with your relationship. You and Bucky had endured too much for the lower departments of Stark Tower to have any form of a say in your relationship- too much hardship, trauma and healing as you had fought both figurative and literal battles together. Despair swirled in your gut as you realised that others didn’t see Bucky the same way you did- seeing him only for the past that he had no say in and the contractual record that created a constant, trawling paper trail behind him. Every step he took was slowed by the consequential weight of his past. They didn’t see the same Bucky that made you breakfast in the morning or cuddled into your back at night. The same Bucky that woke up sweating, crying, screaming more nights than not, the same one that had fervently torn the hair from his head as the slightest change in position reminded him of the grease and decay that had once tainted his sight. They would never understand the complexity of Bucky Barnes and the beautiful flaws that etched beneath the tinge of his skin. 

Sophia’s mouth twisted in visibly faked sympathy, her lipstick now dyeing the edges of her lips red with an abrasive smudge. “Luckily, I predicted you would act like this, so I ensured to get his signature as solid proof for you. I don’t see any reason as to why you couldn’t be involved in this so you just need to scroll down and sign the next box.” She turned the screen before you and low and behold- Bucky’s signature lay before you in his individual bold scrawl. Tony had recently introduced a new system in order to avoid fraud and increase confidentiality- everything in Stark tower is accessed through fingerprints. Nothing unwanted can get in and nothing important could get out without sufficient clearance. Bucky was the only person that could have input the specific signature- the system making it impossible to replicate. Unease tinged in your throat then, if Bucky had truly agreed to this, then surely it would be for the best? If anyone were to understand the feeling of rage and disapproval within the public eye, it was Bucky. 

“Did he … say anything when he agreed?”

She smiled, the creases not quite reaching her eyes as they squinted, “He said that it was a great idea and he showed his full support for you. He said, and I quote, that he will willingly watch from the sidelines. What a great boyfriend, huh?”

You nodded, your attempts to hide the upset twist of your lips a failure as you scanned your fingerprint against the screen- Sophia’s face practically alive with glee as she confirmed its existence. As you shook hands with her, confirming a later meeting date- you failed to notice the lack of input from Nick. 

-

For hours you stewed over Bucky’s easy acceptance of the project- how he had essentially signed you away to be with another man in public whilst he watched in private. You had only recently discussed the potentiality of going public with your relationship- the irony of the conversation involving the detail of it being as simple as a few high profile sightings, a bit of PDA here and there. 

Maybe he hadn’t been as comfortable as he had seemed, you pondered as you leant against the kitchen counter that night- alone in the large, dark room as you had been unable to sleep. Slipping away from Bucky’s arms had been an easy task as he had collapsed into bed after a particularly exhausting day of sparring with Sam and Steve as according to his usual training program. Whilst he had enjoyed time with his friends; entirely unaffected by this plan surrounding your image- the bomb had been dropped straight into your lap. 

“Doll, is that you?” A gruff voice sounded from the hallway, the sound of bare feet against tile sounded as Bucky entered the kitchen- dressed in only a white, threadbare shirt and chequered boxers. He frowned upon seeing you, lowering the hand that had been scrubbing his eye as he spotted something in your features, “Why are you out here so late?”

“Just thirsty,” you smiled shallowly, offering him your glass of water as he neared you; curling an arm around your waist and trailing figures of eight upon your back. 

“Come back to bed with me? I gotta’ get my Doll time in before I leave for that mission in the morning.” 

Nodding, you smiled- cuddling into the warmth of his chest. He had been assigned to the take down of a suspected hydra base out in Mexico, He’d be gone for a week at most. You suspected that was why he had so easily agreed to the contract- its duration was only for as long as popularity surrounding the matter prevailed; which would also be a week at the most. 

Before you could respond, he pulled you away from his chest; his head tilted as he furrowed his eyebrows at you, “You okay?” 

“Yeah, yeah. I’m-”

“Y/N, be honest with me.”

You crumpled, your teeth clinging to your lips as you stared up at his concerned features, “The project that PR made you sign for- do you …  do you really approve?”

Bucky shrugged, nodding as he rubbed at your shoulders, “Of course. It would be great to be seen out like that. The people love you Y/N. I mean, it could arguably be the perfect test run for revealing our relationship to the public, you know, see how they react to this and then we can continue from there.” 

You felt your stomach fall as he spoke- the remnants of betrayal shook you as the residual sense of understanding that was always directed towards Bucky attempted to outweigh it. Rational thought prevailed as you tried, begged, wished to understand exactly why he had approved of this. Bucky had previously leaned into the role of the stereotypical ‘protective boyfriend’- a constant hand on your back, ever-watchful eyes, stares across crowded rooms. This was entirely out of his character. “Really?” your voice was weak, almost betraying you to the reveal of your inner turmoil. 

Bucky smiled, rubbing at your back and leaning forward to place a kiss behind your ear, his lips tracing the sensitive skin there, “Of course.” He stared down at you, curling a metal finger around a loose strand of hair and moving to tuck it behind your ear, “let’s go to bed Doll, it’s late.” 

“Buck, can we talk about this again in the morning?”

“Sure.” Bucky shrugged, amusement combined with confusion graced his features as he led you back towards your shared bedroom- the dual shuffle of barefeet the only prevalent sound within the silent hallway. However, your mind spoke a different tune- insecurities and doubts swarming your mind like hawks to their prey. The usual warmth of Bucky felt cold, unfamiliar- everything felt wrong. 

But if Bucky trusted the judgement of something, you would always follow it compliantly.

-

The conversation never managed to take place the following morning, the pillow beside you was vacant by the time you woke up. Only a note detailing the early set off for the mission left in Bucky’s wake. The note, written in his familiar scrawl, detailed his love for you- you could only think about the way in which that same writing had signed you off to be seen on the arm of another man. Your morning consisted of moping, ignoring your scheduled appointments and moping some more. It was only when Friday presented you with a particularly urgent announcement that you were able to leave your reprieve. 

“Miss Y/N- Sophia has requested your presence in the meeting room to discuss your upcoming appearances.” You scoffed as you pulled on just about any pieces of somewhat matching clothing you could find- not too bothered about your look as you were staying only in the confines of Stark Tower. 

“Perfect!” Sophia squealed as you walked in; a blonde, muscular man stood beside her at the head of the meeting room- wearing casual clothing suspiciously similar to yours, “Y/N, it’s perfect- I didn’t even give you a dress code and you already knew!” 

Shaking your head, you entered the room; your features visibly failed to hide your confusion, “Sorry?” 

“Sorry, how rude of me!” Sophia turned towards the man beside her, stepping behind him and presenting him to you by the shoulders. The man gave you a sideways smirk; his mouth slightly lopsided due to the extent of his sharp jaw, “Y/N meet John Walker- your new boyfriend!” Clapping as she completed the sentence, Sophia was practically jumping on the spot as she grinned at the two of you. Just to appease her, you shook John’s hand- smiling somewhat-warmly at him.

“Sophia- he’s not my ‘new boyfriend’ we have gone over this- strictly professional.” 

“Of course, of course,” she rounded the table and lowered herself into a seat, opening a folder as the two of you sat at each seat beside her, “So, a couple of details for you both. You will begin with a simple coffee date, hence the casual clothing, stir up a little bit of talk and then a few dinners to follow. Now, to the best part, drumroll please!” Both you and John continued to stare at her, “Finally, to end the contract, you will attend the high profile Stark annual charity gala together.”

“Sorry, what?” You froze- the gala was held every year; an opportunity for Tony to flaunt his extravagant wealth under the guise of donating large sums of money to a number of causes. Most importantly, Bucky would be at this gala- the two were not supposed to cross. “Sophia, Bucky’s going to be at that gala, I can’t possibly-”

“Have you forgotten Y/N?” Her voice cold and sardonic, the sound of it grating and rendering you silent, “Mr Barnes approved of all of this.” 

Nodding, you frowned, lowering your guard as the harsh reminder struck you, “Of course, but- he couldn’t have possibly agreed to this, I mean, it’s been agreed that we were going to go together- why would he go back on that?” 

“I don’t know, Y/N,” Sophia shrugged her shoulders in mock confusion, appearing to be pondering on your question, “Maybe he just saw the benefits of this. There’s always other charity galas that you can attend later.” 

“Sure… of course.” 

“Thank you,” you watched as Sophia flipped the page of her folder, “If you feel like continuing this agreement past the gala we can- but, I see it as a great end point. Once all is done, we will simply release a statement adding it all up to rumours or just fate. Outlets will be having the time of their lives over the next week. Me and my team will give a few strategically placed source reviews throughout the period- give the story at least a bit of credibility and all,” Sophia stood suddenly then, her curls shaking at the momentum, “I was thinking we could begin now?”

Defeated, you agreed without fight; finding yourself being escorted to the ground floor with John following simple instructions- get coffee and look like you’re having fun. It wasn’t the most difficult task- you enjoyed a cup of coffee and John was a fairly nice guy. 

“Hey, don’t worry about this too much- I got a girl back home myself.”

“Really?” You smiled, pleased that your pain wasn’t entirely one-sided, “So- did she agree easily too or-”

John laughed then, a smirk forming as his teeth glinted in the New York sunlight; he carried an ever-present feeling of arrogance within himself, “God, no. She kicked up a fight- it was only when they offered us the money that we agreed to this.”

Pausing, you plastered a fake smile and laughed heartily as you sensed the presence of a phone camera flashing behind you- you had been spotted. “Sorry, John, what money?” You grabbed his arm as you spoke, framing the image of the average, romantic-fueled coffee date. 

“You don’t-” he turned away from the camera, looking you sincerely in the eye, “You don’t know? You shook your head, “Oh- well, I wasn’t too convinced by the whole fame thing, no offence, so I only agreed to do this if they paid me.” 

Continuing your pretence, you just smiled- stroking his arm in order to appease the cameras as well as ease the swirling in your gut- had Bucky really so easily agreed to have you pawned off, simply to appease the opinion of the public? Bucky had never cared for them- not once throughout your time together had he cared about the whispers and the glares and the threats- he had ignored them, steering you away from the bustle of New York and opted to take you into the quieter streets of Brooklyn where he had grown up. The rare diners and stores that had survived since his childhood long ago had become your second home- mid-morning breakfasts and late night, nightmare-fueled outings alike. Luckily, your PR outing had not taken place in those same spots; it would’ve tarnished your relationship with those memories. Laughter and love replaced by fabricated and stilted conversation with a man you had only met that morning. Those days with Bucky had been between the two of you, nothing would ever replicate that. As you stood in the streets of New York, your hand on the arm of an unfamiliar man and the flashes of cameras whirring around you- you realised that whatever reason Bucky had, whatever had convinced him to accept this, you would wholeheartedly understand. 

The story was on the front page within a number of hours, a large picture of you plastering on that fake laugh as you stroked John’s arm was relayed across the paper’s online forum- the article as sensationalised and pretentious as it could be. 

NEW COUPLE ALERT

Everyone’s favourite Avenger, Y/N L/N, was spotted on the cutest coffee date in New York today, with our favourite military hero John Walker, no less! For those who are unaware of this wonderful hunk of a man, he is the first to gain three medals of honour; everyone commend him for his bravery in defending our country! Sources close to the couple confirm that this relationship is new though it has been building up for a long time with the two deciding to go public this very morning. We congratulate the couple and wish them the best. 

There was no going back from this, the documentation of your supposed ‘date’ was now public- part of you hoped that Bucky would see it, feel some twinge of jealousy, regret, whatever emotions came with signing you up so willingly for something like this. Though the other part of you, the part that loved him wholeheartedly; hoped that he wouldn’t see it, hoped that this was all some big misunderstanding that could be left behind; a stupid mistake of the past. 

As you stared down at the article, thumbing the screen as you stared down at the photo of yourself in the streets of New York- smile wide, eyes bright, that hand clasped around his arm- a myriad of heels sounded down the hallway. 

“Y/N? Are you here?” it was Wanda, you had no doubt that Vision would be following close behind; ready to give some annoyingly insightful advice pulled from some dark corner of a forum. Beckoning her inside, you watched as she entered the room; her face held a number of emotions: stricken, confused, angry. Her left hand held her phone- the article open on your very own could be seen in glimpses as she began to wave her arms frantically. “What- what is going on Y/N? Do you need us to get rid of this? Vision can wipe it from the internet in a matter of seconds- yep- I’ll get him to track down all traces of this photo and remove it. I mean, the audacity of the public to even post things like this; Nat had a similar thing with her assistant and we got rid of that one don’t you-”

“It’s real, Wanda.”

Screeches could practically be heard as Wanda halted in her tracks, behind her Vision too paused suddenly; seemingly phasing back to reality as he halted the tracking within his database. “What do you mean? ‘It’s real’?”

“It’s not a fake, that was this morning.” Your voice was defeated, eyes casted downwards as you refused to meet the eyes of your friend. 

“Y/N is correct,” Vision spoke, refusing to meet your eyes as he turned to nod at Wanda, “The photo is real.” 

“Y/N …” Wanda spoke slowly, her eyes swarming with confusion as she looked between the two of you, “What? I thought- what about Bucky?”

“It’s a scheme set up by the PR department to ‘improve our image’,” you acted out finger quotes sarcastically, “be seen with a nice guy on a few outings and the public opinion of the Avengers soars.” 

“How-” Wanda was angry now, her hands clenching as she moved to sit beside you, a comforting hand on your shoulder, “Why would you agree to this, Y/N?” 

“It sounded like it would be beneficial, you know, I love helping people and if this is what’s necessary then I’m willing- it’s all strictly professional and Bucky knows-”

“Bucky consented to this?!”

“Mr Barnes did,” Vision spoke, moving to console Wanda with a hand on her back as she began to seethe, “His signature was activated within the database in regards to this contract. It’s all real.” 

“Y/N, something isn’t right here,” Wanda’s fists were clenching, her chest stuttering as she stared at you- worry ever-prevalent within her eyes as she watched you, “Bucky would never agree to something like that, I mean- do you remember when you were taken on that mission in monaco? You were gone for three days and the entire time he was inconsolable; stopping at nothing to get you back. There’s no way that same man would agree to something like this for you.” 

You could only stare back at her, your lips twisting and stomach clenching as you smiled uneasily, “Well, it’s all been agreed to now. No going back.”

“Okay, well promise me you’ll be careful? God knows the type of people Tony hired for this place.” 

You laughed, smiling and nodding at Wanda as you vowed to take care, “Wait- one last thing,” Wanda stopped at the door, the ends of her cardigan twirling as she turned to face you, “I have a dinner set tomorrow night- help me pick an outfit?”

-

The following day passed all too quickly- the picture had taken the internet by storm; thousands of trending posts, tags and conversations were now revolving around you. People were obsessed at the slightest semblance of a stereotypical romance; the slightest touch, the loving glances, the feeling of believing like you’re the only people to exist in a room. It was funny, really, the fact that what these people wished to be true was just present within the form of a different man. You hadn’t heard from Bucky since his departure, since the release of the picture- it was no different to a usual mission, he would be occupied and undercover, unable to respond to anyone’s messages let alone your own. Though, the feeling still stung- you craved for something- anger, resentment even the slightest show of concern. It almost seemed like he didn’t care.

You thought over this as you sat perched on your bed, watching as Wanda practically tore through your bedroom, waiting to be bustled into the bathroom once again with a handful of clothes. 

“I know it’s not real- but if you have hundreds of cameras on you, you need to at least look your best. We can’t have you prancing around anyone’s feed not looking your best.” She threw yet another dress onto the floor behind her, “You never know, Bucky might even see a picture and realise what he’s missing out on.” 

You snorted, “Sure, Mhm- he’ll definitely be taking time out of his highly confidential mission to send me a message about a picture of me on social media- something that happens every single day.” 

You were wrong, so wrong. 

You had been sitting, legs poised and a smile prominent on your face- the ideal image of a romantic dinner date present to the cameras flashing outside. Your chin had been placed on your palm- the image of a doting date listening intently to the fascinating words of the man before them; when your phone began to buzz incessantly. 

“I’m so sorry John,” he waved you off, giving you permission to escape to the bathroom to check your phone. Your departure had been strategic: an innocent smile, a flick of the hair and a beeline straight to the bathroom. You had no doubt that the cameras had captured each moment perfectly- ready to coin the escape up to a different, highly-dramatic story. Your heart stuttered as you looked down at the phone screen upon entering the safety of the bathroom stall, “Buck” glared back at you- the ringing continued almost as soon as it had stopped. As if he was clicking the button over and over again, waiting for you to answer. Swearing, you moved to click the accept button- fear causing your legs to shake and teeth to chatter as you wondered why he was calling so obsessively- had something gone wrong on the mission? However, just as you were about to hit accept, a bustle of girls entered the bathroom- each one talking excitedly about how they had seen your date, witnessed the new budding relationship for themselves. 

Your finger instead took a different route, moving to decline the call. Bucky’s calls stopped, obviously halted by the confirmation that you were unable to speak through the tune of the calls rejection. The silence allowed you to turn to your voicemails- selecting one of many that Bucky had sent you since his tirade of calls began. 

“Please Doll, I am begging you, please pick up. I’m sitting here in some dead-end bar and suddenly I’m seeing your face on the TV with some… military hunk, what is going on? Darling, seriously, are you okay? I can come home immediately and we can talk this over please just pick up and tell me-” 

“It’s me again, Doll, what did I do? Did I do something to upset you? I’m so so sorry that I left so abruptly I just didn’t want to wake you- I’ll be back within the next two days, please just tell me what’s going on. The last time I saw you, you were completely fine. Please just answer me.”

Lowering the phone, you stared blankly at the door of the cubicle before you; the endless chatter of the girls beginning to die down as they exited the bathroom. Why did Bucky sound so confused? Rubbing at your forehead, you scrunched your hands over your face- entirely confused as to what was going on. Bucky had willingly signed you away to hang off of the arm of John- he did not get to fuss and act confused now that it was actually happening. He had scanned that fingerprint and signed off your fate. 

With a wave of rage rushing your way, tongue in cheek, you tapped over to the messenger app before selecting Bucky’s contact. 

You: This is entirely your own doing. You turned off the phone before a reply could be received, shoving it to the bottom of your handbag and straightening out your clothes, before returning to your date and the ever watchful eyes of the public. John grinned at you as you returned, raising his drink as you sat back in your seat. 

“I say we keep this going for another twenty minutes or so,” He spoke in a low tone, his finger trailing a drop of condensation running the length of his glass, “I’m assuming that was your man blowing up the phone, my girl is doing the same to me.” Smiling shallowly, you nodded- the fact that the only relative similarity between the two of you was the fact that neither of you wanted to be there was laughable- the background behind Sophia’s opinion that the two of you would be the perfect match was entirely a mystery. 

“Well, we at least need to give them something to obsess over as we leave.” You smirked, masking it with a sip from your own glass- the volume of flashes had increased significantly since your return from the bathroom. 

“Like?”

“Just follow my lead.”

Upon your joint departure, you took John’s hand in your own; your grip loose in respect for him but clasped enough to seem genuine. You plastered on a grin, seemingly mid-laugh as you were escorted from the restaurant and into the barrage of cameras- the flashing immediately increased in your appearance; a cacophony of shouts and questions immediately sounding behind them. The signature camera for a popular news network sat only a few paces from you; you wondered if this moment would be aired directly to the television Bucky had been watching only minutes ago. Just as you were about to climb into your respective car, you turned and planted a chaste but firm kiss to John’s cheek; causing the crowd to practically go wild- frantic and erratic with the physical confirmation of the public relationship of an Avenger. 

As the car door closed, your smile dropped instantly; the facade wearing away instantly in the solitude of blackout windows. Sighing, you turned to Sophia who sat waiting in the seat ahead of you; practically grinning from ear-to-ear. 

“I mean, I knew this was going to be a success- but this is insane.” Her phone lay active in her hand, as if she’d been dealing with a constant influx of phone calls, just as you had. “You should congratulate yourself, Y/N, you are amazing.”

“I guess being in an actual relationship helps, knowing what to do and all,” you glared at her in the central mirror, kicking off your heels and rubbing at the ridiculous lipstick you wore, “Which has been pretty much tarnished due to this little project of yours, thanks a lot.” 

Sophia shrugged, continuing to smile owlishly at you; frenzied excitement in her eyes, “Well- I was actually thinking that we could continue-”

“No.”

“Why not?!”

“Why- are you serious? Let alone my own relationship, John is in one too. This needs to end, you’ve got your ratings and you’ve got your money, that was the whole purpose of this.”

Sophia could only grit her teeth, opting to stew in silence at your rejection; her greed prevalent in her lack of response. Just as the car drew close to the entrance of the compound, Sophia gasped; the sound sudden and jolting. 

“What?” You snapped upon composing yourself, watching as she turned her phone screen towards you. A newly posted news article was displayed before you. 

A Love Triangle Arises? 

Onlookers from Mexico report the LIVE reaction of James Barnes, formally the infamous Winter Soldier, regarding the situation with Y/N L/N’s new relationship. Attached is Barnes’ live reaction as he is seen to destroy a television, stated to have displayed our latest obsession- the kiss shared between Y/N and her new love, John Walker. Insiders to the Avengers have previously corroborated rumours detailing a supposed relationship between Barnes and L/N- though with recent news, we thought that it was entirely untrue. Is there some unspoken tension left behind between Y/N and James? Which couple do you prefer? 

“Show me the video of me and John.” You ordered, watching as Sophia frantically switched tabs and pulled up the video. Despite only kissing John on the cheek, the video had been tailored to be from an angle that suggested otherwise; the car door disguising the two of you as your movement suggested that a kiss had been shared. “No, no, no.” You chanted, clicking back over to the article regarding Bucky and selecting the attached video. The video was blurry, possibly filmed by the bartender as they cowered behind the bar, watching as Bucky tore the screen from its hinges and tore it apart with his metal arm- his face red with anguish and eyes watery with distress. 

“What is going on Sophia?” You turned to her as she began to exit the car, pausing in place, “You said that he agreed to all of this- why- why is he blowing up my phone and seeming so distressed about it all? I don’t understand.” Sophia gave no reply, instead disappearing into the late night darkness of the tower despite your calls. Before you could make chase, Steve entered the garage- a concerned crease to his brow, a hand instantly met your shoulder as he reached you. 

“Y/N are you okay?” He stared down at you, his gaze urgent but sincere, “I’ve had Buck blowing up my phone all night and then I’ve seen all of these news articles- What is going on?” 

The comforting timbre to his voice made you crack, collapsing into his arms instantly as you sobbed- the tirade of emotions you had felt over the previous days finally reaching a head as you were faced with the sincerity of Captain America. His arms wrapped around you protectively as you shook into his arms, blubbering and sobbing about the whole situation. How it had gone too far, how you didn’t know what to do, how you wanted to make it stop. 

“Y/N, I think Wanda was right,” Steve nodded, rubbing your back and turning to lead you into a more comfortable space, “Something about this doesn’t seem right, I mean, I can’t even exaggerate when I say that Bucky’s been blowing up my phone all night- he was crying his heart out Y/N, begging me to find out what is going on with you. I’ve not heard him like that since Monaco.” 

“Then … why was his signature in the contract- he allowed all of this.”

“I can’t say exactly what’s happened but, I don’t think he was as willing as it seems.”

“His signature was there, Steve. Bold and Real.”

“I know, I know.” Steve sighed, stroking his chin with his hand as he stood before you, “This just isn’t Buck, Y/N. I know you’re feeling betrayed right now but I know you know this- something isn’t right.” 

Nodding, you considered the doubts that had lingered since the beginning- the questions, the worries. You trusted Bucky wholeheartedly- that aforementioned part of you that loved Bucky wholeheartedly had known that something, somewhere was amiss. “I just have to get through this charity gala,” you nodded, fidgeting with the hem of your dress; a skimpy thing Wanda had picked out for you, “I signed a contract- I have to do it. Then I will speak to Bucky.”

“He’ll be back by then. Get through that and then talk to him, as soon as you can.”

-

The following days leading up to the gala were spent back in your previous reprieve- waiting, waiting, waiting for the gala; waiting for Bucky to return. Every fibre of your soul yearned for him, missed him. Craved the touch of his calloused hands and the scent that could apply only to him found at the base of his neck. You missed his private smiles and his soft eyes- the way he makes you feel when his thumb draws constellations onto the blush of your cheeks or the nape of your neck. You missed his anger, his sadness, his happiness and his love. You missed his everything. 

No fake relationship could ever replicate that feeling. 

“Y/N, please stand still.” Sophia snapped on the night of the gala, stylists bustled around you as they fidgeted with your hair and tightened the ties of your dress. Steve had surveyed at the side of the room, his dressing being immediately before yours, smirking as his own had only taken mere minutes. 

“I wish you ladies would fuss this much over me,” Steve smirked from the side of the room, very obviously bored out of his mind and ready for the night to end already. 

“You don’t need it Captain,” one of the stylists giggled, to which you scoffed- much to Steve’s amusement. Once you were ready, and finally left to stand upright on your own, Steve led you towards the entrance of the gala- where you were due to meet John. 

“Please just talk to him, Y/N,” Steve smiled sadly as you fixed his tie, waiting for John’s arrival, “He’s going crazy- calling and texting me constantly. An old man like me can’t deal with all this.” 

You laughed at that, slapping Steve on the chest as he was ever-endearing, “I will, don’t worry,” your expression turned sombre as you turned to survey the growing crowd, wondering if Bucky had arrived yet. As you scanned the crowd, John entered your eye line; the usual smirk plastered on his face complimented by a deep blue suit; matching your gown perfectly. But, he wasn’t Bucky. He would never be Bucky. You had to keep this facade up for just a few more hours before you could collapse into Bucky’s arms, resolve everything, go back to how things had been before his departure. Before pen graced paper and your signatures came into existence on that ridiculous contract. 

Offering you an arm, John led you towards the main hall; it felt like all eyes turned to you when you entered- the fresh, new, heartthrob ‘couple’. Mere acquaintances of the Avengers attempted to snidely snap a photo of the two of you and others, with a tad more respect to their name, simply eyed the two of you; humming to each other about how the tabloids had been correct. You spotted Wanda and Vision through the swarms of onlookers before you, dragging John by the arm towards them. 

Wanda squealed at the sight of you, her face scrunching and copper curls bobbing in excitement, “You look beautiful, oh Vision doesn’t she look beautiful!”

“Thank you, you look beautiful too Wanda,” You beckoned her into a hug, squeezing your closest friend tight as the two of you rocked together, “Last night of this mess.” You whispered, snickering gleefully. 

Wanda pulled back, looking left and right before speaking, “Have you seen him?”

Shaking your head no, you gave her a sad smile, “Have you?”

“No. But … I have seen Sam, who was on the mission with him, I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s sulking in a corner somewhere around here.” 

Vision piped up from beside Wanda, “That is correct, Mr Barnes was spotted on security cameras just seconds ago. I can direct you to his whereabouts?”

“No, no,” You waved your hands in the air frantically, shaking your head to the same tune, “I need to finish this off first,” You gestured to John, who had been lingering on the sidelines throughout the conversation, “Put this whole thing out of its misery.” 

John stepped forward then, curling a hand around your shoulder- as careless and loose as ever, “I was hoping we could finish this off soon actually, promised the Mrs I’d be home within the hour,” He stepped back and offered you a hand, “Care for a quick dance?”

Shrugging, you accepted his hand; for once grinning at him sincerely. This dance would finally mark the end of your wretched assignment, “One dance won’t hurt anyone.”

The two of you laughed as he twirled you around the dance floor- so overjoyed at the semblance of freedom from each other; soon to no longer be tied down by the ropes and binds of your arrangement. A particular spin left you winded; clutching your chest and snorting out a laugh as you recovered. 

And that’s when your eyes landed on him. 

Bucky stood leaning against the bar, nursing a glass of something dark, something heavy. A drink that could infiltrate even the speed of his super soldier blood. His stubble was prominent and the dark bruises marring his eyes only accentuated that. Clenched fists could be seen exiting the sleeves of his black suit- simple, sleek, neat. Obscenely attractive. Steve stood beside him, probably attempting to keep up a somewhat coherent conversation, distracting him from what he was looking at. 

You realised that his gaze had not once left you. His eyes were dark, heady, angry- his irises almost black with the obvious rage that existed within him at the sight of you with John. Grip harsh, jaw tight, breaths leaving his chest shuffled and hitched. He was furious. 

The second realisation that you came to, was that something was seriously wrong. 

“Y/N, Y/N? Are you okay?” John questioned beside you, stealing your gaze away from Bucky’s- his gaze seeming genuinely concerned at your sudden shift in demeanour. 

“I- Um-” You stuttered, your heart threatening to beat out of your chest as you gripped his shoulders urgently, the pulse hammering in your throat like a sounding siren, “We need to end this now John, you can go. Please go.” The urgency in your eyes seemingly sent the message well enough; the threat of the former Winter Soldier all too present within his mind. Watching John’s hasty retreat, you prepared yourself to turn- to make eye contact with Bucky again. To see those dark, hooded eyes. To force yourself not to run straight into his arms. 

Not appropriate right now. 

Slowly, you turned your head- making direct eye contact with Bucky once again. His eyes were downturned- insistent, obsessive, begging you to provide him with some clarity. He stood stoically in place as you advanced towards him, staring determinedly at your figure and only offering Steve a grunt as he granted him a goodbye, giving up on the one-sided conversation and nodding to you as he departed, his eyes saying ‘good luck’. Keeping your chin high, you stopped beside Bucky- ordering yourself a drink at the bar and simply turning to stare at him once you were done. He stared forward resolutely, though the constant flare of his nostrils gave him away entirely. 

Upon the arrival of your drink, you drank a considerable amount before turning to him, liquid courage and all, “What the hell is goin’ on Buck?” 

“I could ask you the same thing, Doll,” Bucky ground his teeth, the ministrations dancing within his jaw as he still refused to meet your gaze, “I go away on a mission and the next thing I know I’m seeing you gallivanting around New York on the arm of another man.” He took a long drought from his glass, finishing the drink and slamming it down onto the counter behind him, “Nobody will tell me what is happening and now one moment I’m watching you have the time of your life on the dancefloor and the next you come to me once your little boy-toy has scurried away.” 

“Bucky. Seriously? You signed the contract to allow-”

“See, this is what everyone is telling me,” Bucky turned to face you then, his mouth curling downwards and his eyes filled with anguish, “But no one is able to tell me what it is exactly that I signed- when did I sign on to this Y/N?” 

“Are you kidding me?” Your tone heavy with the weight of anger and betrayal as you spat the words, Bucky’s mask of anger faltering slightly as he heard your voice, “Your signature was there- bold and animated- on that contract, Bucky.” You shook your head, mouth drooping as you spoke, sadness now present within your features, “You signed me away Bucky, you did this to me.” 

“Please, Doll.” Bucky was begging now, his eyes curved and teary as he clasped your shoulders, “Please tell me what you are talking because I seriously have no idea.” 

“How-” You suddenly realised that a number of inquisitive eyes had turned towards the two of you, Bucky’s hands on your shoulders- your own in mid-air reaching towards his. “We can’t do this here Buck.” At that, you dragged him from the room; the two of you entered the hallway in silence before making a number of twists and turns- ensuring shelter from the public’s ever watchful eyes. “How do you not know Buck- like I said your signature was there.” Your voice was quieter, calmer, more meagre now as you practically pleaded with the man before you. 

He was pleading right back, his metal hand moving to cup your cheek- the warmth of its plates familiar and a comforting presence. “Okay, Doll- let’s start from the beginning, untangle all of this mess. I signed a contact last week which would agree that we’d be seen together at the gala. You know, I- I’ve been feeling like I’m ready to go public with you and I was told that it wouldn’t be much, just a dance and a few photo opportunities. I don’t- I understand if that upset you, I’m sorry if I was too eager and I … completely understand why you’ve decided to do this I just, I wish you could’ve done it to my face? Why did you leave me to find out like-” 

Bucky’s speech was stopped by your instant attack as you pressed your lips to his, your hands gripping his stubbled cheeks like a lifeline as you pressed kiss after kiss to his mouth, attempting to drown in his taste as you sobbed against him, “I’m so sorry.” You chanted continuously as you kissed, pressing yourself as close to him as possible, “This isn’t your fault, you did nothing wrong, Buck.” Your words were halted by erratic sobs as your scenario finally reached a state of clarity, he reached to wipe the tears from your cheeks instantly; the pads of his fingers picking up the broken shards and piecing them back together perfectly, back where they belonged. 

“I don’t under-”

“No, no Bucky. It’s okay.” You pulled away from him, shaking your head and breathing, grinning at him widely, “I- god this is ridiculous, I swear I am going to destroy her. I- well, PR told me that you had signed a contract agreeing for me to engage in a fake public relationship, I mean I saw your signature and instantly assumed the worst of you, I am so sorry Bucky- and I just went along with it because I trust you and what you said in the kitchen only supported that. But then everything happened and I was just so so confused about it all and you weren’t here and I just wanted to see you again-” 

Bucky halted your tirade then, placing his own mouth against yours as you resumed your previous feverish kissing; clinging onto him as he intertwined his fingers into the long curls of your hair, the straps of your dress, the span of your hips. Eventually, he pulled back, wholly gripping his face in yours as his toothy grin glistened down at you- his face the perfect display of relief and adoration. “It’s okay,” he smiled, nodding as his eyes remained teary, your own face a mirror image of his, “We’re going to be okay.” He stroked your hair and placed a kiss to your forehead, rocking you and shushing you tentatively as you continued to cry into the comfort of his chest. “Let’s get you into bed and out of this gorgeous dress, yeah?” He mumbled, toying with the straps of your dress as he stared adoringly down at you, “I’ve not had my Doll-time in forever.” 

Giggling, you slapped him on the chest, clasping his offered hand and allowing him to lead you down the hallway- towards the comfort of tousled sheets and intertwined legs; secret touches in the darkness of night and the relief that would settle between you as the string was no longer pulled taut.

Part 2- ‘Public Display’ 

[traveler-at-heart]

Cat's out of the (super) bag

Summary: Natasha doesn't like going on missions with you. Learning the truth might make her change her mind.

Natasha Romanoff x F!R

Big thanks to @soggy-wet-cat for hearing this idea before I wrote it :)

--

Fury was going soft.

That was the only way to explain your presence on most of Natasha’s missions.

Rogers, she gets. He’s a super soldier and as capable as Natasha is, it doesn’t hurt to have an enhanced individual around.

But you.

Always slow, always too relaxed for Natasha’s liking. Insisting you could do more, but last week you weren’t even able to pick a lock.

Not to mention how much you avoid hand to hand combat. Natasha suspects it’s because your skill level is very low.

“She’d do better out of the field” Natasha complains for the tenth time. Fury smirks. “This isn’t funny. I’m risking my neck to protect her and she’s not even worried about getting better. I’m not doing missions with her anymore”

“Now, hold on” Fury protests. “That’s not for you to decide. And I thought you trusted me”

“It’s her I can’t trust”

“Too damn bad. You have a mission. No Rogers this time. And I better hear it went well, Romanoff”

Natasha rolls her eyes and leaves his office.

It will only go well if she convinces you to sit and wait at the jet.

—

“What did you do to piss off Romanoff?”

“Morning to you too, Nick” you smile, placing a cup of coffee in front of him. “I don’t know. It’s pretty obvious she doesn’t like me”

“I know that. Have you done anything to upset her?”

“I barely speak to her and when I do she doesn’t answer” you shrug your shoulders, going back to every interaction you’ve had with the redhead. Her intense glare comes back to haunt you. “Do you think she knows?”

“You tell me. Did you screw up?”

“I keep a low profile. Like you asked me to” you nod, knowing how important this is for him.

“Better stay that way. You’re both leaving for a mission tomorrow” the man hands you a folder and you skim it. “Keep your head down and don’t make her angrier”

“Is that even possible?”

“You don’t wanna know”

—

It’s a mess from the start. You try to stay away from Natasha, but every time your attempts go in the worst way possible. Like when she’s walking down the jet, and you move aside so she has space. Except you end up pushing a few buttons on the console and Natasha has to come back and straighten the ship.

“Stay still” she mutters, glaring. You nod and sit on your hands, more concerned with the woman’s temper than about the mission.

“Wait here” is all she says after landing the jet.

“Excuse me?”

“It’s a very simple mission” Natasha says, without looking at you, focused on adjusting her widow bites. “So, if you really want to help, stay out of my way”

“That’s not the plan. I’m supposed to watch the south entrance”

“They’ll never even noticed I inflitrated the building”

“You’re not my boss. Fury is. And if he wants me to stand outside and watch the south entrance, then that is exacly what I’ll do, Natasha”

The redhead finally turns back to look at you, surprised. This is the first time she’s seen you upset. You’re walking past her, not bothering to look her way… have you always been this tall? It always seems like you’re trying to look small.

“Hey” Natasha tries to make you turn, grabbing your arm. She’s surprised by how strong you are. “You better not screw up. Or I’ll make sure you’re on desk duty for the rest of your career, Y/L/N”

“Oh, now that’s funny. I’ve been here far longer than you” you lean forward, whispering. Natasha tries to understand what you mean, her eyes scanning your features for a sign. Aware of how close you are to her, you take a step back and jump out the door, ignoring the ladder.

Ridiculous, to think that you (you!) are an incompetent agent.

Maybe Fury was wrong for asking you to do this.

You’re kicking the ground, huffing every few minutes, still fuming at Natasha’s words. All this time, you thought she didn’t like you and though it sucked, you could live with that. But saying you were bad at your job when it was the exact opposite makes you see red.

“Y/N?” Natasha says over the comms.

“Here” you answer.

“A little help”

Those three words make your stomach drop. Natasha asking for your help?

This must be life or death kind of bad.

“Tell me where you are” you ask, breaking into the building.

“Intelligence room. Surrounded by at least 20 guards”

“Use the vents to go out and grab one of their vehicles. I’ll distract them”

“You’re gonna take down 20 people all on your own?”

“Just do as I say, Romanoff”

It feels good to finally use all your strenght. You practically rip open a door that sets off an alarm, and then you throw a couple of grenades around.

Now, all eyes are on you.

Sure enough, it takes them a few minutes to come find you, but you’re ready to shoot at the first guards, and when the second wave has gone through their ammo, you prepare for hand to hand combat.

“I’m out but there are two individuals after me. Towards the east, away from the jet”

“Got it. Gentleman” you turn to the man. “Change of plans. Let me go or die. Whichever is fine by me”

They laugh, until you send one of them flying across the room, his neck snapping.

“Who’s next, ladies?”

—

How could this mission have gone so wrong? Now Natasha is navigating the snowy road on a motorcycle, being chased by two of the guards and dodging their bullets.

The cold air is stabbing her hands and face but she has to keep going. She is too far away to communicate with you, but hoped you had the good sense of going back to the jet.

She’d find a way to survive.

Or maybe not, as she notices a third motorcycle joining the chase.

Through the rearview mirror, she sees the new person approaching one of the guards. A fight ensues and an exchange of shots. Next thing Natasha saw was the motorcycles colliding.

“Y/N?” she tries the comms, hoping you aren’t stupid enough to be knocking down people. Whoever those two were, the force of the hit was enough to kill them.

And yet, one of them begins to run after Natasha and the man still chasing her. The figure is fast approaching, which is ridiculous, considering Natasha was going 150 miles per hour.

The brute is clearly scared, as his movements become more erratic, trying to get rid of Natasha and the mysterious figure at the same time. He shoots behind him and then at Natasha, getting to one of the tires in her bike.

She tries to keep the handle steady, but can’t turn on the curve ahead of her. Natasha is sent flying directly to a river, the cold water making her momentarily paralized. The currents confused her, and she couldn’t tell up from down. She swam and swam, until her arms were too tired.

She began to drift, and the last thing she saw was a shadow hovering above her.

—

“Natasha? Nat?” you plead, doing CPR as gently as you can. You don’t want to add cracked ribs to her list of injuries.

Finally, after what felt like hours but were only seconds, Natasha lunges forward, coughing and throwing up water. You hold her head, helping her until she can breathe again.

“I’m freezing” Natasha complains, looking around. “Did we lose them? How did you…” she then turns to you and widens her eyes. “You’re bleeding”

“Yeah, he shot me. It’ll stop in a second. And yes, we lost them. Though I’m sure HYDRA is sending more people to track us down. Come on” you stand up, offering your hand. Natasha takes it and is once again surpised by how strong you are.

Your body is also warmer than hers, even if you dived to rescue her. On pure instinct, Natasha comes closer, practically melting against your body heat.

“You’re hiding something” she states and you chuckle.

“Now’s not the time. Come on, I’ll carry you. There must be a safe house close to the river”

Natasha climbs to your back, and as if she weights nothing, you walk down the river, trusting she’ll keep an eye for any place to hide.

Sure enough, after ten minutes of walking, the redhead gets your attention and points at the right. There’s a small cottage hiding between some trees.

“Here” you say as you kick open the door, not bothering to find a key. You set Natasha down and go around the place, looking for blankets and anything that will make her warm.

“Did it stop bleeding?” she asks, looking at your abdomen. You nod, placing a blanket over her shoulder and checking for other injuries. “Are you a super soldier?”

You smile, thinking that Fury will be up in arms. But technically, you didn’t tell Natasha. She figured it out.

“Yes”

“Why didn’t you tell me? Who else knows?” Natasha says, pulling the blanket closer, as if it will help her cover from you as well. It’s clear she doesn’t trust you right now.

“Fury asked me to keep a low profile. He’s the only one that knows. I think he’s concerned about the integrity of SHIELD. You know him, keeping an ace up his sleeve”

“How long have you known him for?”

“Thirty years, give or take. My existence is top secret, and I spent some time away from the job. My father died, and he was the last person that I knew before everything, so… it was hard, I guess”

“I’m sorry”

“Me too. I didn’t like lying to you or pretending to be something I’m not”

Natasha kicks herself for not noticing sooner. It’s so glaringly obvious now that she has to roll her eyes at herself.

Your build, the fact that you never seem to be tired or catching your breath. Hell, the fact you never train with anyone else.

Natasha made an assumption and ran with it, instead of trying to see past it.

“Hey, you ok?” you ask, craddling her head in your hands. “Did you hit your head? Feel dizzy?”

“I’m just cold”

“We can’t start a fire” you regret, looking out. “Here” you pull her closer, your arms going around her shoulders. She tries to protest, but whatever she was about to say dies in her throat as soon as she feels how warm you are.

“This suit is all wet” she says, pulling away and taking it off. “Don’t look or I’ll kill you”

“Uh… what is going on?” your eyes dart to the ceiling, blushing. Then, you feel Natasha’s cold skin against you. “Jesus, Nat. You’re freezing”

You bury the both of you in more blankets, and feel her melting against your side. On instinct, your arms go around her waist and bring her closer, to which she responds by burying her face on the crook of your neck.

“So I can’t look but I can touch, huh?”

“Glad we understand each other”

—

“So…”

“So” Natasha says, landing the jet back home.

“Can we be friends? Friendly, at least?”

“No” she stands up, walking towards you. “Friends don’t look at each other the way you’ve been looking at me for the entire ride home”

“Can you blame me?” your eyes drift to her cleavage, remembering how she was practically naked and clinging to you as if her life depended on it.

“Wine and dine me, Y/L/N. And we’ll take it from there”

“Yes, Ma’am”

“Am I interrupting?” Fury shouts from the hangar.

“Yes” you say, but Natasha leaves, glaring at Fury on her way out.

“I’ve known you for thirty years and you still can’t keep it together around a pretty lady. And now I’m in trouble too” Fury says, clearly displeased.

“Hey, at least you don’t have that problem with Rogers, huh?”

“For now, Y/L/N. There’s always some trouble waiting around the courner”

You laugh and clap his back, leaving the jet. His plan may have failed, but you’re certainly not complaining.

Not when you have a hot date waiting for you.

[perlelune]

Boadicea | Feyd-Rautha

You took the lives of his men. It's only fair to the na-Baron to have yours in return.

Warnings: NON-CON, Fedaykin! Reader, Fremen Reader, Forced Submission, Dacryphilia, Collars, Mouth Gag, Cannibalism, Knives, Death Fetish, Exhibitionism

This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.

Elation bursts through your chest as the dying gurgle of yet another Harkonnen soldier fills your ears. You grow even more satisfied when his body hits the ground. Another screaming bald-headed demon lunges at you. Fierce blows are exchanged. You wince as he nicks you in the flank.

The desperation to win explodes through your veins. You slam your head into his, disorienting him long enough to drive your crysknife right through his gut. Even as he falls across the sand, blood spilling from his gaping mouth, you don’t stop. Unrelenting, you keep stabbing him, fury and vengeance driving your blade. With each strike, more of his dark blood splatters over your face, adding to his slain comrades’.

A war cry rips from your throat when he stops moving. 

You rise on quaking feet, the exhaustion of hours of fending off the never-ending swarm of Harkonnen warriors crashing over you at once.

Your gaze swings across the battlefield. Horror surges within you.

It’s a slaughter. Fellow Fedaykin are burning right before your eyes. The Harkonnen artilleries rained death upon the Fremen troops the likes of which you’ve never seen before. The shock of sheer helplessness drills a gaping hole inside your chest. 

Cowards, you muse bitterly. Of course they will not face you on the ground. It is well-known one Fedaykin is worth a dozen Harkonnen soldiers. None in the known universe fight more ferociously than the Fremen. 

So they resorted to unleash heavy weapons from the sky. The sweltering Arrakis weather did the rest. 

You whirl to your little brother. Just like you, he’s covered in grime, dirt and the putrid ichor that serves as blood to the Harkonnens.

“Run, Kaleb, hide!” you yell in Chakobsa, urgency bleeding in your tone. 

You are lost. So is the rest of the Fedaykin army. But if your brother leaves now, he can use his hooks to call a maker and hitch a ride to safety.

A frown carves your little brother’s brow. “I can’t leave you,” he says.

You grip his shoulders.

“You have to. Get supplies at the village and go south with the others. Do you hear me?”

When he doesn’t reply, staring at you mouth agape, you jostle his slender frame.

“Do you hear me?” you repeat, louder this time.

He gives a shaky nod. “Yes!” 

You remove the cord around your neck to place it around your brother’s instead.

A look of terror distorts his features.

“No, I can’t take your water rings,” he says, his voice trembling.

Your forehead presses against his.

“You must.”

A single errant tear spills down his cheek and you swipe it with your thumb, pressing it between his lips so it reenters his body.

“Do not waste your moisture. Now go.”

Reluctantly, you brother scampers away. A surge of relief fills you as you watch him stand before a dune slope in the distance and plant his thumper into the sand. The drumming begins. The ground starts rumbling some minutes later to signal the arrival of a worm. You dive inside a cave, taking cover as a wave of rising sand crests above the horizon. The deafening familiar hissing of Shai-Hulud surrounds you.

You close your eyes and suck in a wide breath, soothing yourself with a common Fremen saying. 

The Uncleansed who have seen a crysknife may not leave Dune alive.

The screams of Harkonnen soldiers, unprepared for the sudden arrival of a sandworm, swell inside your ears as you settle in your hiding spot.

When the uproar dies, you ponder returning to the battlefield. However, whispers in the cave have you freeze in the rocky dint concealing your presence. 

You lean forward to steal a peek. Your heart bounces. 

Men in full Harkonnen livery stand beneath the vaulted ceiling of the cave.

Your eyes widen as you hear them idly discuss their plans to purge the remainder of the Fremen forces in the south. 

Your focus sharpens. You slow your breaths and dull your quickening heartbeats.

A wild, insane idea takes shape in your head.

If you could stay hidden long enough. Perhaps you could return to Sietch Tabr. Report back to Muad’ Dib. Warn them of the Harkonnens’ plan.

A word keeps pouring from the men’s lips, one whose meaning evades you.

Na-Baron.

Confusion knits your brow. 

As you continue trying to commit the conversation to memory, the chatter abruptly dies.

You go still, your mind buzzing.

The quiet deepens. Only the muffled sounds of the desert remain.

The blunt features of an Harkonnen warrior crowd your sight.

Your heart nearly leaps out of your chest.

Before you can hatch an escape plan, you’re roughly dislodged from your hiding spot. 

You struggle against the arms that hold you, whirling to shove your crysknife into the man’s throat. He grabs his throat, choking on his own blood before his body finds the ground with a loud thud. 

More men lunge themselves at you.

You cut down five more Harkonnen soldiers before a swarm of them surrounds you, punching and kicking you until you tumble to the ground. You cough out a trickle of blood onto the ground.

After every hit, the men attempt to interrogate you. 

“Are there any more hiding like you?”

“Where are the others?”

Every inquiry thrown at you encounters a stubborn wall of silence. You will never betray the other Fremen. Though the prospect doesn’t thrill you, you’d much rather die. In fact, you’ve already embraced your inevitable fate. This is where your story ends.

You console yourself with one fact. 

That at least you won’t leave this world a traitor.

It takes three men to restrain you long enough to tie you up. You only let go of your crysknife when one of the bald-headed warriors stomps over your hand with his boot, snapping your wrist bone and forcing your palm open. An ear-splitting scream rips from your throat. Still, you do not cry, refusing to waste your body moisture for these monsters.

You’re forced on your knees, hogtied while your broken wrist throbs against your back. The corpses of the men you slaughtered are dragged away.

Voices from outside grow louder as you hear the echo of steps fastly approaching. 

“There is only one spy left behind. We couldn’t find the others,” one of the men says. 

A gravelly voice, like the scraping of a rock against a hard surface, lands in your ears. 

“They have gone south to hide in the storms,” it says.

Your pulse escalates, your gaze lifting slowly. There is something different about the newcomer. He’s tall, athletic, with delicate, aristocratic features that are unusual amongst the Harkonnen. An aura of authority hangs around him, every soldier’s stance stiffening as he enters the cave.

He must be the one in charge, you realize.

Someone hands him your crysknife. A tide of anger mounts within you at the sight. If you were free, you’d plunge it in his neck. 

He gauges the blade attentively, his fingertips caressing the bloodied edge.

“Send this message to my uncle,” the newcomer says. “The North is tamed and secured. Harvest spice at will.”

“Yes, na-Baron,” a man near him replies before taking his leave.

Na-Baron. You frown. So it is him. 

He takes sluggish, lithe steps towards you, the corner of his lips twisting upwards.

Your muscles coil, cold tendrils of dread clutching your insides. 

Even on the battlefield, as your life hung in the balance, you didn’t feel this creeping sense of imminent danger. 

The primal, gut-deep inkling that you should run…and never look back. 

“You killed six of my men with a single blade,” he says, a mix of surprise and admiration laced in his raspy baritone. 

“She won’t talk,” the man behind him says. “We even broke her hand but she still won’t say a word.”

He cocks his head, his tone bone-chilling as he casually states, “Tell her that’s fine. I already know everything I need to know.” A man near him hands him a flame thrower. You take a deep breath. You’ve witnessed Harkonnen soldiers use them to set ablaze corpses and catch runaway Fremen, burning them alive. There isn’t a hint of emotion  in the na-Baron’s voice as he points the flame thrower at you. “Only pleasure remains.”

You lift your chin. If death you must meet, you will do it with dignity.

“The pleasure’s all mine,” you reply calmly, a wide smile spreading onto your lips. 

The na-Baron’s eyes bulge and narrow, his hands dropping.

He strides forward.

“What did you just say?”

“Just get on with it, will you?” You unleash a frustrated sigh. Shouldn’t you be a charred heap of smoking flesh and bones already? What is this na-Baron wasting time for? You are resigned to it now, having used the time before to accept your fate. “I’m eager to meet my ancestors and be freed of your foul Harkonnen stench,” you taunt, hoping your insolent tongue will hasten things along. 

You wait and wait, your defiant gaze never wavering. 

But the deathly flames that should lick the flesh clean off your bones never come.

Instead, the na-Baron tosses the flame thrower on the ground and barks an order to one of his subordinates.

“Take her back to my chambers in our base.”

The man casts you a disdainful glare.

“But na-Baron. That woman is danger-” A swift slash across the man’s throat from the na-Baron’s blade has the man choking on his words. Blood fills his mouth, his body twitching as it sprawls across the ground. 

He doesn’t spare the dying man another glance, his head slanting.

He leers at you, exerting no effort to disguise the lewd intent etched in his dark gaze. 

“And make sure to tell my darlings she’s not for them to have…but for me to feast upon later.”

Fear floods your veins. You readied yourself for death, not for…whatever the Harkonnen warrior has in store for you. 

“Yes, na-Baron.”

You’re hauled off the floor. When you refuse to move, one of the Harkonnen soldiers twists your broken limb to get you to lurch forward. You clench your teeth and blink back the tears threatening to spill from your eyes. You will not cry. You will not give them the satisfaction.

Tears are sacred. They are to honor the dead and nothing else.

Before you’re carried away, the na-Baron approaches you and frames your jaw.

“I hear Fremen do not cry, never squander their water under any circumstance. I wonder…” A sadistic smile unfurls on his pale lips, baring a glimpse of inky black teeth beneath. His thumb sweeps across your tightly pressed lips. “What will it take for you to shed a tear for me, pet?”

You shiver in the ropes as you watch the three Harkonnen women tear bloody ribbons in the male Fedaykin’s flesh with their claw-sharp black nails. The delighted purrs they emit while feasting on human flesh bounce off the black, sterile walls of the palatial chambers.

Your gaze is wide, horrified.

You’ve seen death. You’ve seen violence. But you’ve never laid eyes on such a ghoulish spectacle before. The na-Baron’s cannibalistic mates picking the meat off the man’s bones and digging their hands inside his gut. As if he were nothing but a heap of fresh meat to sate their hunger. 

You want to peel your gaze away… but you can’t. 

You’re paralyzed.

His lifeless blue eyes, a sinister mirror of your own due to the spice melange, send prickles through your spine. 

This could have easily been you. And it would have been…weren’t it for the na-Baron’s whim changing course as swiftly as a weather vane. Just like the apparel must yield to the fickle will of the winds, you must surrender to his.

When the women are done, one of them flashes you a broad smile. Shredded pieces of organs stick to her teeth and blood covers the bottom of her face, dripping down her chin.

A shudder ripples through your spine.

Their inky, whiteless stares settle on you. They discard the mangled corpse and inch closer to you. You retreat against the wall, fear gripping your throat. Ravenous expressions light up their pretty faces. 

You swallow through your aching, parched throat. Are you next? Will they do to you what they did to that poor man? 

They whisper in Harkonnen. The confusion about the words pouring from their tongues stokes the terror consuming you. 

Then they laugh. Strident, bloodcurdling, wicked laughs. You remain still, willing your heart not to beat so loudly. 

Dying on the battlefield is one thing. Being eaten alive is another, wildly different thing. The kind of needlessly cruel death you never envisioned for yourself. 

Despite the distress tossing your senses into chaos, you force yourself not to cry. No tears, you remind yourself. Not for them. Never for them.

One of them snaps her teeth in your face. Your lip quivers as blood drains from your head. Your reaction draws another round of laughter from them.

They tease you for a while, their threats disturbingly clear despite not understanding a lick of their coarse native tongue.

It’s in their hunched, predatory stance, the hunger twisting their pretty features. They could pounce on you at any time, rip you to shreds and you’d be powerless to stop them.

Their vicious taunting is still in progress when the na-Baron storms into his chambers. His arrival does nothing to alleviate your worries. 

A fond smile ghosts over his lips as he soaks the scene before him.

“I see you’ve met my darlings.” The women coo as he approaches them. He lovingly cradles each of their faces, planting deep, passionate kisses on their lips. The sickening display by your fellow Fedaykin’s slain form a few feet away makes your stomach wrench. “Darlings, meet my new pet.”

“I’m not a pet,” you snarl.

The women hiss at you in concert, sounding like snakes ready to strike. You flinch backwards. 

He cocks his head. 

“You are whatever I say you are.” He glides towards you slowly. Once he’s in front of you, he taps the booted tip of his foot into your bruised knee. His gravelly baritone scratches along your eardrums. “Kiss my feet. I’m your master now.”

You squint at him. 

“Fuck you.”

His plump mouth quirks lopsidedly. He then kicks you in the gut without ceremony. The searing pain knocks the breath from your lungs. You keel over, groaning against the tiles. 

He hunkers down and grabs a fistful of your hair, tugging your head backwards. The sting in your scalp has you blink back tears before they can spill. 

“In time, pretty little pet.”

Steps echo from afar. A man enters the room. The na-Baron’s authoritative timbre whips across the stiff, sweltering air of the room.  

“Did you bring what I asked?”

“Yes, na-Baron,” the man replies swiftly. From the corner of your sight, you get a glimpse of metal. Panic sings inside your veins.

As your pulse soars, you’re shocked when the ropes around your frame come loose through a few nimble slashes of a knife. 

You jump to your feet.

Your shocked gaze locks with his. Amusement decorates his features. 

Layer after layer, he removes pieces of his armor. Until his carved alabaster, muscles are exposed to you, leaving him in little more than a thin strip of fabric hanging precariously over his tapered waist. 

A second long, curved blade is tossed at your feet.

Your eyes bounce from the weapon to him. Utter confusion wars with fright within you. 

When the guards begin to draw their weapons, he barks at them, “Don’t.” They place their weapons back in their sheaths. He opens his arms, the blade in his hand glinting in the dull light of the room. “Go on. This is your chance.”

You gawk at him. Is he truly baiting you to attack him? Does his life mean nothing to him? Is he a madman?

Your brows crumple. With every second, your confusion grows. 

He approaches you. Adrenaline pumps through your veins. You rush to pick up the knife with your unbroken hand and point it at him. 

There isn’t an ounce of fear in his eyes as he inches closer, the blade grazing his bulging pec.

“Do it,” he challenges, a clear taunt in his haughty inflection.

Your mouth trembles. What do you stand to lose? You will never see Sietch Tabr or your brother again. You’re a war prisoner. You might as well be dead. You should be dead. In another life, you would already be.

You suck in a sharp breath. You move as quickly as your feet and dwindling strength allow. He matches each of your brutal, clumsy blows. You go for his head and he dodges with ease, grabbing your broken wrist, causing you to stumble. Your breath falters, throbbing pain exploding in your limb. Grinding your teeth, you whirl and deal another series of strikes. He parries each of them, a delighted expression etched on his slender features. Anger glows within you. He’s enjoying this. While you’re in agony, he finds pleasure in every brush with death.

You graze his cheek, leaving a long cut across his flesh. A demented, black grin breaks out on his face. The fight continues for a few more minutes, the clash of metal and his feral roars swelling in the room. 

It ends with him tackling you to the ground as he slams your wrists besides your head. The knife slips out of your grasp. You hold your breath, helplessness filling you as his muscular frame drapes over yours.

His lips skim against your temple. 

“You fought well, sweet pet. Better than most,” he whispers. You shudder when his cool tongue drags over your cheek. “But it’s time I claim my prize.”

Ice ripples through your blood. You struggle beneath him as he rips your stillsuit from your body. Every effort to fight against him is for naught. Soon, your bruised and battered form is completely bare to him. 

He drinks you in as your chest lifts and sags, lust sparkling in his dark gaze. He wrestles a collar around your neck and a ring-shaped gag on your mouth. The contraption forcing your lips apart makes you feel even more trapped than before. He tugs off the cloth covering him, revealing his massive erection, the pale tip already glistening with his arousal.

He hoists you up until you’re on your knees. His fist tangles in your hair, wrenching your neck backwards. Muffled moans of protest fly from your throat.

“I never wondered what a desert rat’s mouth felt like before. But now…” He pumps himself, his tongue darting out to sweep over his bottom lip. “I can’t stop thinking about it.”

He slips his tip between your lips, nudging you closer when you try to turn your head. That mere contact has him purring in delight. You push against his thighs, desperation swelling as your palms meet unflinching bands of thick, corded muscles. Even the tip of him feels like too much, the corners of your mouth bursting at the pressure. You groan, completely helpless as he pushes more of himself in your mouth. 

He cradles your face, his grip firmer than before, and plants his feet in the ground. You gag on his length as he finds the back of your throat, the salty taste of his skin filling your mouth. Shame wells up inside you. Tears burn the back of your eyes as you choke on his size. 

Nearby, the cannibalistic women laugh at your torment, sharing words in Harkonnen you don’t understand. 

The na-Baron snickers, making you jolt as he shoves inside you to the hilt. The corners of your mouth ache, both from the device and his thick girth. 

“Yes. She does take me gloriously, doesn’t she?" He smirks. "Like a true warrior.”

Hatred burns in your eyes as you glare up at him. He seems to bask in the sight, moaning in pleasure as he starts thrusting inside your mouth. 

You’re left with no choice but to take his merciless assault. His eyes roll back as he bruises your throat and steals your breath. Stilted whimpers roll off your tongue.

Your eyes sting. You try your hardest to swallow every tear and sob, but as time goes on…your pride crumbles. In its stead, only despair remains. 

Tears swell in your eyes and make a slow descent down your cheeks. 

“Ah, there it is,” he rasps, collecting the droplets with his thumbs. 

As he brings one to his tongue, humming at the taste, you feel him grow harder on your tongue. 

The pit of your stomach sizzles. With humiliation. With defeat. 

Throaty moans pour from his chest, his head tossing back as he pounds harder into your mouth. 

Your body goes limp, his hands the only thing keeping you on your knees. Your vision blurs as you become nothing but a toy for the na-Baron, a vessel for his brutality. A tool to satisfy his basest needs.

“Perhaps, we shall keep that one. What do you think, darlings?” The women’s excited squeals land in your ears. He caresses your damp cheeks. “And if she ever bores us, well…” He licks his lips, a wide grin unfanning on his face. “We’ll make sure no part of her goes to waste.”

[noldsey]

sleep (600ish wc)

my boner got too hard so have a lil scribble of logan jorking it onto wade's face while he's. yeah. disclaimer i wrote and posted this entirely with my dick

dead dove warning: somnophilia, dubcon with noncon thoughts, perfectly healthy (/s) amounts of possessiveness

--

Wade is knocked out, however unbelievable that sounds. Some nasty villain injected some vicious bio-weapon into him and, even while awake, his monster cells can’t clear it out fast enough before it’s already multiplying again inside his body. So, Beast or Nick Fury or whoever he got that damn gig from sent him home with something to knock him fully out in order for his little cell friends to focus on the job.

And as for Wade’s big burly multicellular friend slash not-friend slash roommate, well, he’s also focusing on the job.

“Grk—fuck—”

By the job, I mean the handjob. Ha! Get it?

“Shit—”

And by the handjob, I mean the handjob Logan is impatiently giving himself while straddling Wade’s chest by the knees, hypnotized by Wade’s beautiful still body and face and eyelashes and slightly parted lips. Jerking off to his partner’s sleeping form, eyes sewn shut, body lying there helpless, not being able to resist?

What a fucking nasty dog. You know this is fucked up, right? This is fucked up.

This is fucked up, Logan.

“Haa—”

This is... fucked up.

Logan watches as a drop of precum drips onto Wade’s nose, dripping down the side, feeling like he has been bewitched.

Wade is so, so still. Had Logan not been able to hear the blood rushing through his veins, hyperactivated in order to kill the intruder in its body and save its more-dying-than-usual host, the cancerless mutant would’ve been fully convinced Wade is just gone. He would be digging a six-foot ditch to bury a body in right about now.

So still, deadly still. No jittery movements. No snappy comebacks and one-liners. No references to things that nobody else understands. Doesn’t easily wake due to vigilance honed by years of war. Still and quiet and vulnerable and defenseless.

He props himself onto the headboard for balance, hand gripping wood to the point of cracking as another hand starts stroking even faster, making the bed creak in awe. If he really wanted, he could even kill Wade right now. Do something even the universe couldn’t manage to do.

Logan registers the familiar tear of skin on his knuckles first before the sound of his claws digging into crumbling walls. The burn of flesh against adamantium stings stronger than usual, agonizingly taunting, provoking the already roused beast inside him with a hot poker.

Even if it ends up not being by Logan’s hands, both of them being practically immortal means no one else will likely get to see this sight of Wade so deadly still. Wade’s death is only his, to witness, to drown in the shock and loss of, to revel and savor, to be driven to madness by, to defy and avenge.

All of him is mine.

Logan groans, growls, lets his cock hover over that beautiful face as he keeps stroking. My power over him. My reign over him. My control over him. My possession of him. In sickness and in health. In unconsciousness and in death. Mine mine mine.

Heat starts to build up, down, pressing and tightening—he bucks into his hands, the thought of painting each one of Wade’s beautiful features with his fluids, drops of white all over those lips and eyelashes and only fucking mine to use and abuse and debauch—

—sending him over the edge, ropes of cum beautifully filling every space of Wade with Logan, covering, subjugating, conquering, violating. If Logan had his way, Wade could belong to nobody else, not even himself.

All of him is Fucking. Mine.

[benispunk]

Who's That Girl?

Chapter 16: It's A Miracle

Logan receives a call from Charles, saying the center needs to close. Little does he know his guardian angel lives under the same roof as him.

logan howlett x reader

TW: language, D&W, it's sad and then it's not sad.

A/N: hello!!!!!!! see??? I promised you light at the end of the tunnel and there, you have it!!! though it's only the light, you're not out of the tunnel....yet.... In case you're asking yourself wait...this is super unrealistic, let me tell you I did some research and like 60% of whatever business is going on is real. don't come at me. it's a fan fiction. hope you like it!! enjoy!!!!! (p.s: yes there's nick fury, there, y/n's high school is just an entire mcu reference)

→ this fic is inspired by the TV Show New Girl, Wade and Logan aren't Deadpool and Wolverine (no powers/mutant gene etc) but I did take most of their character traits and storyline!!

Masterlist /Previous Part / Next Part

The dinner table was a lively mix of clinking utensils and Wade’s animated storytelling. Y/N sat across from Logan, catching his occasional glances but noting the stiffness in his posture. He had barely touched his plate, his fork tracing patterns in the mashed potatoes while Wade relayed his latest gig mishap.

“So then I said—wait, wait, hold on—” Wade waved his fork for emphasis, nearly flinging a piece of chicken across the table. “So this guy yells, ‘You suck!’ and I’m like, ‘Yeah, but only on special occasions, and definitely not for you.’” Wade smirked, pausing for dramatic effect. “Gotta keep the standards high, you know?” He chuckled at his own joke, but Logan didn’t react.

Logan’s brow furrowed as he glanced at the caller ID. His jaw tightened as he stood and picked up the phone. “Excuse me,” he said, stepping onto the balcony and sliding the door shut behind him.

Y/N and Wade exchanged puzzled looks. Through the glass, they watched Logan pace back and forth, one hand holding the phone to his ear while the other raked through his hair. The muffled sound of his voice filtered into the room, sharp and uneven.

“Already?” Logan’s tone was incredulous, tinged with frustration. “No, that’s not—dammit, this isn’t right. Not for them.”

Y/N’s heart clenched. She couldn’t make out the specifics, but Logan’s fragmented words and tense body language painted a grim picture. Wade’s smile faded, concern clouding his features as he tapped his fork against his plate.

“Should we…?” Y/N whispered, her voice trailing off.

Wade shook his head slightly. “Give him a minute. He’ll tell us if he wants to.”

But as the minutes stretched on and Logan remained on the balcony, his pacing slowing to a halt, their worry deepened. Y/N couldn’t stand it any longer. She stood and carefully slid the door open. “Logan?”

He turned at the sound of her voice, his face shadowed by the dim balcony light. The usual strength in his eyes was replaced by an unsettling mix of anger and despair. He swallowed hard, looking away as if to shield them from his emotions.

“The center… it’s closing,” he said finally, his voice raw and barely audible.

Y/N felt her stomach drop. “What? They’re shutting it down?”

“Yeah,” Logan muttered, gripping the railing so tightly his knuckles turned white. “Charles just called to tell me. They’ve hit their limit. Too many students, not enough funding. They… they can’t even guarantee making it to the end of the school year.”

Wade stepped onto the balcony, his usual levity replaced with quiet concern. “Logan, that’s… that’s horrible, man. What are they gonna do about the kids?”

Logan let out a bitter laugh. “Find replacements, supposedly. Like that’s an easy thing to do. They need specialized care. They need consistency. This… this isn’t fair to them.”

Y/N stepped closer, her hand hovering near his arm. “Logan, I… I’m so sorry. Is there anything we can do?”

“No,” Logan said sharply, then softened. “No. Charles said it’s out of our hands. They’ve been barely holding on as it is. Apart from a miracle, nothing can save it now.”

His voice cracked on the last word, and he quickly looked away, blinking hard. Wade started to speak, but Logan cut him off with a raised hand.

“I need to…” Logan began, his voice faltering. “I need… I don’t fucking know.” He stepped back, brushing past them into the apartment.

Y/N followed, her heart breaking at the sight of his trembling hands as he grabbed his jacket. “Logan, please, let us help—”

“I can’t handle this right now,” he said, his tone distant. “I just… I can’t.”

Without another word, he pushed past them and went inside, grabbing his jacket from the back of the couch.

“Where are you going?” Wade called after him, concern lacing his voice.

“To see Charles,” Logan muttered without looking back. “Maybe we can… I don’t know. Try to figure something out. Just—don’t wait up.”

The door slammed shut behind him, leaving Y/N and Wade in stunned silence.

Y/N stared at the closed door, her chest tight with an ache she couldn’t quite place. “Wade, what do we do?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Wade scratched the back of his head, uncharacteristically serious. “I don’t know, but… he’ll come around. He just needs time.”

But Y/N wasn’t so sure.

———

The apartment was eerily quiet that night. Y/N lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, replaying the scene over and over in her mind. Every time she thought of the despair in Logan’s eyes, her heart ached all over again. She rolled over, checked her phone—it was nearly 2 a.m. Still no sign of him.

Just as she was about to give up and try to force herself to sleep, she heard the faint creak of the front door. She sat up instantly, slipping out of bed and opening her door just enough to peek out. Logan was back, his shoulders hunched as he trudged toward his room. He looked utterly drained.

“Logan,” she called softly.

He stopped in his tracks but didn’t turn around. “You should be asleep,” he said, his voice hoarse.

Y/N stepped out into the dimly lit hallway. “So should you.”

Logan sighed, his hand pausing on the doorknob to his room. He didn’t look at her as he spoke. “I… I shouldn’t have snapped at you. Or Wade. You didn’t deserve that.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” she said, stepping closer. “You’re going through something really hard, Logan. We understand.”

Finally, he turned to face her, his expression weary but sincere. “It’s not an excuse. You’re here for me—both of you—and I treated you like shit. I’m sorry.”

Y/N offered him a small, understanding smile. “It’s okay. Really.”

For a moment, they just stood there, the silence between them heavy but not uncomfortable. Logan looked like he wanted to say more but couldn’t find the words. Instead, he nodded and turned back toward his door.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” he murmured.

“Goodnight, Logan.”

As he disappeared into his room, Y/N lingered in the hallway for a moment, the weight of the exchange settling over her. The conversation had been brief, but it carried a depth that left her heart aching and her mind racing. She returned to her room, the moment lingering in her thoughts as sleep continued to evade her.

———

The next morning, Y/N sat at the kitchen table, absently stirring her coffee while Wade stared at the fridge, eating cereal straight from the box. The silence in the apartment was noticeable—there was no sound of Logan's heavy footsteps, no gruff "good morning," no sarcastic remark about Wade’s breakfast habits.

“He’s gone already,” Wade said, breaking the silence as he gestured toward the empty hallway with his spoon.

“Yeah,” Y/N replied softly. “He left before I even woke up.”

“That’s not like him.” Wade dropped the cereal box on the counter and turned to face her, his expression uncharacteristically serious. “He’s avoiding us.”

Y/N sighed, setting her mug down. “Last night really got to him.”

Wade scratched the back of his head, his face creasing with concern. “Man, I don’t know what to do. He’s always been the guy holding everything together, you know? Now it’s like… we’re watching him fall apart, and I don’t…fucking know how to stop it.”

“Neither do I,” Y/N admitted, her voice heavy with worry. “But we have to do something. He can’t handle this alone.”

Wade raised an eyebrow. “Like what? You got some magic plan to save the center?”

“I don’t know,” she said quickly, feeling the weight of the situation. “I have no idea.”

Wade sighed, feeling helpless. “That’s not fair. He doesn’t deserve this.”

Y/N shook her head, overwhelmed by everything. Logan didn’t deserve this. His students and colleagues even less so.

———

By midmorning, Y/N was seated in her classroom, going through the motions of preparing for the day. But her mind wasn’t on her students or her lesson plan—it was on Logan, the center, and what she could do to help. The idea had been floating in her mind all morning, and finally, she decided she couldn’t let it go.

When the bell rang, signaling the start of her free period, she made her way to the administrative wing. Taking a steadying breath, she knocked on the door of the school’s headmaster, Mr. Fury.

“Come in,” his voice called from inside.

Y/N pushed the door open and stepped in. Fury looked up from his desk, his piercing gaze locking onto her immediately. “Y/N. What can I do for you?”

She hesitated briefly, gathering her thoughts. “I wanted to talk to you about something important. It’s about a local center for special education—one of my roommates works there, and they’re shutting down because they’ve run out of funding.”

Fury raised an eyebrow but didn’t interrupt. She continued, choosing her words carefully. “They’re trying to keep things running, but it’s impossible without help. I was wondering if there’s anything the school could do to support them. Maybe a partnership, a fundraiser—anything to keep them afloat.”

Fury leaned back in his chair, his hands steepled. “And why is this something the school should get involved in?”

Y/N felt her cheeks flush. “Because it’s more than just another organization struggling to stay afloat. This center provides critical support for kids who can’t thrive in a traditional school setting. If it closes, those kids won’t just lose a school—they’ll lose their sense of stability, of safety. Isn’t that worth trying to protect?”

Fury’s sharp gaze softened slightly, but he didn’t relent. “Look, I get where you’re coming from, but you know how these things work. The school board isn’t going to greenlight funding or support for a non-affiliated institution without a solid proposal and a damn good reason. It’s not as simple as putting a jar out for donations in the teacher’s lounge.”

“I understand that,” Y/N said quickly, trying to suppress her frustration. “But this isn’t just about money. It’s about showing support, using our connections to help them find resources they wouldn’t otherwise have. If we could just open a dialogue with the center, maybe we could come up with a solution together.”

Fury studied her for a long moment before sighing. “Alright. I’ll bring it up with the board and see if they’re even willing to entertain the idea. But you’re going to have to give me something to work with—a name, a contact, details about their situation. I’m not walking into that meeting empty-handed.”

Relief flooded Y/N, and she nodded eagerly. “I’ll find out everything you need and get it to you as soon as possible.”

“Good,” Fury said, leaning forward. “But don’t get your hopes up. These things take time, and time isn’t something you said they have a lot of.”

“I know,” Y/N said softly. “Thank you for considering it.”

———

As soon as she was back in her classroom, Y/N opened her laptop and began searching for contact information for Charles. Her fingers flew across the keyboard as she pieced together snippets of information—articles about the center, mentions of his name in local education networks, and finally, an outdated press release with a phone number attached.

She hesitated only a moment before dialing.

The phone rang twice before a deep, familiar voice answered. “Charles Xavier speaking.”

“Hi, Charles. This is Y/N Y/L/N. I… I don’t know if you remember me, but we met at the center’s party a while back. I’m Logan’s roommate.”

There was a pause, and then Charles said warmly, “Of course I remember you. How can I help you, Y/N?”

“I hope I’m not bothering you, but I wanted to talk to you about the center. Logan told us about the situation last night, and I’ve been trying to think of ways to help.”

Charles sighed heavily. “I appreciate the thought, but I’m not sure there’s much anyone can do at this point. We’ve exhausted every avenue. The center’s closure feels inevitable.”

“Maybe,” Y/N said, her voice steady despite her racing heart. “But I’ve spoken to my school’s headmaster, and he’s willing to discuss the situation with the school board. They might be able to help, but he needs details—how many students are at the center, what kind of resources are needed, anything that could help him make a case.”

Charles seemed surprised. “You went to your school about this?”

“Yes,” she admitted. “I know it’s a long shot, but I couldn’t just sit back and do nothing.”

There was a pause, and then Charles said, “I can send you the information you need. I’ll email it over today.”

“Thank you,” Y/N said, relief flooding her voice. “This could make all the difference.”

“I hope so,” Charles said gravely. “But don’t get your hopes up too high. I’ve learned the hard way not to expect miracles.”

“Charles…” she hesitated, chewing her lip. “Please don’t tell Logan about this— not yet.”

He paused. “Why not? He’d want to know someone is trying to help, especially if this someone is—”

“I know,” Y/N said softly, “but this is important to him, and if it works out, I want it to be about the center, not me. He doesn’t need to know where the help came from. At least not right now.”

Charles seemed to consider her words before replying, “You care about him a great deal, don’t you?”

Y/N felt heat rise to her cheeks but didn’t answer directly. “I just want to do what’s right.”

“Well,” Charles said after a moment, “I’ll keep this between us. Thank you for trying, Y/N. It means more than you know.”

As the call ended, Y/N leaned back in her chair, a mixture of relief and nervousness washing over her. She wasn’t sure how things would turn out, but for Logan—and for the kids at the center—she was willing to take the risk.

———

Nearly two weeks later, Y/N found herself standing outside the school board’s conference room. She smoothed her palms over her pants, trying to still the nervous energy thrumming in her chest. Through the windowed doors, she could see Charles Xavier seated at the far end of the room in his wheelchair. He noticed her and gave a reassuring nod. Y/N exhaled deeply, gathering her courage before stepping inside.

The meeting stretched on, filled with debates and discussions. The board members, led by Fury, analyzed every angle of the proposal, their questions relentless.

“How do we ensure these students get the same quality of education?” one member asked sharply. “A public school environment is worlds apart from a specialized center.”

Charles leaned forward slightly, his calm demeanor unshaken. “We’ve done this work for decades,” he said, his voice measured but firm. “I created the center with a dear friend of mine, Erik Lehnsherr, our goal was to provide a space where every child, regardless of their challenges, could thrive. We’ve guided thousands of young people through their education, often giving them opportunities they never thought possible. That mission doesn’t end just because the building’s doors close.”

Y/N glanced at Charles, momentarily caught by the sincerity in his tone.

Nick Fury folded his arms. “That’s an admirable sentiment, Professor, but sentiment alone won’t make this work. How do you expect us to handle the logistics of integrating students and teachers into an entirely different environment?”

“The key is collaboration,” Charles replied. “My staff will be willing to continue working with these children under your roof. Transition is never easy, but with the right programs and guidance, it’s absolutely possible. These children deserve the same chance as anyone else to find their place in the world.”

Another board member, a woman with sharp features and a skeptical gaze, spoke up. “Funding. That’s the other hurdle. We can’t take this on without significant financial support.”

Y/N cleared her throat, stepping into the conversation. “We’re already working on securing outside funding. Families, local organizations, and even planned fundraisers are ready to contribute. The school won’t bear this burden alone.”

The discussions continued, with tension rising and falling like a tide. Questions about infrastructure, sustainability, and the emotional impact on the students were debated in exhaustive detail.

At one point, Charles addressed the room with a calm yet impassioned resolve. “When Erik and I started this journey, we knew it wouldn’t be easy. But we also knew it was necessary. These children—and so many others like them—deserve a future where they can flourish. If this partnership can give them that, then I believe it’s worth every effort.”

Finally, after hours of back-and-forth, Nick Fury leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temple. “All right. Here’s the deal. The school will manage the transition, integrating the students and staff into our facilities. Students can choose between new programs or continuing their current curriculum, with full support provided throughout the process. We’ll secure funding through your community partnerships and additional resources.”

Charles exhaled a deep breath, nodding in appreciation. Y/N felt a wave of relief wash over her, though the reality of what lay ahead was sobering.

Weeks later, when the agreement was finalized, Charles requested a private meeting with Y/N. They met in his office at the center after everyone had left, the shelves lined with photographs of smiling children and proud teachers.

“Y/N,” Charles began, his tone warm and genuine, “I owe you a debt I can never repay. Without you, this partnership wouldn’t exist. The center would have been lost.”

“You don’t owe me anything,” Y/N said softly. “I just… I couldn’t stand by and do nothing. Not for the kids. And not for Logan.”

Charles studied her for a moment, a knowing look in his eyes. “You and Logan remind me of Erik in some ways,” he said with a faint smile. “He was never one to stand idly by, either.”

Y/N tilted her head. “What was he like?”

Charles’s expression grew wistful. “Brilliant. Stubborn. Infuriating at times, but his heart was always in the right place. We built this center together because we believed in giving these children a chance to grow, to find their place in a world that so often pushes them aside. We didn’t always see eye to eye, but we shared that vision. And for decades, we’ve seen the impact it’s had. Thousands of young lives changed for the better.”

“But he’s not here anymore?” Y/N ventured carefully.

Charles’s smile faded. “No. Erik left the center many years ago. His convictions… they took him down a different path. We haven’t spoken since.”

There was a brief silence before Charles continued, his tone softening. “I often think about what we could have accomplished if we’d stayed united. But life doesn’t always follow the paths we envision.”

Y/N nodded, touched by the weight of his words. “It sounds like you’ve already made a difference. This place—it’s changed so many lives.”

Charles smiled faintly. “And thanks to you, it will continue to do so.”

He leaned forward slightly. “When Logan finds out—”

“He won’t,” Y/N interrupted quickly. “Please, Charles. Promise me you won’t tell him, or anyone. This isn’t about recognition. It’s about saving something that matters to him. That’s all I care about.”

Charles hesitated, his brows furrowing. “You deserve to be acknowledged for what you’ve done.”

“It’s better this way,” Y/N insisted. “Logan’s been through enough. Let him believe it’s a stroke of luck or the community coming together. Just… not me.”

After a long pause, Charles finally nodded. “If that’s what you want, I’ll respect your wishes.”

“Thank you,” Y/N said softly, a weight lifting from her shoulders.

As she left his office that evening, the satisfaction of saving the center mingled with a bittersweet ache. Logan’s world would remain intact—but he could never know the lengths she had gone to for him.

———

A few days later, the apartment was quiet when Logan returned from work, his bag slung over one shoulder. Y/N was on the couch grading papers, while Wade sprawled next to her, absentmindedly scrolling through his phone.

“Hey,” Logan said casually as he walked in, dropping his bag near the door.

Y/N and Wade both looked up, exchanging a quick glance. He sounded… normal. Too normal.

“Hey?” Wade repeated, sitting up slightly. “What’s this? No broody silence? No existential sighs?”

Logan gave him a faint smirk and crossed the room, flopping down on the couch next to them. “What? Can’t a guy just sit?”

Y/N frowned, her pen pausing mid-note. She couldn’t remember the last time Logan had come home and joined them like this without carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. 

And she knew exactly why.

“How you doing?” Wade asked, eyeing him suspiciously.

Logan leaned back, stretching an arm along the back of the couch. “Good,” he said simply.

Wade blinked. “Good? Like, good good? Or good as in ‘don’t ask me any more questions’?”

Logan didn’t answer right away. Instead, he stared at the ceiling for a few seconds, his expression unreadable. Then, suddenly, he bolted upright, startling both of them.

“The center’s been saved!” he blurted, his face breaking into the most uncharacteristically wide grin they’d ever seen.

“What?” Y/N gasped, standing up in ‘shock’.

“No way!” Wade exclaimed, springing to his feet. “Are you serious?!”

Logan laughed, a genuine, unrestrained sound that seemed to light up the room. “Yeah! It’s official. They’ve worked out a deal—everything’s going to be fine!”

Before Y/N could react, Wade launched himself at Logan, wrapping him in a bear hug and yelling like they’d just scored the winning goal in a championship.

“Hell yes! I knew it, peanut! I told you it would work out!” Wade shouted, shaking Logan back and forth.

“Get off me, you idiot,” Logan said, laughing as he pushed Wade off.

As Wade released him, Y/N stepped forward, her heart pounding. She hesitated for a fraction of a second—partly overwhelmed by his joy, partly to keep her composure—then wrapped her arms around him. “Logan, that’s amazing. How? How did this happen?”

Logan returned the hug briefly before pulling back, his eyes shining. “It’s incredible. They worked out a plan to keep everything running. The students will transition to a new location, and they’ve found ways to secure funding long-term.”

“That’s incredible,” Y/N said, her voice warm, though her mind raced to maintain her act.

“You’re telling me,” Logan said, his grin widening. “But guess what?”

“What?” Wade and Y/N said in unison.

Logan’s smile grew even wider. “It’s all thanks to your school, Y/N. They came up with the plan, and they’re making it happen.”

Y/N blinked, leaning back slightly to sell her surprise. “What? My school?”

Logan nodded. “Yeah. They’re integrating the program into the high school. And get this…” He paused for dramatic effect, his gaze bouncing between them. “I’ll be working there too!”

“What?!” Y/N exclaimed, her voice a little higher than intended.

“Dude!” Wade shouted, grabbing Logan and spinning him around in celebration.

Y/N watched them, laughing and clapping along, her chest tight with a mix of relief and happiness. Logan hadn’t stopped smiling since he walked in, and seeing him this happy was worth every second of her scheming.

“We’re going out to celebrate,” Logan announced, brushing himself off as Wade finally let him go. “Drinks are on me.”

“Hell yeah!” Wade said, pumping a fist in the air.

Logan headed to his room to grab his jacket, leaving Y/N and Wade alone.

As Logan disappeared into his room to grab his jacket, Wade turned to Y/N, his eyebrows raised. “Alright, Miss Academy Award. Spill.”

Y/N froze. “Spill what?”

“Don’t play dumb,” Wade said, crossing his arms. “You didn’t even flinch when he said your school made it happen. So... what’s your deal in this?”

Y/N’s laugh was light but forced. “My deal? I work there, Wade. That’s my deal.”

Wade narrowed his eyes, his suspicion deepening. “Uh-huh. And you just happened to have no idea this was happening? Come on, Y/N. How much of this was you?”

“None!” she said, her voice higher than intended. She winced and busied herself straightening her papers. “It’s just a coincidence. Schools do this kind of stuff all the time, I’m sure.”

Wade stared at her for a long moment before his eyes widened in realization. “Oh my God, it was you!”

“Shh!” Y/N hissed, darting a panicked glance toward Logan’s room. She grabbed Wade’s arm and pulled him toward the kitchen.

“Are you serious right now?” Wade said, his voice a mix of excitement and disbelief. “You’re the reason this happened?”

“Wade, keep your voice down!” Y/N whispered, her tone urgent. “And no, it wasn’t me. I just… I might’ve… encouraged the right people, okay? That’s all.”

“That’s all?!” Wade exclaimed, though he managed to keep his voice low. “Y/N, you saved the center! That’s huge!”

“No, I didn’t. The center saved itself. I just... helped things along a little. And Logan cannot know, Wade. Promise me.”

Wade’s brow furrowed. “Why not? He’d be over the moon if he knew you were behind this!”

“Because this isn’t about me,” Y/N said firmly. “It’s better this way.”

Wade stared at her in disbelief. “You’re unbelievable. You know that, right? Both of you are. Oblivious, self-sacrificing idiots. I hate slow-burns.”

“Wade,” she said again, her tone pleading.

“Fine,” he said, throwing up his hands. “I won’t say anything. But you’re still an idiot.”

Before Y/N could respond, Logan reappeared, his jacket slung over his shoulder. “You two ready, or what?”

“Absolutely,” Wade said, flashing Y/N a grin as he threw an arm around Logan’s shoulder.

Y/N grabbed her coat, her heart pounding as she followed them out the door. Despite the tension of the moment, a quiet sense of satisfaction bloomed in her chest. This was her secret, her gift to Logan—and seeing him this happy made it all worth it.

XXX

[dearheartdont]

WIP (Definitely Not) Wednesday

Thank you for the tag @laiqualaurelote :)

The next time Charles slips is in 2004, outside an electronics shop, whilst trying to convince Edwin they should nick a radio for their office.

“We could listen to the cricket, and they still do serials on Radio 4,” Charles says. 

Edwin makes a considering noise.

There’s a line of televisions in the shop window. One is turned to the news. A new Conservative MP in Slough, the caption on the screen says. The footage shows the new MP shaking hands with the losing candidates. 

The face is familiar. Carmichael. A boy Charles thought was his mate, or whatever passed for it at St Hilarion’s. One of the boys that chased him into a lake that night. The night he died.

Carmichael still has that posh kid’s flush - wind-bitten cheeks from weekends hunting on a country estate back then; probably the after-effects of too many glasses of red wine now.

When Charles knew him, he was well on his way to a Cambridge place, with an invitation to the Bullingdon club and the free reign that membership granted to act the cunt for 3 years to follow. The kind of boy with the connections to land a job in the City or politics. That’s what had happened, obviously. His life completely unaffected by Charles’ death. 

A hand lands on Charles’ shoulder. Edwin’s. “You look … cold,” he says.

“It’s nothing, mate.” Charles feels a trickle of ice down his back, smells stagnant water.

“Are you— ”

“Just leave it,” Charles says, shrugs Edwin’s hand off and turns away from the window. Away from Edwin.

Charles’ hands are pale and shaking. His hair is wet and plastered to his head when he scrubs his fingers through it. He shivers.

Charles walks round the corner and down the side alley next to the shop. He curls into himself behind a line of bins and screws his eyes shut. Lets his breath heave and his teeth chatter, a cold fury spreading through him.

When he opens his eyes he can see Edwin’s neat, polished boots in front of him.

“I will not touch you, but neither will I leave you alone,” Edwin says. He crouches, a flash of distaste crossing his features even though there’s no chance of his coat getting  mucked up by the puddle he settles in.

“You are doing well. Breathing, though not needed, is a way to regulate the emotions of ghosts.”

“I know,” Charles says through clenched teeth.

“Yes, of course you do. I have always found you to be remarkably intuitive.”

Charles tries for a ‘what could be wrong if I’m teasing’ tone of voice. “Are you trying to butter me up? If you want a favour, now’s not really the time, mate.” The words come out wrong: a little sharp, a lot pathetic.

“That is disappointing. I have decided a radio for the office would be quite the thing, and I think you should assist in selecting it.”

“Just give me a minute.”

Silence, until Edwin says, “I was thinking back on the Case of the Vauxhall Vault.”

Edwin’s level voice recounts the story, and it feels like his voice is a line to follow back to safety, to normality. As normal as two dead boys running a detective agency can be.

The chill slowly recedes and settles back into that small knot at the centre of Charles that is always there, but can be ignored most of the time. 

[sageandravens]

Patience - Something

Summary: Bucky and Sunshine’s first meeting

Featuring: Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanoff, and Tony Stark

Word count: 1997

Warnings: Bucky being self deprecating. Tony being smug ass.

This was it. This is where all the hard work you’ve completed led you. All the sacrifices you’ve made to reach your goal has finally brought you to were you wanted to be in your career. Your background in Special Forces Night Stalkers Unit and your time in the CIA had caught the eye of Nick Fury, after all the constant training and tests and interviews, you found yourself staring at the grand building that was the Avengers compound. Pride swelling within your chest, this one achievement outshining all the others you have accomplished in the past.

To say that you were eager was an understatement. Your body vibrated with unrestrained excitement about meeting the people responsible for saving the world. People you had admired for their accomplishments. People you get to call your coworkers and maybe one day, your friends.

You carried on, practically skipping your way to the entrance of the building. Reaching the entrance, you smoothed your hands down the yellow knee length pencil skirt and adjusted your white blouse of the imaginary wrinkles that the nerves in your mind believed were there. With one last tug of your skirt, you plastered on a smile and walked to reception.

The receptionist had you sit on a nearby bench as she called to inform of your arrival. You smiled and greeted at whoever glanced your way and chatted with the receptionist in between her calls, your politeness helping you to pass the time.

“So, you’re the new recruit?” An amused voice snapped you out of your conversation with the receptionist. Looking to your left your eyes widened as they landed on Tony Stark himself.

“Mr. Stark! You’re leading my orientation?” You mentally slapped yourself as you straightened your posture. “I mean, yes, yes I’m the new recruit.” You offered your hand to the billionaire, internally holding back your excitement.

Ironman! Oh my god, oh my GOD.

“When I went over your file, I didn’t expect someone who was the personification of puppies and rainbows.” Stark stated. You quirked a brow at him.

“I was observing you from our security system on my way here.” He shrugged like it was no big deal for him.

“Ok, Bubbles. Let’s get this show on the road.” You grinned back at him, following his lead as he explained the workings of the compound and the work you will be doing within its walls. The whole time absorbing all the information that he spewed, asking questions, and matching him snark for snark.

Tony gave you a very grandiose tour of the facility, which you didn’t expect anything less considering his reputation. He showed you the gym, the dining facilities, the offices and the briefing rooms in the compound. Along the way, he had introduced you to some of the Avengers that you will be working closely with.

You hit it off immediately with Steve, who had congratulated you on joining the team and looked forward to working on missions with you in the future. You beamed at his praise and thanked him for being so welcoming.

Natasha took a little longer to warm up to you. Upon introductions she had stared you down while giving you a once over, making you feel as if she was trying to seek out anything that made you suspicious. She stepped back giving a nod to Tony.

“She’s good, welcome to the team.” You blinked at the abruptness of her departure, watching her as she walked down the hallway.

“You’ll get used to that, Bubbles.”

You and Tony continued on your tour, listening as Tony explained your moving in process. He lead you down another hallway with less foot traffic, you looked around at the various decorative art pieces along the walls, glittering light caught your eye, focusing on its source you saw it reflecting off a tall, muscular man ahead of you.

Reflecting off his metal arm. His very recognizable metal arm.

“Is that who I think it is?” You ask, catching Tony’s attention. He looked in your line sight and raised a brow.

“The arm doesn’t give it away?” You rolled your eyes at Stark. “I’ll introduce you, just don’t expect a warm welcome. He’s still a little frosty.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The metallic clang of the weights echoed throughout the gym. Sounds of grunts and bodies hitting the floor mats as agents trained and worked out all around the gym. It was almost mid morning by the time Bucky finally decided to put the weights down, having been in the compounds gym since five in the morning. Another night where a nightmare has plagued his already battered mind, usually, a couple of hours in the gym calmed him down but this particular nightmare he couldn’t seem to shake off.

The screams of the victims. His victims, still echoed in his mind, their horrified faces and their blood that he spilled was a slide show on repeat. The frown on his face deepened, matching the aggravated look on his face.

Frustated, he placed the weights back on the rack with a grunt. Pushing back the lose strands of his hair that escaped from his low bun away from his face he looked around, taking in all the agents around him. It was getting too crowded for his liking, and his anxiety wasn’t letting up, he gathered his items and trudged back to his room within the compound. Hoping a hot shower would ease his frazzled mind.

Bucky stomped through the halls, ignoring the way the agents and other employees quickly moved out of his way with worried looks. He knew they feared him, fearing that he would snap back into his Winter Soldier persona. Worried that whatever deprogramming they did in Wakanda didn’t actually work.

They should fear me. They’d be dumb if they didn’t. His face turned darker at the thought. He continued down the hall towards the elevator reserved for the Avengers that lead to the residential floor. The promise of a long, hot shower to process his racing thoughts and wash away the sweat from his extended workout this morning within a short distance. The hope of finally being away from lingering fearful stares and hushed whispers only an elevator ride away. He placed his hand upon the scanner built into the wall, waiting patiently for elevator to make its descent.

“Hey, Manchurian Canidate!” Bucky groaned at the sound of the irksome nickname. He silently prayed that the elevator doors would open at that second to make his escape. The frown on his face getting even deeper as he realized that his need to be alone was disappearing the closer as they footsteps approached him. Turning around, Bucky accepted his fate, hoping that his post workout odor makes this impending conversation short. Bucky was not in a mood for Starks antics today, or any day at all, really.

“Whoa, you are ripe! You know there are showers in the gym right?” Bucky rolled his eyes and grunted a response. The ding of the elevator announced the arrival of his belated escape plan, turning back around when Bucky entered the elevator and much to his annoyance Tony followed. The movement of someone clad in bright yellow caught his attention, tilting his head up, his eyes focused on the young woman standing next to Stark.

“Oh, by the way.” Tony passively gestures towards you. “This is Y/N. Our new recruit, former sergeant first class. She outranks you.” He added smugly.

Bucky refused to take the bait, giving Tony another short grunt, not even bothering to look at him. You looked at Bucky, noticing the dark circles under his eyes, the sweat clinging to his brow, evidence of his strenuous workout. But, you noticed something behind his blue eyes that spoke of something darker, an emotion that seems to plague him.

“Hi. It’s nice to meet you!” Your peppy voice rang in his ears. The joyfulness of your tone making him wince. He glanced back at you, your (y/e/c) eyes bright matching the smile that graced your lips, your hand reaching past Stark waiting for him to grasp it. Bucky just stared at it.

“Oh, well, I look forward to working with you and the others.” You say, the pep in your voice never faltered. You brought your hand back to your side, you had hoped that being your usually bright self, you would come off as a potential friend to Bucky and break the grumpy exterior Tony warned you about. No luck, not letting Bucky’s rebuff of your greeting bother you. Bucky’s eyes landed on your face once more giving you a confused look.

“I’m excited to learn how you and the rest of the team work together quickly. I know my skills will be of great use to you all. Maybe we’ll be paired up for a mission some time?” His lack of words made you want to fill the silence between you. You were alright with that, you understood that some people weren’t the talking type. Bucky’s stare made you continue on with your rambling.

“Since you know, we both have military experience. I think we would pair well with each other.” You smiled brightly once again.

Bucky continued to stare at you. Completely, blindsided that you continued to look him in the eye and talk to him without fear and worry. Did you not know who he was? Are you confusing him with someone else? Bucky shifted his gym bag on his shoulder, his grip on the strap making the mechanics of his metal arm begin to whir.

Well, if she doesn’t know who I am, she does now. Bucky frowned again.

Stark looked on between you and the living statue that was Bucky, getting some amusement from the completely polar opposite personalities in front of him. He watched on as you continued on with the one sided conversation. Smirking to himself as he watched Bucky become increasingly uncomfortable.

Ding!

Bucky let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding as the elevator doors opened. He readjusted his bag, and quickly left, leaving you and Tony in the dust without so much as a goodbye. You watched as he walked away, the tension still present in his shoulders making you frown. He walked with a heaviness, a weight of bottled up emotions and dark thoughts. You recognized that stance, you’ve seen it with some of the soldiers that were under your command after grueling missions.

“Told ya he was still frosty.” Tony placed his hand upon your back guiding you out of the elevator to finish the tour of the compound.

“He’ll warm up to me, I’m sure.” You smiled at Tony with confidence.

“Hope you’re up for a challenge,”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Later that day Bucky exited his room. Refreshed and gym odor free from his long hot shower. It eased his mind somewhat, pushing back his memories enough to not be distracting. He walked to the communal kitchen of the residential floor, his stomach begging for some leftovers from the night before. Popping in a plate of some leftover fettuccine into the microwave, he leaned against the counter waiting for the time to go off.

Steve sat at the kitchen island across from him, with a cup of coffee in his hand looking at the file in front of him. He glanced over at the file that had his best friend so intrigued. He noticed that it was your file.

“Have you met the new recruit yet?” Steve asked him.

“Yup.” Bucky replied, popping the P. Steve continued to flip through your file, feeling impressed more and more with all of your achievements.

“She’s something, isn’t she?” Steve started with with awe.

Bucky thought of your bright smile, your relaxed and bright presence. He thought of you carrying on introducing yourself, never stopping even if he was not responding. But what he thought of the most was how you didn’t have fear in your eyes.

“Yeah, she’s something.”

[marveltrumpshate]

November 2024 MTH fills

The best way to see all the fills that have been shared with us is our monthly roundups tag or our #MTH-fills channel on our Discord, but you can also view them through the following methods:

Our Tumblr tags: 2018, 2019, 2020, 2021, 2022, 2023, 2024

Our AO3 collection (only has works posted to AO3; see "subcollections" for specific auction years)

Completed works tag list

To find specific content, use our completed works tag lists above which includes instructions on how to search for a particular character, gen or romantic relationship, universe, and fanwork type. 

SOLO CHARACTERS

Bucky Barnes

deleronicas/@yourheartswerethesame - MCU Bucky fanvid set to "The Apparition" by Sleep Token for @theeternalghost

RoseRose/@tehroserose - "Wakandan Goat Therapy" (a set of haiku about Bucky in Wakanda with goats) for @sofreakinmanyfandoms

Foggy Nelson

thelonebamf/@amazing-spiderling - Custom 616 Foggy toploader for @pomegranate-belle

Frank Castle

thelonebamf/amazing-spiderling - Custom 616 Frank Castle toploader for castlesprincess

Ikari

thelonebamf/amazing-spiderling - Custom 616 Ikari toploader for pomegranate-belle

JARVIS

Kerr Avonsen - JARVIS-themed infinity scarf in shades of electric blue, turquoise, and teal for @airas-story

Jessica Jones

thelonebamf/amazing-spiderling - Custom manga-style Jessica Jones toploader for @castlesprincess

Matt Murdock

@deehellcat - Crochet doll of a smiling Matt in his Daredevil costume, holding his billy clubs/batons for @rufferto9's friend

thelonebamf/amazing-spiderling - Custom Earth-65 Matt toploader for pomegranate-belle - Custom 616 Matt toploader for castlesprincess

Miguel O'Hara

@caiabresebun - Art of chibi cat Miguel in his suit huffily swiping at a mouse for Phoenixx - Art of angry and sad chibi cat Miguel sitting near spilled coffee for @t0nystark1er

Ororo Munroe

thelonebamf/amazing-spiderling - Custom 616 Ororo toploader for pomegranate-belle

Scott Summers

Jason K Jones/@jkjones21 - Art of Scott in his X-Men '97 outfit costume fighting Sentinels for @oerbally

Stephen Strange

DeeHellcat - Crochet Dr. Strange dragon for RoseRose

GEN/PLATONIC RELATIONSHIPS

Alpine & Bucky Barnes

RoseRose/tehroserose - "Bucky and Alpine" (a sonnet about Bucky and Alpine) for sofreakinmanyfandoms

Bruce Banner & Nick Fury & Steve Rogers & Thor & Tony Stark

Lalaith Quetzalli/@lalaithquetzallicaresi - Fic cover of Bruce, Fury, Steve, Thor, and Tony plushies for "The Plushyverse" for @noxelementalist

Bucky Barnes & Yelena Belova

Vostok/@vostok3-ka - "Пачка сигарет by KИNO" (MCU Bucky & Yelena go on a post-Soviet Russian winter holiday trip, adrift and grieving Natasha) for Snooze

Dum-E & Tony Stark

HT/@hundredthousands-art & KandiSheek/@kandisheek-art - MCU art by HT of Dum-E handing Tony a bag of ice for his bruise and coming over when Bucky and Tony are hugging, animated by Kandi for @massivespacewren, @soliloquent-stark, @iseult-1124, @otpcutie, @whinysteve, @polizwrites, and @dracusfyre

Jeff the Land Shark & Matt Murdock

thelonebamf/amazing-spiderling - Custom 616 Jeff & Matt toploader for pomegranate-belle

Jubilation Lee & Logan

@tiffycat - Art of a happy Jubilee elbowing Logan, who's looking fondly at her for @twentyghosts

Peggy Carter & Sharon Carter & Steve Rogers

Lalaith Quetzalli/lalaithquetzallicaresi - Fic cover of Sharon, older Peggy, and Steve on a motorcycle for "You've got my number" for noxelementalist

Remy LeBeau & Jubilation Lee

c_art - Handpainted clock featuring Remy and Jubilee showing off their sparkly powers for @ruquas (also on Tumblr)

SHIPS

Agatha Harkness/Rio Vidal

yeahitshowed/@tadpoleeater - "real hot ghoul shit" (post-Agatha All Along Agatha/Rio fic where a ghostly Agatha decides to give into Rio's pursuit and Rio swears that she's finally done with the pursuing) for @kayedium-writes

Bucky Barnes/Clint Barton/Jason Todd

@carcrash429 - Podfic of "Parade," a Bucky/Clint/Jason Todd AU fic by ClaraxBarton where Clint meets Bucky and Jason while housesitting for Nat for @esoxwrites

Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers

Hermit/@hermit-writes - Typesetting for "Backhoe," a non-powered Steve/Bucky AU for @zenaidamacrouras1

SucculentHyena/@succulent-hyena - "Heart's Devour" (MCU Bucky/Steve body horror fic where Steve comes out of the Vita-Ray chamber wrong) for @bulkyphrase

Bucky Barnes/Tony Stark

DeeHellcat - Hand-knitted fingerless gloves inspired by Bucky's metal arm and Tony's gauntlet for @coralreefpool

Golden_Asp - "Murder and Baseball" (canon-divergent MCU Bucky/Tony AU fic where Hydra sends the Winter Soldier to win a date with Tony, kidnap him, and bring him back for conditioning—a plan that goes awry) for massivespacewren (MTH 2022)

HT/hundredthousands-art - Art of MCU Bucky with a knife and Tony with a gauntlet, ready to fight for massivespacewren, soliloquent-stark, iseult-1124, otpcutie, whinysteve, polizwrites, dracusfyre, and rufferto9

HT/hundredthousands-art & KandiSheek/kandisheek-art - MCU Bucky/Tony art by HT of Bucky handing Tony a towel for his bloody cheek and then hugging him, animated by Kandi for massivespacewren, soliloquent-stark, iseult-1124, otpcutie, whinysteve, polizwrites, and dracusfyre

@tikiwhip - 616/MCU Bucky/Tony comic where fugitive Bucky visits Tony whom he's in a secret relationship with for massivespacewren (MTH 2023)

Clint Barton/Loki/Natasha Romanov

Eustacia Vye/@eustaciavye28 - "Midst of Death" (MCU Clint/Loki/Natasha fic where Loki is recovering from extending himself past the geas placed on him) for wanderingflame

Logan/Wade Wilson

@panties-on-boys - "Play Fight" (MCU/X-Men universe Logan/Wade fic where Logan goes soft on Wade after learning Wade's in constant pain, but Wade still wants to play dirty) for Rayne

Steve Rogers/Howard Stark

Jeniouis - "The Moments In Between" (MCU 1940s fic of Steve and Howard sharing quiet, secret moments alone) for @ladygigiart

Steve Rogers/Tony Stark

Becci_chan/@becci-chan - "Assembling New Beginnings" (Steve/Tony non-powered IKEA meet-cute AU fic) for @captainneverever (MTH 2023)

Bee42/@bumble-bee42 - Two illustrations of 616 Tony flying with a besotted Steve in his arms for @oluka

[alittlebitofwonk]

@bonesandthebees has me thinking about book recs, so I’m posting some of my favorites in case anyone wants something new to read!

FANTASY

Priory of the Orange Tree: This is a BRICK of a book. The hardcover would make a good weapon. But it’s also an incredibly good read. A well built fantasy world, dragons, sapphic romance, and it centers WOC characters. The prequel, A Day of Fallen Night, is also amazing.

Legends and Lattes: This is such a cozy little book! It’s fantasy, sent in a DND inspired world where a retired orc mercenary opens a coffee shop. Also, sapphic romance side plot. It’s very cute.

A Thousand Steps Into Night: A Japanese folklore inspired novel where the protagonist must make bargains with spirits to avoid becoming a demon. I learned a lot about Japanese legends and folklore in this one, and the protagonist, Miuko, is just so earnest and lovable.

SCI-FI

Project Hail Mary: Andy Weir does it again. A fantastic novel featuring a struggle across the galaxy to save earth as we know it, the most endearing alien EVER, really cool futuristic science, and a reminder that humanity also instills in us all a sense of good.

The Kaiju Preservation Society: This book is so much fuuuun. It’s just a blast. Inter dimensional travel, giant monsters, conservation, and a protagonist that had me cackling with laughter the whole time.

MYSTERY/THRILLER

The Final Girl Support Group: When the survivors of several horror-movie esque massacres are all targeted by a new killer, how will they survive? A really awesome story about a bunch of badass middle aged women who kinda hate each other teaming up to identify their would-be killer… before it’s too late.

Gone Girl: Nick Dunne didn’t kill his wife. He has no idea where she is, or what happened, and he swears he didn’t hurt her… but no one really believes him. Meanwhile, the truth is far more interesting, and a testament to the phrase “hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.” This is THE female rage story.

[bulkyphrase]

Cap-IM Rec Week - Early Canon Wednesday

Day 3 of @cap-ironman's rec week event! Today's list features stories set in the early days: comics stories set in the time when the Avengers lived in the mansion and no one knew Tony was Iron Man, or movie-verse stories from the beautiful 2011-2013 era.

Get Some Now by @sineala (616, Teen And Up Audiences, 10,376 words)

Summary: Avengers Mansion has a mysterious feline infestation. Meanwhile, Steve just can't figure out how to ask Tony out on a date. And the thirteen teleporting cats sure aren't helping matters any. Also available as a podfic read by where_thewind_blows (@flowersthroughthecracks)

Homefront by @copperbadge (MCU, Explicit, 12,860 words)

Summary: Steve Rogers is a capable leader, a kind and cheerful man, a good friend, a strong role model, and a loyal soldier. He's also teetering on the edge of suicide. Also available as a podfic read by watery_weasel

More below the cut!

Love among the Hydrothermal Vents by DevilDoll (MCU, Explicit, 26,816 words)

Summary: In which Namor has a thing for Steve, an octopus has a thing for Tony, and Steve and Tony eventually have a thing for each other. Also available as a podfic read by RsCreighton (@rosecreighton)

Semaphore by DevilDoll (MCU, Explicit, 40,040 words)

Summary: "I’m trying to like you, Tony. You’re just making it very hard." Steve Rogers/Tony Stark Also available as a podfic read by crinklysolution

Slipping off the Page into Your Hands by @sineala (616, Explicit, 68,149 words)

Summary: Soulmates have their first words to each other written on their wrists. This should make it easy. For Steve and Tony, it is anything but. Steve's problem is that the future he has awoken into is nothing he was ever expecting: he has a soulmate now. Who might be a robot. And if his soulmate is Iron Man, how can he be so attracted to Tony Stark? It should be impossible. Tony's problem is that he is Iron Man, his soulmate is a man whom he in no way deserves, and he is going to fight everything in his heart and do his best to make sure Steve never, ever finds out the whole truth. Also available as a podfic read by RsCreighton (@rosecreighton)

Someone to Love by blue_jack (@some-blue-jack) (MCU, Mature, 47,161 words)

Summary: What does it matter that it’d been because of Loki and his damn magic? He’d fallen in love with Steve once. He can do it again.

Team Building Activities by valtyr (MCU, Mature, 37,938 words)

Summary: Fury's a beautiful princess. Clint's plotting a Communist revolution. Rhodey's not sexy. Wall-E's not a documentary. Clint's not gay but he does give a great blowjob. This fic is not an AU. Also available as a podfic read by kalakirya

The Unlikely Wingman by @sineala (616, General Audiences, 1,074 words)

Summary: Clint doesn't see why he should have to follow Captain America's orders. But he also doesn't see why Captain America should have to sit around looking miserably lonely, either.

Think of This as Solving Problems (That Should Never Have Occurred) by @sineala (616, Teen And Up Audiences, 35,216 words)

Summary: No one knows Tony is Iron Man. Then Tony gets amnesia, and literally no one knows Tony is Iron Man.

Tomorrow Belongs To Me by valtyr (MCU, Explicit, 87,241 words)

Summary: Steve wakes up in the 21st Century. He doesn't think much of it, and it's dubious about him. He meets a Norse God, joins a superhero team, and feels terribly awkward about the whole monument at Arlington he's rendered obsolete by not being dead. Meanwhile, Tony is trying to make his mark on history by being the man who finally drove Nick Fury over the edge. Also available as a podfic read by kalakirya

What Lies Inside by Penumbren (616, Explicit, 21,808 words)

Summary: When the Avengers discover Captain America in the Arctic sea, they find more than just a new team member: Tony Stark discovers his fated mate. The problem is, Steve Rogers is a man out of his own time and apparently straight, and Tony's not about to force anything on the man he loves--even if it means his own death. Besides, Tony's spent his entire life keeping secrets. How can he possibly tell Steve that he's really Iron Man, let alone a werewolf? Also available as a podfic read by Saphirerose

[the-haunted-star]

The Marvels - Deleted Scene "It's Under Control"

First deleted scene entitled "It's Under Control" officially released!

(So glad they're including the other Valkyrie scene in the deleted scenes.)

The Film will release digitally on January 16th!

4K/Blu-Ray/DVD on February 13th!

Special Features to include:

FEATURETTES

Entangled – Take a cosmic trip behind the scenes on The Marvels with the cast and crew of the film.

Learn how director Nia DaCosta and the team took on such a vast production, and dive deeper with more details about Marvel’s first ever musical number.

The Production Diaries – Experience the lively, upbeat set of The Marvels as cast and crew recall candid and heartwarming moments, along with hilarious anecdotes.

DELETED SCENES

Captain-in-Residence – Kamala finds herself in Carol's ship after an unexpected switch and incredulously picks up a call from Valkyrie.

It's Under Control – Carol, Kamala, and Monica find themselves brainstorming for solutions on Aladna.

Space Yoga – Muneeba teaches yoga while an exasperated Nick Fury looks on.

The Chase – Chaos ensues as Ty-Rone chases Kamala in a tension-filled scene.

GAG REEL

Watch some hilarious outtakes on set with the cast and crew of The Marvels.

AUDIO COMMENTARY

Listen to co-writer/director Nia DaCosta and VFX Supervisor Tara DeMarco talk about the film.

[natsglorifiedsimp]

Snacks? And...

A/n: HI HI!!! BECAUSE IM HAPPY AND I FEEL VERY GOOD I DECIDED TO WRITE A FIC BECAUSE WHY NOT HEHE

If anyone wants to talk to me just slide through my dms hehehe :))

When you got recruited by Nick Fury and got introduced to the team they were– uhm let's say confused but also scared.

You looked like an ice-cold bitch but also baby-faced. It's like someone trapped a bitch faced woman inside a woman with such a baby young-like feature.

They described you as a mean girl in a typical high school movie but with a face of a cartoon playing on Disney that every child repeats.

But they wouldn't deny you were cute and also pretty. You have strong features just like Nat and when you smile you looked like a soft baby giggling.

But they wouldn't mess with you. You talk like a bitch and have no filter.

One night Tony was making fun of the smudge on your face that you didn't know existed. He commented that it looked like someone stepped on your face. And you replied that he looked like that every day and you didn't mention a thing.

He never messed with you after that.

But when they got the news that you and Nat were dating. They were all happy and supportive.

Sam even said "The scariest couple on earth."

You weren't that bad. You were friendly in a way that it's comfortable for everyone. The teasing and bickering was always there but they loved you.

You were adorable when you smiled or cackled at someone tripping. You find all things funny even when Tony makes a face.

Nat didn't know that you had that side since you guys dated. She didn't know how carefree and clumsy you were. And the more she got to know you the more she fell hard.

"Honey?" Nat groggily said.

You slowly turned your head at her direction. "Uhm.. Yeah?"

"What are you doing?" Nat smirked.

You were laying on your stomach one hand with a single chip about to be eaten and the other is clutching on a plushie she bought for your birthday. And there was a bag of chips opened right beside you and a phone that is depending on the pillow where it's leaning.

"Eating?" you sheepishly said. "Annddd watching greys anatomy?" you grinned guiltily.

"I'm sorry," you said. "Did I wake you?" you pouted. "I'm sorry, I'll put back the chips and go to sleep"

‘Oh my god she's mad at me’ you thought. You slowly got up trying not to disturb her anymore.

"Honey, it's okay," Nat assured. "You didn't wake me" she slowly eased the crease between your eyebrows with her fingers.

"You're not mad?" you asked.

"Why would I be?" she chuckled. "You sneaking snacks here and eating them while watching Grey's Anatomy? Why would I be mad huh?" she teased.

"I woke you up" you pouted guiltily.

She rolled her eyes playfully, "I told you, you didn't" she booped your nose.

"Okay," you grinned eating the forgotten chip on your fingers. "You want some?" you offered.

"Sur—"

"Oops, that was the last one" you pointed to your mouth. "Hehe," you shyly smiled.

"Then," she puckered her lips for a kiss.

"Ew, Nat nooo" you whined. "I'm greasy"

"I don't care"

"Bu—"

Before you could say anything she kissed you without warning. You squeak in shock. She withdraw the kiss with a lick on her lips and smirked teasingly at you.

"Yuck Nat, you're gross" you rolled your eyes.

"Ugh, I'm offended." she feigned hurt. "Come on, we'll clean up and go back to sleep."

"Who said I'm done watching my show?" you raised your eyebrow.

"Me," she raised her eyebrow back.

"Who said you have an opinion?" you squinted.

"Who said you can sneak snacks?" she retorted.

"Fuck you" you grumbled grabbing the empty bag of chips.

Nat chuckled in victory.

You guys cleaned up for a couple of minutes before settling in bed. Natasha deliberately cuddled your side.

"Who said you can cuddle?" you said. Natasha chuckled. "You just won't let me win, huh?" she giggled.

"Yes." you bluntly said.

"Alright Alright," she surrendered. "You win, now can we go to sleep?"

"Mhm," you hummed happily.

-----------------------------------------------------------

A/n: a bit short and sloppy but hehe I'm sorry :))

[bullet-prooflove]

Live Stream Part One: Camera Shy - Nick Amaro x Reader

Tagging: @the-adzukibean @xoxabs88xox @beardedbarba @crazy4chickennuggets @wooshwastaken @justreblogginfics @im-just-a-mississippi-girl @cosmic-psychickitty @misscharlielulu

There was blood smeared on your pretty features, that was the first thing Nick noticed when your image came through the live stream.

The instant Nick laid eyes upon your dishevelled frame he hadn't been able to tear his gaze away. His nostrils flared in outrage; his fists clenched so tightly that the skin stretched over knuckles turning them white. The right side of your face was swelling slightly from the yellow and green bruising that marred your features, your left eye was bloodshot from where it looked like someone had punched you.

You weren’t looking at the camera, your expression was defiant, jaw sticking out. Your arms were pulled behind your back, thrusting your modest chest forward. Nick could only guess that your hands were bound behind your back. You were on your knees struggling to keep your balance as you wavered from side to side disorientated.

"Look at the camera."

Hearing that deep rich voice sent a flash of rage sparking through Nick's consciousness. He growled indignantly. You let out a sharp cry as an horrendous crack erupted through the air as that large scarred hand lashed out and slapped your face. The force of the blow twisted your head, leaving you spitting blood onto the floor.

"I told you to look at the camera." That cold voice snapped again.

"Go fuck yourself ." You snapped.

The hand reached out again cupping your chin between brutal fingers. Nick could see them digging into your tender flesh as your head was yanked to face the camera. Nick was snarling, his face contorting in vengeful fury as the camera zoomed in on your disgruntled features. He understood the best way to process this situation was to disconnect, but it was easier said than done.

Agnew's worn face appeared in the view of the camera as his fingers snaked through your hair, gripping it in one hand and tilting your head back until you hissed. The other man's eyes were red rimmed and out of focus, in the days he had been away he had forgone shaving. Sweat dripped down his brow as he turned an almost maniacal grin to the camera. You ground your teeth as his grasp tightened. He was standing behind you now, watching as your chest heaved with exertion.

"He's on something." Fin murmured.

Drugs...

Drugs didn't change what was happening right now and Nick wasn't going to tolerate that as an excuse. What that man was doing to you made him want to tear something apart. There was a sickening, convulsive urge to break something, fury rushing through his veins. He would tear Agnew to pieces with his bare hands for what he was doing to you. He would destroy every bone in his body.

"Detective Amaro,” Agnew spoke into the camera, his eyes boring into Nick’s. “I hope you’re watching."

His palm came to rest upon your shoulder, fingers creeping past your collarbone in a gesture that Nick found disturbingly intimate. His fingertips undid the top button of your blouse and then another, causing the white fabric to open, revealing your cleavage.

"You don't want to see this, Nick; it will do no good." Olivia murmured, her hand rubbing up and down her friend's arm in a bid to comfort him.

A vehement growl emitted low in Nick's throat, it was primal and savage. The urge to protect you was overpowering and the fact he was forced to watch this debacle was making his blood boil with fire and molten hot fury.

"She’s pretty." Agnew said as he undid another button. “You know what I do to pretty girls.”

Nick felt that surge of ferociousness completely encumbered his body, he was going to kill Agnew for this. His fingertips trailed along the line of your white cotton bra. Your jaw tightened, you swallowed hard and closed your eyes as he caressed the swell of your breast. Nick understood what you were trying to do, it was an attempt to distance yourself from the situation, to maintain some semblance of calm. Agnew got off on the panic, he fed on it, drinking it in until he was done playing with his victims, until they were broken and catatonic.

His fingers twisted in your hair, wrenching your head to one side. You clamped your mouth, lips pursed together as he leaned into you, his breath ghosting across your ear as his gaze fixed on Nick through the camera.

“We’re going to have a lot of fun together.”

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

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Tracklist:

Introduction • Ibitsu • Furi • Naki Kyoku • Ano Onna no Onryou • Akuma No Uta

The album artwork parodying Nick Drake's Bryter Layter is not actually the original artwork for this album! The original is just a little doodle done by one of the band members. One of the physical releases for Akuma no Uta features another parody of an album cover, this one being of Venom's Welcome to Hell.

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